Tilt (41 page)

from underneath it. Glad

I’m wearing panties, and

Bri’s glad, too.
What
are

you doing, Harley? People

are staring. You remind me

of my sister. Not especially

a good thing.
But she smiles.

I don’t point out that I’m

actually imitating her mom.

“Like, who? Any cute boys?”

I do give my skirt a tug down

in back. No panty peeks.

Those guys are definitely

checking us out. They’re kind

of cute, I guess.
She nods

toward two boys hanging

out on a small patch of grass.

One is familiar. I met him

with Chad on the Fourth. Lucas.

Yeah, that’s it. His eyes go

all up and down me, which is

awesome and creepy at once.

“Don’t look now, but they’re

coming this way. The tall one

is a friend of Chad’s.” Which

means he’s probably a stoner,

too. Definitely not Bri’s type.

Not my type, either, right?

And does Bri really have

a type? Her voice is edgy

when she says,
What do

you think they want, Harl?

Good Question

One just about to get answered.

Lucas is cuter than I remembered

him, and his friend isn’t bad, either.

It’s a volley:

Hey. Remember me?

“Of course. Hi, Lucas.”

This here is Kurt.

“This is Brianna.”

Good to see you again.

“You, too. What’s up?”

Not much. Where’s Chad?

“I don’t have a clue.”

Cool. Wanna hang?

I glance at Bri, who shrugs.

And just like that we’re walking

around with a couple of older guys.

It doesn’t seem to bother them

that we are a little younger. For

once, I don’t feel inferior to Bri,

who has somehow been paired

with Kurt, leaving Lucas with me.

Which is more than okay. It’s rockin’.

Lucas

Rockin’

This sweet little thing

has a rockin’ bod. And

the best thing about it

is, I’m betting it’s

virgin

territory. She’s pure

as snowmelt, despite

all the ass waving going

on, and unmarked

girls

are a raging turn-on.

Me and Kurt got two right

here. Pretty, tight and

looking for love, which we

aren’t

exactly offering. But they

don’t know that. The game

now is to see how

easy

we can make them, how far

they’ll let us take them

on promises meant to be

broken. Such potential is hard

to find.

Mikayla

It’s Hard

It’s Even Harder

Hanging out with friends

like we used to—Dylan and I.

Our regular crowd is fast.

Weekends are all about partying.

Tonight, for instance, before

the rib cook-off we dropped by

Clay’s. Emily and Audrey were

there, and this guy named Chad,

who happens to be the guy my cousin’s

been gushing about all summer.

Anyway, they were all getting buzzed

on some excellent weed and when

the blunt came around to me, what

could I do but take it? If I didn’t,

they’d want to know why not. I’ve

never turned it down before. And,

okay, the truth is, I didn’t want to

turn it down. Not even for my baby.

I Can’t Not

Think of it as a baby. I’m ten weeks

pregnant, give or take a few days.

The doctor said I really need to make

my decision right away. Mom made

me an appointment with her ob-gyn.

I couldn’t stomach the thought of a visit

to Planned Parenthood, so I went to

Dr. Ortega instead. She was nice enough,

I guess, but not exactly sympathetic.

She bombarded me with questions.

Are you sure who the father is?

Does he know? Have the two of

you discussed options? You’re

not planning on marriage, right?

Yes. Yes. Yes. And what the . . . ?

Marriage? It’s not even on the table.

No one has said a thing about it.

But why not? I mean, at least as

a possibility. When Sarah Hill got

pregnant with Mom, abortion was

out of the question. Ditto raising

a kid alone. So it must have come

down to two things—adoption

or a shotgun wedding. Things

sure have changed in forty years.

A kiss for your thoughts.
Dylan

interrupts my reverie. “I was just

thinking about marriage. Oh, don’t

look so scared. The doctor asked

if we were planning on it. I said no.”

His relief is obvious. Unreasonably,

that makes me mad. “For some people

that
is
an option, you know. Not so

long ago, one of the only options.”

But we can’t. I mean, how could we?

I don’t even have a job or anything.

He’s Whining Now

And that really irritates me. But I

back off. What’s the point of fighting?

“I know. I’m sorry. Let’s just try

to have fun tonight, okay?” It’s dark

by the time we get to Sparks and park.

“God, that smells good. I’m starving.”

We head straight for the food booths,

find a few that offer free samples,

and take advantage of those. We are

finishing our fourth mini-plate when

a nasal voice falls over our shoulders.

Hey, Dylan. What’s up?
Kristy Lopez,

Tyler in tow. Poor Ty looks uneasy,

but not nearly as uncomfortable as

Dylan, who says,
Not much. What are

you guys up to?
He does me the favor