Chameleon ✔️

Crush

I was fourteen years old when I fell in love with Frankie Stevens. It is not something I am proud of.

Of course, I know now that it wasn't love, but a crush at fourteen is a big deal. I would write my (fake) name next to his in my notebooks: Ashton + Frankie = ♡. Frankie was the smartest boy in my class and he owned an impressive collection of both sweaters and ink pens. There was only one problem: he liked girly girls.

I convinced my dad to take me to the mall, where I bought my first dress since I was eight and started dressing myself. I wore it to school the next day with sandals and my hair pinned back, and Frankie asked me to go to the movies with him and a group of his friends on Friday. His mom would drive us.

Dad was furious with me. "Do you really think I'm going to allow you to go somewhere at night with someone I don't know!?"

I cried and begged and pleaded. "But I love him, Dad!"

This, of course, only angered him more. He insisted that I call Frankie and tell him I couldn't go. I was so embarrassed, so ashamed, so angry.

"I'll tell him who I really am!" I threatened. "If you don't let me go, I swear I'll tell him!"

I didn't, of course. And the following week I saw him holding hands with Sarah Clements at recess. She was wearing a skirt and lip gloss. I was devastated.

A month later, Gray got too close and we left that city, and we left Frankie, and I promised myself that until Gray was caught, I'd never like another boy again.

The difference between Frankie and Eli? I now know I have to follow through.