“Stars were never this bright in California,” he says.

I was thinking the same thing.

By the time my mom comes out of her office and politely (and ecstatically, I think) informs us that it’s late and it’s a school night and Christian had better get himself home, I know so much more about him. I know that he lives with his uncle, who owns the Bank of Jackson Hole and a couple of real estate offices in town. Where his parents are, he doesn’t really go into, although I get the distinct impression that they’re dead, and have been for a long time. He’s super attached to their housekeeper, Marta, who’s been around since he was ten years old. He loves Mexican food, and skiing of course, and playing the guitar.

“Enough about me,” he says after a while. “Let’s talk about you. Why did you come here?” he asks.

“Oh, uh—” I search my brain for my rehearsed answer. “My mom. She wanted to get out of California, move somewhere that’s not so crowded, get some fresh air. She thought it’d be good for us.”

“And was it? Good for you, I mean?”

“Sort of. I mean, school hasn’t exactly been easy, trying to make friends and all that.” I blush and glance away, wondering if he’s thinking about the nickname Hot Bozo that’s so popular among his buddies. “But I like it. . . . I feel like I belong here.”

“I know what that’s like,” he says.

“What?”

Now it’s his turn to look embarrassed. “I just mean, when I moved here, it was hard for a while. I didn’t fit in.”

“Weren’t you, like, five?”

“Yeah, I was five, but even then. This is a weird place to move to, on a lot of levels, especially from California. I remember that first snowstorm—I thought the sky was falling down.”

I laugh and shift slightly, and our shoulders touch. Zap. Even through our clothes. I move away. Business, Clara, business, I tell myself. Don’t lose it over this guy now. I clear my throat lightly.

“But you feel like you belong now, right?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is where I belong.”

Then he tells me that he’s thinking about going to New York for the summer, on some kind of business school internship for high school students.

“I’m not stoked at the idea of the internship, but summer in New York City sounds like an adventure,” he says. “I’ll probably go.”

“All summer?” I ask, a little stricken. But the fire, I want to say. You can’t go.

“My uncle,” he says, and then he’s quiet for a moment. “He wants me to get a business degree and take over at the bank someday. He’s got expectations, you know, things he thinks I should do to prepare myself and all that mumbo jumbo. I don’t know what I want to do.”

“I get that,” I say, thinking he doesn’t know the half of it. “My mom’s like that, always expecting so much out of me. She’s always saying that I have a purpose in life, something I was born to do, and that I just need to figure out what it is. No pressure there, right? I’m afraid of letting her down.”

“Well,” he says, turning to me and smiling in a way that makes my heart speed up. “Sounds like we’re both in trouble.”

The remaining weeks of school fly past in a blur. Christian calls me every few days, and we make small talk. He sits next to me in class and cracks jokes all period. A couple of times he even eats lunch at my table, which totally wigs out the Invisibles. In the space of a week the entire school is speculating over whether or not we’re a red-hot item.

I’m wondering that myself.

“Told you,” says Angela when I talk to her about it. “I’m never wrong, C.”

“That’s comforting. Can you focus, please? I still don’t know anything about the fire. I don’t know why he would be there that day. I don’t know where it happens. I thought if I got to know him better, I’d find out, but—”

“You’ve got time. Just enjoy the company,” she says.

Wendy, on the other hand, is barely masking her disapproval over the whole Christian thing. But then she never liked the idea.

“I told you,” she says primly. “Christian’s like a god. And gods don’t make good boyfriends.”

“If you’re about to try to sell me on Tucker again, save it. Although it was nice of him to drive me home from prom.”

“Hey, I’m on your side. I’ll cheer for you and Christian if that’s what you want me to do.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Even if I think it’s a big mistake.”

Great friends I have.

I’m confused by Christian suddenly coming on so strong. Just when I decide to keep it strictly professional between us, angel business only, he seems totally into me in a way that makes my head spin. But he doesn’t ask me out. He doesn’t touch me. I tell myself that I shouldn’t care whether or not he does.

“Silver Avalanche coming up the driveway,” calls Jeffrey from upstairs.

“What are you, security?” I call back.

“Something like that.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

I’m standing on the porch when Christian pulls up to the house. “Hey, stranger,” I say.

He smiles. “Hey.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“I wanted to say good-bye,” he says. “I’m being shipped off to New York tomorrow.” He makes his trip to New York sound like boarding school.

“Ah, come on, you get to have adventure in the Big Apple. My dad lives in New York, you know, but I’ve only been there once. He had to work the whole time, so I sat on the couch and watched TV for a week.”

“Your dad? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much to mention.”

He shrugs. “Same thing with my dad.”

A touchy subject, I can tell. I wonder if my face gets like that too when I talk about my dad, like I’m totally fine, I couldn’t care less that my parent doesn’t really give a crap about me.

I pretend to pout. “This sucks. School’s only been out for two days, and everybody’s bailing,” I whine. “You, Wendy, Angela, even my mom. She’s going back to California for business next week. I feel like the only rat dumb enough to stay on this sinking ship.”

“Sorry,” Christian says. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay.”

His cell phone rings in his pocket. He sighs. He doesn’t answer. Instead he takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us. It feels like the vision. It feels like he’s going to take my hand.

“Clara,” he says, my name sounding different somehow when it passes through his lips. “I’ll miss you.”

You will? I think.

“Bluebell coming up the driveway!” comes Jeffrey’s voice from an upstairs window.

“Thank you!” I shout back.

“Who’s that? Your brother?” asks Christian.

“Yeah. He’s apparently a watchdog.”

“Who’s Bluebell?”

“Uh—” Tucker’s rusty blue truck pulls up behind Christian’s Avalanche. Wendy gets out. Her expression is clouded, like she’s confused to find me here with Christian. Still, she tries to smile.

“Hi, Christian,” she says.

“Hey,” he says.

“I wanted to stop by,” she says. “Tucker’s driving me up to the airport.”

“Today? I thought it wasn’t until tomorrow,” I say in dismay. “I haven’t wrapped your send-off present. Wait here.” I run into the house and return with the iPod Shuffle I got her. I hand it over. “I couldn’t really figure out what you’d need on a veterinary internship, unless it’s extra socks. But they’ll let you listen to music while you work, right?”

She looks more shocked than I was going for, her smile still a little forced. “Clara,” she says. “This is too . . .”

“I already put some songs on it that you’ll like. And I found the score for The Horse Whisperer. I know you have that movie practically memorized.”

She stares at the iPod for a minute, then folds her fingers around it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tucker taps the horn. She turns to me apologetically. “I don’t have any time, sorry. I’ve got to go.”