Marybeth and Nate were silent on the way to the Carlson house until Nate, checking over his shoulder saw the lights of his father's car as it pulled into their drive.

"Your dad?" Marybeth asked, seeing the disturbed expression that swept across his face.

"Yep."

"That was nice of your mom."

"What was?"

"You know...letting us get out of there before he got home."

Nate stopped and stared down at her. His mother had been right. There was a soft warm breeze. The moon was full and already high. Marybeth's upturned face reflected light from the corner street lamp a few yards away. He hadn't noticed it before, but her eyes held a world of wisdom in them for one so young. She seemed to notice everything around her with a special understanding. "How did you know that's what she was doing?" he asked.

Marybeth smiled, shrugged her shoulders and continued walking. "I don't know. She...well, she just sounded like everything needed to be back to normal before your father got home. No...that's not it. There was a look she gave you that said a lot more. It was like it had been a really neat evening and she didn't want him to come home and ruin it for you...that maybe it would be nice to give us a little time alone and you a longer reprieve from your dad."

Nate released a long slow whistle and shook his head. "You got all that from a look?"

Marybeth's smile broadened. She could feel Nate watching her as they rounded the corner and made their way up the next block towards her house. She had gone several yards before realizing he'd stopped somewhere behind her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, going back to him.

"Nothin'," he said, flashing his best grin. But Marybeth looked at him knowingly as she met his cloudy gray eyes, forcing him to go on. "It's just that I don't understand. I've never talked to you about my parents or..."

"I doubt you ever talk to anyone about anything personal. You're a real quiet type, Nathan. I don't know exactly myself but...being there in your home, seeing you and your mother together...there were just things. But they show, at least to someone who really wants to know you...who cares."

Unable to read the expression on his face, she felt a warmth rise in her cheeks and knew she was blushing. Averting her eyes, she quickly went on. "So many unsaid things, Nate. But your mom...she's a neat lady and she loves you a lot." Marybeth paused briefly and looked back up into eyes that had not left her face, searching for some sign of what he was thinking. But they were unreadable and she hurried on awkwardly. "I think you love her too, much more than you let on."

Nate churned with several distinct and varied emotions at that instant. The feelings for his mother overshadowed by the ones he felt for Marybeth. Suddenly, he was consumed by the deep heart-rending pangs of first love, blocking reason, impairing judgment. Thought of all else left as he slowly bent his head, his eyes arresting hers. Lightly, Nate kissed her lips, savoring the warmth of her breath, the flutter of her eyelids as they closed. Then hesitantly, he drew away and watched her face as the brown eyes opened and she smiled warmly up at him.

He sighed deeply, expelling air he'd unconsciously held in his lungs. He had been uncertain of her reaction. Up to this point, they had been the best of friends, nothing else. He'd even fought over the suggestion there was more to the relationship. Now with her smile, Nate could breathe again and he returned it with a sheepish grin of his own, putting his arms out and gently drawing Marybeth to him. As he did, her arms entwined about his neck and she raised her face toward his. Again, his mouth came down over hers, this time searchingly, possessively, until her lips yielded in kind.

Regaining control, Marybeth pulled away and rested her hands on his chest to stay off any further kisses as she apologetically gazed up at him. "People are probably looking out their windows. I better get home."

Taking her hand in his he nodded, too unsure of his feelings to speak, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. On the front porch, Nate moved close to her. "Marybeth?" he whispered.

"Hmmmm?" she answered, opening the screen door.

He looked nervously about for a second unsure of what he'd wanted to say. "Nothin'," he spouted and bent, quickly brushing his lips against hers before bolting down the steps and across the lawn without so much as a backward glance.

He walked briskly past several houses before slowing his pace, lost in thoughts of what had just occurred, examining his confused feelings and wondering about Marybeth's. Would things be the same between them? Did he want them to? Did she? How would they feel when they saw each other again? He was so involved with these ponderings and muttering absently to himself, he scarcely heard the voice that yelled out his name. Alerted, he sidestepped just before colliding with the front wheel of a bicycle.

"What in the hell..." he said harshly then hearing a familiar giggle, jerked around to find Heathe Conners, reclining insolently on the lawn beneath the shadows of a large oak, legs outstretched, ankles crossed, a cocky grin spread from ear to ear.

Studying him, Nate realized his friend looked different. There was something about the twelve year old he hadn't noticed before. Then it hit him. The transition had been so gradual. The change hadn't occurred overnight. Heathe wasn't scrawny anymore. He was longer, huskier, filled out, but this musing was replaced by irritation.

"What the hell is your bike doing in the middle of the sidewalk? And what's that shit-eatin' grin all about? Christ, Heathe, you can be such a dork!"

Heathe giggled with obvious delight at Nate's agitation and sitting up straight, tucked his legs under him Indian style. His voice was still high and cracked all the time, making Nate think how like a little kid he sounded as he caught his breath to answer.

"What's wrong, Nathan Wade? The bike was there in plain sight. Couldn't you see it or did ya have somethin' else on your mind?" he asked pointedly and giggled again, taking great pleasure in his words as he began rocking to and fro, long arms wrapped around protruding knees, hugging them tightly to him. "What were ya doin'? I went to your house. Your mom said you was walkin' Marybeth home, so I went lookin' for ya." Heathe paused for affect.

Nate, who had stood looking effectively bored, his hands stuck in the pockets of his Levis, his left foot impatiently kicking the sodded earth were it edged against the cement path, rewarded his friend by jerking his head up, giving the youth his full attention. "Did you find me?" he asked, eyes narrowed, countenance rigid.

"Sure I did," Heathe smirked childishly. "Here ya are."

He met the older boy's angry glare with his own bright rebellious one. Heathe worshipped Nate Stevens and was not the least bit intimidated like the rest of the guys at school. With Nate's reputation of being a bad-ass there weren't many boys crazy enough to mess with him. It was true, Nate did have a quick temper but it was more than that. He was almost uncontrollable when he flew into one of his rages, unable to stop once he got started.

Nate's reputation with girls was another story altogether, for they found his intensity, his quiet brooding, exciting and were drawn to him. Nate didn't seem to notice or care and this aloofness made him all the more intriguing. He was an entity all his own, a very private one. Heathe couldn't remember ever hearing him talk big about how tough he was or about scoring with girls like the rest of the boys. Whatever Nathan did, he did. It wasn't necessary for him to prove anything by bragging.

Heathe was aware that his friend often considered him a nuisance, but he also knew Nate cared about him. Ever since pulling Heathe from the river, there had been a special bond between the two. Other boys didn't pick on Heathe anymore because they knew they'd have to answer to the fierce older boy. Yet, Heathe was one of the only people close enough to get by with giving Nathan Stevens a hard time and that amounted to something...something he took a secret pride in. Long ago, Heathe Conners had sworn he'd be there for the other boy should the need arise, that he would do anything he could for him and most importantly, that Nathan Wade would never regret befriending him.

Nate was trying to remain calm. He knew Heathe and could tell when his little comments were leading to something. They stared at one another for a while, each waiting for the other to speak, each patient in his own stubborn way, one dark and brooding, the other fair, almost pretty.

No wonder the guys had teased Heathe so mercilessly and called him fairy, Nate thought. His face was almost too perfect, crowned with thick honey colored hair against the flawless golden skin. The features were fine, thin straight nose, lips full and dark, large almond shaped eyes, a cool clear green surrounded by long, dense lashes most girls would have killed for. The boys were like night and day, evil and good.

Nate was tall with hard sinewy muscles rippling beneath his dark olive skin. His raven hair was worn long, shaggy bangs falling above steel gray eyes and heavy arched brows. There was a masculine, even rakish quality about him at this still tender age, though he did not have what were considered classic good looks. The nose was slightly crooked from an earlier break, the mouth chiseled and hard, the chin and cheekbones strong and well defined.

As the boys continued their scrutiny of one another beneath the yellow glow of the corner light, both began to smile. Nate could never get really mad at Heathe, no matter how irritating he was.

"I thought you and Marybeth was just friends all this time," Heathe said, breaking the silence.

Nate shrugged and sauntering over to his friend, plopped down next to him. "We were...really!" He ventured a sidelong glance at the other boy. "You saw us, didn't you?'

"Yeah, so I turned around and went back up the block and around the other way. I decided to wait for you here. I...wasn't spyin'...honest!" Heathe sounded as embarrassed as Nate felt. "Does this mean she's your girlfriend now?"

Nate didn't answer immediately as he considered the possibility with all its implications. "I don't know...I guess so."

"Good!" Heathe replied, surprising Nate. With his little boy giggle, he went on defensively. "Well, when she was just your friend...I dunno...I got a little jealous, I guess. It was just that you were spendin' all your time with her, and I couldn't understand it. I mean, I'm your friend, too. But, if she's your girlfriend, that changes everything!"

"Oh, makes it okay, huh?" he asked, reaching over to roughly rub the top of Heathe's short cropped head then standing he offered an outstretched hand, abruptly pulling the youth to his feet. "Come on, it's gettin' late."

Heathe walked his bike a few feet behind his friend. "Nathan?"

"Huh?"

"Happy birthday."

Distracted by his thoughts Nate didn't stop or look back. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Well, I gotta go on," Heathe said reluctantly a few moments later. "See ya tomorrow."

As Nate turned to wave goodbye, he was aware of an object hurled in his direction. Flashing as it spun through the darkness, it reflected the silver moonlight. "Damn! What in the...?

He dodged to the right, his hand shooting up. The object grazed his fingertips and he grabbed it. Before his eyes could focus, he felt the cold smoothness of metal and turning it over in his hand, knew it by touch. A Swiss Army knife like the one Heathe carried, only larger, thicker. Before he had a chance to speak, the voice of the other boy, sincere, serious, stopped him.

"I won't tell anyone about you and Marybeth...you know...about what I saw. I mean it. You can trust me--with anything. Really!"

"I know," Nate assured him. "Really!"

Like a shot, Heathe hopped on his bike and pedaled down the street toward his house. Nate had not been quick enough to thank him but swelled with a sense of gratefulness for the young boy's friendship could only watch until the golden youth was out of sight, enveloped in the darkness of the night, hidden in the shadows beyond the corner light.