That Boy: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 1)

Today is the worst day of my life.

Really, it is!

A new family has moved into our neighborhood—across the empty lot from my house and across the street from Phillip’s house.

This is most unfortunate.

The parents seem like nice, decent people, but unfortunately, they had to bring their stupid, stinky son with them. Why couldn’t they have forgotten to bring him or left him on the side of the road somewhere in Missouri? Maybe someone would’ve taken him home, like a lost kitty.

That way, he could’ve ruined someone else’s life.

Phillip and I have so much fun playing together. We play lots of sports, games, and fun stuff that I make up. Usually, we play some version of the handsome prince coming to rescue the beautiful royal princess. But it’s not like it’s all girlie. Phillip gets to do some really cool boy stuff, like fight a dragon with a sword, duel with an evil warlock, and climb the tower. We even play Olympics and have all sorts of sports competitions.

But, since that nasty, smelly boy next door came here, Phillip has been acting like the only fun thing to do is play with him.

Phillip and I are both real good at sports. It’s not like I can’t keep up with him! Honestly, I’m bigger than he is, and I can actually beat him at almost everything, except for a flat-out running race; he is a bit faster than me.

I’m always the first girl picked when we split into teams at school, but somehow, this evil boy has convinced Phillip that he shouldn’t play with girls.

Today, Phillip and I are minding our own business, playing in the empty lot between Danny’s house and mine.

Did I mention his name?

Danny. Danny Diamond.

Devil Danny is more like it.

I wonder if his parents know how truly awful he is.

Poor people. They really should consider giving that boy up for adoption.

Oh, I hate that boy!

He makes me so mad!

Anyway, Phillip and I are playing a nice game of Four Squares, which all the boys at school like to play, when he comes walking over.

He thinks he is so cool!

The first day he moved here, he told me how he’s a great quarterback.

I told him to stop bragging. It’s not nice.

But he went, “I’m not bragging. I’m just confident in my skills.”

Whatever.

I figured the kids at school would hate him because no one likes a bragger, right? Right?

Wrong!

Because of his bragging, his so-called skills, and the way he looks, all the girls at school are in love with him. I mean, he does have nice blond hair that always looks like he just combed it, even when he’s out in the wind. And all the girls have been going on and on about his dreamy blue eyes and his cool attitude.

Personally, I think they’re just bored with the boys we’ve grown up with, and they would like anyone new.

Although, I have to admit, the first time I saw him, I thought he was really cute, too.

But that was way before I knew him.

He interrupts our game by saying, “Four Squares is a dumb girl game. Wanna play football, Phil?”

It’s not Phil, you idiot! No one calls him that. It’s Phillip.

I’m sure that my Prince Phillip will not let him talk about our game—or me—like that. So, I wait for his reply.

“Sounds fun,” Phillip says. “I’ll go grab a football.”

And off he runs.

No, Bye, Princess.

Nothing.

Has Devil Danny used some kind of evil brainwashing on Phillip?

Can he control people’s minds?

Will he suck out Phillip’s soul?

I am so mad that I could scream!

But, instead, I try to get along, so I say, “That’s okay. Football sounds fun, too.”

Danny glares at me, like I’m a piece of poop that he just stepped in. “Girls can’t play football. Why don’t you go home and play with your dolls or something?”

Well, that’s about all I can take from that boy.

“Danny, you are a stupid, ugly, smelly boy.”

I am so mad at him! But then something terrible happens. As I’m yelling at him, tears start coming out of my eyes. Why is that? I’m not sad. I’m boiling hot, furiously mad!

MAD. MAD. MAD. MAD!

I continue to yell at him anyway, “And I wish you would just go back to Missouri and die!”

What I say doesn’t seem to upset him in any way.

He just looks at me with disgust and says, “Girls are such crybabies.”

I turn and run home.

Fast.

I slam the back door, run up the stairs, and slam the door to my room. I throw myself across my bed and cry. I move to my window seat, so I can look out the window at those stupid boys playing football while I cry.

Why do I cry when I get mad?

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am just a crybaby.

Maybe I will just give up and let him steal my best friend from me.

No way.

Never, I think and dry my eyes on my shirt.

Just then, Daddy walks in. I’m sure he heard the doors slamming and is coming to yell at me. He hates it when I slam doors.

I try to hide my crybaby eyes from him.

He looks at me and out the window at the boys. Then he sits down next to me and wraps me in a great big hug.

How come a boy can be so stupid, but a daddy, who actually used to be a boy himself, can be so wonderful?

“Three’s a crowd, huh?” he asks, nodding out toward the boys.

And smart, too!

“Yeah”—I sniffle—“Danny says girls can’t play football. He said I should go play with my dolls. I don’t even play with dolls anymore.”

At least, not very often.

“I was so mad at him, Daddy. I tried to tell him how mean and stupid I think he is, but then I started crying, so he called me a crybaby. I swear, Dad, I wasn’t sad; I was mad. I don’t know how he made me cry. It’s a big mystery to me! Plus, he’s trying to steal my bestest friend in the whole world.”

“Well,” Daddy says, rubbing the stubbly stuff on his chin and thinking.

I love it when he does that. He has the most brilliant ideas!

“I know,” I say, interrupting him. “How ’bout you go over there and give him a good, old-fashioned ass-whooping?”

Daddy laughs. He knows I have heard Grandpa say the same thing about me.

“Please don’t use bad words like that, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply sheepishly. “But I think it would be a very good idea.”

“I don’t think I could do that, Angel.” He smiles, pauses, and strokes the stubble some more. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“You want me to go and beat up Danny?” I’m very surprised at that man.

“No, you silly goose,” he says, ruffling my hair. “But you are very good at sports, and you especially love football. Teach him a lesson. Show him that girls can play anything they want. Beat him at his own game. I think it would be good for Danny to lose to a girl.”

He gives me another big hug and walks toward my door.

He turns around, grabs my doorway, and says, “You know, it’s okay to have more than one best friend.”

Well, his advice on boys might be good, but evidently, he’s forgotten the laws of fifth grade.

You can have only one best friend.

That’s okay though; his memory is probably going bad because he’s getting so old. He is thirty-eight after all.

I hug my knees and watch the boys for a few more minutes while I get my courage up. I’m gonna show that boy that anything boys can do, girls can do better.

My friend Lisa likes to sing, “Girls go to college to get more knowledge. Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.”

I don’t know where she comes up with these funny things, but I love that she does. Usually, they are so good!

In this case though, Danny’s gonna get more knowledge. And I am about to school him.

I get up and look in my mirror. Daddy always tells me I am beautiful, but I’m not sure I believe him. Isn’t it required that dads tell their daughters that? Anyway, all I see in the mirror staring back at me is a girl who is way too tall and way too skinny and who has gross, knobby knees and some really stupid freckles on her nose.

I look some more.

Well, I suppose my blue eyes are okay, and I do actually like the color of my long blonde hair, but I just can’t see beautiful.

Oh well. I’m going to teach that boy a lesson, and I should definitely look as much like a girl as I can when I do it. So, I take my hair out of its ponytail and brush it until it shines, and then I put on some Lip Smacker lip gloss. Lisa gave me this gloss.

She says, “Glossing is as important as flossing.”

I think my dentist might disagree with that, but gloss does make your lips look kind of pretty.

I run outside and walk right up to those stupid boys. I ignore Danny and say to Phillip, “I want to play football with you guys, okay?”

Phillip shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. I’ll go out for a pass, and you can guard me.”

Danny steps between us and says to Phillip, “No way. She’ll just end up getting hurt and go bawling home.” He glares at me. “Girls aren’t tough enough to play football.”

I look that devil boy in the eye.

Dad told me to teach him a lesson by playing football, but I can see now what I have to do. I cock my arm back and punch that boy right in the stomach. Then, I move in closer and give him a jab to the face. He falls onto his butt in the grass.

What can I say? Dad and I watch a lot of boxing.

The corner of his lip is bleeding a bit, and he is lying on the grass, looking up at me with a shocked expression. I expect him to go home and cry to his mommy.

But he surprises me. He wipes his mouth on his shirt and looks at me with new respect.

He slowly nods his head up and down at me.

It’s like his brain is transparent, and I can see the lightbulb going off inside it.

Boys are so clueless.

Finally, he says, “You know what? You just might be tough enough to play football.”

I have to say that I think we both learned a lesson today.

He learned that all girls aren’t prissy wimps, and I learned that he just might not be the devil after all.

The three of us have been best friends ever since.