Katrina was standing at the edge of the field, hands in the pockets of her jean jacket. The sunset painted her gold.
Katrina was the new girl that year. She moved to their small town from Florida, bringing with her the smell of saltwater and a laugh that sounded like wind chimes in a storm. Laura, quiet and studious with a galaxy of freckles across her nose, fell in love the way only an eleven-year-old can—completely, without vocabulary, and with absolute terror. lauraloveskatrina
She kissed her.
“Looking for you.” Katrina walked closer. “Mike and I broke up.” Katrina was standing at the edge of the
Laura froze.
Katrina smiled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You doodle my name a lot.” lauraloveskatrina
“Hey.”