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The first day I met Bryce Loski， I flipped①. Honestly， one look at him and I became a lunatic②.
It's his eyes. Something in his eyes. They're blue， and framed in the blackness of his lashes③， they're dazzling. Absolutely breathtaking. It's been over six years now， and I learned long ago to hide my feelings， but oh， those fi rst days. Those fi rst years！ I thought I would die for wanting to be with him.
Two days before the second grade is when it started， although the anticipation④ began weeks before—ever since my mother had told me that there was a family with a boy my age moving into the new house right across the street. Soccer camp had ended， and I'd been so bored because there was nobody， absolutely nobody， in the neighborhood to play with. Oh， there were kids， but every one of them was older. That was dandy for my brothers， but what it left me was home alone.
My mother was there， but she had better things to do than kick a soccer ball around. So she said， anyway.
When the Loskis' moving van finally arrived， everyone in my family was happy. ""Little Julianna"" was finally going to have a playmate. I was too excited not to charge across the street， but I did try very hard to be civilized once I got to the moving van. I stood outside looking in for a record-breaking length of time， which was hard because there he was！ About halfway back！ My new sure-to-be best friend， Bryce Loski.
Bryce wasn't really doing much of anything. He was more hanging back， watching his father move boxes onto the lift-gate. I remember feeling sorry for Mr. Loski because he looked worn out⑤， moving boxes all by himself. I also remember that he and Bryce were wearing matching turquoise⑥ polo shirts， which I thought was really cute. Really nice.
When I couldn't stand it any longer， I called，""Hi！"" into the van， which made Bryce jump， and then quick as a cricket， he started pushing a box like he'd been working all along. I could tell from the way Bryce was acting so guilty that he was supposed to be moving boxes， but he was sick of⑦ it. He'd probably been moving things for days！ It was easy to see that he needed a rest. He needed some juice！ Something.
It was also easy to see that Mr. Loski wasn't about to let him quit. He was going to keep on moving boxes around until he collapsed⑧， and by then Bryce might be dead. Dead before he'd had the chance to move in！ The tragedy of it catapulted me into the moving van. I had to help！ I had to save him！ When I got to his side to help him shove a box forward， the poor boy was so exhausted that he just moved aside and let me take over. Mr. Loski didn't want me to help， but at least I saved Bryce. I'd been in the moving van all of three minutes when his dad sent him off to help his mother unpack things inside the house.
I chased Bryce up the walkway， and that's when everything changed. You see， I caught up to him and grabbed his arm， trying to stop him so maybe we could play a little before he got trapped inside， and the next thing I know he's holding my hand， looking right into my eyes. My heart stopped.
It just stopped beating. And for the fi rst time in my life， I had that feeling.
You know， like the world is moving all around you， all beneath⑨ you， all inside you， and you're fl oating. Floating in midair. And the only thing keeping you from drifting⑩ away is the other person's eyes. They're connected to yours by some invisible physical force， and they hold you fast while the rest of the world swirls and twirls and falls completely away. I almost got my first kiss that day. I'm sure of it. But then his mother came out the front door and he was so embarrassed that his cheeks turned completely red， and the next thing you know he's hiding in the bathroom.
The first day I met Bryce Loski， I flipped①. Honestly， one look at him and I became a lunatic②.
It's his eyes. Something in his eyes. They're blue， and framed in the blackness of his lashes③， they're dazzling. Absolutely breathtaking. It's been over six years now， and I learned long ago to hide my feelings， but oh， those fi rst days. Those fi rst years！ I thought I would die for wanting to be with him.
Two days before the second grade is when it started， although the anticipation④ began weeks before—ever since my mother had told me that there was a family with a boy my age moving into the new house right across the street. Soccer camp had ended， and I'd been so bored because there was nobody， absolutely nobody， in the neighborhood to play with. Oh， there were kids， but every one of them was older. That was dandy for my brothers， but what it left me was home alone.
My mother was there， but she had better things to do than kick a soccer ball around. So she said， anyway.
When the Loskis' moving van finally arrived， everyone in my family was happy. ""Little Julianna"" was finally going to have a playmate. I was too excited not to charge across the street， but I did try very hard to be civilized once I got to the moving van. I stood outside looking in for a record-breaking length of time， which was hard because there he was！ About halfway back！ My new sure-to-be best friend， Bryce Loski.
Bryce wasn't really doing much of anything. He was more hanging back， watching his father move boxes onto the lift-gate. I remember feeling sorry for Mr. Loski because he looked worn out⑤， moving boxes all by himself. I also remember that he and Bryce were wearing matching turquoise⑥ polo shirts， which I thought was really cute. Really nice.
When I couldn't stand it any longer， I called，""Hi！"" into the van， which made Bryce jump， and then quick as a cricket， he started pushing a box like he'd been working all along. I could tell from the way Bryce was acting so guilty that he was supposed to be moving boxes， but he was sick of⑦ it. He'd probably been moving things for days！ It was easy to see that he needed a rest. He needed some juice！ Something.
It was also easy to see that Mr. Loski wasn't about to let him quit. He was going to keep on moving boxes around until he collapsed⑧， and by then Bryce might be dead. Dead before he'd had the chance to move in！ The tragedy of it catapulted me into the moving van. I had to help！ I had to save him！ When I got to his side to help him shove a box forward， the poor boy was so exhausted that he just moved aside and let me take over. Mr. Loski didn't want me to help， but at least I saved Bryce. I'd been in the moving van all of three minutes when his dad sent him off to help his mother unpack things inside the house.
I chased Bryce up the walkway， and that's when everything changed. You see， I caught up to him and grabbed his arm， trying to stop him so maybe we could play a little before he got trapped inside， and the next thing I know he's holding my hand， looking right into my eyes. My heart stopped.
It just stopped beating. And for the fi rst time in my life， I had that feeling.
You know， like the world is moving all around you， all beneath⑨ you， all inside you， and you're fl oating. Floating in midair. And the only thing keeping you from drifting⑩ away is the other person's eyes. They're connected to yours by some invisible physical force， and they hold you fast while the rest of the world swirls and twirls and falls completely away. I almost got my first kiss that day. I'm sure of it. But then his mother came out the front door and he was so embarrassed that his cheeks turned completely red， and the next thing you know he's hiding in the bathroom.