Top 8 by Katie Finn Page A

said intelligently, “neat.”
    â€œI’m a senior,” he added.
    â€œThat’s great!” I said with far too much enthusiasm, and saw him smile that trying-not-to-laugh smile again. Luckily, at that moment Mr. Ellis began talking about the most recent round of golf he’d played, and I saw my father’s eyes glaze over before I returned my concentration to my plate.
    After the adults had talked golf, the housing market, how amazing the trip had been, how incredible it was that we’d ended up meeting in Ecuador, since we’d never met in Connecticut, and the dollar versus the euro, conversation seemed to die.
    â€œWhat’s for dessert?” Travis asked brattily after the plates had been cleared, tugging at the neck of the polo shirt my mother had clearly forced him into for the dinner.
    I saw my mother blanch, but since she was always so composed, she did even this subtly, and I doubt anyone else picked up on it.
    She looked over at me, smiling, but with a definite air of desperation, and said, “You know, since we’ve all just gotten back, I haven’t had a chance to restock the treats. Madison, why don’t you and Jonathan run out and pick up some ice cream for dessert?”
    I could tell from my mother’s expression that this wasn’t really a request.
    Well, at least I could get out of listening to any more golfing stories. But why did she have to include Jonathan in the ice cream run? I glanced sideways, as discreetly as I could, to try and gauge his reaction.
    He placed his napkin along the side of his plate and stood up, so he must not have had a huge problem with it. “Sure,” he said.
    I led the way out of the dining room, grabbing my sweater and my purse where I’d dropped it, and out to my car, which I’d parked slightly haphazardly.
    â€œNice Jetta,” Jonathan said, folding himself into the passenger seat.
    I got in as well, and pulled my seat belt on. “Judy,” I said automatically, then realized I sounded like an idiot. “The, um, car’s name, I mean.”
    â€œJudy,” he said thoughtfully. “Judy…Jetta-son?”
    â€œRight,” I said, completely surprised. I looked over at him, and before the automatic lighting dimmed, I got my first close-up glimpse. And up close, he was even cuter. He was tall — and being tall myself, I’d always had a weakness for tall guys — easily 6’3”. He had eyes that were either hazel or light brown — the automatic lights had started dimming, and I couldn’t get a good look. But he had thick, dark brown hair that curled up a little at the ends and was slightly shaggy. He was dressed in astyle that Lisa would have called emo, and at first glance, with his pin-bedecked messenger bag and cream-colored Cons, it seemed to fit. But with his button-down and non-skinny jeans, he put a slightly preppy twist on the emo thing that I found really intriguing.
    I glanced away from him quickly, starting the engine and heading down the driveway. Justin , I reminded myself.
    â€œWho is this?” Jonathan asked, and I was jerked out of my reveries to see him frowning at my iCar.
    â€œUm, Stockholm Syndrome,” I said, turning the volume down slightly. He continued to frown, and I raised my eyebrows. “Do you have something against Swedish guitar bands, Jonathan?”
    â€œNathan,” he said firmly. “Well, really, everyone calls me Nate. Only my parents call me Jonathan.”
    â€œNate,” I said, trying it out. I liked it. It seemed to fit him better, somehow. “Nate the Great, right?”
    â€œYeah,” he said with a small sigh. I got the feeling he’d heard that before.
    â€œNate the Great,” I said, trying to remember, “the boy detective.”
    â€œThat was Encyclopedia Brown,” he said. “But close enough.”
    â€œRight.” I was beginning to worry about the next song that