Sam sat watching the new girl stride into the classroom. Her face betrayed no fear, but an open honesty that told you she had none. “I’m Kate,” she said to the silent class. “This is my first day here.” “You don’t say,” said Sam’s friend Rob. Laughter broke out at the jibe. Sam watched her carefully for signs of embarrassment, but her creamy skin refused to turn pink. She caught him looking at her and smiled. Dimples appeared on her cheeks. Sam looked down at the tabletop. The girl turned back to her audience. She seemed to have gained their respect. “I moved to London a week ago,” she said in the soft Scottish accent he had missed before. He had been too intent on looking at her strange green eyes and tangled dark hair. “Why?” one boy asked. Sam noticed how he talked to her chest, and not her face. The girl, Kate, smiled. The dimples appeared again as if they had been pencilled in. “Dad’s job,” she said calmly, as if this settled the matter. With a quick glance at their form tutor, she walked down the aisle and sat down next to Sam. He wished his cheeks didn’t always have to go so red. “Pleased to meet you,” she said primly, holding out her hand. Sam couldn’t tell whether she was being deliberately formal or not. Across the row of seats, Rob gave him a grin. “Er, hi,” he said nervously. As they shook hands, Sam felt a warmth burn through his fingertips. He didn’t know how, or when, but someday, he was going to marry this girl. The end.