Harmonic Feedback

“I stockpile my cheesy lines just for you.” He smirked and sat down in front of his keyboard. “I’m ready when you are.”

I created a new track in Logic and hit record. “Go ahead.”

Justin dove right in, playing softly at first. I closed my eyes and allowed the melody to wash over my skin. Good music was something I could feel from head to toe. It calmed me, made me feel safe. I wouldn’t have minded if he wanted to do a hundred takes. But he settled for three.

“I thought up a good band name,” I said when he finished. “M3—like your car. Since there’s three of us and stuff.”

“It’s simple. I like it.” Justin picked up his chair and moved it next to me. “Naomi better finish the vocals. This song is going to be incredible.”

“We should make a band page on MySpace and some other music sites. I belong to this indie music site called Slip Music. It’s a really supportive community.”

“I’m game.” He nudged me and motioned to my computer screen. “So what do you do in Logic? Show me how a producer works.”

I smiled—if there was one thing I had no problems talking about, it was music production and synthesis. I soloed Naomi’s vocals and explained how I’d go about making them sound better. “In this case I added reverb to the track—gives it more space. And then I added some delay, but automated it to only work on certain words.”

Justin leaned in. The heat from his body made the hairs on my arm stand up. “I like that. It adds a lot of depth to her voice.”

I clicked on the guitar track with a shaky finger. “There’s this program called Guitar Rig, which is like a virtual guitar studio. I can approximate most guitar sounds with it, but nothing beats playing through a loud amp.”

“Cool.” His voice was soft, but inches from my ear.

My breath quickened. I moved on to how I created synths. “I see sounds in colors, and oscillators are like my primary colors. I start mixing them together, then I add a filter or two and get the core sound. Effects, LFOs, and modulation matrixes—”

“Drea”—he put his hand on my arm—“you lost me.”

“Oh, sorry. Sometimes I get started and can’t shut up.” Another laugh escaped my mouth.

“Hey.” He touched my cheek, running his fingers along my jawline.

A shiver ran down my back. I hoped my breath didn’t smell like the Doritos I ate after PE. Mom always carried a pack of gum on dates.

He dropped his hand and smiled. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing, regardless.”

“Oh, um…” My knee slammed against my keyboard. “Thanks.”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else.

“So…,” I said.

Justin stood up, looking at the staircase. “I need to take off. Thanks for the mini lesson though. I enjoyed it.”

The air suddenly felt cold around me, and my shoulders sagged. I got up and tried my best to smile at him.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I sucked in my breath, nuzzling my head against his chest. His thermal smelled sweet, like fabric softener.

“Have fun this weekend.” His lips brushed against my ear.

“You too.” I tightened my grip, not wanting to let go.

“See ya.” He pulled away and headed up the stairs—two steps at a time.

EVEN GRANDMA COULDN’T STOP ME from smiling Saturday morning. I devoured the grainy cereal she’d put in front of me and thought about Justin—how he made me feel.

Grandma looked at my empty bowl, her eyebrows pinched together. She pointed to the pink capsule she’d set next to my food: my SNRI. “You haven’t taken that yet.”

I put the pill in my mouth, choking it down with water.

She narrowed her hazel eyes at me. “That helping you any?”

“I don’t know. I just started taking it.” I took my bowl and put it in the sink.

“What’s it supposed to do?”

“Make me less anxious and depressed. But most of them just make me tired.”

“I’m going to start assigning you chores, Andrea. My back isn’t as good as it used to be. Maybe that’ll wake you up.”

I turned, facing her. “What?” Mom used to tell me stories about Grandma making her scrub the kitchen floor until every inch sparkled. One time she forced Mom to remake her bed ten times.

“You heard me.” She smiled. It looked wicked. “I saw your mother doing your laundry last night. Sixteen years old and you don’t know how to wash your own clothes?” She clucked her tongue.

I shrugged. The truth was Mom never trusted me with the clothes. Not since I got bleach spots on half her jeans and turned every white pair of underwear pink.

Grandma pushed a folded piece of paper across her glitter-ridden table. “I wrote down what I want you to do today. And gave you directions on how to do it.”

I sighed and picked up the yellow paper. Her purple cursive neatly spelled out each step.

“I’d follow that to every crossed T if I were you. Because I’ll make you do each thing over again until you get it right.”

Hushed voices in the entranceway caught my attention. I peered around the corner to see Mom hugging some guy with dark hair and a white shirt. She held a blue robe tightly around her body and pecked him on the cheek.

“What are you looking at, Andrea?” Grandma’s voice was loud enough to get their attention. Mom pointed in Grandma’s direction and put a finger to her lips, telling me to stay quiet. The man smiled and waved before edging himself out the door.

I couldn’t believe Mom was sneaking around like she was my age. I wonder why they didn’t go to his place. Mom came up behind me, squeezing my shoulders. I pulled away from her because I could smell his cologne. Whoever he was.

“You’re up early,” she said to me.

“Did your guest leave?” Grandma asked. She scrunched her lips into a tiny circle.

Mom tucked a lock of messy hair behind her ear, and her cheek twitched. “My guest?”

“Yes, Juliana. The strange man who was going through my refrigerator at one a.m.”

“Oh, Mom.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled like it was no big deal.

“What were you thinking? He could’ve killed all of us in our beds. Have you checked your purse? He might have stolen your wallet.”

“He’s a local dentist, and he drives a Benz. I highly doubt we have anything here he’d want.”

“I don’t want strangers spending the night in my house. You have no idea—”

“Point taken. Let’s move on.” Mom rubbed her eyes and poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee.

Grandma cleared her throat. “I’ve given Andrea some chores today.” She shifted her glare to me. “You can start by vacuuming the living room and hallway.”

Mom took a sip of coffee, wrinkling her nose. “She can’t tolerate the noise.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I’ll do something else, but I’m not vacuuming.” Every time Mom vacuumed, I’d shut myself in my room and put headphones on. The high, whiny noise pierced every nerve in my body and made my hair stand on end. And the crackling sound really got to me. Like tiny electric shocks. When I was little, I’d cover my ears and rock in the corner until it stopped.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Grandma said. “This is why we have kids like Naomi Quinn running wild—no discipline. No responsibilities.”

“It’s not about that, Mom. Drea doesn’t process sound normally.”

I tossed the paper on the table and left the kitchen, heading right for the basement. They’d had this discussion at least six times since we moved in. Being spoiled versus having a disorder. I didn’t like either argument. What was so wrong with just being me? Disliking vacuum noise wasn’t any more bizarre than hating pickles or roller coasters.

I speed-dialed Naomi’s number on my cell and counted the seconds until I heard her voice. She’d make some joke about Grandma or tease me about Justin. But she never tried to fix me.

“Hello?” Naomi’s voice was hoarse and muffled.

“Hey, you should come over now.”

“Huh?” There was a loud rustling sound. “God, Drea. It’s nine a.m. Call me later.”

“I thought you wanted to hang out today.”

She cursed and sighed into the phone. “Yeah, later. I’ve been asleep for, like, three hours.” With that her breathing was cut off.

“Hello?” I glanced at my phone. Call ended, it read. I’d messed up again.

“Drea, honey?” Mom’s slippers padded down the stairs.

“What?”

She walked over to my bed and sat down with that squinty look in her brown eyes. Usually it meant we were moving again, or she’d lost her job. “Grandma’s not bending on this one.” She handed me the yellow slip of paper.

Chores to be done every morning:

Make your bed.

Clean up any mess you’ve made in the bathroom getting ready. That includes putting your dirty clothes in the hamper.

Unload the dishwasher. Then reload it with any dirty dishes before you leave.

This was followed by a page-long description of how to vacuum.

“Fine, I’ll do that other stuff, but I’m not vacuuming.”

Mom put her hand over mine. “Maybe you can wear some headphones—turn the music up real loud. I’ve got some ear plugs you can use.”

“Just tell her I’m not doing it.”

She rubbed her temples, exhaling sharply. “We need to keep the peace until I can afford a deposit on an apartment, okay?”

I nodded, knowing what she’d say next. Same old story. Compromise or live in her car.

Mom reached down and squeezed my hand. “You deserve better, baby.” Her voice was strained and muffled.

“Quit saying that.”

“I just wish I could give you more. The depression hit me bad in San Francisco. I couldn’t pull out of it. And I really am sorry.”

“I know.” I twisted my green quilt around my finger until it went numb.

She wiped her eyes. “I got that job at the law firm. Start Monday. We’ll be out of here soon. And I promise that we’ll stay put for a while. Do you want to finish high school here?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Mom cupped my face with both hands, forcing me to look into her watery eyes. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to keep us here. The paralegal there is retiring soon, and she offered to train me. That would be a really good thing for us.”

“Do you even want to be a paralegal?”

She dropped her hands and shook her head. “It’s a lot better than any other options I’ve had in the past. And the pay isn’t bad. Enough to live on our own—just you and me.” Mom sighed and tousled my hair. “I’m going in the shower. Let me know if you need any help.”

I could handle the vacuum noise for about five seconds before I had to shut it off. Even with sound-canceling headphones blaring my favorite songs, the squeal cut through, making me feel like I was being zapped from the inside. My skin itched, and I feared that the bulging bag would explode. I sat on the couch and hugged myself.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re making much progress out there!” Grandma called from the kitchen. She had a mini TV with antennas on the kitchen counter. The buzzing from the crappy signal filtered throughout the house.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and thought about calling Naomi. But she’d already hung up on me once. Justin’s name stared back at me from my address book. The letters alone made my stomach flutter. We’d exchanged numbers a couple days ago, but he’d yet to call me. Would it be weird if I called him?

I pressed dial and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Hello?” he answered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Drea?”

“Um, hi!”

“What’s up?” His voice sounded deeper on the phone.

“I have to vacuum.”

“That’s… nice?”

“Does your family ever drive you insane?”

“All the time.”

“Andrea, I still don’t hear that vacuum!”

He laughed softly. “I dig your grandma.”

“Why? I want to buy her a muzzle.”

“I like how she just doesn’t care. But I can see how she’d drive you nuts.”

“You’ve never met her.”

“What can I say? The comment about garbage on the walls at the café won me over.”

Silence. He was probably wondering why I called him.

“You and Naomi still doing that movie night thing tonight?”

“I think so. She’s asleep.” Ask questions, Drea. “Are you doing anything after work?”

“Why?” His voice got softer. “You asking me out?”

My heart jumped in my chest. “Like on a date? No, I wouldn’t do that. I mean—I’ve done that, but I wasn’t asking you. Um…” It was official. I sucked at the phone thing.

“So let me clarify. That’s a no, right?”

“No. I mean—yes. Yes, that’s right.”

He chuckled again. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

I swallowed hard. “Is that bad?”

“No and—yes.”

“Um…”

“No, because I really like that about you. And yes. For the same reason.”

“Huh?”

He sighed into the phone. “Nothing. It’s not bad, Drea.”

Grandma appeared in the living room, hands on her bony hips. “Mobile phones don’t vacuum living rooms. Get off right now.”

“Sounds like you should go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye.” I flipped the phone shut and looked at Grandma. “I can use this phone when I want to—it’s mine.”

“And that’s a big part of your problem. You’re used to getting your way all the time.”

“If that was the case, we wouldn’t be living with you.”

Grandma’s mouth dropped open, but Mom walked in before she could speak. “She didn’t mean it. Right, Drea?”

“She needs a good paddle on the behind,” Grandma said.

“Give me that phone,” Mom said, holding her hand out to me.

“What? No.” I hid it behind my back.

“I said give it to me!” Her voice made me jump. She rarely yelled like that.

I slowly held the phone out to her, avoiding her dark eyes.

Mom ripped the cell from my hands. “You’ll get it back when you finish your chores. And only then.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “Apologize to Grandma.”

“For what? She interrupted my phone conversation.”

“Say you’re sorry, or Naomi can’t come over later.”

What was the point of that? It wasn’t like I’d mean it. “But I’m not sorry.”

Grandma shook her head. “You should make her stay in her room for the rest of the weekend. And unplug her computer too.”

“Mother, please. Just let me handle this, okay?”

“I’m not going to tolerate this in my house, Juliana.” Grandma retreated into the kitchen, turning up whatever news program she had on.

Mom walked over and knelt in front of me. “Drea, please,” she whispered. “Stop pushing her.”

“Don’t make me say things I don’t mean.”

“Remember what we talked about in San Francisco? About letting things go? Apologizing to her will keep her out of your hair.”

“I don’t care.”

“Drea, she took us into her home, and she didn’t have to. Do you understand that? She’s tough to be around, yes. But right now, she’s all we have.”

I understood why I was supposed to appreciate Grandma. And I did—a little bit. But it didn’t mean she could force me to do things. “Fine, I’ll do it. For you.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m not vacuuming. I can’t. It hurts.”

She sighed. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. But you have to finish the rest of your chores.” She held up my phone. “Then you’ll get this back.”

Grandma ignored me when I walked into the kitchen. That’s how I knew she was really angry. She almost always had something to say.

I focused on the beige tile below my feet. Pale brown lines carved out triangles and squares. “I’m sorry I said that to you. I appreciate you letting us stay here.”

She nodded but kept her eyes on the television. Her shoulders were hunched, and her mouth turned down at the corners.

I waited for a few moments. Nothing. She didn’t even look in my direction. It made my stomach hurt. “I said I was sorry.”

“I heard you,” she said, still not looking at me.

“Okay.” I turned around and left to clean the bathroom.

My day didn’t get much better when Naomi finally showed up. She insisted on dragging me to the mall with her, which was as bad as Grandma making me scrub the bathtub three times—if not worse.

“I hate malls,” I said, avoiding eye contact with the hordes of people walking in the opposite direction. All the faces and chatter made me dizzy.

Whoever came up with the idea of food courts needed their head examined. The smell of sugary dough did not mesh with teriyaki sauce. Add cheap tomato sauce to the mix, and it had the same effect as ipecac.

“Scott wants to hang out tonight. I need something sexy to wear.”

“What about painting and the movie?”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “It’s only five thirty. Scott isn’t coming to get us until at least eleven or midnight.”

“Us?”

She grabbed my arm, pulling me close. “Yep. He’s racing tonight.”

“Racing?”

She let me go and bit her lip. “You’ll see. There will be lots of hotties there.”

“I’d rather just stay home like we’d planned.”

“What? And do each other’s makeup and hair all night? God, Drea, I was only kidding about the slumber-party thing. We aren’t ten.”

A lump formed in my throat as I followed her into a store filled with fancy underwear, bras, and lingerie.

“I know you think he’s this big jerk,” Naomi said. “You know how guys are, though—they talk like pigs to each other, but they don’t mean anything by it.” She rummaged through the piles of underwear, plucking out a lacy red pair. “Justin might like these.” She thrust them into my chest, grinning.

I dropped them back into the pile. “Well, I don’t like them.”

Naomi tore a silky black slip from a hanger and held it against her body, fingering the plastic security tag. “What do you think? Pair it with some thigh highs maybe?”

I checked the price. “It’s almost fifty dollars.”

She leaned into my ear. Her breath smelled like mint gum and cigarettes. “No worries—they’ve got the cheap non-ink security tags here. Easy to remove.”

“Can I help you ladies with anything?” a girl with bleached teeth asked. She eyed Naomi from head to toe, pausing on her baggy jeans.

Naomi grabbed a pink gauzy thing and what looked like a doll gown off the rack. “Yeah, can you start a fitting room for us?” She handed the garments over to the clerk.

“Certainly—two rooms?”

“We can share,” Naomi said.

The girl scanned me up and down before flashing a quick smile. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She walked away.

“Okay, bitch,” Naomi whispered. “Did you see the way she looked at us? It’s why I don’t feel bad ripping them off.” She glanced at the other clerk before stuffing the black slip down her jeans. “I just wish this place was busier. It usually is on Saturdays.”

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh.” She looked over her shoulder before cramming a white lacy slip down the other side of her jeans. The oversized band T-shirt she wore covered the bulge.

Mom said she’d never resort to stealing. Even if that meant living on gas-station food. I picked up a silky corset with fraying laces—$110. “I could make this stuff for a lot cheaper. You don’t have to steal anything.”

“I was going to ask if you made your clothes,” she said in a louder voice. “They’re really awesome.” The salesclerk who’d started our fitting room had come back out. She straightened racks a few feet from us.

“Kinda have to—not much fits me otherwise.”

She nodded at my white skirt. “Did you make that?”

“I added the lace hem to this one.” I leaned closer to her. “Put them back, Naomi!”

She put her finger to her lips, her eyes widening. “So what do you think Justin would like? I’m betting on something innocent.”

Heat ran up my neck at her words. “Do you really think he likes me that way?”

“I swear, Drea. Sometimes you act like you’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

“I’ve had plenty of boyfriends.” My pulse throbbed through my ears and my fingers ran cold. She’d caught me.

“And didn’t you have to make the first move with at least a couple?” She took my hand, pulling me toward the fitting rooms. “We’re ready,” she called over to the clerk.

The salesclerk smiled. “Okay, let me know if you need a different size.”

We squeezed into the fitting room. It smelled like roses and sweat.

Naomi pulled the white lacy slip out of her jeans and tossed it at me. “This will look so good on you. Sweet and sexy.”

I unraveled the light material. A pale ribbon swirled around the high waist, and it was barely long enough to cover my butt. What exactly did she expect me to do with this? “How do I act like I’ve never had a boyfriend?”

She took off her T-shirt and gave me a sidelong glance. “Mostly, it’s the way you act around Justin. You blush a lot—and you get all shy and giggly.”

“He’s different from most guys I’ve been around.” At least that much was true.

“I figured. Were most of them jerks?”

“Yeah.” I thought back to some of Mom’s boyfriends. “A couple drank a lot, and they’d get violent and break stuff sometimes. One of them stole our—my money and gambled it all away.”

Naomi smoothed the black slip over her baggy jeans and raised her eyebrows at me. “Like, online?”

“In Vegas.”

“Was he older?”

Oh, crap. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “I’ve dated a couple older losers too.”

“Like Scott?”

“He’s really sweet when we’re alone together. Oh my God, I didn’t tell you what he did last night.” Naomi’s cheeks practically glowed as she twisted in the mirror, eyeing her behind. “He brought yellow tulips—my favorite—and took me out to this really nice restaurant in Seattle. Like the kind that gives you warm bread before the meal.” She gazed up at the ceiling. “Anyway, he told me he wouldn’t see other people if I don’t.”

“I’d rather a guy not see other people because he doesn’t want to.”

“You and every other girl. Guys just think differently, you know?” She sucked her stomach in. “Do you think I’ve got too much tummy for this?”

All I saw was a huge chest, a small waist, and curvy hips—the perfect female figure. Everything mine wasn’t. “You look beautiful,” I said.

“Aw. Try yours on.”

“No thanks. I’ve got no reason to wear it.”

“Drea! Boys or no boys, there’s always a reason.” She winked. “I think Justin suffers from FGS, by the way.”

“What’s FGS?”

Naomi giggled and peeled the slip off. “It’s a term me and Kari came up with—we used to be joined at the hip.”

“She told me.”

“Yeah, anyway—it’s Former Geek Syndrome. Guys who are late bloomers and don’t get hot until their junior or senior year. Most of the time they aren’t aware of it yet, so they haven’t gotten all arrogant. They usually make the best boyfriends but have no idea how to make the first move.” She nudged me. “So do it already.”

“There’s more to life than boys. I’d rather write more songs.”

She pulled a flathead screwdriver and a small pair of pliers from her pocket.

“What is that for?”

Naomi put her fingers to her lips. “The security tags,” she whispered. “Make some noise, okay? Talk loud or something.” She slid the screwdriver in where the tag gripped the clothing.

“I’ll make you something. Don’t do this.”

“Quit worrying,” she whispered. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

“I’m leaving,” I said, reaching for the door.

Naomi grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. “Chill the fuck out. You’re going to get us caught.”

I avoided her gaze, which seemed to burn into me. Her nails dug into the skin of my arm.

“Please, Drea. Just help me out, okay?”

I yanked my arm out of her grip and slid to the ground. It was so hot in here. I couldn’t breathe.

“Look underneath the door,” she whispered. “Tell me if someone walks by.” She started to sing the lyrics to “Invisible” as she grasped the tag with the pliers. It snapped a couple seconds later and she handed me the remnants, which included a sharp pin. “Hold this. Anyone coming?”

I glanced under the door and shook my head, my breaths coming out fast. Naomi put the black slip back on, tucked it inside her jeans, and then pulled her T-shirt over it.

“Now yours.” She took the white lacy slip from my hands and repeated the process, still singing. “Put this on under your clothes.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Fine, whatever.” She stuffed it down her jeans, then grabbed the broken security tags from me and tossed them under the divider into the adjacent fitting room. “Let’s get out of here.”

When we opened the door, the salesclerk came around the corner smiling. “How’d it go?”

I felt like there was a knife twisting in my stomach.

Naomi handed her the doll gown and the unidentifiable pink thing. “Neither of these were me. Maybe next time.”

“Would you like to try a different size or color?”

Naomi took my hand, pulling me forward. “No, no. The cut just didn’t work.”

We’d almost left the store when the salesgirl asked us to stop. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the security tags in her hands.

“Run.” Naomi took off in a sprint.

I tried to follow, but running through crowds was near impossible. Every time I avoided one major collision, someone else appeared out of nowhere. Two security guards were jogging in my direction. I sucked in my breath and froze, watching them close in on me.

A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hallway with a green exit sign. “Come on!”

I chased Naomi toward the sign, but I could hear the buzz of radios and voices behind us. The two guards entered the hallway just before we reached the doors.

“Found two females matching the description,” a breathless guy said. “They’re running out the south exit. Over.”

Naomi pushed the door open, and I dug my heels into the pavement, using every last bit of muscle to get to her dad’s car.

“Duck,” she said, bending over and weaving between the cars. The sound of opening doors and footsteps rang out behind us.

“Search the southeast parking lot,” a guy said. One set of footsteps ran in another direction.

Naomi pushed the unlock button and opened the silver door of her dad’s SUV. “Scrunch down in the seat so nobody will see you,” she whispered.

I squeezed the handle, and the passenger door creaked open. It sounded more like a scream. They must’ve heard it. I’d gotten us caught.

Naomi threw a blanket over my head as I climbed in, closing the door with as little force as possible. I squeezed my eyes shut despite the darkness. All I could hear was Naomi’s labored breathing and the roar of the car engine.

“We’ll be okay,” she said over and over again. A metal song blared out of her speakers, and she tapped her hands against the wheel.

The endless turns made me dizzy. Stop. Go. Stop. Crawl. Stop. Every second seemed like an eternity. And the screaming vocals certainly weren’t helping the mood.

Finally, Naomi let out a wicked laugh and tore the blanket from my head. “That was such a rush.”

I gaped at her grinning face. “Are you crazy?”

“Probably.” For whatever reason, she seemed proud of this.

We made a right onto the main street and got onto the freeway on-ramp. “We should go back and return the stuff. They saw us—and they probably have cameras.”

Naomi shrugged. “I didn’t see any. Besides, it’s not like we robbed a bank. We stole some overpriced lingerie.”

“We didn’t do anything.”

She rolled down the window, sticking a cigarette between her lips. “You can’t tell me your friends back in San Francisco or Vegas or wherever never ripped anything off.”

“We went to parties and clubs and stuff.”

Her blue eyes lit up. “Ooh, you got a fake ID?”

“No.”

She sped up to eighty-five. “How’d you get in? Did you flirt with the bouncer?”

“The speed limit is sixty.”

“I had no idea. Tell me again.” Her smile faded, and she pressed harder on the gas.

“The speed limit is—”

“Do you take everything literally?”

I glanced down at my shaking hands. They looked pale and small in my lap. “I don’t understand the point of saying something you don’t mean.”

“I don’t understand the point of a lot of things.” She turned up the radio, and we rode the rest of the way home in silence.

WE WAITED FOR GRANDMA to go to bed before we lined the floor with newspapers and cracked open the paint. Naomi rambled on about Scott, the time Kari got lice, and a bad acid trip she had as if she’d completely forgotten the incident at the mall. I got this gnawing pain in my gut every time I looked at the stolen lingerie on my floor.

“You do realize this is a hideous color, right?” Naomi slapped the roller onto the wall, splattering paint across her cheeks. “Oops.”

“It’s a happy color.”

“Says the girl who almost always wears black. I like the smell of paint, though—makes my head all nice and fuzzy.”

“Hey, Drea.” Mom headed down the stairs. She was wearing a fitted black dress and matching heels. “Oh, God.” Her eyes widened at the lime green paint. “Grandma is going to kill us both.”

“I’ll paint it white again when we move out.”

“Damn it, Drea. You should’ve asked me first.” She sighed. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’m going on a second date with that dentist tonight.”

“Ooh,” Naomi said. “Is he hot?”

Mom grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Very.”

I wondered if Mom wished I was boy crazy like Naomi. Maybe she’d talk to me more—like, tell me more about the guy in the first place.

“Anyway, make sure you keep the windows open and don’t sleep in here overnight.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sleeping at Naomi’s.”

Mom gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, sweetie. See you later, Naomi.”

“Bye.” Naomi wiggled her fingers at Mom and slapped the wall with the roller again.

“You’re not supposed to beat the wall with it.”

She blew her purple bangs out of her face. “My arms are getting tired.”

I shook my head and dipped my roller in the pan. The jittery tunes of Imogen Heap’s “Goodnight and Go” wafted in the background. The song put a grin on my face because it reminded me of Justin. I sang along.

Naomi snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Drea, I think you’re a wonderful human being.” She sighed and met my gaze. “But you can’t sing.”

I moved closer to her and sang louder.

“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Get your mind off Justin already, will ya?” She smirked as if she’d read my mind.

I focused back on the wall. “It’s not on him.”

“It so is. You’re thinking about the many ways you can rip his clothes off and ravage him.”

Giggles escaped my throat. “Nooo.”

“You should invite him tonight.”

“He’s got work.”

“At midnight? I highly doubt it. But maybe it’s past his bedtime—he does seem like he’s every mother’s dream.” She laughed and slapped more paint on the wall. “I bet he helps little old ladies cross the street in his spare time.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He just seems a little too nice, you know?”

“I don’t think he’s fake, if that’s what you mean.” Usually people smiled too much or asked pointless questions in a high voice when they were being fake. Justin never did that.

She grinned and flung paint at me. “You’re so hooked.”

I loved moments like this with Naomi. They felt close and warm. If I could put this moment between us in a box, I’d hide it under the bed and take it out whenever I could. And I’d throw out the incident at the mall and Scott. I wished this was enough for her. I wished I was enough for her.

We watched Ferris Bueller with achy arms and grumbling stomachs. Saturday night wasn’t the best night to have a pizza delivered quickly. Naomi’s blue floral couch smelled like cat pee, and Lizzie insisted on playing with my hair.

Naomi was laughing at a scene where this guy Cameron didn’t want to leave his dad’s Ferrari at a parking garage in downtown Chicago. He listed all the bad things that could happen to it, which made perfect sense. But his friend Ferris didn’t think it was a big deal, even though they took the car without permission.

“You remind me of Cameron,” Naomi said.

“Why?” I detached Lizzie’s claws from my hair.

“You freak out over little stuff.”

“I wouldn’t call getting caught stealing little.” I was happy when she’d taken the clothing and stuffed it in her dresser. Out of my sight.

“Uh, how about throwing the pipe at Roger because the bell rang?”

“I didn’t throw it at him. And I told you—I needed air.”

“Or how about freaking out over ice cream expiration dates? Plus, you’re pouty like Cameron is.”

“I don’t mean to be.” Lizzie made smacking sounds next to my ear. “Why is your cat eating my hair?”

Naomi hoisted the cat from her perch and kissed her head. “She likes you. Don’t you, Lizzie Wizzie?” Lizzie meowed in response, her dreamy green eyes blinking once.

Keys rattled in the front door lock. Lizzie scrambled out of Naomi’s lap and squeezed her chubby body under the couch.

“It’s just my dad. He went camping with some buddy of his.”

The door swung open and a tall man wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans walked in. He had sandy hair and thin arms—almost scarecrowlike.

I looked back at Naomi. She focused on the movie. Two parking attendants were stealing the red Ferrari.

“How are you, Kari?” Her father was peering at me from the dim entranceway.

“It’s Drea, Dad. Our new neighbor. I told you she’d be coming over.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” His voice was almost too soft to hear. “Naomi, I’m taking…” The roar of the car on TV drowned out his words.

Naomi hit the mute button. “You can come in here, you know. I can’t hear you.”

Her father cleared his throat and inched into the living room, giving us a tight smile. “I have to cover for Brenda this week, but I’ve got the first two weeks of October off. We’ll car hunt then, okay?”

“Why not leave me a check and I’ll do it myself?”

“You said you wanted me to help you.”

“Yeah, but then Lisa might need to go on maternity leave. Or Vickie might get pneumonia. Or maybe you’ll decide to work those two weeks just because. I’ll need a car regardless.”

He glanced at me before shaking his head. His eyes were a mess of shadows. “I’m not going to do this in front of your friend. We’ll talk later.”

“Yep, it’s always later. What if you wake up and find there’s no tomorrow, Dad?”

He ignored her and climbed the steps with slumped shoulders.

“Sorry about that. He really pisses me off sometimes.” Naomi nibbled on her thumbnail.

“Where does he work?”

“He’s a flight attendant.”

“That seems like a cool job.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind never being home.” She shrugged. “I could scream in that man’s face for hours and he wouldn’t even flinch. He responds to my words, but he never actually hears me, you know?”

“Maybe he doesn’t understand what you’re saying.”

“No, he just doesn’t care. Anyway, enough about him.” She smiled, but her eyes looked darker than normal. “If the pizza doesn’t get here in the next five minutes, I’m going to eat the delivery person too.”

“I doubt that would taste very good.”

She laughed and paused the movie. “It’s nine thirty. I bet Justin is off work by now.”

“So?”

“You should call him.”

“No.”

“Fine, give me your phone. I’ll call him.”

“Use your phone.”

“It’s upstairs charging. Come on, fork it over.” She made a grabbing motion.

I opened my lunch box and fished my black cell out. “Don’t do anything embarrassing.”

Naomi batted her eyelashes, taking the phone from me. “Never.” She pressed speed dial and put the call on speaker. I sank into the couch.

It rang three times before he picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Naomi made her voice higher. More breathy. More like mine.

I tried to grab the phone from her. “Stop!”

She pulled away and ran into the bathroom, shutting the door. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

I pounded on the door. “That’s not me!”

“Oh, yeah?” Justin’s voice echoed inside the bathroom. “You’ve been on my mind a lot too.” His voice sounded different. Lower. It made me stop knocking.

“What are you wearing?” Naomi continued.

“A pair of tube socks. What about you?”

“Just some lacy nighty I found in a gutter somewhere.”

I slid against the door, putting my face in my hands. This was a nightmare. He’d never talk to me again.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s hot.”

“You should come over and check it out.”

“Sure—on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You take me off speakerphone and give Drea her phone back.”

“You’re no fun,” Naomi said in her normal voice. “And that’s technically two conditions.” She opened the door.

“Sorry, Drea’s yelling in the background kind of gave you away. Plus, you’re a shitty impersonator.”

“Hey, I was the prank call queen in junior high. I could do anyone’s voice.”

“It was her idea to call you,” I said. “I didn’t want to bother you again.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows at me. “Again? Oh, my.”

“Did you finish watching your movie?” Justin asked.

“Not yet,” Naomi answered. “We’re getting antsy because our pizza hasn’t shown up yet. Seriously, you should come over. My boyfriend is taking us to a race tonight, and Drea needs a buddy.”

“I’m not going,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re going. Can’t punk out on me now.”

“A street race?” Justin asked.

“Yeah,” Naomi said.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Why—you wanna race?”

“No, I just didn’t think it was possible to drive more than twenty-five miles an hour in this town.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know—people are, like, allergic to their gas pedals here.”

Justin exhaled a laugh. “Anyway, can’t go. I’m babysitting my niece.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Sounds riveting. You going to bake cookies for your grandma too?”

“Probably.”

The doorbell rang, and Naomi’s eyes widened. She tossed the phone at me. “Pizza’s here!”

“Um, hi,” I said.

“You want to take me off speakerphone now?”

I pressed the speaker off button. “Sorry if we bothered you. It… it really wasn’t my idea to call.”

“I know.”

I pictured him with that half smile. “So—”

“Hey, if you don’t want to go tonight, don’t go.”

I watched Naomi take the pizza into the kitchen. “I don’t want to be stuck in a car with her boyfriend,” I whispered. “He’s a creep.”

“Is he a bigger tool than Roger?”

“Yeah.”

“She needs better taste in guys.”

“No kidding. Maybe you can ask her out.”

He chuckled. “Does that mean I have your seal of approval?”

“I like you. I mean—better than Scott.” I rolled my eyes. Why was this so hard?

“Don’t worry. You had me at I like you.”

Naomi poked her head out of the kitchen. “Say bye to Prince Charming. Pizza is getting cold.”

“Sounds like you need to go again.”

“Yeah.”

Naomi ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head back. “Oh, Justin! Your voice is so sexy.”

I covered the mouthpiece, heat creeping up my neck.

“Is she on something again?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

Naomi continued to moan his name and roll her eyes up to the ceiling like she was having a seizure.

“That girl’s a trip,” he said. A child’s voice rang out in the background. “I gotta go, but, hey, if you decide to go and her boyfriend gets weird, call me, okay? I’ll pick you guys up.”

The nausea eased some. I really didn’t want to go, but I didn’t want to let Naomi down, either. “I will. Thank you.”

“Anything for my new bandmates. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” I flipped the phone shut and glared at Naomi. “Do you really need me to go?”

She swallowed a large bite of her pizza. “What else are you going to do tonight?”

“I don’t know.” There was a curious part of me that wanted to be wild and crazy with Naomi. Live the life I’d overheard so many people talk about. The parties, the hookups, the “you just had to be there” moments, and even the hangovers. But so far I’d spent more time being uncomfortable. “Don’t you want to be alone with Scott?”

“He’ll be busy prepping his car. I’ll make him take us home as soon as it’s over.” She stuck out her lower lip at me. “Please? It would mean a lot to me.”

“Fine, I guess.”

She did a corny dance and thrust a slice of pizza in my face. It smelled like cardboard. “Eat.”

The pizza was cold and slightly chewy, but Naomi’s smile made it taste better.

Scott showed up just as Naomi stuck the last pin in her hair. She smelled like a fruity flower, and her lips were the color of red wine.

“What’s up?” Scott said after she let him in. He reeked of cigarettes and aftershave. Naomi threw her arms around him, and he stared at me over her shoulder.

I looked at the stained green carpet.

“How’s it going, Drea?”

“Fine,” I said. My lips were sticky with the brownish muck Naomi claimed looked good with my red hair.

“I brought you a present,” he said in her ear.

“I’ve got something for you too,” she whispered before glancing over her shoulder. “We’re gonna go upstairs for a couple minutes.”

I nodded and sat on the couch. Their footsteps thudded up the stairs, and Naomi let out a squeal after they closed the door. More laughter followed. A few thumps. And then silence. It wasn’t too late for me to get up and go home. Especially if she was going to be girly with Scott all night.

But I was still sitting on the couch when they came down a decade of minutes later. Like a good friend.

“Sorry, we got a little detoured,” Naomi said. The hair she’d spent hours curling and pinning up was a limp mess around her shoulders, and her lipstick had been smeared to one side. I didn’t get it. Why spend two hours getting ready just so some guy can obliterate it all in five minutes?

“Okay,” I said, looking down at my black sneakers.

Naomi plopped next to me with a compact mirror. She wiped the remnants of lip color off with the back of her hand and redrew a line around her lips.

Scott ruffled her hair. “We don’t have time for that.”

“Hang on,” she said. Her hands shook as she applied the lipstick. I wondered if he made her nervous.

Scott nudged her head forward so she missed her mouth by an inch.

“Hey, jerk.” She looked over at me and grinned. Her eyes looked like black saucers.

“Let’s go!” Scott headed for the front door and yanked it open.

Naomi jumped up, smoothing out her rumpled denim skirt. “Okay, cranky bear.”

Cranky bear didn’t even begin to cover Scott. I followed them out to the car, telling myself that it was good to be out on a Saturday instead of sitting at home online. Even so, I missed my computer, my pedals, and the berry candles I’d normally be burning.

Scott sped off with the same grace he had a couple weeks ago. The leather of the back seat gave me goose bumps. I should’ve brought a jacket.

We flew past the silhouettes of boats in Squalicum Harbor. They looked like rows of toothpicks under the full moon. Still and lifeless as if they’d been there forever. Railroad tracks ran parallel to us on the other side, disappearing into nothing but blackness.

At some point we merged onto the freeway, but we only drove a couple exits north before Scott got off and made a right. The streetlights evaporated, as did the stores and the gas stations. Scott floored the Mustang as soon as we hit a dark stretch of road, and the trees blurred into odd shapes and jagged edges.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Naomi asked him.

“Gotta save some energy.” He grinned at her, taking one hand off the wheel and resting it in her lap.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, laughing. “Come on, step on it.”

“You really want me to?”

We were already going so fast. Too fast. The white road bumps had become a solid line, curving into nothing ahead. “I think we should slow down,” I said.

But they didn’t hear me. Too much wind from the open windows. Too much drum and bass from Scott’s crappy speakers. I tapped Naomi on the shoulder.

“What?” Her eyes were sunken holes in her face, and the rest of her features were indistinguishable. She’d become nothing more than purple hair and pale skin.

“Make him slow down.”

“No way. Are you kidding?”

The tires skidded around a sharp curve. Trees swallowed the car, blocking out any remaining moonlight.

“Please,” I said. “I can’t see anything.”

“That’s because we’re in Hicksville. Only life around here is Farmer John and his harem of cows!” Naomi laughed again. It was too loud. Too out of control.

Warmth was building behind my eyes, and my chest felt tight with fast breaths. I rocked back and forth, telling myself that it was just another anxiety attack. Naomi and Scott weren’t monsters that were going to dump me in the woods somewhere. But it sure felt like it. The way he kept tugging at her arm. She’d try to bite his hand. And she kept talking so fast—like a tape stuck on fast-forward.

The engine growled, jerking my body left. Then right. Left again. My head slammed against the seat with every downshift, and the tires squealed a little more with every turn. Scott said something about a homestretch and crunched on the gas. The car sounded like a freight train. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact. But Scott hit the brakes, and I opened my eyes to a sea of headlights pointed in every direction.

NAOMI AND I HUDDLED under some trees with a few other people. Most of them were girls taking puffs of cigarettes or giggling about their boyfriends. One guy told another his money was on Scott. I inhaled the smell of cow crap and car exhaust.

Scott’s Mustang sat alongside some blond girl’s red Honda. Both cars faced a flat stretch of road that bled into the darkness. The blond girl peered under Scott’s hood, pointing at various things and laughing. Scott’s gaze dropped every time she bent over to look at something.

“Why doesn’t she just lift up her skirt and flash him already?” Naomi said through her teeth. Her eyes narrowed at the girl, and her fingers twitched against her denim skirt.

“Why would she do that?”

She rolled her eyes at me and took another sharp drag of her cigarette. “You ask really dumb questions sometimes.”

I sank back into the shadows of the trees. Her hands clenched into fists every time a girl talked to him—even if it was just hi. And her eyes were different too. Always darting from one thing to the next. Hungry.

“How long will this take?” I asked.

She shrugged, flicking her cigarette into the gravel. “I’m not a psychic.”

I hugged my body, shivering in the damp air. Autumn definitely hit Washington earlier than California. A police scanner bellowed out of a car nearby. Two guys sat inside—the neon dashboard made their faces look alien.

The racer girl gave Scott a playful punch in the arm, and Naomi edged forward. When he leaned in to whisper in the girl’s ear, Naomi walked up to them, gesturing wildly. Some of the people around me chuckled and talked about a catfight.

I moved forward until I could hear what was going on.

“Maybe you should get your girlfriend a leash,” the racer girl said, shaking her head at Naomi.

Naomi lurched forward, bringing her face within inches of the other girl’s. “Maybe you should wear a skirt that covers your fat ass.”

Racer girl swung at Naomi, but Scott and a guy in a baseball cap pulled the two girls apart. Scott pressed Naomi against his car and took off his hoodie. “I told you not to do so much. Go for a walk or something, okay?” He handed his jacket to her.

Naomi’s entire body shuddered like she was cold. “You promised,” she said.

“I didn’t do anything.” He gave her a stiff hug and patted her on the back. Kind of like the hugs I gave Grandma.

“You were flirting with her.”

Scott laughed at this. “We were just talkin’.”

“I’m ready when you decide to lose the ball and chain,” the racer girl said, getting into her car and slamming the door.

Naomi spun around to say something, but Scott squeezed her face with one hand and lowered his voice. “I’m not gonna deal with this psycho-bitch shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, nuzzling her face into his hoodie.

He dropped his hand. “Get off the car.”

Naomi moved away and looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were like oil slick in the headlights.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my legs shaking.

She wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. “No.”

A guy with a walkie-talkie strolled past us and stood between the two cars. Both engines revved like dueling bass lines.

Naomi’s heart pounded against my chest, and her breaths were shallow. “I’m so jacked up, Drea,” she said. “I can’t even breathe.”

The guy stuffed the radio in his belt and held his hands up like a conductor. I stroked her hair, hoping it would calm her as it did me. “What did you take?” I asked. “Do you need a doctor?”

She sniffled into my ear. “No, I…” The growl of the cars drowned her voice out.

The conductor guy dropped his hands, and both cars skidded off, leaving us to choke on the stench of burnt rubber. The crowd shoved past us, shouting and hooting like a bunch of baboons in a cage.

Naomi’s breaths quickened, and I pulled her away from the street. She squatted in the darkness, chewing on her ring fingernail. “My heart won’t stop pounding, Drea. It won’t stop.”

I sat on the grassy roadside and winced as a cold wetness seeped into my ivory skirt. “Just sit down.”

“I can’t—I can’t sit. I can’t do anything.”

I reached for her hand and pulled her toward me. “Lay your head in my lap and close your eyes.” It was the only thing I could think of. Whenever a noise would bother me as a kid, Mom would tell me to lie in her lap. She’d sing to me or stroke my hair and talk about something that made us both laugh. Usually all the practical jokes she played on Grandma when she was little.

Naomi put the hoodie in my lap and rested on top of it. I ran my fingers through her damp hair, and she clenched her jaw.

The crowd’s cheers were off in the distance now. Someone had won, but I didn’t really care who. “You know what my mom did to my grandma once?”

“What?” she asked weakly.

“Grandma would always go on these cleaning rampages. Tear the whole house apart and put it back together again. And the whole time she’d be complaining about everything. Anyway, Mom decided to record her one time. Then she put this happy organ music to it—like the kind on a merry-go-round.”

“Oh my God—I can totally hear that.”

“She made a series of these things. Even gave them titles and stuff. “Mom and the Plunger,” “Mom’s Thoughts on Hairballs.” I could feel Naomi’s chest shake with laughter. Her breathing slowed some. “Then she wrapped them up and gave them to Grandma for a birthday present, telling her it was this old blues singer she loved. Well, they had some dinner guests over—neighbors mostly. Grandma puts it on, and the first thing everyone hears is her yelling about dirty sheets.”

“Your mom is awesome. Seriously, you’re really lucky.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel that way.” I let her hair sift between my fingertips.

“Everyone wishes they had different parents, I think. But at least you know she cares about you—like when she told you to keep the windows open tonight. That was cute.” She exhaled slowly. “I can’t even remember the last time my dad bothered to ask where I was going.”

“Do you guys ever eat together or watch TV?”

“I got him to watch the first five minutes of CSI a couple months ago. Then he fell asleep. It was easier when my brother was around—I had someone to share my misery with.”

“Where’s your brother now?”

“Who knows? Probably somewhere a lot more exciting than this place.” Naomi reached up and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you.”

“It’s—” I was interrupted by what sounded like a herd of horses. People were running to their cars and slamming doors.

Naomi grabbed the hoodie and jumped up, her eyes darting around the street. “Shit, they must’ve heard something on the scanner. We gotta find Scott.”

Cars sped off in every direction as we jogged along the side of the road. I was sure at least one would end up hitting us. Naomi ran into the street just as a black Mustang approached us. It skidded to a stop, and she yanked the front door open.

“Hurry up!” Scott said.

I dove into the back seat, and Naomi barely had enough time to slam the door before Scott floored the gas.

Scott insisted on taking us back to his apartment. He claimed that he was beat, and our houses were too far. Even though they weren’t more than ten minutes away. Naomi didn’t put up much of a protest.

“Don’t worry—he’s got a comfy couch,” Naomi said as I got out of the car.

Scott headed upstairs to his apartment without speaking to either of us. Most of the ride here consisted of him bragging about winning the race, and Naomi nodding and staring out the window.

“I want to go home.” I checked the time on my cell. One thirty a.m. My mind was racing, but my body felt achy and weak. I needed sleep. “Maybe we can call Justin.”

She put her hands on my shoulders, grinding her teeth. “He’s probably asleep. Look, I need to talk to Scott for a few minutes, and then I’ll see if I can get us a ride. Roger is probably still up.”

I followed her up the cracked steps to Scott’s apartment. Naomi pushed the door open and let me in first. A gigantic flat-screen TV with massive speakers sat opposite a black leather couch. The kitchen bar was lined with bottles of wine and hard liquor. He even had art hanging on the walls—which struck me as odd. The apartment complex itself was pretty ghetto. The kind Mom and I could only stay in for so long.

“Nice digs, right?” Naomi smirked.

“How does he afford all this?”

She raised her eyebrows. “How do you think?”

I shrugged. For all I knew, he robbed banks.

Scott paced around the kitchen, talking on the phone. Tattoos covered his shirtless back. Most of them were black and red with sharp edges and wavy lines. “What am I—Domino’s? Fuck that. Come over and I’ll show you,” he said.

Naomi walked over to a shelf of CDs and pulled a few out, scanning the track lists.

“Hey.” Scott walked into the living room, covering the mouthpiece. “Put those back where you found ’em.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved a couple back into their slots.

“So walk,” Scott said into the phone. “Your transportation issues aren’t my problem.” His eyes met mine and a small smile crept across his face. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”

I looked down at the dark brown carpet, staying near the front door. Scott mumbled a word that sounded like later and hung up.

“You gonna sit down?” he asked me.

I shrugged, keeping my elbows close to my body.

“We’re going to take off,” Naomi said, standing up. “But I want to talk to you first.”

“Yeah?” He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She pulled away. Her hands were still shaking. “Not like that—I mean it.”

“Thought you were staying over.” Scott raked a hand through his shaggy blond hair and motioned in my direction. “Your friend can take the couch. Or she can join us.” He poked at her ribs and laughed.

Naomi flipped him off. “Why do you have to be such a pig?” She pushed past him and settled into the leather couch.

I backed into the cold wall, wishing I could disappear.

Scott folded his bulky arms across his chest. His grin faded into a thin line. “I don’t have time for your drama, Naomi. You wanna go home, go. Take your weird friend with you.”

I sucked in my breath. “I’m not weird.”

He cupped his hand behind his ear. “What was that?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “You don’t deserve Naomi,” I said. “You’re a jerk.”

Scott shook his head and walked over to me. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“You wanna look me in the eye and say that?”

“Leave her alone,” Naomi said. Her voice was behind him now.

“No. I want to hear what this stuck-up little bitch has to say.” His breath smelled sour and bitter—like old cigarettes.

My throat felt like it was closing up on me. “I want to go home, Naomi. Now.”

“I want to go home, Naomi,” Scott said in a high voice. “Word of advice—don’t run your mouth off about something you know nothin’ about.”

“Scott,” Naomi whispered, “let’s go in your room and talk, okay?”

His hot breath fell on my forehead. I bit down on my tongue until it ached—anything to hold in the scream building inside me.

A few more seconds passed before their footsteps moved toward the bedroom.

“That chick is a fuckin’ freak,” Scott said, shutting the door behind them.

My knees gave out and I slid against the wall until my tailbone hit the floor. I nuzzled my face into my knees and exhaled a breathy scream. The tightness in my throat unraveled some, but there was so much left. So much I wanted to say and couldn’t.

Their voices rose behind the door, and my fingers went cold. Naomi cussed. And Scott cussed back. She kept asking him why. And he wouldn’t give her a real answer. I fished out my phone and stared at Justin’s name. He’d told me to call him, but did that mean in the middle of the night? I shut my brain off and pressed dial.

He answered after the first ring. “Hey, Drea.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, I was writing in that journal for English.”

“They’re fighting in Scott’s room. I want to go home, but I don’t want to leave her alone with him.”

“What’s the address?”

“Crap, I don’t know.” I got up and parted the blinds hanging over Scott’s window. “It’s too dark to see the sign.”

“Does he have mail lying around somewhere?”

My knees wobbled as I wandered into the kitchen. A mess of papers covered the table. I fished an envelope out. It was sticky with something.

“Found a telephone bill,” I said. “It’s 1401 Madison Street—apartment 239.”

“Got it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Someone banged on the door about four minutes later. I was sitting at the kitchen table, still clutching my cell phone. Too early to be Justin—unless he lived on this side of town. Every nerve in my body turned to ice.

Scott barreled out of the bedroom and glared at the phone in my hand. “You call the cops?” He made a move toward me, but the banging continued. He snuck up to the door and looked into the peephole. His shoulders relaxed at whoever was standing outside.

“Don’t pound on the door like that, jackass,” Scott said, opening the door.

This was followed by male laughter. Two guys walked in. One had long, frizzy hair and the other wore a beanie and about a billion facial piercings. Frizz Head made himself at home on the couch, and Beanie Guy followed Scott into the kitchen.

“What’s up?” Beanie Guy nodded at me.

I looked down and hightailed it to the front door. Their eyes burned into me.

“I think she’s retarded or something,” Scott said.

“Dude, that was cold.” Beanie whispered something else I couldn’t hear, and they both laughed.

“Hey,” Frizz said from the couch, “you gonna let him talk about you like that?”

“Naomi?” I called, keeping my eyes focused on a hole in the wall. “Where are you?”

“I’m coming,” she said, tearing out of the room. “Sorry.” Her eyes darted from the couch to the kitchen.

“Justin’s coming to pick us up,” I said.

“Hey, Naomi!” Beanie called. “What’s wrong with your friend?”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s got standards.”

Scott leaned toward him. “That’s all she does, man. Stands in corners all hunched over. You say hi to her and she does this twitchy thing like—”

“We can hear you!” Naomi said.

“She’s kinda hot, though,” Beanie said back. Like I wasn’t even in the room. Like I didn’t matter.

Naomi wrapped her arms around me. “Ignore them.”

Frizz switched the TV on, cranking up the volume. Some cartoon roared through the apartment.

Scott walked over and clicked it off. “I got neighbors that bitch if I fart too loud, okay?” Another knock echoed around the apartment. “Who’s that?”

“Maybe you should consider a new line of work,” Naomi said. “You’re paranoid as hell.”

I hoped it was Justin.

Scott looked into the peephole again and yanked the door open. “Yeah?”

“Drea here?”

“Never heard of her.” He went to slam the door, but Naomi shoved him.

“Let him in—it’s just Drea’s boyfriend.”

“But he’s not—” I began.

Naomi put a hand over my mouth and looked back at Scott. “He’s cool, okay?”

Scott opened the door, studying Justin from head to toe. Justin walked in with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He stared back at Scott before turning to us and smiling. The Björk shirt he wore almost made me smile back. I loved Björk. But I didn’t love this situation.

“Drea has a boyfriend, apparently.” Scott walked back into the kitchen. “And he likes Ba-jork.”

“My little sister loves her,” Frizz said.

All three guys looked at Justin and snickered.

Justin rolled his eyes and nodded at the door. “Can we get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” I said, grabbing Naomi’s hand.

“Give me a minute, okay?” She looked back into the kitchen.

“How much for an eighth?” Beanie asked.

“Eighty,” Scott answered.

Beanie Guy shook his head. “I’ll give you fifty.”

“It’s weed, not used cars. Take it or leave it.”

Frizz joined them, and they continued to argue. Eventually, Scott went into his room and came out with a baggy. Naomi leaned against the couch, tapping the heel of her boot against the carpet.

Justin slipped his arm around my shoulders. I stiffened with his touch.

He pulled his arm away. “Sorry. You okay?”

I shook my head and leaned into him. His warmth felt amazing. He wrapped both arms around me, running his hands down my forearms. Naomi crinkled her brow at us, her mouth turning down at the corners. I wished I knew what she was thinking.

“Why don’t you call him later, Naomi?” Justin asked.

“No, he needs to know.” She dug her nails into the back of the couch. “He needs to know he can’t just treat me like I’m nothing.”

Justin lowered his voice. “The guy’s a dealer. Were you expecting love poems and walks on the beach?”

Naomi clenched her jaw again. “Just go. I’ll be fine.”

I looked at her twitching face and hands. In that moment, she looked like a scared child. “I’m not leaving you here alone,” I said.

Beanie and Frizz headed for the door, telling Scott it better not be crap like last time. Scott assured them it wasn’t and escorted them out.

He looked at Justin after he shut the door. “You buyin’ something?”

Justin pulled back from me and leaned against the couch. “No—just waiting on Naomi.”

“Then get out. She’s crashing here.”

“I want you to apologize,” Naomi said.

“For what?” Scott asked.

Justin stood up. “This isn’t going anywhere.” He put a hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Naomi moved away. “Back off, Justin.”

Scott walked closer to him, but Justin didn’t move back. For a second they looked like they might kiss.

Justin looked down at Scott’s clenched fists. “Maybe you should stay out of your own stash.”

Scott shoved him into the couch. “Get the fuck out.”

Justin straightened and held his hands up.

Naomi tugged at Scott’s elbow, pulling him away. They moved into the bedroom and left the door open. She talked in a loud whisper, but I couldn’t make out most of the words.

“Because you’re up my ass twenty-four seven,” Scott said.

“Scott, I need you. Scott, come over. Were you checking her out?”

“First you tell Roger you want to hook up with Drea.” Naomi’s voice cracked. “You told me it was a joke—fine, whatever. Then I hear about Kelly.”

“And? We weren’t together.”

They continued to fling words back and forth, voices rising and falling. And then they fell into low whispers.

Justin leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes. His fingers tapped sharply against his jeans. “We can’t make her go.” He brushed his other hand against mine.

That’s when we heard a crash against the bedroom wall. Naomi screamed. We ran around the couch and into the bedroom in time to see Scott slug her. His knuckles made a loud, popping sound when they hit her jaw, and he shoved her to the ground.

“You pushed it too far.” Scott jabbed a finger at her. “Too far!”

Justin lurched at Scott and twisted his arms behind his back. He shoved Scott against the wall, struggling to keep him contained. “Get her out of here, Drea!”

I helped Naomi off the floor. Her lip was cut and her face was stained with tears.

Scott pulled out of Justin’s grip and sent a fist into his face. Justin punched Scott’s nose and rib cage, his features contorting into a mess I didn’t even recognize. The sound of cracking knuckles and struggling feet echoed in my head. Naomi yelled for them to stop. I dropped my lunch box and covered my ears, taking fast breaths.

Scott protected his bloody nose with one hand and kicked Justin in the gut. Justin winced and clutched his stomach. But Scott raised his fist again. He wasn’t going to let up.

I ran at Scott. Mom always said if a guy attacked me, go for the balls. I brought up my foot and kicked him twice, as hard as I could. I just wanted it to stop. It had to stop.

Scott hunched over and screamed a bunch of stuff that blurred together. Justin moved between us and spread his arms wide, shielding me. The room became silent, except for heavy breaths. Sirens wailed in the distance, barely audible over the ringing in my ears.

Scott cursed and scrambled over to his bedroom window.

“I gotta get out of here,” Justin said, heading for the door.

I grabbed my lunch box and ran after him. I thought Naomi was behind me, but I wasn’t sure. The world was nothing but a throbbing pulse in my ears and the impact of my footsteps on the pavement. It felt like a dream. Like nothing was real. All I knew was I didn’t want to stay there.

We piled into Justin’s car, and he took off with the same vigor Scott had during the race. I could see flashing blue and red lights several blocks down the street. The sirens were loud enough to be heard over his music. It was even a song I liked. And then I started laughing. Couldn’t stop.

“Are you laughing?” Naomi asked from the back seat.

Justin shifted with a jerk and tore around a corner. He backed the BMW between two cars on a nearby residential street and cut the engine.

“What are you doing?” Naomi asked him.

“Didn’t want to risk passing them.”

“How do you know they’re even going to Scott’s?” Naomi asked. “I hear sirens all the time over here.”

“Did you want to stick around and find out?” he asked.

I continued to laugh—even though I felt anything but happy. My entire body shook, sweat covered my back, and my temples were throbbing.

“Well, Drea’s amused,” Naomi said.

“I think it’s her way of dealing,” Justin said, looking over his shoulder. A police car screamed by on the main street.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop.” The words came out in short bursts of breath. I rocked myself, focusing on long, deep breathing through my nose. Back and forth, in and out. A doctor told me to do that once.

Justin reached over and stroked my hair. “It’s okay—you’re just in shock.”

“Laughter is a lot better than tears.” Naomi poked the back of Justin’s head. “Why are you so afraid of cops?”

His jaw tensed. “Besides the potential assault charge and being in a dealer’s apartment?”

“You were defending me—I would’ve told them the truth. And Scott doesn’t usually deal out of his apartment, unless his friends want something small. So he never keeps much there. He probably just flushed anything he had left.”

“You don’t have a lot of experience with the cops, do you?” Justin squinted at her in the rearview mirror. “I could tell you were tweaking as soon as I walked in the door.” His voice sounded different to me. Rougher, angry even.

I wanted to ask them what tweaking meant exactly, but I could guess. The rabid look in Naomi’s eyes was hard to miss. I’d spent my entire life fighting to be normal. An array of medication every morning, every six hours, every evening—a prisoner of rashes, headaches, drowsiness, and other fun side effects. All so I could be who everyone else wanted me to be. Nobody ever gave me a choice. But Naomi had a choice, and she didn’t even seem to care.

“Where did you learn to throw punches like that?” Naomi asked.

Justin shrugged, but he gripped the steering wheel harder. I studied their shadowy faces. They were like two strangers to me.

Naomi glanced down at her nails. “I hope they arrest him.”

“Me too,” I said.

She looked up at me and smiled, but I sank into my seat. It wouldn’t be that easy for her this time.

Justin started the car and put a hand on his stomach, wincing. “Let’s hope for the best.”

We pulled up in front of Naomi’s house ten minutes later. Justin didn’t speak or look at us the entire way back. He’d tensed up every time headlights approached from behind.

“Home, sweet home,” Naomi said, shoving my seat forward and squeezing out. “Thanks… Justin.”

He nodded and waved, but kept his eyes forward.

I stared at his profile for a few seconds. His cheek was like marble under the dim streetlights. I swallowed, wincing at my dry throat. “You want to give me a driving lesson tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so, Drea.”

“Why n—”

“I need to go,” he said.

I waited for him to say he didn’t mean right now. Like he did when he drove me home the first time.

“Drea, please just go.” He looked at me, but I couldn’t see his expression. Shadows hovered around his eyes and mouth. “And trust your instincts next time.”

The pizza I’d eaten earlier crept up my esophagus. There was something in his words that made me think I’d never see him again.

I climbed out of the car, and he sped off after I shut the door. No second thoughts. His taillights disappeared into the early morning fog.

M onday, September 17Something has been caught in my throat all day. Heavy. Impossible to dislodge. Naomi left five messages on my cell phone yesterday. I pressed 7 as soon as I heard her voice. Delete. I don’t know what to say to her. I told her I wanted to go home, and she didn’t care. But I cared enough to stay and wait for her. So did Justin. Now he hates us both. He won’t answer his phone or return my calls. He’s not even at school today. I’ve never felt like this before. So empty.Grandma woke me up on the couch yesterday. She tried to get me to repaint the walls and even threatened to kick us out. I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked her why. Why couldn’t I have one thing that makes me feel at home? It’s just a color. But it means the world to me. So we worked out a trade. I keep my walls green, and I have to help her set up a garage sale this weekend.

“I’m sorry.” A backpack slammed onto the table. Naomi hovered above me—in the library of all places.

I flipped my journal shut. Sorry wasn’t enough.

“I’m done, Drea,” she said, yanking out a blue plastic chair and sitting down. “No more Scott. No more partying.”

She sounded like she meant it. But it would be like me saying “no more music.” It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I know I really screwed up this weekend, because I’m stupid.” She rested her chin in her hand, covering a yellowing bruise. Her face looked pale and worn. “But he crossed the line. I’m done.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You’re the only person who gives a shit. The only one I trust.” Her eyes were large and red rimmed. “Please tell me it’s not too late. Tell me there is something I can do.”

I stared back at her for a long time, my lips glued together. She had offered her friendship to me. No questions asked. And I’d lied to her. I wanted to tell her the truth. To start over—reintroduce myself. Hi, I’m Drea. World-class dork. I’m not cool. I’m not even normal. Do you still want to hang out with me? And she could’ve done the same, told me she didn’t have anyone either. If we’d both admitted how alone we were, maybe everything would’ve been different.

But I couldn’t form the words. She trusted me. Nobody had ever said that to me before. Not even my mom. “No more stealing?” I asked finally.

She let out a shaky breath. “No more. I want to focus on music. We rock together, Drea. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Me neither.” I tried to smile, but I didn’t know if it translated to my lips. “Do you know if Scott got arrested?”

“Roger told me it was the old bag upstairs who called the cops, and she calls them, like, nine times a month for stupid shit. Like, one time she thought a stray-cat fight was a kid screaming for help. Anyway, Scott told them he tripped and smacked his nose on the coffee table playing Wii. And they apparently bought it. But who knows.”

“Promise me you won’t see him again?”

Naomi smiled and looped my pinkie with hers. “I won’t even mention his name.”

I wanted to believe her, but an ache in my stomach warned me against it. Still, I didn’t want to lose the first friend I’d made in years or our music. “We decided on M3 for the band. I think I forgot to tell you.”

“I like it—a lot, actually. Where’s Justin?”’

I dug my pen into my notebook, scratching a tiny star in the corner. “He didn’t show up today. I think he hates me.”

“I don’t think that’s it, babe. People don’t run from the cops unless they have something to hide. I told you he seemed a little too nice.”

“He told us why.” My chest felt tight again. I didn’t want Justin to be one of the bad guys, but I couldn’t get his contorted features out of my head.

“Do you know where he lives? Maybe we can drop by after school,” she said.

I shook my head. “I need to find him, Naomi. I need to know.…”

She put her hand over mine. “It’ll be okay. He can’t skip school forever. You’ll get another chance.”

That wasn’t good enough for me. I went to the bathroom before class and left my mom a voice mail, telling her I was going out with Naomi and I’d be home late.

I had an appointment with Jackie during PE. I wished I had the ability to hide my emotions.

“You look troubled today, Drea. Rough weekend?”

I shrugged, trying to stop my knee from jiggling.

“SweeTart?”

I nodded, and she tossed a couple of packs to me.

“How do you know if someone is telling the truth?” I asked, letting the candy sizzle on my tongue.

Jackie’s dark eyes drifted to the ceiling. “That’s a tough question.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’d say the best proof is when their actions back up their words.”

“What if they tell you they aren’t going to do something, and it seems like they really mean it, but your stomach tells you they don’t?”

“I think you’re talking about instinct. Has this person lied before or gone back on a promise?”

“Not exactly. You know how people smile even when they aren’t happy? Like salesclerks?”

Jackie chuckled. “Yes, it’s kind of a silly idea, isn’t it? Smile wide and maybe people will buy more.”

“It annoys me. They don’t even know me, so how could they possibly care how my day was?”

“I’m with you there. We’ll ask if we want something, right?”

I nodded.

“Problem is, people don’t always say what they want,” she said. “Maybe they’re too afraid to ask. Or sometimes they simply don’t know. If you had to guess, what would you say your friend wants?”

“Love. She wants someone to care about her.” I sucked in my breath. Stupid me. She’d be able to figure out who I was talking about.

“Don’t worry, Drea. Everything you tell me is confidential unless you tell me this person poses a danger to herself or others.”

Well, she had an ex who’d harmed her, but I’d learned early on that being a tattletale wasn’t cool. Dustin Jenkins threw rocks at me for a week after I’d told the teacher he’d peed his pants. Not to mention numerous other incidents that resulted when I opened my mouth. “Okay,” I said.

“I think the best thing you can do is watch out for her. If you get that ache in your stomach, ask her how she’s feeling. Tell her that you’re there for her. And really, that’s all you can do. It’s up to her to ask you if she needs help.” She went on to tell me that I could always talk to her or a trusted adult if the situation got out of hand. But I’d already tuned her out because “out of hand” was subjective, and I had no idea where to draw the line.

We piled into Roger’s car after school. Naomi immediately ejected his CD and put in the mixed one I’d made her. Snow Patrol’s “Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking” filled the stuffy car with a soft guitar melody.

“Aw, come on. Do we have to listen to this foofee stuff?” Roger asked, glancing longingly at the death metal CD Naomi had stuck in his binder.

“Deal with it.” Naomi plopped her feet on the dash.

“Do you know where Lake Padden is?” I asked them.

“No, I’ve only lived here my entire life.” Roger rolled his eyes.

“Can you take me there?”

Naomi turned around, frowning. “Why?”

“Justin told me he likes to go there a lot.”

Roger merged onto I-5 south. “Scott is looking to pound that guy.”

“You better keep your mouth shut, then,” Naomi said.

“Hey, he hit you. I’d kick his ass myself if I wasn’t sure I’d lose. That guy benches at least three fifty.”

“Uh, yeah. Slight exaggeration there, Roger.” Naomi chuckled. “Besides, little Miss Kung Fu back there kicked him in the balls. Twice.”

I stared out the window. That was a moment I wanted to forget.

“Whatever. I told you he was an ass,” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m still not going out with you.”

“I never asked.”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced at me and wrinkled her nose.

My stomach tensed when I saw the sign for Lake Padden. The odds of Justin being here were slim, but I had to know he wasn’t some dream in my head. That the nice guy I knew actually existed.

“What do ya know, Drea’s a psychic,” Naomi said. “Isn’t that his car?” She pointed out her window.

I followed the scattered cars until I spotted a black one in the far corner. Roger drove past it, and my heart sped up when I saw the silver M3 on the back.

“Doesn’t look like he’s in there. Maybe he went for a jog,” Naomi said.

“You guys can drop me off. I can have my mom pick me up.”

“Uh, you sure?” Roger asked. “What if the guy is a psycho killer?”

“You sound like my grandma,” I said.

“I can go with you,” Naomi offered.

“I need to do this alone.”

She opened the door and let me out of the back seat. “Good luck. And call me if you need us to come back.”

I took a deep breath as the squeak of Roger’s fan belt faded into the distance. The screams and giggles of children rang out from the small park, and the jingle of leashes could be heard from dogs walking the trail. The sun had graced Bellingham with its presence today, lighting snippets of water and making me squint. My eyes paused on the baseball dugout. A figure with dark hair was hunched over, reading something.

I headed across the damp grass, my shoes growing heavier with each step. Just as I reached the dugout, my foot slipped, and icy mud bled through my sock.

Justin’s head jerked up. The skin under one eye was the color of a plum. He closed his book and set it on the bench. “You really should try wearing jeans. They’re more dirt friendly.”

Brown sludge covered the hem of my white underskirt. “They’re too scratchy and confining,” I said, clutching the metal fence and stepping inside the dugout.

He glanced at my feet and smirked. “I hope you don’t expect me to give you a ride home.”

“I don’t expect anything other than an explanation. You can’t just be there for someone and then disappear.” I sat down but kept my distance from him.

“I missed one day of school. Why are you talking like I left town?”

“Because that’s what guys do—they disappear. And most of the time, I don’t care. But when they’re really nice…” This wasn’t where I wanted to go.

“Don’t hold me up too high, Drea. There’s a lot I haven’t told you.” He rested his head against the wall, keeping his eyes downcast.

I stared at my muddy shoes. “Why?”

His face turned in my direction. “Because I like you.”

I forced myself to look at him. “I like you too.”

We stared at each other with parted lips and nothing to say. Did his like mean the same as mine? I wondered if his stomach fluttered when I was around. Or if he thought about me before he went to sleep. Either way, we needed to stop hiding from each other.

“You know what I love about music?” I asked. “It doesn’t lie, even if the lyrics do.”

“Are you a Hendrix fan?” he asked.

“Yeah. His solos just say, This is who I am. You can take me or leave me.”

“Me too. My mom had a record player in our living room. I’d go in there and play air guitar to ‘All Along the Watch Tower’ over and over.” He looked down, smiling.

A laugh escaped my throat. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t be. I have two left feet, and my sister said I looked constipated. Guitar playing just wasn’t in the cards for me.” He glanced at me and smoothed his ruffled hair back. The sleeve of his T-shirt rode up, revealing a hint of black ink on his arm. A tattoo—not something I expected.

I looked at his jagged fingernails and the bruised knuckles of his right hand. “I want to know you, Justin. Even the parts you don’t think I’ll understand.”

He exhaled sharply and drummed his feet against the ground. “Bellingham is my clean slate—my second chance. I can’t screw it up.”

I waited to see if he’d offer more. He didn’t. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

He followed my gaze to his knuckles and covered them with his other hand. “I didn’t use to be much different than Scott, okay?”

“You sold drugs and hit girls?”

“No, but I got wasted a lot. And I used to race. Only we were a bunch of rich private-school guys—we didn’t even care about the cash.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I needed the rush and the distraction. After my mom died, I didn’t want to feel anything. I wanted to hit the fast-forward button and skip to the part where my stomach stopped hurting. When the dreams stopped. When everything I looked at didn’t remind me of her. I wanted to pretend she never existed.”

“Did it work?”

“No.”

Justin told me about his freshman year. He wore a lot of black and smoked pot behind the library with his friends Kermit and Jake. They’d write lyrics about robots and global warming for their industrial band. But Kermit got kicked out later that year for selling his mom’s painkillers. And the band went to hell.

He joined a metal band sophomore year. They met a chick from the all-girls’ school down the street who could roar like the guy from Mayhem. He fell in love with her and with speed that year, but she used him to make the lead guitarist jealous. The rest of the year was a blur—moving walls and trails in his eyes. Sometimes he couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. He got suspended for coming to class high and then expelled for breaking some guy’s nose. But he couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, much less why they fought.

He went to public school his junior year, and his dad tried to keep him housebound when he wasn’t in class. So he ran away—lived out of his car until he met up with his old buddy Kermit. He joined Kermit’s band, and they played gigs around town. But mostly they sat around Kermit’s mom’s apartment and got wasted.

“I was with Kermit the night he got busted,” he said. “He was selling weed to some girls behind the mall and these unmarked cars came racing up. Doors flew open, and I just ran. I heard them grab Kermit, but I was too high at the time to even realize they were cops. I got away and flagged down a cab. Went back home, asked my dad for help. He called the cops. I can’t get the look in his eyes out of my head. He was fucking terrified of me.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “They found speed on me. Charged me with possession and obstruction, all that fun stuff. They tried to pin an intent-to-sell charge on me, but it didn’t stick. My dad told the judge he didn’t want me back home. So I got to spend more time in juvie, then rehab. My sister took custody when I got out—made me promise I wouldn’t let her down. And here I am, repeating my junior year like a dumbass.”

I couldn’t imagine my mom calling it quits on me like that. Despite my issues and our fights, she never walked away from me. “Are you angry with your dad?”

He looked over at me and shook his head. “I was at first, but not anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t try. He put his job at risk so he could be home with me last year. We were never close, though.”

I moved nearer to him and put my hand over his. “You’re nothing like Scott.”

“I was waiting for you to get up and run.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He weaved his fingers with mine, brushing his thumb along the back of my hand. “Good.”

The warmth of his touch traveled up my arm. I looked away, trying to hide a smile. “What was your mom like?”

“She was always cooking something atrocious.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I mean, really bad. But she loved it. Never gave up. And she never let us give up, either.”

He talked about how she required him and his older sister to practice their passion for an hour every day—piano for him and everything from martial arts to hairstyling for his sister. “When she got sick, it happened so fast,” he continued. “One day she was humming in the kitchen, full of energy, and then she wasn’t.”

I laid my head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. There wasn’t anything I could say—words wouldn’t take away his pain. His heart beat slowly against my ear, and he rested his head against mine. We stayed like that for a while, taking in the sounds around us. The lake whispered in the distance, calming my racing thoughts. There was cheering from a nearby soccer game and laughter from people eating charred burgers at picnic tables. Things I normally hated because I didn’t feel part of them. Sometimes it was like watching aliens in their habitat from behind a glass wall. But Justin’s warmth against my cheek made it okay.

I sat up, closing my eyes. “I have…” My lips tried to form the word, but I couldn’t quite do it. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Sometimes the only way is to stop thinking of how you’ll say it, and just say it. It’s kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

I opened my eyes and faced him. “I have ADHD and something called Asperger’s syndrome. At least that’s what they tell me. It’s kind of like—”

“I know what it is. My niece is autistic.”

“Oh. Well, it’s milder than autism. Like, in my case, the doctor said I didn’t need special classes or anything, because my grades are pretty good.”

His arm pressed into mine. “You’re just a geek. Like me.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “Was I supposed to do a cheer for you?”

“My mom told you, didn’t she?” Somehow I felt that—no matter how well he was trying to hide it.

“Yeah, when we took her car out.” He put his hand on my knee. “She was just looking out for you, I think. She didn’t know what my intentions were.”

“And that’s my whole problem. She treats me like I’m retarded, like I can’t do things for myself.”

“Drea, she’s a mom. You know mine didn’t let me cross the street by myself until I was, like, ten?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?” I looked away, folding my arms across my stomach.

“Because I know it’s a lot bigger deal to you than it is to me. And I wanted to hear it from you.”

“How can it not be? It’s not like I’m confessing to needing eyeglasses here.”

“It’s just a word, Drea. A definition for a certain way of thinking. There’s nothing wrong with it. My niece does some pretty brilliant things.”

I glanced up at him. “Most people don’t see it that way.”

Justin ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “I know. But I’m not most people, so stop trying to put me in a box.”

“I’m working on it.” I let a grin escape, but it quickly faded when I reminded myself I had to tell him everything. “You and Naomi are the first friends I’ve had in a really long time. And I made that skydiving thing up. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend.”

“Why did you think your dating history mattered to us?”

“Because you guys were the first people to treat me like nothing was wrong with me. I’ve had labels thrown at me my whole life. Teachers calling me socially immature, kids calling me a freak, doctors checking off symptoms so they could plop a diagnosis in my lap. All because I don’t understand some invisible set of social rules. Lie about this, but don’t lie about that. Smile—even when you aren’t happy—but don’t smile too much. Too much is weird. Look people in the eye but, again, not too much. That might freak them out. It’s like acting in a play. I’ve tried to learn my lines, but I’m not very good at it. And with you guys, I wanted to be good. I didn’t want you to start looking at me like everyone else.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never been in a relationship, and I don’t have many people I’d consider real friends.”

“What about that girl you fell in love with?”

He squinted at the lake. “We messed around, but we were never together. And after that, I didn’t want to get close to anyone. Committing to anything or anyone scared me. It still kind of does.”

I thought about asking what messing around entailed, but I decided to drop it. It bothered me—made me feel more alone. Like I was the only person my age who hadn’t experienced a real kiss. The kind that made people see stars.

“Naomi doesn’t know about me yet. I wanted to tell her today, but I couldn’t,” I said.

“Why not?”

“She said I was the only person she trusted.”

“All the more reason to tell her.”

“Don’t say anything to her until I do. Please.”

He leaned closer to me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I wouldn’t do that.”

I turned away from his stare. “What does your sister think of you missing school?”

“She allowed it for today only. This weekend brought back a lot for me. I needed some time to think. But then you went and found me.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be.” He put his arm around me, giving me a quick hug. “Let’s get you home so you can wash that skirt.”

We took the long, no-muddy-grass-involved way to his car. When he opened the door for me, I stopped and looked at him for a second. I wanted him to lean in and kiss me, like they did in an eighties movie Mr. Diaz showed. They kissed in the pouring rain—I thought that was cool.

Justin raised his eyebrows. “You getting in?”

“Yeah, guess so.” I collapsed into the seat, feeling frustrated and relieved at the same time.

Justin didn’t say much on the way home, but I was okay with that. I never got why people had issues with silence, especially with good music playing. He gave me a hug and said he’d see me tomorrow. And that I’d better be prepared to jam.

I was more than ready.

Mom shuffled away from the living room window when I walked in. “I thought you said you were out with Naomi.”

A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything—what happened over the weekend, the things Justin said. How lost I felt. I wasn’t used to keeping things from her. “She had stuff to do with Roger.”

A smile flickered across her lips. “I see.”

“Why did you have to tell Justin about me?”

She sighed. “I’m happy that you’re making friends here, baby. But new friends bring new experiences, and I want them to understand you, why you may not always react how they expect.”

There she went again. Talking to me like I couldn’t handle anything on my own. “How can anyone really understand anyone? We aren’t in each other’s heads,” I said.

“Well, that’s true, but—”

“Why do I need a disclaimer? It’s not like I’m hurting people… or myself. And it’s not like I don’t try. I try really hard.”

Her dark eyes softened. “I know you do. And I am proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“Then why do you have to tell everyone that I have Asperger’s?”

“It’s not a dirty word, Drea. It just means that you have a unique mind, which is something you should embrace. The world needs more people like you.”

“Then why are you always trying to change me?”

Mom moved closer to me, shaking her head. “I’m not. I’m trying to teach you ways to cope—how to communicate with people who don’t think like you do. It’s a good skill for anyone to have, a necessary one.”

I looked away, clasping and unclasping my hands. She’d told me this before. It seemed rehearsed, like lines she’d memorized out of a book. “I wish you’d give me a real answer for once.”

She rubbed her temple, her mouth turning down at the corners. “Okay, Drea. What is it you’d like me to say or do? I’m only trying to—”

“Help. I know. But you aren’t helping by treating me like a baby, by telling people that something is wrong with me before they even get to know me. Let me decide if I want them to know or not.”

“I don’t use the term wrong. I just explain your diagnosis and how it affects you. But”—Mom held her hand up, giving me her stop sign before I could interrupt—“I won’t tell anyone else without your permission.”

“That’s all I wanted.”

She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me tight. “I know you want to work a lot of this stuff out for yourself, but it’s hard for me to let go. Be patient with me, okay?”

I nodded and swallowed hard, thinking about Justin, wondering if his mom had said the same stuff to him. I couldn’t imagine Mom not always being around. “I love you,” I said.

Her chest shook. I couldn’t tell if it was from tears or laughter. Maybe it was both.

ON THURSDAY, Mr. Diaz showed his favorite example of a long shot—Godard’s Week End. This included a horrendous traffic jam and a continuous barrage of horns. Apparently, they thought honking made traffic move faster in 1960s France. This little black car managed to weave its way through, while the other cars sat in line.

Justin turned in his seat and whispered, “This has to be the most boring and interesting clip I’ve ever seen.”

I glanced at Mr. Diaz and leaned forward. “That made no sense.”

“It’s getting really repetitive, but I keep expecting Godzilla to show up.”

The last bit showed mangled bodies in the grass and some guy walking around them like they weren’t even there. I used to see people do that to the homeless in the city. Half the time they looked dead, but Mom said they were probably passed out drunk.

“Okay.” Mr. Diaz flipped the TV off. “What did you guys think?”

At least half the classroom was asleep, drawing, or otherwise preoccupied with something on their desks.

The dark-haired emo boy raised his hand. “I don’t get the point. If people were so pissed about the black car cutting through, why didn’t they slug the driver? They just stood there waving their arms like idiots.”

“Yeah,” another guy chimed in. “They kept getting out of their cars like they were gonna give him a beat-down and then nothing happened.”

“I thought it was obnoxious,” Casey said.

“All good points,” Mr. Diaz said. “Why do you think they held back?”

I raised my hand. “It’s a picture of society. How nobody tries to help each other—it’s everyone for themselves.”

“I think the black car is breaking free from the rat race in a sense,” Justin said. “All these people were lined up for the daily grind, and the driver of the black car said, Screw it, nobody is going to stop me.”

“Nobody wanted to see them get ahead, but their persistence eventually paid off,” I said.

Mr. Diaz nodded at us and smiled. “It’s good to see you two working so well together.”

A couple people giggled, and Casey shot me a dirty look. I sank lower in my chair.

Mr. Diaz opened his mouth to speak, but the bell cut him off. “We’ll continue this tomorrow! Don’t forget to write up your movie reviews for this clip. They’re due tomorrow—first thing.”

Justin waited for me as I shoved a binder into my backpack. Casey hovered around her desk, watching us.

“It was good to hear your voice today, Drea.” Mr. Diaz said. “I can tell from your reviews that you understand a lot more than you think you do.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, my cheeks growing hot.

“We’ve got the camera this weekend,” Justin said.

I flung my backpack over one shoulder. “Crap, I promised my grandma I’d help her with a garage sale.”

He grinned. “Maybe there will be some fun customers to film.”

“Hey, Justin,” Casey said as we passed her, “Kari wants to talk to you. She’s waiting out front.”

Justin’s jaw tensed. “Okay.”

The two of them walked ahead of me toward the school parking lot. Naomi grabbed my shoulders from behind, pulling me back a couple paces. My lunch box slipped out of my grasp and crashed onto the floor. The contents—my iPod, loose change, crayons, lip gloss, and two maxi pads—scattered across the green tile.

“Can you not do that?” I knelt down and grabbed my iPod.

“God, cranky much?” She got on her knees and picked up the quarters.

A couple guys walked by, laughing. “Are those the extra-absorbent kind?” One of them kicked a pad over to me.

I snatched it and shoved it inside the box. Apparently the fiasco had caught Justin’s attention because he handed the other pad to me and picked up some of my crayons. I really wanted a blanket to hide under.

“Why don’t you use tampons?” Naomi asked.

“I’ll wait for you guys outside,” Justin said, getting up. He jogged after Casey.

“I really hate you right now, Naomi.” I slammed my lunch box shut. “Why do you have to embarrass me in front of him?”

“Uh, Drea. Most guys our age know we get periods. It’s not like a big secret or anything.”

“My mom says guys get weirded out when you talk about it.”

“I know.” She gave me a big smile. “That’s why it’s fun. I like to watch them squirm.”

I shook my head and headed toward the double set of doors. “Why? That’s a pointless goal.”

She walked ahead of me and shoved the door open. “Don’t you ever get tired of being such a priss?”

“Whatever that means.” I hadn’t told Naomi the truth yet. Her words kept spinning in my head. The only one I trust.

Justin leaned against the trunk of his car, eyeing the ground. Kari did most of the talking, using animated hand gestures that resembled sign language. Casey paced behind them with a cell phone glued to her ear.

“Drama-queen alert.” Naomi tugged me along. “Let’s go spy.”

I followed her. At least we wouldn’t be in Kari’s line of vision that way. We slouched over and crept behind a pickup truck next to Justin’s BMW.

“You didn’t strike me as a coward,” Kari said.

“I didn’t know what to say—it was awkward.”

“Only because you made it that way.”

Naomi let out a snort and covered her laugh.

I elbowed her in the side.

Justin shoved his hands into his pockets. “I told you, Kari. It’s not you.”

“Are you gay?”

“I just don’t want to hook up with anyone right now.”

“Is that why you and Drea are attached at the hip?”

“We’re friends.”

“Right. You should hear the way she salivates over you in the locker room. Good luck with that.” She shook her head and walked off with Casey.

I really wanted that blanket.

Naomi jumped up. “For the record, we merely admire you—our salivary glands aren’t involved.”

I followed her, keeping my eyes on Justin’s tires. Looking at him would be too intense. Too embarrassing.

“Good to know,” he answered. “We recording?”

“I’m game. Did you mic my drums yet, Drea?”

“Yep.” We’d finally moved her drum kit over yesterday, but she’d played for only five minutes before Grandma had major issues. No drums after sunset, she said. I guess she feared they would attract vampires or something.

“Sweet! I can’t stay for long, though. My dad is taking me out to dinner tonight,” she said.

“That’s good, right?” I asked.

She shrugged. “As long as he shows up.”

I insisted on riding in the back today. The thought of being so close to Justin made me nervous. If he didn’t know how I felt before, he certainly did now. Kari sucked. And so did Naomi for teasing me so much in the locker room.

“So, did you totally shoot Kari down, or what?” Naomi asked as we turned onto Holly Street.

“She made a move on me, and I told her I wasn’t interested. Took her home.”

“Let me guess. She either gave you a shoulder rub or just leaned in and kissed you. I’m guessing the first one—she uses that on the good boys.”

I peeked at Justin in the rearview mirror, and his eyes met mine. I hadn’t told Naomi about him.

“Neither,” he said. “Anyway, she took it personally and wouldn’t let it drop. So I’ve been avoiding her.”

“Sounds like Kari.” Naomi tapped her knuckles against the window. “Be forewarned—that girl can hold quite the grudge.”

“I’m not losing sleep over it.”

I tried to hold back a smile but failed.

“You don’t think she’s hot at all?” Naomi asked. “Because everything else with a dick does.”

“Sure, but she’s not my type.”

“You prefer brainy redheads with music addictions, right?”

I kicked the back of her chair.

“Ow, hi. Base of my spine here.” Naomi shifted in her seat.

“As long as it’s good music,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror again. His lips twitched with a smile.

I stared out the window for the rest of the car ride.

I deconstructed Naomi’s face with my HI-8 video camera, moving from her full lips to the crinkle in her brow. The beauty and the flaws—every unique freckle. This was how I saw people.

“She smiles with grace, but no one recalls her face.” Naomi swayed in front of the microphone, shoe tapping the floor. “Invisible. Carved between the walls. She can scream your name, but you don’t hear her at all.”

I moved the frame to the right. Justin’s fingers hammered their way into the chorus. His eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks and his shoulders gently swayed. Black or white—he owned every key.

I loved watching them create their magic. That’s what it was to me, really. I could hear everything wrong with a mix, produce a vocal to death, and create a billion different sounds, but I couldn’t play a melody that made me shiver.

Naomi tilted her head back. Her face contorted with each word. “She knows her place in this world. She can tear down its walls, and still nobody knows her name. Yeah, she knows her place. But she’s not going down… without a fight.”

Too bad today was just practice. I was getting some great shots.

She tore the headphones off and hooted. “Okay, that rocked.”

I turned back to the computer and made sure the vocal track recorded properly. “You really nailed this take, Naomi. I think I can pretty much use the whole thing.”

“Pretty much?” Justin asked. “Use it all—in its entirety. The flaws make the emotion come through even more.”

I double clicked on the track. “Yeah, but—”

“Yeah, but nothing,” he broke in. “Put your ’verb and delay on it—just don’t chop it up.”

Naomi squealed. “I can’t wait to hear the whole thing! I like the bass line you did, Drea.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “It’s groovy.”

“Thanks,” I said, wiping the wet spot she left behind.

She plopped in Justin’s lap and sighed. “You, sir, are a piano god.”

He winced as she gave him a juicy kiss on the forehead. “Are you on something again, Naomi?”

“I’m high on music. Lighten up, Dad.” She stood up and did some kind of dramatic pose.

“I think she’s happy about seeing her dad tonight,” I said.

“No, no,” she said. “It’s the music. Hey, we should play ‘Dawn’ for Justin. I want to record that next.”

“You up for it?” I asked him.

“I play by ear. No preparations needed.” He smiled.

I grabbed my green acoustic and sat with it in my lap. “It’s a little slower in tempo, but more upbeat.” I told him.

This song called for fifths in the verse. Two power chords played twice each with a muted pick rhythm in between.

Naomi grabbed the mic, nodding her head to my strums. “Sweet little Jane was caught in a rut. She went too far and never paid up. And the street corner won’t give a dime to Daddy’s little girl with the misty eyes.”

I glanced over at Justin. He stared back with the hint of a smile on his face. My fingers slipped. “Oops.”

She launched into the bridge, a spoken-word part repeated twice. “There’s no God fear and no sky to reach. Are my words silent shadows or just obsolete?”

I avoided Justin’s gaze as I shifted into the chorus. It wasn’t punchy like the verse, calling for more of a dramatic riff.

“She waits for the dawn… with her lace gloves on. She said revolution. Cleanse the streets, unveil the mask of sweet pollution. Yeah, she waits for the dawn. Her time will come.”

Justin played three high notes on the piano and colored them in with two bass chords. It gave the song a little more elegance. He kept it simple, as if he knew too much sugar would ruin the mix. I really liked that about him.

“What time is it?” Naomi asked suddenly.

“It’s just after five,” Justin said.

And from the sour odor wafting down the stairs, dinner would come too soon.

“I gotta go.” She snatched her backpack. “You going to put ‘Invisible’ up tonight?”

“Planning on it. I just have to do a little mixing and mastering,” I said. What I really wanted to say was, Don’t leave me alone with Justin. I can’t even look at him right now.

“Cool.” She gave Justin and me a quick hug before sprinting up the stairs.

The door clicked shut. I faced the computer.

“Do you want to work on something new?” he asked.

“That’s okay. I think this will keep me busy for a while.” I labeled Naomi’s latest vocal.

“Should I go, then?”

No, I like being around you. Yes, because I think I like it too much. Maybe, because I don’t know what else to say. “Do you want to go?”

His footsteps came up behind me. Soft and hesitant. “No.”

I bumped the mouse, undoing my last action. “Um, okay.” Edit-redo. “Just so you know, what Kari said about the locker room thing. I don’t talk about you. Naomi does and—”

His breath tickled my ear. “I don’t care.”

I accidentally deleted my bass track. Undo. Wait, wrong menu. “What would you like to undo? I mean, do?”

He looked at the computer over my shoulder. “I could watch you work your magic.”

“I need the earphones for that.” Think, Drea. “But I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the piano.”

“Sweet.” He grabbed the back of my chair and rolled me toward the keyboard. “Door-to-door service.”

I gripped the armrests. “Um, thanks.”

He moved his chair to my right. His arm pressed into mine as he sat down. “What song do you want to learn?”

“How about one of yours?” I tried to keep my voice even. Interested. But it probably came out over the top.

“Okay, I’ll teach you the first one I wrote. It’s really lame, but easy to learn.”

“I doubt it’s lame.”

He took my left hand and pressed my fingers into three notes. “This is A-minor. Your first chord. Just keep playing A-C-E-A-C-E.”

I played each note as he directed until I found a rhythm.

“You got it.” His hand hovered over mine again. “Now move your pinkie back to the G and play G-B-D the same way.” He instructed me to move down to E-minor, then up to F before returning to A-minor. It was hard to focus with him so close, especially when he smelled like rain again.

As I got the hang of the bass notes, he played a sparse melody in a higher octave, following my unpredictable rhythm perfectly. “You’re a quick study,” he said.

“Whatever. I keep hitting the wrong notes.”

He touched my nose. “That’s because you’re thinking too hard. Close your eyes.”

“Then I won’t be able to see what I’m doing.”

“That’s the point,” he whispered in my ear. “Sometimes the only way to connect is to let go.”

I shut my eyes, trying to detach my brain from my hand. No easy feat. Justin played a few more notes. These were faster—more passionate. They gave me chills. I tapped my foot on the floor and pretended I was driving his melody. My fingers moved slowly at first, but I became less aware of everything as the music swam around me.

Justin took my free hand, his fingers sliding over mine and pressing them to the keys. My other hand twitched. I hit G-sharp instead of G.

He used my fingertips to play the notes. For a few moments I felt like a real piano player lost in my own creation. It was incredible. And I didn’t want it to stop.

I leaned on him, letting his warmth draw me closer. His breath hit my cheek. My heart beat faster. I tilted my face up, and his lips met mine. Our hands slid off the keyboard and his fingers inched up my forearms. I had no idea what to do, or if I was even doing it right.

His mouth pressed into mine, parting my lips softly. My skin felt weird. Hot all over and sensitive to every movement.

I pulled back and opened my eyes. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

He smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. “The piano or the kiss?”

“Both.”

“Do you want to stop?”

I looked at the faint freckle on his upper lip and the gold flecks in his eyes. “You’re really beautiful,” I said before shaking my head. “God, that probably sounded stupid.”

He touched his nose to mine. “So are you.”

His soft lips pressed into mine again, and I closed my eyes, kissing him back. His arm muscles tensed with my touch, and his breaths grew heavier. I was afraid the spit thing would gross me out, but I didn’t mind it. It made him real. It made this real.

He pulled me closer and kissed my jaw, moving down my neck. His mouth found a spot behind my ear that sent tickles down my spine. The feeling was almost too intense to take.

And then the door upstairs swung open. “Andrea?” Grandma called. “Dinner is ready.”

We pulled apart. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, wondering if they’d look kissed somehow. Justin sat up straighter and put one hand on the keyboard.

Grandma’s sharp eyes went from me to Justin when she reached the bottom step. “Where’s Naomi?”

“She went home,” I said.

“Oh.” Her eyes rested on Justin again. “What are you two doing down here?”

“Justin was teaching me how to play piano.”

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

“I finished most of it at school.”

“Well, come on, then. It’s getting cold.” She headed back up the steps, leaving the door open. “Juliana!”

I tucked my hair behind my ear and stared hard at my hands. They were still shaking. “Um, sorry. You should probably go, but…”

He moved closer to me again. “But?”

“I don’t really want you to.”

Grandma yelled for my mom again.

“What?” Mom asked. It sounded like they were moving into the kitchen.

“Andrea is down there alone. With that boy.” Even my grandma’s whispers carried.

“Oh, for Christ sake, Mom. So what?”

The corner of Justin’s mouth curved up, but he covered it.

“Go ahead and laugh,” I said. “My grandma is a freak.”

“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble,” he said.

Mom jogged down the stairs before I could answer. She grinned when she caught me smoothing my hair back. “Hey, Justin.”

He smiled and waved at her.

“Sorry about my mom,” she said. “She doesn’t mean to be rude. She’s just—”

“It’s cool,” he said, glancing at me. “I get it.”

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

He studied my face before answering. “Sure, okay. Thanks.”

Mom winked at me before turning around and heading back upstairs. My face burned.

“My grandma’s cooking is really bad. I mean, like mushy vegetables and stuffed pork chops bad.”

Justin put his hand over mine, tangling our fingers together. “I grew up with a bad cook, remember? I can handle it.”

I twirled my spoon in Grandma’s version of vegetable stew. This included no salt, gravy like water, and a bitter aftertaste. She’d chosen twelve-grain bread as a side dish. It was untoasted and stale around the edges.

Grandma discussed the art of grocery store coupons with Mom, while Justin and I took turns kicking and dodging each other’s feet. My stomach fluttered every time I caught his eye.

“I warned you,” I said, motioning to his barely touched stew.

He put a finger to his mouth and shook his head.

“That’s a nice car you have out there, Justin,” Grandma said. “Are you going to pay your parents back for it?”

He swallowed a chunk of potato. “It was a birthday gift.”

“How about some salt?” Mom asked, frowning at the stew.

“You’re past forty now,” Grandma said. “Menopause is right around the corner. Sodium is the last thing you need.”

Justin used that moment to wipe his mouth, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Your candor is always appreciated, Mother.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed the salt from the cabinet.

Grandma nodded at Justin. “Who pays for your insurance?”

“I do.”

“How old are you—sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Your rates must be sky high.” She then launched into a lecture about the auto industry and insurance rates. Grandma loved to educate people about money, even though she’d always been a homemaker.

Justin smiled and nodded like he was interested the entire time. It was pretty impressive. Usually I left the room after about two minutes.

“Nobody cares,” I said finally. Anything to stop her from squawking for a few seconds.

Grandma jabbed her finger at me. “You’ll care when you start paying for it.”

“She has a point,” Justin said to me, knocking his foot into mine.

“Let’s see. No license. Not exactly a pressing matter at the moment.”

“It will be soon,” he said.

“How’s she doing?” Mom asked, salting her stew for the fourth time.

“Really well. We drove around downtown yesterday. Maybe we’ll try the freeway this weekend.”

I nearly choked on a bite of bread. “Do you have a death wish?”

Mom chuckled. “Just don’t drive like Grandma and you’ll be fine.”

Justin crinkled his brow at me, and I laughed. “Grandma knows two speeds,” I said. “Zero and eighty.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, puckering his lips. “Nice.”

Grandma shook her head. “I’ve never gotten a ticket.” She snatched her bowl from the table and rinsed it in the sink.

Then Justin offered to do the dishes for some ungodly reason.

“Why are you being so nice to my grandma?” I asked, walking him to his car twenty minutes later. The cool wind painted my arms with goose bumps.

“I had about two bites of her stew—or whatever that was. I felt bad.”

“She would’ve made me do the dishes anyway. It’s not like you were saving her the trouble.”

He leaned against the driver’s door of his car. “Then you’re welcome.”

I glanced at the dim lights of Naomi’s house. Her father’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. “I hope Naomi’s dad didn’t let her down this time.”

“Does he do that a lot?”

I told him about meeting her dad and what Naomi said afterward. “She really scared me last weekend.”

Justin shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “You’re a good friend. I wish I’d had someone like you back home.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

He gave me a soft smile. “Just keep being you.”

“That doesn’t help much.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“What would you say?”

He shrugged. “I think I can relate to where her head is at right now. And it doesn’t seem like she has anyone to talk to about it. Look at the lyrics she wrote.”

“She has me.”

Justin shifted his weight. “Yeah, but you’re so…”

I folded my arms across my stomach. “Clueless?”

“I was going to say levelheaded. Naomi’s in a place that’s hard to understand unless you’ve been there, and I think she knows that.” He looked toward her driveway. “She may not even want to talk to me. But I’ll try.”

“When?”

“How about tomorrow? We’ll tell her you have plans after school, and I’ll ask her if she wants to hang out at Café Mars or something.”

“Why can’t I come?”

“It’s better if I talk to her one-on-one—trust me. The members of my old band talked to me all at once, and it felt like a fucking intervention. Didn’t go over real well.” He looked down at his feet. “To say the least.”

“Oh.” The idea of Justin and Naomi going out alone bothered me. I felt left out of something important, but I wanted Naomi to feel better. “Isn’t telling her about your past going to be hard?”

He exhaled, studying my face. “It was harder telling you.”

I hugged myself tighter. What was that supposed to mean?

“Can you have your mom pick you up?”

My stomach tensed. “She has to work. It’ll have to be Grandma.”

“Hey, come here.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. The copper hue of streetlights shone in his eyes. “I’d much rather have you there.”

I looked away, unsure of where to put my hands. On his shoulders seemed too much like dancing. And I definitely wasn’t going to grab his butt.

He tilted my chin upward and ran his thumb along my cheek. I slowly met his stare again. He smiled and kissed me. My head spun and my knees shook, but somehow I managed to stay upright. His tongue brushed against mine, and I pushed back, wondering if that was what he wanted. The whole idea of mingling tongues baffled me. When he paused, I figured I’d done something wrong and pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Why?” he whispered and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I don’t know how to do this, okay? Naomi is the only other person I’ve kissed. And it wasn’t like this.” I looked away again, wanting to smack myself. Now he knew everything. But at least he was almost as clueless in the romance department.

“It’s different with every person.”

“You’ve only kissed that one girl, right?”

His smile faded. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Because I hated feeling like such a dork.

“I’ve kissed a few people.”

“How many?”

He let go of my waist. “I didn’t keep a tally, Drea.”

“I thought you were more like me.”

“We’re a lot alike. We’re both stubborn geeks with superb taste in music.” He reached for me.

I backed away.

His head tilted back, like he was searching the stars for answers. Too bad it was cloudy. “I’m far from perfect, Drea. So if you want to walk away right now, I don’t blame you. But I really like you. Everything about you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but every question I had blurred together in a mass of gibberish.

He leaned over and gave me a quick hug. “Just let me know what you decide.”

It wasn’t until after he drove off that I found the words. I stood frozen for a while, letting the drizzle melt into my cheeks, and they came to me. Simple, but more truthful than anything else I could say.

Thank you.

IT WAS OFFICIAL. Rummaging through dusty boxes at seven A.M. on a Saturday stunk.

Mom hummed “Bus Stop” and grinned like a kid discovering a secret attic. Don, the dentist, was picking her up at nine and whisking her off to the San Juan Islands for a romantic weekend.

“Do you realize we can get a hantavirus and die from breathing in mouse turds?” I asked her.

She rolled her eyes and unwrapped some figurines. “It’s just dirt, Drea.”

I adjusted the flimsy breathing mask I’d found in Grandma’s closet. We sat in her freezing garage, placing various items on fold-out tables. Grandma would poke her head in every ten minutes or so to decide whether or not to sell them.

“Craigslist would be much easier. Who actually goes to garage sales anymore?”

Mom smiled. “People like Grandma. What’s really bugging you today?”

I flipped through an ancient calendar and shrugged. Justin had said about three words to me yesterday. I didn’t get a single moment alone with him because we had a quiz in English, and Naomi spent lunch planning a move to New York City. Neither of them called me last night.

“Grandma said she had to pick you up from school yesterday. How come?”

“Justin took Naomi out so he could talk to her about stuff.”

She wiped some dust off a green vase and frowned. “I thought Justin liked you.”

I looked at the concern in her dark eyes, and an ache formed in my throat. I still wanted to tell her what Naomi did at the mall and about Scott. She might’ve known what to do, but I knew it would scare her. Maybe enough to not let me hang out with Naomi again.

She squatted next to me and gave me a hug, stroking my hair. “Talk to me, sweetie.”

I breathed in the scent of her favorite shampoo. It always smelled a little like bubblegum. And that did it. I just started talking. About Naomi’s situation and Justin’s past. About how I felt sick every time I thought about last weekend.

Her eyes searched my face, and she gave me a weak smile. “I’m proud of you.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Why?”

“Because you knew what Naomi did was wrong and you had the guts to tell her that. You stuck by her and tried to help, even when you were scared.”

“But I just let it happen.”

“Yes, but now you know not to put yourself in that situation again. You can’t stop Naomi from stealing or dating the wrong guy. It’s not your job to be her mom.” She ruffled my hair. “Just like it isn’t your job to be mine.”

“Do you think she’ll stay away from Scott?”

Mom sighed and sat cross-legged on a throw rug. “I hope so. I know with me—I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. The idea of love blinds me. I see qualities that aren’t there because I want them to be there. I want to trust their words because it hurts too much not to. I look at your grandma and I think, How can she live like this? But I also envy her. She’s not afraid to be alone. I think Naomi and I need a little dose of that.”

“You just made sense.”

Mom laughed. “Well, that’s pretty rare, huh? We should celebrate.”

“Are you still going to let me hang out with Naomi?”

She sighed. “I’m not going to lie. I’ll be watching you more closely—asking where you’re going. No more sleepovers at Naomi’s. I want you home by midnight on weekends. And I want to talk to her dad.”

“No! She’ll hate me.”

“She’s going to get herself into a lot of trouble. I can’t sit back and do nothing in good conscience. Her dad needs to know what’s going on.”

“She promised me she would stop.”

“And I have no doubt she means well, Drea. But we can’t count on that. In the meantime, keep making music. Listen to her if she wants to talk. I think Justin will help look out for her too.” She poked my arm. “Grandma likes him, by the way. And he must like you an awful lot to have listened to her go on the other night. Trust me, not many of my boyfriends were so patient with her.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I turned my attention to another box, digging at the contents. “Does his past bother you?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little nervous. But I think it’s great that he’s being honest about it. Does it bother you?”

“No. I like him—I mean, he’s becoming a good friend.”

She smirked. “He’s quite the cutie.”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, please!” The thought of seeing him later today terrified me. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself again.

I was filming Grandma lining up a row of angel figurines when Naomi showed up. Her big blue eyes appeared in the frame, looking red-rimmed and sleepy. But her lips stretched into a wide smile. She had no idea I’d ratted her out.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the camera. The afternoon light pierced her blond roots, making her hair look thin.

“Hi.” I panned to Grandma. The school camera weighed a ton, and using a tripod was the only way I could keep it steady.

Naomi walked behind me, peering at the little LCD screen. “You’ve got it zoomed in really far. I can practically see the dirt under her nails.” She pressed a button, pushing the image of Grandma farther away. “There ya go.”

I elbowed her arm. “I had it there for a reason, Naomi.”

“Sorry. Damn.” She huffed and sat on the grass. “So I guess you’re mad after all.”

“What do you mean?” I focused on Grandma’s face. She watched the street, hands on her hips. Her eyes widened with each passing car.

“You said it was okay. I mean—he asked me, and we’re just friends. It’s not like it was like that, you know?”

Her words melded together in my head. All I could think about was what she’d do when my mom called her dad.

“Oh, what? You’re going to ignore me now? You should’ve just said something, Drea.”

Grandma turned then, her eyes piercing the frame. She instantly covered her face and spun around. “I told you to turn that off, Drea! You’ll scare the customers away.”

“What customers?”

“I’ll throw it in the street. I’m not kidding,” Grandma said.

“Then you can pay my teacher three thousand dollars to replace it.”

Grandma crinkled her nose and stormed back into the garage, mumbling something about disrespect. “Get me if anyone shows up!” she called.

I clicked the camera off and knelt in front of Naomi. The grass was damp and cold.

“Do you want a blanket?” I asked.

She studied my face for a moment. “You aren’t mad, then?”

“No—I just had a good shot and you messed it up. That’s all.”

“I was trying to help! But I guess I can’t do anything right.”

I looked away from her glare, hugging myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, yesterday—you bit my head off because you dropped your lunch box. It wasn’t my fault, Drea. I didn’t knock it out of your hands.”

The cutting sound of her voice made me want to get up and run, but I closed my eyes, trying to think of the right words.

“You could at least look at me,” she said.

“I don’t like seeing you so angry at me.”

A few seconds of silence went by. Finally, she exhaled. “Sometimes it just seems like I annoy you. Like you don’t want me around.”

I opened my eyes. She was looking down, running her fingers through the grass. “I do want you around.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. We sat quietly for a minute before a smirk crossed her lips. “Justin told me about his juvie days last night. That’s kinda hot, right?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No way. Justin in handcuffs? Awesome.” She laughed.

Their talk didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.

“Why is that funny?”

She leaned back on the palms of her hands. “Um—because it’s Justin. That image is a little hard to picture.”

“His mom died. Do you think that’s funny and awesome too?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Of course not. But shit happens, people die. It’s not a reason to stop living yourself.”

I pulled up a chunk of grass and let it sift through my fingers. “Whatever.”

“There you go again—acting all pissy.”

My stomach tensed. “I just don’t understand some of the things you say.”

“It’s called having a sense of humor, Drea.”

I counted the loose blades of grass in my hand. “Okay.”

“I should’ve been sixteen in the eighties,” she continued. “I would’ve been the perfect punk chick.”

“Why can’t you be a punk chick now?”

“Because Sid is dead, duh.”

I threw grass at her. “He died in 1979.”

She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Anyway, Justin had a conniption because I called Green Day old-school punk. So he gave me a CD with the Dead Milkmen, Sex Pistols, the Clash, and a bunch of others on it. Good stuff.”

“Cool.” I looked at her empty driveway across the street. “Is your dad home this weekend?”

“Nope, but his vacation starts next Saturday. He claims he’s taking me car shopping.”

My chest relaxed. At least I had a week to convince Mom not to call. “You never said how your dinner went Thursday.”

“It was a dinner with Dad, not an all-night party. What exactly is there to talk about?”

“You seemed excited, that’s all.”

“What I really want to talk about is you and Justin. He’s so gaga over you.”

I let a smile slip.

“Ooh. You’re blushing. Something’s totally happened—fess up.”

I buried my face in my knees.

“Oh my God. You hooked up with him!”

I put my hand against her mouth. “Shut up. My grandma will hear you.”

She pulled back. “I wasn’t talking that loud. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“We kissed,” I whispered.

“What?” She leaned forward, her eyes widening.

I brought my mouth to her ear. “Kissed.”

“Kissed what?”

“You know—with our mouths.”

Her brows pinched together. “That’s it?”

I ached to tell her the truth. That I’d never had a boyfriend before. I wanted to ask her all about her first time. What was normal, what wasn’t. But she’d probably think that was funny too.

A slowing car caught my attention. Justin pulled up to the curb in front of us.

Naomi grinned, standing up. “Speaking of a certain ex-thug.”

“Don’t call him that.”

She rolled her eyes and ran over to Justin’s car.

I stayed back and watched them through the lens of the camera. The world looked so different this way. Naomi’s smile seemed less real, and Justin looked almost shy. I zoomed in as he pulled out of their hug. He stared right into the camera, like he was trying to see inside my mind. Naomi glanced over at me and whispered something. He eyed the ground and shrugged.

I focused on Naomi’s mouth as they walked toward me. It moved so quickly. Like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Justin’s lips curved up, not enough to be smiling. But enough to look unassuming. Pleasant.

“She can’t seem to stop messing around with that thing,” Naomi said.

Justin came within a few feet of me and stopped. “Hey.”

I straightened, peering over the camera. “Hi.”

Naomi’s gaze bounced between us. “Hello, awkward.” And then the wicked grin took over. “Drea tells me you two had quite the hot night.” She punched his arm.

He shot me what could only be a confused look. “That’s interesting.”

“Don’t,” I said, hoping she’d drop it for once.

“Yeah, apparently you guys…” She put a hand over her mouth, pretending to giggle.

“What? I missed the joke, sorry,” Justin said.

My heart thudded. “Naomi, please stop.”

“Drea said you guys”—she nudged him and whispered—“kissed.” Then she covered her mouth like it was the most shocking thing ever.

My cheeks burned, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran into the house, slamming the basement door behind me. Naomi must’ve known what a big deal that kiss was to me. And she didn’t care. It was a joke to her. I was a joke.

I buried my face in the softness of my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

The basement door creaked open a couple minutes later.

“Give me five minutes, Grandma! Five lousy minutes.”

But it wasn’t her open-toed heels coming down the stairs. These steps were softer, more like tennis shoes. “Don’t worry. Grandma and Naomi are holding down the fort,” Justin said. “But I brought the camera down in case they decide to go Jerry Springer on each other.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled into my green pillow.

His footsteps echoed behind me and stopped as he set the camera down. He walked over to the side I was facing and leaned against the wall, peering down at me. I turned the other way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Everything is a big joke to her, including me.”

“She gets off on teasing people. But you aren’t a joke to her, Drea. She went on and on last night about how talented you are.”

“Why is she always trying to embarrass me?”

“Because she wants attention and doesn’t know how to ask for it.”

“You sound like Jackie.”

“So be it. But it’s true. Besides, she feels pretty bad. Your grandma asked where you were, and Naomi told her you didn’t feel well. She got suckered into helping your grandma redo the table display.”

I rolled over and met his gaze. “I told my mom what happened last weekend. She wants to call her dad.”

“Did you tell her about me too?”

“I told her everything. I’m sorry. She still likes you.”

He shifted his weight against the wall. “Don’t be sorry. You guys are close. I tell my sister everything too.”

“I need to convince her not to call Naomi’s dad.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think you can.”

“That doesn’t help much.”

“What can I say, Drea? I’m not very good at the comforting thing, especially when it comes to you.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“No? You seemed almost disgusted by me the other night.”

I sat up. “And that’s the problem, Justin. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say or the right way to say it. By the time I figured out how to tell you what I was feeling, you had left. Don’t assume my thoughts by the look on my face. Don’t try and read between my words. At least ask me what I’m thinking or feeling first. It might take me some time, but I will answer you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, then, I’m asking. How do you feel about me?”

“It’s hard to explain. You make me feel connected to the world in ways I’ve never felt connected before. Usually I hate it when people touch me, but with you—it’s comforting. Not in the same way as my mom.”

“God, I hope not.” He gave me a strange look before holding up his hands. “Sorry, go on.”

“It’s a warm feeling, and my stomach kind of tickles. And… why are you smiling?”

He moved from the wall and sat on the bed. Close, but not close enough to touch me. “You’re describing actual sensations.”

“You asked me how I felt.”

“I know, and it’s the most real and honest answer I’ve ever heard. That’s why I’m smiling.”

“Oh.” I ran my fingers along the threads of my purple comforter. “I wanted to say thank you the other night. For giving me a chance, for the driving lessons, for coming to get me and Naomi at two in the morning—and for saying you liked everything about me. Nobody has ever said that before.”

“You don’t need to thank me for liking you, Drea. It was a done deal when I saw you singing to yourself the first day of school.”

I let my hair fall in my face, hoping it would cover up my dumb smile. “I thought you were laughing at me.”

“No, I was wondering how to introduce myself to the beautiful musically inclined girl without sounding like an ass.”

I peeked up at him. “I thought you were cute, but probably a jerk.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I gathered that much—the jerk part, anyway. And you would’ve been right if you’d met me last year.”

I moved closer to him, putting my hand over his. “But I didn’t. So it doesn’t matter.”

He pulled away. “Drea, the stuff I told you about my past was just the highlights. I didn’t get into all of it, because I didn’t think it mattered. But I think it will matter to you—especially after your reaction the other night.”

I moved back to the headboard, curling my knees under my chin. “Oh.”

“I just know that the more time I spend with you, the more I like you. The more I want to be part of your life.” He rolled his eyes. “And I need to shut up because I suck at this.”

“I feel the same way,” I said.

He sighed and laid back on the bed. “What did you mean by—you thought I was more like you?”

“I was hoping you were an inexperienced dork like me, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Nobody really knows what they’re doing. We’d all like to think we do, though.”

“So it doesn’t bother you, about me?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t have even known if you didn’t tell me.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. When you kiss someone for the first time, it’s usually awkward. It doesn’t matter how many people you’ve kissed before.”

“How many people have you kissed?”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I don’t know the exact number.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“I slept with some of them too. But I don’t remember much. There were times I woke up and couldn’t remember what happened. That scares the shit out of me.”

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know what to say to me, either.” He settled on his back again, drumming his chest. “But I was tested right before I moved here. I’m clean.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I keep thinking about my mom. She was obsessed with being healthy—ate right, exercised, didn’t smoke. She wouldn’t even touch alcohol. How’s that for messed up?” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You made some mistakes, but you’re a good person. That’s what matters.”

He covered his eyes with his arm, a smile crossing his lips. “Don’t make me go over there and kiss you. Tell me how lame my T-shirt is or something.”

“I like De/Vision. They’re one of my favorite bands, actually.”

“Who was I kidding? You’re Drea. You can’t help but drive me crazy.” He dropped his arm and gazed up at me.

I hurled the pillow at his face, but it missed him entirely and hit my green acoustic instead.

He chuckled. “Nice aim. I’m about—what?—two or three feet from you.”

“Shut up.”

Justin sat up, shaking his head. “Let me show you how it’s done, okay?”

He snatched the pillow off the floor and did a pitching motion with it. I covered my head, preparing for a blow. It didn’t come.

“Oh, give me a break. You’ve got another pillow next to you. Use it,” he said.

I grabbed it and jumped off the bed. He crept toward me, tossing the pillow in the air and catching it again. I charged at him and our pillow–sword fight began. Unfortunately, his height gave him the ability to bop me on top of the head. But I did have a lower center of gravity and better access to a more sensitive region. After he got me in the face, I ducked and flung my pillow at him like a Frisbee. Right where it counted.

He hunched over and winced. “Okay, that was a low blow. You don’t play fair.”

“How can I play fair when we didn’t make any rules?”

“You need to have a reason to go for the balls, okay? Like what you did with Scott. That rocked. This didn’t.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think it would hurt that much. The pillow being soft and everything.”

He walked toward me, shaking his head. “Smart-ass.”

I backed into the wall.

He picked up my pillow and smiled. “You might want to hold on to your weapon next time.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as he raised the pillows, expecting to be hit from both sides. Instead, I heard the soft whisper of them hitting the floor when his lips touched mine. The kiss was gentle and a little salty. His hands ran down my back, and heat bled through the gauzy material of my black dress. I kissed him back the only way I knew how. My way.

I slipped my fingers underneath his T-shirt, enjoying the silky feeling of his skin. It gave him goose bumps, which made me smile because I had them too. He tilted his head to the side and moved closer to me, and I ended up licking his chin. We both laughed.

“Sorry,” I said.

He cupped my face. “It happens.”

His hands skimmed the curve of my hips. Stubble beneath his lower lip made my chin feel raw, but I didn’t care. Every inch of me seemed to buzz, yet my mind probably couldn’t string two words together. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent. A mix of rain, salt, and trees—or bath soap and sweat, if I wanted to get technical.

His mouth hovered near my ear. “We shouldn’t leave Naomi up there any longer. They could be clawing each other’s eyes out by now.”

“They’ll be okay,” I said, pulling him closer.

He studied my face and traced the edge of my nose. “You think so?”

We leaned toward each other again, but the basement door swung open.

“Are you guys decent?” Naomi called, half laughing.

“Yes,” Justin said before moving back and sitting on the bed.

I followed and sat against the headboard again, my lips still tingling.

“You guys have been down here a really long time. I was worried we’d have to call the fire department.” She appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“Har, har,” Justin said, rolling his eyes.

She stuck her tongue out at him and plopped in my computer chair. “Teaching an old person how to use eBay is like trying to teach a newborn how to read Moby-Dick.”

Justin snickered. “I could’ve told you that.”

“I’m not following,” I said.

She spun the chair around in fast circles. “I just spent the last twenty minutes trying to convince your grandma to sell her crap online. She kind of lost it when she saw that people sell cars and houses on there. And the term FAQ is foreign to her. Anyway, you’re off the hook. I just helped her put everything away. Only catch is she wants you to sell the stuff on eBay for her.”

“That’s what I wanted to do in the first place. She said no.”

“What can I say, I have the magic grandma touch.” She stopped spinning and looked at me. “So, are you still pissed at me?”

“No.”

“I’m going to run around the corner to Subway. You guys want something?” Justin asked.

After we gave him our sandwich orders, he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. “See you in a bit,” he whispered.

I bit my lip and nodded, trying to hold back a smile. It was weird being mushy in front of Naomi.

She waited for him to leave before throwing herself on my bed. “Is he a good kisser?”

“I think so.”

Naomi stretched her legs over the side and gazed at the ceiling. “I bet he is. The sensitive types usually are.”

“I need to tell you something.” I clutched the comforter between my hands.

She exhaled sharply. “Look, I’m sorry. It was just so cute how excited you looked. I haven’t been that giddy over a kiss in a long time.”

“That isn’t it. I—”

Naomi sat up and crawled over to me. “Wait, don’t tell me.” She put a hand on each shoulder. “You and Justin are getting hitched in Vegas.”

“No! Can you be serious for a minute?”

She let go of my shoulders and collapsed back on the bed. “I got you out of garage sale hell. It’s Saturday. Your hot boyfriend is bringing us lunch. And you’re still finding reason to be a downer.”

“He’s not my—”

“He’s not your boyfriend, I know. You guys just smooch and hang out almost every day. And he talks about you like you’re a goddess.”

“He does?”

She looked up at me. “Uh-huh. He got that look in his eyes when he talked about you last night. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really.”

“And he talked about how smart and awesome you are. It was kind of sickening. I don’t think a guy has ever called me smart. I usually get ‘Hey, baby, yer hot.’”

I lay down next to her. “Because you date jerks.”

“Guys like Justin aren’t interested in girls like me. I’ve never been smart or arty enough. I’m not an endless source of music trivia, and I don’t hate everything on the radio. Oh, well. Bad boys are more exciting anyway.”

“Even when they call you a psycho bitch and hit you?”

“I said something really messed up about his family. Something I knew would hurt him.”

“He hit you, Naomi.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

I propped myself on my elbow and stared down at her. “Don’t go back to him. You promised.”

She sat up. “I’m not, okay? Just shut up about him already.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you won’t drop it!” She ran her hands through her messy hair. “You’re just sitting there and judging me. It’s so easy for you. You don’t even know—”

Justin opened the door upstairs. “Food’s here. Come up when you guys are ready.”

Naomi hopped up and ran for the stairs. “Good, I’m starving!”

“Wait,” I called after her. “We need to finish talking.”

She spun around, a dark look in her eyes. “It’s a nice day, Drea. Quit trying to ruin it.”

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After lunch we decided to walk around downtown Bellingham and film random things. Naomi gave us a guided tour around the pint-sized area. She interviewed various people we passed, asking them to list their favorite places. Most picked the bay, trails, or parks, and a few chose Railroad Avenue. But one person said jail and another said “wherever the pigeons hang out.” Not everyone was sober. We left with plenty of interesting footage.

When we got back to my house, we looked at the music sites I had uploaded “Invisible” to. There were several comments—all of them very complimentary. People raved about Naomi’s voice, saying she sounded like an angel.

Naomi smiled and covered her face. “I figured people would hate my voice.”

“Why would you think that?” Justin asked. “You’ve got more raw talent than anyone I’ve ever met. You haven’t even had any lessons, right?”

“Just years in my shower.”

I scrolled down the comments, reading them over again. “This one says, ‘Why isn’t this song on the radio? Very catchy tune with great production and an incredible vocalist. Who is this girl, and how can I get her to sing on my tracks?’”

Naomi’s ears turned red. “Wow.”

“I’ve played this song sixteen times,” I continued reading. “And that piano melody haunts me every time. Beautiful.”

Justin smiled. “We’ve got our amazing producer to thank.”

“I just polished it up and stuck it online,” I said.

He stroked my hair. “You know you did a lot more than that. All of the programming you put into it. The drums are sweet. It sounds amazing.”

“Naomi’s live beat helped too.”

Naomi announced she needed a bathroom break and ran up the stairs.

I stretched and moved closer to Justin. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his lap. “Did you tell her?”

I rested my head against his shoulder and told him what she said. “She won’t let me bring up anything serious. How am I supposed to tell her that I’m a liar? Or that my mom is calling her dad because I opened my stupid mouth?”

“No offense, but you’re a really bad liar. At least it wasn’t a surprise for me when you admitted you never went skydiving.”

I elbowed him.

“Be nice,” he whispered.

I looked up at him. “What should I do?”

“I can’t tell you that. You know Naomi better than I do.” He stroked my cheek.

“That doesn’t help.”

“I know—I suck. I’m sorry.”

Being so close to him relaxed me. I ran my fingers under his sleeve, trying to guess the shape of his tattoo.

Footsteps echoed from the stairs. I pulled back to see Naomi watching us. She wasn’t smiling this time. “Maybe I should leave you two alone.”

“No, we have to record ‘Dawn,’” I said.

Naomi made her way down the stairs. “I’m in the mood to celebrate those killer reviews we got.”

“How?” I asked.

“Let’s take a trip.” She moved in front of us and pulled a baggy out of her jeans. A few shriveled brown pieces of something sat inside.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“’Shrooms,” Justin muttered. “They make you hallucinate, basically.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Some people think it’s fun.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows. “Well?”

“I want to work on ‘Dawn,’ like we planned,” I said.

“So, let’s eat a couple first.” She grinned. “It’ll make practice more interesting.”

“Why do we need to make it more interesting?” I asked.

She tilted her head back, rolling her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t start with the dumb questions, Drea.”

I clenched my fists. That was the second time she’d said that to me.

“It wasn’t a dumb question,” Justin said, his fingers tracing the back of my hand.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll eat them by myself.”

“Not during band practice,” he said. “We agreed, remember?”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed at him. “Oh my God—they’re just ’shrooms!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly.

She shook her head and shoved the baggy back into her pocket. “No offense, Justin. But maybe they let you out of rehab too early.”

Justin’s arms tensed around me. I sucked in my breath, expecting him to yell. I sure wanted to, but no words came out of my parted lips.

“Recovery takes a long time, Naomi,” he said. “And being around people who are wasted doesn’t help.”

She looked at the ground, running her fingers through her hair again. “Maybe I should just go. I’m kind of beat anyway.”

“I wasn’t asking you to leave,” Justin said.

“Yeah, I know, but…” She shrugged.

“Stay.” My voice came out softer than I expected.

Naomi glanced up at me then. Something about the look in her eyes made my stomach hurt. “I’ll see you later.”

I watched her climb the stairs, torn between going after her and staying in Justin’s arms. One route was unpredictable and draining, the other—warm and exciting. I chose Justin, but wished I hadn’t let her go. Especially when she didn’t answer her phone the rest of the weekend.

Friday, September 28It’s lunchtime, and I’m supposed to be finishing up my film review. Justin and I didn’t get around to it last night. He’s working on his right now. I like to watch him and guess what he’s thinking about. Right now he’s bobbing his head to whatever is playing on his iPod. His lips are moving a little bit, but there is no sound coming out. I wonder if he ever puts music lyrics into his homework. I’ve done that several times. He just peeked up at me and smiled. I love it when he does that.Naomi is smoking with Roger. She’s been spending a lot more time with him. Even riding home with him instead of us. She hasn’t shown up for practice all week. Justin told her that she can’t just keep blowing the band off, but she rolled her eyes and flipped him off.She nods more and talks less. Her eyes look bruised underneath and red around the edges, but wide open like she’s afraid she’ll blink and miss something. I asked her if she was okay yesterday. She said she was sick of me asking her that.Mom keeps checking their driveway for her dad’s SUV. She asked me to get his cell number. I told her I wouldn’t do it. She asked me when he’d be home. I told her I didn’t know. I really don’t want the weekend to come.

Naomi was already in the locker room when I arrived. Her eyes looked glassy and vacant today. Kari stood over her, muttering something I couldn’t make out. They both stared at me for a moment before turning their attention back to each other.

“I know it was you,” Kari said before joining her friends across the aisle.

Naomi chewed on her thumbnail, eyeing the floor.

“What happened?” I took out my gym clothes and shoved my lunch box into the locker.

“Nothing important.”

“Are we going to work on ‘Dawn’ tomorrow?”

She stood up and opened her locker. “That depends. Does Justin want me to take a drug test first?”

“He’s worried about you. We both are.”

“I’m sorry that he couldn’t handle his shit.” She slammed the metal door shut. “But it doesn’t mean he gets to piss on everyone’s parade, you know? To be honest—I’m thinking of quitting the band. I’m just not feeling it anymore.”

I pulled my T-shirt over my head. It felt heavy and cold against my skin. “You can’t do that—”

“Cut the shit, Drea.” She walked toward me until our faces were inches apart. “When we first met, you looked at me like I was a pile of dog crap. And you haven’t stopped judging me since. You and Justin are dying to get rid of me. Admit it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Admit it!”

I backed away, avoiding her piercing eyes. They reminded me of a zombie’s—lifeless. “I don’t understand why you… why you’re—”

She moved toward me until her breath hit my cheek. It smelled like curdled milk. “Yeah, that’s right. Look away and play innocent, like always. Or better yet, run along and ask Prince Justin to save you. He’s good at that, right?”

My eyes burned and my throat felt swollen. I couldn’t breathe. “You’re acting like Scott.”

She flicked something off my shirt. “Better get to class. Wouldn’t want Little Miss Perfect to be late.” The edge in her voice made me shiver.

I spun around and ran to the gym, wishing I didn’t have to look at her again. Being near her gave me this heavy feeling in my gut.

But she never showed up to PE.

When I entered the locker room forty minutes later, there was no sign of Naomi. But I could still feel her around me. On the cement walls. In the damp air. Heavy and unrelenting.

My lunch box seemed lighter when I pulled it out. I cracked it open to find my crayons and a few pennies. My iPod and roughly ten dollars in change were missing. Only one person knew my combination.

“Did Naomi take anything?” a voice asked.

I glanced up at Kari. She peered down at my lunch box, her thin eyebrows raised.

I nodded, letting the lid fall shut.

“Yeah, I forgot to lock up yesterday. She stole twenty bucks out of my jeans.” Kari sat down next to me. “I heard you guys fighting.”

I flicked the clasp on my box.

“That’s how she gets back at people she’s pissed at,” Kari continued. “She steals from them.”

Tears burned in my eyes. “I don’t know what I did.” I turned away, hoping she couldn’t see them. “I thought we were friends.”

“So did I,” she said. “And the sad part is, I was this close to pounding her face in before class. But I couldn’t do it. She’s so pathetic. I fucking pity her.”

All I could do was nod. The money didn’t matter. Naomi took my music. The one thing I couldn’t stand to be without. She knew that.

Kari said something else, but her words didn’t register. She stood up, staring at me expectantly. “Right, well, see ya.”

I sat in my sweaty gym clothes, unable to move. My teeth clenched together, and I gripped the sides of the bench. At that moment, I wanted to push Naomi to the ground and tell her what a disappointment she was. A selfish, stupid girl.

I threw my lunch box against the lockers, watching it explode open and fall to the floor. One of the pennies twirled for a few seconds. Almost like it was laughing at me. I crushed it with my foot and left the box where it fell. She might as well take it all. She obviously needed it a lot more than I did.

Justin asked where my lunch box was after film class. I didn’t want to talk about it. He put his hand over mine when we got into his car.

“Will seeing my Bösendorfer cheer you up?” he asked.

I nodded. “Will your family be there?”

“My sister will be. She wants to meet you.”

I stared out the window. Justin playing a real piano. It sounded like the perfect date, minus the whole meeting-strangers bit.

“Is Naomi coming to practice tomorrow?” he asked.

I shook my head and bit down on my tongue. Just hearing her name made me shrivel inside. We went up to Magnolia Street instead of Holly.

He looked over at me when we hit a red light. “What happened, Drea?”

I watched a group of skateboarders collide in a Quickie Mart parking lot. One of them had purple hair like Naomi. No matter where I looked, I couldn’t get away from her. Or the sick feeling lurking in my stomach. So I told Justin, hoping he’d have some magical answer.

He didn’t. We rode in silence until we pulled up in front of his house. It was a small, one-story deal on the south side of town. White paint. Black shutters. I guess it kind of fit him.

He gave me a long hug after we got out. We stood on his curb for a while, barely moving.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked.

He kissed the top of my head. “Speed makes people crazy. When I did it, I loved the world one minute and hated it the next. I had no control over what I did or said sometimes—at least it felt that way. Sometimes I wanted to tear everything apart.” He backed away from me. “Naomi likes you, despite what she said. Chances are she won’t even remember tomorrow. That’s the fucked-up part.”

“But I’ll remember.”

“Come on,” he whispered, pulling me down a long driveway. It led to a white structure that I assumed was the garage. But he unlocked the side door and let me in first.

A shiny black piano was the first thing to greet me. It loomed in front of us in all its statuesque glory, itching to be played. The cement floor was covered with large rugs. The kind with kaleidoscopic patterns. Shelves of CDs and books framed the room, and a queen-sized bed with tousled blue sheets sat in the corner.

“Reminds me a little of my basement.”

“Yeah. It was the garage, but my brother-in-law renovated it. It’s not quite finished yet.” He motioned to the floor. “They’re renting it out to me.”

I walked toward the piano and admired the pristine keys. “They didn’t want to park in it?”

He brushed past me and sat on the bench. “They want to turn it into an art studio—eventually.”

I scanned the black-and-white photographs lining the walls. They were images of odd things like bridge beams, rusty barns, alleyways, random body parts, and melted ice cream. “I didn’t know you were into photography.”

He looked around the room and shrugged. “I didn’t go anywhere without a camera my freshman year. But I haven’t taken any in a while.”

“You should start up again. I like them.” I bit my lip. It was weird being alone with him in his space. Yet somehow my problems stayed outside his door. I felt safe in here.

He smiled at me. “I’d like to. Have a seat anywhere. I’ll play you something.”

I had to decide between a black beanbag and the bed. The beanbag was closer and just my size.

He began playing as my body melted into the Styrofoam. The acoustics in the garage weren’t half bad. It almost felt like we were in a mini concert hall. His notes inched through my skin and warmed me to the bone. He wasn’t kidding. The difference between a real piano and my crappy midi was astronomical. I would’ve been embarrassed if I wasn’t so taken in by the melody swirling around me. This song was white and silver with a touch of red for the harder notes.

I curled up on the bag, closing my eyes. The only thing missing was Naomi’s voice. But I put the thought aside and got lost in my daydreams. Most of them involved kisses, nature hikes, and traveling to unknown destinations. Maybe in a clunky tour bus.

“Hey,” he said after two songs. “Did I put you to sleep?”

I opened my eyes and nearly laughed at his pout. “No, you took me somewhere else.”

He walked over and kneeled in front of me. “Want to tell me about it?”

I shook my head. “It’s a secret.”

He leaned over and kissed me. We’d made out almost every day, and I liked it more every time. Even the sore lips and the dehydration. But our clothes stayed on, and his hands avoided my chest area. Part of me really wanted to do more, and another part was terrified of it. What if I hated how it felt? What if he hated how I felt? I barely had boobs, compared to most girls.

Justin pulled back and sat on his heels. “We should go say hi to my sister.”

I got up and attempted to smile. Obviously, I didn’t do a good job because he touched my cheek and told me not to worry. His sister trusted his judgment.

The main house had pumpkin-colored walls and smelled like apples. Justin led me through the entranceway and into the kitchen. A woman took silverware out of the dishwasher and placed it in a drawer, and a dark-haired little girl frantically colored something at the kitchen table.

The woman looked up at me, smiling. She had Justin’s eyes and high cheekbones, but honey-blond hair. I figured it was dyed due to the darker locks underneath.

“Drea, this is my sister, Nicci.” He motioned to me. “Nicci, this is Drea—my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” He’d said girlfriend. It gave me a fluttery feeling, but a good one. At least I thought it was.

“It’s really good to meet you. I’ve heard you are quite the talented producer,” she said.

“Thank you. I mean, it’s good to meet you too.” I clenched my hands into balls. Why was I thanking her for hearing something?

“You guys sticking around for dinner?” Nicci asked.

Justin nudged me. “Don’t worry. My sister is a decent cook.”

“Decent? Oh, whatever, Mister I Blackened My Toast This Morning and Set Off the Smoke Alarm.” She laughed, showing a set of dimples. She looked younger than I thought she’d be. No more than twenty-five.

“Hey”—he held his hands up—“someone changed the setting.”

“Likely story.” Nicci walked over to the little girl and peered over her shoulder.

“I’d like to stay,” I said.

“I want you to meet someone else too.” Justin took my hand, leading me toward the table. “This is my niece, Madison.”

Madison drew spirals with a purple crayon. She hummed a soft note with each circle. Justin sat on one side of her, and I took the other.

The phone rang, and Nicci rushed off to get it. Whoever it was made her frown and leave the kitchen. I turned my attention back to Justin’s niece. She drew horizontal lines now. Her lips pursed together in deep concentration.

“How old is she?” I asked.

“Four,” Justin answered. “She does the coloring thing a lot. I think we have a little artist in the making here.”

“It calms her.”

“How do you know?”

I smiled at him. “I just do.”

Madison paused, her big brown eyes searching the table. She picked up an orange crayon and stuck it in my hand.

“Wow.” Justin chuckled. “I was here a month before I got invited to color with her.”

“I’m just special.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Yeah, you are.”

I reached for a blank piece of paper, but she slapped her hand on the pile.

“No,” she said, pulling it out of my reach. She counted through five before handing one to me.

“She’s got an order about them,” Justin said. “Can’t mess it up.”

“What would you like me to draw, Madison?” I asked.

She’d gone back to spirals and humming.

“I drew her a pumpkin. She wasn’t too into that,” Justin said.

I mimicked her rhythm, starting at the corner and making my way down. Coloring always soothed me. The feel of a crayon against paper was satisfying in a way I couldn’t explain to just anyone. But I bet Madison understood.

Nicci walked back into the kitchen. “Dad’s on the phone.”

His eyes widened at her. “He wants to talk to me?”

“He wants to say hi,” she said.

Justin scrambled out of the chair and brushed his hand against my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Nicci grinned at the crayon in my hand and sat down in his place. “She likes you.”

“I have a bunch of coloring books at home. She can have some if she’d like,” I told her.

“I think she’d really love that.” She ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Say thank you to Drea.”

Madison repeated her words exactly but didn’t let it stop her project.

“Did you like drawing too?” Nicci asked.

“I still do. It relaxes me.” I kept my eyes on the paper. His sister seemed nice, but I felt as if I was under a microscope. What if she didn’t like me?

“I use a punching bag to relax. We all have our methods.” She laughed. It sounded almost nervous.

I nodded and attempted to smile. She asked me about San Francisco and if I liked Bellingham. Small talk wasn’t where I made my best impressions, but I answered as best I could. I was tempted to ask her if she wanted to pick up a crayon and join us.

“I’m really glad you and Justin met. He was pretty down when he got here in June, but I see a little more of the kid brother I once knew every day.”

I stopped scribbling. “You think that’s because of me?”

She smiled. “Well, you’re definitely helping. So thank you for that.”

I handed my drawing to Madison. “He’s helped me just as much.”

She shuffled it in her pile, a little grin forming on her face.

“Hey, quit talking about me,” Justin said, grabbing my shoulders.

“Oh, I wasn’t saying anything bad. I—”

“I’m only messing with you,” he whispered.

“How’d it go?” Nicci stood up.

He exhaled and massaged my shoulders. “A lot of awkward silence. But it was good to hear his voice, you know?”

She walked behind me. “He’ll come around. I need to get started on dinner. We’ll talk more later, okay?”

“Sure.” He leaned into my ear again. “You want to go back to my room?”

I got up and followed him back to the garage. As soon as he shut the door, I gave him a hug. He looked like he needed it.

“What did your dad say?” I asked, sitting on his bed.

He stood in front of me, hands in his pockets. “He asked how I was. Told me a few friends called looking for me. That was about it. But it’s the first time he’s spoken to me since court. It’s a step.”

“Are you happy?”

He studied my face for a second. “Yeah, I am.”

“You told your sister I was your girlfriend.”

His eyelashes lowered to the floor. “Is that okay?”

“Only if that’s what I am to you.”

“I’d like that.” He glanced up at me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t identify. Fear or uncertainty, maybe. At least that was what I felt.

“Me too.”

A little smile played at his lips. “Guess it’s settled, then.”

I fell back on his bed. The sheets felt velvety against my hands. “Your bed smells like you.”

“Imagine that.”

“Come here.” I wrapped my legs around his, pulling him closer. But he wasn’t moving. I let him go.

Justin sat next to me. “I want to take things slow with you, Drea.”

My body tensed at his words. I didn’t feel ready for sex, but I didn’t want to be treated differently either. “Why with me?”

He met my gaze then. “Because I didn’t know the people I had sex with. Not like I know you.”

I looked away and traced patterns against his sheets. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not ready yet. Does that simplify things?”

“Yes.” I glanced up at him. “Does that mean we can’t mess around anymore?”

“No, it definitely doesn’t mean that.” He smiled and then kissed me.

We fell back onto his bed. His mouth grazed my neck, moving slowly to my earlobe. I wondered if the shivering would go away eventually. It hadn’t yet. I moved my hands under his shirt, pulling it up.

“Can I see your tattoo?” I asked.

He smirked. “You’re slick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Finding a way to get my shirt off without having to ask.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

My cheeks burned. Considering the only shirtless guys I saw were on TV or the gag calendars Mom’s friends gave her, seeing Justin was pretty exciting.

But I wasn’t expecting silver bars through his nipples. “Whoa. Did that hurt?”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “For a couple seconds, yeah. Then the endorphins kicked in and I didn’t feel much.”

I poked at one of the bars, but tore my hand away for fear I’d hurt him. Just looking at them made me want to cover my own nipples and cringe. Maybe it was different for guys than girls. “Why did you get them?”

“Lydia, our singer, was friends with this guy who ran a tattoo and piercing shop. We weren’t allowed to have visible piercings at school, so she thought nipple piercings would be hot.” He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t know—I’ve grown to like them.”

My fingers ran across his biceps, tracing a tattooed band of black-and-white piano keys. His arms were muscular, but not what Mom referred to as “ripped.” He was thin, but defined. Which I liked. I always thought the whole buff thing was overrated. Most of the guys in my mom’s calendar had bigger boobs than me.

He rolled onto his stomach. A tattoo of a grand staff covered his upper back. A treble and bass clef. Rows of notes. Just like sheet music. Wings sprawled out behind it, stretching across his shoulder blades. They were mostly black but tinged with a little blue.

“It’s the beginning of a song I wrote for my mom. Kind of my tribute to her,” he said.

I ran my hands over the ink, admiring the etchings and shadows. “I love it,” I said. “Maybe you can play it for me sometime.”

He propped himself on his elbow again. “Do you have any?”

“What do you think?” I rolled my eyes.

“I was hoping for an excuse to get your shirt off.”

I wrapped my arms around my chest, and my heart sped up. “The room is kind of light.”

“That generally happens when the sun is out.” He gave me a half smile.

“It’s just I’ve never—um. A guy has never seen—”

“I know.” He brought his face to mine. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I want to, but I—”

He cut me off with a kiss. My body relaxed with his touch, and whatever I had to say became unimportant. His fingers circled my breast, and his thumb brushed across my nipple. I sucked in my breath, tangling my tongue with his. My skin felt like it was on fire. I inched my T-shirt up, slowly at first.

He pulled back. “You sure?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Just don’t laugh at my bra. It’s kind of white and—”

He ran a finger along the curve of my upper lip. “I’m not up on the latest bra trends. You’re safe.”

I let him pull my shirt over my head and stiffened as his eyes skimmed my body.

He pressed his lips to my navel, working his way up until our mouths were inches apart. “Sei bella.”

I stared back at him. He definitely made me feel beautiful. “I want to hear more about Italy.”

His mouth tickled my ear. “You will.”

I ran my hands down his smooth back, breathing him in. His hand inched up my thigh. My eyelashes fluttered and a pressure built inside of me. He hesitated.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.

He kissed me harder, his fingers sliding over the edge of my underwear. My leg muscles tensed, and my heart felt like it was palpitating. His touch moved higher until I was sure I’d pass out. An indescribable warmth blanketed my nerves.

Everything faded away, even the light streaming across his bed from the high windows. I had no idea being close to another human being could feel this amazing.

I WOKE UP SHIVERING the next morning. Raindrops pelted against the window, and the wind roared outside.

I hadn’t wanted to get out of the car when Justin dropped me home, ten minutes before my midnight curfew. The night had been incredible. I already missed his soft lips and the way his hands felt on my skin. My boyfriend. I had a real boyfriend.

During dinner, Justin and his sister had told me about the concerts they went to in Italy and how easy Milan was to get lost in. They showed me pictures of dusky buildings, cobblestone walkways filled with people, and the most elaborate shopping mall I’d ever seen. I’d be going there someday.

I glanced at my cell phone. It read 11:00, but the muted light in the basement made it seem much earlier. The wind picked up again, sending branches against the house.

I buried my hands inside the sleeves of my thermal and sat in front of my computer. The server dinged with new e-mail.

From: Naomi QuinnSubject: She waits for the dawn…

I stared at the name and subject until it became a blurry mess. Maybe she wanted to come to practice today after all. The knots in my stomach told me otherwise. I took a deep breath and opened the e-mail.… to make her grand escape.Hi Drea,Where do I even begin? I guess I’ll start with I’m sorry… for everything. In case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a horrible friend. More trouble than I’m worth. I know. You deserve better, and I think you have it with Justin. That boy is crazy about you. So much so it hurts to look at you guys. I’ve waited my entire life for someone to look at me the way you look at each other. To admire me for some reason, at least. But that’s another story.Your mom talked to my dad last night. She told him everything. He freaked and told me he was going to turn me in. He thinks I need rehab, which is hilarious. The guy pops Vicodin like it’s candy.Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you. I’ve been looking for a reason to get out. That final straw. This did it. I’m at Scott’s right now. He’s packing up his shit, and we’re heading south in a couple days. Maybe California. Maybe Vegas. Maybe the moon? I know you think he’s scum, but he’s my ticket out of here, and if you knew how he grew up, you’d understand his anger. I love him, Drea. I really do. People screw up. They make mistakes. I hope that you’ll forgive me someday.I left your iPod and money on your porch. Count it if you’d like. It’s all there. I don’t know why I took it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things. Out of everyone here, I’m going to miss you the most. Especially your smile. You don’t smile much, but when you do, your entire face glows. I’ve known you a month, but I feel closer to you than anyone else. Making music with you was awesome, and I’m sorry I can’t keep doing it. It was the one thing I really looked forward to. But singers aren’t hard to find. Did you know Roger sings? He’s not bad either, LOL. No joke!I have a couple favors to ask. Please keep my brother’s drum kit and Lizzie safe. I obviously can’t take either with me. And Dad sure as hell can’t take care of Lizzie. I know she’d be happy with you. If you can’t take her, then please find her a good home. I trust you.Thank you for everything, Drea. You rock.Until we meet again. (And we will!)Naomi,a.k.a. your pain-in-the-ass friend forever

I read her letter three times, hoping it wasn’t real. Her dad wasn’t supposed to be home last night. Saturday, she’d said. They were going to pick out a car Saturday. Acid crept into my throat. My friend was gone, and it was my fault. Mom didn’t follow through on a lot of things—why this? Why now? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

My cell phone rang, making me jump. Justin’s name appeared in the tiny screen.

“Hello?”

“I got an e-mail from Naomi,” he said, his voice somber.

I slumped in my chair, my eyes stinging. “It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed home last night.”

“You aren’t why she’s unhappy. Don’t think that way.” His windshield wipers squeaked in the background.

“I thought you had to work.”

“I do, but I’m on lunch. I’m heading to Scott’s.”

“What are you going to do?”

He exhaled into the phone. “I’m going to try and talk to her.”

“But Roger said Scott wants to pound you.”

“If he wants to come at me in broad daylight, he can go for it. I’m not going inside.”

“Take me with you.”

“No, I don’t want you around Scott.”

“I don’t care. She’s my friend too.”

“I’m going to try and get her home, okay?”

I nodded and realized he couldn’t hear me. “Call me as soon as you leave.” My throat was so tight it hurt to breathe.

“I will.” His voice softened. “I promise.”

I tried calling Naomi three times after Justin hung up. Her voice mail greeted me every time. Then I reread her letter.

I should’ve complimented her singing more. Told her how beautiful she was. She had more physical grace than anyone I’d ever known, especially when we jammed. A natural performer. Every movement seemed epic. I should’ve told her the truth about me.

Justin called ten minutes later. He said nobody answered, but the blinds were pulled up. The apartment looked vacant inside.

I ran upstairs, ready to confront Mom. A man’s voice echoed from the kitchen when I opened the basement door. Mom answered him softly. I crept toward the entrance, but stayed behind the wall and listened.

“I used to build houses,” the man said. “It was decent money. But then I fell and messed up my back. And the doc said no more construction or manual labor for me. Well, I don’t have a degree, and the job market in this town is nonexistent. What was I supposed to do?”

“I know,” Mom said. “I’m always struggling to keep my head above water. It’s not easy.”

“I’m not a bad father.” His voice shook. “I tried, you know? She’s always been so self-sufficient. Her brother was always getting in trouble. Teachers called me about him all the time. But not Naomi. She had good grades. No problems.”

I bit my lip to keep from shouting at him. He didn’t try. He made her feel invisible.

Mom gave him one of her vague sympathetic answers. Her voice trembled a little, like it always did when she felt bad. “I got lucky with Drea,” she continued. “I’ve made so many mistakes, dragging her across the country, living out of our pickup, one failed relationship after another. But she’s so practical and levelheaded. It’s not always about what you did or didn’t do. I think Naomi just got involved with the wrong crowd.”

“Do you know anything else about this Scott guy? I’d like to”—something banged against the table—“put his face through a goddamn wall,” her dad said.

“What are you doing, Drea?” Grandma peeked out from her bedroom down the hall. “Don’t eavesdrop on conversations.”

“Drea?” Mom called. “You can come in here, sweetie. It’s okay.”

I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. Naomi’s dad sat at the head of the table, hunched over. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes red rimmed. He glanced up at me for a moment and nodded before staring at his hands.

I pressed my back against the wall, folding and unfolding my arms. Nothing felt comfortable. Nothing felt right.

Mom gave me a weak smile. “There was a bag for you on the porch this morning. It’s on the counter.” She studied my face. “Do you know what happened?”

“She’s with Scott,” I said. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea.”

Mom squinted at me. “Is she at his apartment?”

“No, Justin went over there. They’re gone. She said they were heading south in a couple days.”

Naomi’s dad covered his face. “I don’t know what the hell to do. I reported her as a runaway, but she’s just one of the many. They said it’s tougher once they’ve been missing for forty-eight hours.”

“We’ll help any way we can,” Mom said.

“She wants me to take Lizzie,” I said.

Her father looked up at me from under heavy lids. “The cat? Yeah, take her. I’ll bring her over.”

“Grandma won’t allow it,” Mom said.

“It’s what Naomi wants!” I answered.

She rubbed her eyes, sighing. “Okay, fine. Just put her in the basement for now. We’ll figure something out.”

Naomi’s father stood up suddenly, nearly knocking his mug over. “Thanks for the coffee. I should get back and see if the police called.” He looked at me as he left the kitchen. “I’ll bring the cat by in an hour or so.”

Mom groaned into her hands after he shut the front door behind him. “This is such a mess.”

“It would’ve been fine if you didn’t open your big mouth,” I said.

She looked up at me over the tips of her fingers. “Do you really believe that, Drea? Was Naomi fine before this?”

I focused on the tiled floor. “No.”

“I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

I stared back at her sad brown eyes and her crinkled brow. Despite her flaws, she loved me. And I knew it. “I wish her dad was more like you.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around me, kissing my forehead. “Why do you say that?”

“She doesn’t think he loves her.”

Mom’s chest deflated against my ear. “I think he does. But some people don’t show it as well as others.”

I thought of Justin’s dad and hugged her tighter.

The rain hadn’t let up by lunch on Monday. Justin and I sat under the roof overhang of the gym, picking at our sandwiches. The fountain looked lonely across the quad. Its vacant surrounding wall gleamed back at us.

We were waiting for Kari. She’d gotten a letter too.

The weekend crawled by. No phone calls or e-mails from Naomi. We’d searched downtown, the parks, and Scott’s apartment again but came up with nothing. Grandma threw such a fit about Lizzie that Justin offered to take her in. Apparently, she slept on his head.

“There’s Roger,” Justin said, standing up.

I followed his gaze and spotted Roger’s lanky frame exiting the main building. If anyone knew where Scott was, he did. Justin ran after him, dodging puddles.

“Hey,” Kari said from the other direction. She dropped her backpack in front of me and sat on top of it.

“Hi.” I tossed my sandwich onto its plastic wrapper.

She scanned my face and looked over her shoulder at Justin and Roger. They were standing close, talking. Neither looked angry, but Roger had his head down.

“Are you and Justin a couple now?” Kari asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ah.” She nodded slowly, eyeing the ground. “So, what did your letter say?”

“A lot. Nothing. Everything.”

“Yeah, that was my reaction.” She looked up at me, lacing her fingers together and twisting her hands. “She’s done this to me since fifth grade. Pisses me off so much. And each time I’m sure I hate her. But then she says or does something that makes me crumble. Mostly, because I know she hates herself more than I ever could.”

“Do you think it’s because her dad ignores her?”

Kari shrugged. “They were closer when she was younger. He started drinking a lot after he lost his construction job. She didn’t talk about it much. But Greg, her brother, was psycho. He chased us with a pocketknife once.”

“She seems to miss him a lot.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it. He was nicer to her when they got older, but he just took off one day. She cried for weeks—and then dyed her hair purple and decided she was over it.”

“Hey,” Justin said, sitting next to me. “Roger hasn’t heard from Naomi since Friday. He claims he didn’t even know what went down. But he says there’s this abandoned house Scott deals out of sometimes. He’s taking me there after school.”

“I’m going too,” I said.

“Me too,” Kari chimed in.

“Not a good idea. Roger said that Scott’s supplier got busted last week. And Scott’s pretty sure he’s next. It’s why he’s hiding out. You guys don’t want to get caught up in that.”

“I’m going, Justin. Whether you like it or not,” I said.

“I already have a record. Let me take the risk.”

“Exactly. That’s why you’re the last person who should be going.”

“Wait”—Kari held her hand up—“you’ve got a record?”

Justin stuffed his untouched food into his bag. “What can I say? I wasn’t always this charming.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, I totally had you pegged wrong.”

He glanced over at me. “That happens a lot.”

I stayed close behind Justin as we left film class. He was still trying to convince me not to go. But Roger and Kari stood in the parking lot waiting for us. We didn’t have time to argue about it anymore.

We piled into the back of Roger’s car. Kari rode shotgun. The two of them talked about their favorite metal bands.

“At least wait in the car while we check it out,” Justin said in my ear.