and not just Lara. And then, do you remember how Mr. Chudney started calling you John Ambrose
because of that? ‘Mr. John Ambrose.’”
In a fake hoity-toity English accent, John says, “Mr. John Ambrose McClaren the Third, madam.”
I giggle. I’ve never met a third before. “Are you really?”
“Yeah. It’s annoying. My dad’s a junior, so he’s JJ, but my extended family still calls me Little
John.” He grimaces. “I’d much rather be John Ambrose than Little John. Sounds like a rapper or that
guy from Robin Hood.”
“Your family’s so fancy.” I only ever saw John’s mom when she was picking him up. She looked
younger than the other mothers, she had John’s same milky skin, and her hair was longer than the other
moms’, straw-colored.
“No. My family isn’t fancy at all. My mom made Jell-O salad last night for dessert. And, like, my
dad only has steak cooked well-done. We only ever take vacations we can drive to.”
“I thought your family was kind of... well, rich.” I feel immediate shame for saying “rich.” It’s
tacky to talk about other people’s money.
“My dad’s really cheap. His construction company is pretty successful, but he prides himself on
being a self-made man. He didn’t go to college; neither did my grandparents. My sisters were the first
in our family.”
“I didn’t know that about you,” I say. All these new things I’m learning about John Ambrose
McClaren!
“Now it’s your turn to tell me something I don’t know about you,” John says.
I laugh. “You already know more than most people. My love letter made sure of that.”
The next morning, I sneeze as I’m putting on my coat, and Stormy raises one pencil-drawn eyebrow at
me. “Catch a cold playing in the snow last night with Johnny?”
I squirm. I’d hoped she wouldn’t bring it up. The last thing I want to do is discuss her midnight
rendezvous with Mr. Morales! We watched Stormy go back to her apartment and then waited half an
hour before John went back to Mr. Morales’s. Weakly, I say, “Sorry we snuck out. It was so early,
and we couldn’t fall asleep, so we thought we’d play in the snow.”
Stormy waves a hand. “It’s exactly what I hoped would happen.” She winks at me. “That’s why I
made Johnny stay with Mr. Morales, of course. What’s the fun in anything if there aren’t a few
roadblocks to spice things up?”
In awe, I say, “You’re so crafty!”
“Thank you, darling.” She’s quite pleased with herself. “You know, he’d make a great first
husband, my Johnny. So, did you French him, at least?”
My face burns. “No!”
“You can tell me, honey.”
“Stormy, we didn’t kiss, and even if we had, I wouldn’t discuss it with you.”
Stormy’s nose goes thin and haughty. “Well, isn’t that so very selfish of you!”
“I have to go, Stormy. My dad’s waiting for me out front. See you!”
As I hurry out the door, she calls out, “Don’t you worry, I’ll get it out of Johnny! See you both at
the party, Lara Jean!”
When I step outside, the sun is shining bright and much of the snow has already melted away. It’s