Product Description Whether you?re trans, gay, lesbian, bi, queer, questioning, or straight, this winner of the Stonewall Children?s & Young Adult Literature Award will make you marvel at the beauty of human connection and the irrepressible nature of love. Everyone has that one line they swear they?ll never cross, the one thing they say they?ll never do. We draw the line. Maybe we even believe it. Sage Hendricks was my line. Logan Witherspoon befriends Sage Hendricks at a time when he no longer trusts or believes in people. As time goes on, he finds himself drawn to Sage, pulled in by her deep, but sexy feminine voice and her constant smile. Eventually Logan?s feelings for Sage grow so strong that he can?t resist kissing her. Moments later, he wishes he never had. Sage finally discloses her big secret: she was born a boy. Enraged, frightened, and feeling betrayed, Logan lashes out at Sage. Once his anger has cooled, however, his regrets lead him to attempt to rekindle their friendship. But it?s hard to replace something that?s been broken-and it?s even harder to find your way back to friendship when you began with love. *** ?Tackles issues of homophobia, hate crimes and stereotyping with humor and grace in an accessible tone that will resonate with teens.? - Kirkus Reviews ?It is Sage's story that is truly important.? - SLJ ?Teens-both those familiar with transgender issues and those who are not-will welcome the honest take on a rarely explored subject.? - Booklist ?A sensitive examination of the seldom treated subject of transgender teens.? - VOYA From the Hardcover edition. Review Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews, September 1, 2009:"An accessible tone that will resonate with teens." From the Hardcover edition. About the Author Brian Katcher is the author of Playing with Matches, and a school librarian. He lives in Missouri with his wife and daughter. You can visit him on the Web at www.briankatcher.com. From the Hardcover edition. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. chapter one I?m not sure what I loved most about being on the track team. Maybe it was the crippling shin splints. Or constantly feeling like I?d just smoked three packs of cigarettes. Maybe it was the empty stands at every meet, or the way the results got buried in the local sports section. The football field was by far the best feature of Boyer, Missouri. My hometown, which barely boasted two thousand people, pumped nearly every tax dollar they could into maintaining the facility. The city of Boyer was little more than a half-dozen trailer parks, an electronics factory, and five churches, but the football field was always pristine. The maintenance staff mowed the grass twice a week and watered it every day in the summer. The bleachers gleamed, the locker rooms sparkled, and the scoreboard towered like some great pagan idol. The crumbling structure of Boyer High School stood across the parking lot, almost as an afterthought. Us track poseurs were permitted to run the perimeter of the sacred field, but only when the football heroes had no use for it. During the fall we had to run laps in the parking lot while the Boyer Bears practiced. One time we were run off by the marching band, which gives you an idea of where we stood in the school food chain. It was mid-November. My friend Jack Seversen and I had managed to squeeze in some after-school running, trying to stay in shape for the winter. The cold wind chilled my sweat-soaked body, making me shiver and swelter at the same time. Exhausted and thirsty, I walked a final lap to avoid muscle cramps, then limped toward the watercooler. ?You suck, Logan!? shouted Jack, jogging up behind me. Even though he?d run as much as I had, he was still vibrating with raw energy. Thin as a whip and gangly, Jack reminded me of a broken fan belt, wildly flailing in no particular direction. Track wasn?t a sport for him; it was merely an excuse to move. ?Hey, check it out.? He jabbed his bony, spastic hand toward th