And it does. It really does. Life gets better.

I get an A- on the biology exam Mina helped me study for. Considering that I’ve been averaging a B-, I’m so stoked. The sun starts to show its face a little more. Guess Mina was right about spring coming. I spend more time with Mina’s friends – man, they crack me up. Best of all, though, I have Mina. And I don’t care who knows it.

We spend some time in her tree hut, mainly when we just want to get away from the world and have some time together. The rest of my days fly by though, with scavenger hunts through town late at night, more cooking lessons over at her place when her mom is away, ditching school one day to go to one of our favorite band’s concert, and taking photos in a photo booth. Hanging out at the coffee shop is traded for hanging out at the juice bar and ice cream parlor. Mina teaches me to skateboard. There’s nearly always a smile on my face.

I’m sitting in art class one day, the sun streaming through the windows, when my teacher asks to see how my portfolio is coming along. I put down the piece I’m working on, and get all my other paintings out of my bag. He picks them up, sorting through them, analyzing them for a long time.

"This is interesting," he says. "You show a gradual but clear change in style throughout these works, from this very neat and refined one" – he picks up my first piece – "to the one you’re working on now, which is noticeably freer and more expressive. I love the conscious choice you’ve made to develop them this way. Great work, Momo." He puts them back down on the table, and walks away.

I stare at the pile of paper on my desk, and then slowly pick them up and look at them one by one. He’s right. I’d never even noticed. It wasn’t a conscious choice. I run a finger over the swirls and flecks of paint on the dry section of the one I’m working on, and then over the flat, perfectly smooth surface of the first paintings speculatively. They speak for themselves: My outlook on life has changed.

One day, I almost say it. Splashing through the puddles with Mina after the rain has dried up and the sun come out. She suddenly stops me and presses her lips to mine, right in the middle of town. I feel the warmth of a spring sun on my face and the water from the puddle we’re standing in slowly soaking through my converse. But most of all, her soft lips, soft body pushing against my own, her arm encircling my waist and her other hand gently on the back of my neck, tasting of the frozen yogurt we’ve just eaten. I almost say it. Those three words.

A week later, and we’re both over at our friend V’s house, having a bonfire night. I go to help bring the food out of the house and into the garden, and when I come out balancing a platter of hamburgers, Mina picks me up and swirls me around in the air.

"Woah, calm down!" I protest as several slide precariously close to the edge.

Mina just giggles, smothering me in a quick bear hug, and then grabbing a hamburger for herself.

"Yum," she says, as if that’s the only explanation that’s needed. I roll my eyes expressively, going to sit down beside her.

"Oh no you don’t," she says, pulling me into her lap. She buries her face in my hair. "You smell like wood smoke and pine needles," she breathes.

These little shivers of pleasure at her voice travel up my neck. I relax into her hold. She threads a marsh mellow onto a skewer, reaching her right arm around me to toast it over the flames, while she wraps her left arm across my stomach.

I listen to the sounds of other people laughing and talking while I stare hazily into the flames

"Here," Mina says, handing me a perfectly toasted marsh mellow. I break off the toasted shell and nibble at the gooeyness within.

"Hey," V says, looking over at both of us. "You guys going to join in the toast?"

I glance around, and see that everyone is holding their bottles of ginger beer and coke and looking at us expectantly. I quickly grab my bottle and hold it up. Mina grabs hers too.

"To the teenage years!" she calls out. I don’t need to twist my head to look at her to see the happiness or excitement dancing in her brown eyes.

"To the teenage years," we all say in response, not quite in unison.

Mina chinks her bottle with mine, and we both drink, her fingers curling around mine. The sweet bubbly drink makes me giggle for some reason. When you’re this happy, nearly anything will.