Page 5 - My FlipBook

AMY BEARCE
AMY BEARCE
“Yeah,” I said. “It sure … is. The Tower. Of Eiffel.” I bit back
a groan. Maybe I should just rip out my own tongue to stop the
stream of awkward words—but Reggie was already flitting away

like the social butterfly she was, grabbing our classmate Sophia
in an excited hug.
Romantic vibes were supposed to radiate from the Eiffel

Tower like puffs of cartoon perfume. I’d planned on the timeless
symbol of love giving me the courage that I’d lacked the last two
years. The courage I’d always lacked.
It sure seemed to be working for others. All around us,
hand-linked couples were smiling and laughing, snapping sel-

fies. Unfortunately, I smelled none of the romance in the air,
only the scent of fresh-baked bread, sickly sweet flowers, and a
whiff of eau de pee. Gross.

My phone dinged, and I scowled at my mother’s text. Have
a great last day in Paris! Don’t forget sunscreen. Thinking of you.
Yeah, well, I’d been thinking of her a lot, too, and Dad, but I
didn’t have time for their stuff now. Telling Jace that I liked him
was going to be hard enough as it was. I wished I was braver.

A man wearing a plaid beanie called out, “Hey there, girl.”
He was selling selfie sticks and plastic Eiffel Tower key chains
on the sidewalk nearby. Ignoring my stiffened shoulders, he

stepped closer. “I’ve got some good prices for you!” His accent
was thick with a cadence I couldn’t place, even after living in
Germany for almost two years and traveling lots of places as a
military kid.
My face heated, and I glanced around for my friends. I had

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