Her mom Chelsea was okay, but Ashlee's dad was nicer and warmer to me. I liked Preston right away. I also remembered being jealous of Ashlee's enormous house that I considered a mansion. Compared to my own house, hers was a mansion. One time when I was just shy of my tenth birthday, Ashlee and I wandered far from her house and found this field of pink primroses. I crouched in a small clearing. A hideous sweat bee buzzed at me, then I felt its sting on my arm. I screeched and wailed like a baby. Ashlee panicked, helpless. She ran back to the house, tugging and practically dragging me with her. We burst through the French doors to the dining room. Ashlee's mother just stared at us, then grimaced as she walked off. That stung as much as the actual bee sting. Why was she so mean to me? In came Preston Lee D'Anjou, a look of concern on his face and in his sky blue eyes. His tan complexion brightened those eyes. Back then Preston looked so tall to me, so big and overpowering. Yet he was so kind.
