Anyone But You Read Free Page B

color of brass. They hung in perfectly sculpted ringlets, like springs. She had rosy cheeks and lips that looked poised to say something precocious. I sat like a complete clod, too paralyzed to make eye contact, let alone speak.
    “Why’d you even come up here if you don’t want to look?” Her question almost sounded like a challenge.
    “Why aren’t
you
looking?” I asked. She sighed and fiddled with a small pearl stud in her earlobe.
    “My mutton-headed big sister and her friends told me to scram.” She rolled her eyes and nodded her head toward the right side of the gondola, where five older girls were oohing and ahhing at the vista. “I’m pretending to sulk.”
    “Doesn’t look like they care.”
    “Yeah, well, they’re annoyed with me. At least, Trudy is. She’s mad that Mother forced her to let me tag along. As if I want to hang out with
her
. So, you afraid of heights or something?”
    I could hear Benny still running his mouth on the other side of the gondola and realized it was rare to find any girl, let alone a cute one, conversing with me instead of my Casanova counterpart. Moments like this? Well, they just didn’t happen to me.
    “I guess I’m a little afraid of heights,” I replied after a moment or two, instantly mortified that those words had escaped my mouth. Why not just lift up my shirt and advertise my yellow belly?
    “Our insides
would
turn to pudding if we fell,” she confirmed, unfazed by her own dire observation.
    “Uh-huh,” I stammered, sounding about as eloquent as Frankenstein’s monster.
    As quickly as it had begun, our conversation came to a standstill. I knew it was my turn to volley back a retort, but my brain and tongue felt stuck in drying cement. Wishing I could psychically beg, borrow, or steal some witty remark from Benny, to whom they came as naturally as breathing, I glanced again at the girl. I wanted to tell her that her eyes were the same color as the blue hydrangeas in our window box at home, but that would have been totally cornball. With the image of “blood and guts pudding” ricocheting in my brain, I was rendered mute.
    “Are you alone?” she asked, breaking the silence. “Seems like you’re up here on a dare.”
    I pointed with my thumb in Benny’s direction and waited for the imaginary hearts to come shooting like fireworks out of her head. Whenever a girl got her first glimpse of my devilishly handsome (even for twelve) friend, swooning was inevitable.
    “Hmm. Got a name?” she asked.
    “Oh, that’s Benny,” I responded. “I’ve known him all my life.”
    “Not
him
.
You.
I’m Stella.” She extended her hand so that I might shake it. I wiped my palm on my pants, then obliged her as she continued. “It means ‘star.’”
    “Dominick,” I said, all formalities, since the moment seemed to suddenly suit it. “It means, ‘our Lord.’” Benny would have fallen on the floor, howling with laughter, had he heard me. I swallowed hard, hoping to calm the snare drum beating in my chest. Gee, she sure was cute. Instead of letting go of my grasp following our introduction, she laughed and squeezed my hand tighter.
    “Well, ‘my Lord,’ we’re almost back to the platform. You really should look out the window, just once, before the ride is over. Come with me.” She stood and tugged on my hand with both of hers. Mesmerized by this girl’s face—and our sudden physical contact—I allowed her to lead me as I trudged, practically sleepwalking, to one of the observation windows on the other side of the tram car from where Benny was standing.
    I felt woozy, and involuntarily squeezed Stella’s hand tighter while steadying my left hand upon the glass.
    “Holy mackerel,” I marveled.
    Stella leaned her forehead against the windowpane, the garish sun illuminating the top of her straw hat as if she were wearing a halo.
    “Be careful!” I stammered, prompting her to giggle again.
    “Thank you for caring, but there’s no chance of me