Chapter 1

Meeting Angels

There I was, walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business. I was headed over to my friend Charlie’s house just to hang out for a little while—we had to wait for her mom to get home to drive us to the mall because Charlie didn’t own a car of her own and I needed gas in mine. I know it’s not the smartest thing in the world to do—a girl walking all by her lonesome—but it was only three blocks, and I figured I’d be fine. After all, I’m sixteen. I can fend for myself. It’s not like I’m five or something. But I’m digressing.

My sneakers were making dragging noises on the sidewalk, because I’m just too lazy to pick my feet up all the way and they slide off of my feet if I do, anyway. The bottoms of my jeans were trailing miserably underneath the black soles, but I ignored it—I wasn’t wearing boots in spring. Not if I wanted my feet to sweat and have me getting warts. And that was not happening. No siree, bub. Not again.

Anyway.

I had just turned onto Charlie’s street when I saw this group of kids coming up the street. I checked the street for cars, and then jogged to the other side. They were a mix of kids—some black, some white, some Hispanic. But I didn’t care. I was alone, and I was a girl to boot, and I don’t care how little of them there are—I’m still crossing the street. And I knew it was a good decision as soon as they started yelling at me. “Hollering” I think the self-appointed “gangster” people call it these days. It was one of the Hispanics who started it.

“Hey, baby! Where you goin’?”

I cringed slightly, slouched, and shoved my hands into my pockets. I’d make a run for it if I had to, and I was a damn fast runner when I wanted to be. And it looked like I was going to have to make a break for it, and soon, because they were crossing the street.

It was a white kid who spoke up next.

“Thinks she’s too good for us, Sonny.”

The Hispanic kid responded with, “Nah, man. Can’t be. What can you resist about this?”

I couldn’t see them, didn’t want to, and didn’t need to, to know that the Hispanic kid, “Sonny”, had just “popped” his shirt.

I could hear them getting closer, so I started walking a little faster; so did they. That freaked me out. Like I said—a girl, alone, and a group of boys. This was not a very good situation, and I knew it. I still had another block to go before I reached Charlie’s house, and that made me nervous. They were about a foot behind me until I realized that they were way too close for comfort. I broke into a run out of nowhere, jetting up the sidewalk like a horse just let out of his stall at the racetrack.

I heard them swear in surprise, and then take off after me. And that was not good. I could hear their sneakers pounding on the sidewalk some three yards behind me, and that assured me a little bit more. At least they couldn’t run as fast as I could. That was until the red light. Charlie lives across a major intersection, which I was not about to dash across while the light was red. I’d rather be raped than die.

They reached me, and I felt one of them grab me around the waist. And no one driving by in those fancy cars of theirs was going to stop and save me. I just knew. They’d look, they’d shake their head, say “what a shame” or something like that, but they wouldn’t stop to help me. That’s how it always happened. Next thing I knew, I was pinned up against someone’s fence with five or six guys smirking down at me. And I wanted to puke. I wished I’d run across the intersection after all.

I closed my eyes, waiting to feel their disgusting mouths on mine, waiting to hear their zippers going down, waiting, waiting, waiting…and it never happened. Instead, there was a scuffling sound, and the sound of people running away, and then someone had me by the shoulders and was shaking me gently, saying, “Hey! Hey! You all right?”

I cautiously opened one eye, in case this was some sort of ploy, and I didn’t recognize the boy standing in front of my as one of the group that had been chasing me. And he was gorgeous. I opened my other eye and just stared at him, captivated.

He, too, was one of those “gangster” people, with his baggy jean shorts, over-sized white t-shirt, and black hat with the brim way too flat and off to the side. But he was like nothing I’d ever seen before, and I was stuck, staring at him, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“What’s your name?” he asked slowly, as if unsure if I could understand him.

“Drew,” I replied in a mechanical sort of way. “What…” I had to swallow. “What happened? Where did those guys go?”

The boy sighed in relief, then turned and glanced over his shoulder.

“They’re gone. That’s all you gotta worry about. Now are you all right or what?”

I nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine…”

He released my shoulders and stood up properly (he’d had to bend down to look into my face), and I looked up at him.

“Where were you goin’, anyway?”

“My friend’s house. She lives right across the street, but that damn red light…”

He chuckled, taking his hat off and then placing it back onto his head again.

“Just across the street? Damn. You’ve got some bad luck, girlie.”

I rolled my eyes, but was forced to agree with him.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Thanks, though, uh—” I stopped, uncertain of what to call him. “You” didn’t seem like it would be the right thing to say under the circumstances.

“My name’s John,” he stated, holding out his hand.

I shook it a little warily; human contact was not going to come quite as easily as it had to me before. I turned to look down the street as two more boys came jogging up in the direction of the two of us; my mouth almost dropped open. Or maybe it did. I don’t remember.

Anyway.

One of them looked extremely old, but he couldn’t have been more than John’s age (which I estimated to be about eighteen); maybe it was the beard. Who knows? The other boy looked about seventeen, and he looked like one of those surfer-types that shopped at Hollister—the kind it was okay to gawk at on the beach but wrinkle your nose at if you saw them set foot in the aforementioned store. His hair was blond, but I had the impression that it had been brown at one time and that most of the brown had been covered up; some still poked through, though I assumed that was because it was “fashionable” or “stylish” or whatever they call it.

He was wearing those ugly plaid shorts, what looked like Etnies but could’ve been Vans, and a dark blue polo shirt. The first guy was wearing the same as John—just no hat. And, instead of sneakers, he wore Timberlands—you know, those beige work boots that people think are oh-so-styling these days? Yeah. Exactly.

“They gone?” John was asking the surfer-type guy.

He nodded slowly, and his too-long hair flopped haphazardly into his eyes.

“Yeah. They’re gone. You all right?”

He was looking at me now, and I felt the same way I had when I’d looked at John—like an angel was standing in front of me, and I couldn’t quite get enough air into my lungs to get the proper words out. So I nodded.

“Good,” he said, sighing in relief just like John had. “I’m Joe; John’s younger brother.”

Aha. That explained everything, I mused as I shook Joe’s hand and told him my name. I looked at the other boy, and he glared coldly back. Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for this, I thought bitterly; he was looking at me like all of this was my fault and that he’d like nothing better than to kick my head in with those not-very-styling boots of his.

“You two go back,” John was saying, looking at Joe and the other boy. “I’ll be back in a little. I wanna make sure she gets to where she was goin’ in one piece.”

“And what if they come back?” Joe replied. “Uh-uh; no way. I’m comin’ with you.”

John sighed, picked his cap up off his head, replaced it, then looked at the other boy, obviously figuring it would be best not to argue with Joe.

“Eric?” he asked the other boy.

Eric merely shrugged, though, to me (and probably to him, too), it looked like he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. It was either tag along and not enjoy himself or be branded a jackass, and I was quite sure he didn’t want the latter.

The light turned green just then (though this must’ve been the third or fourth time since we’d been standing there), and we set off across the street, the three guys flanking me like bodyguards: Joe and John walked on either side of me, while Eric trailed sullenly behind. I was half expecting to feel him shove me in the way of an oncoming car.

“Wait!” I said suddenly when we reached Charlie’s house.

Joe and John stopped, startled, their eyes going wide. I hadn’t meant for that to come out so loudly, but it did, and I blushed slightly.

“This is my stop,” I muttered, gesturing to Charlie’s house.

John exhaled in relief and Joe laughed a little at himself. Eric was already walking off down the block, like he couldn’t wait to beat it out of there. But Joe and John were still standing there; as a matter of fact, Joe was writing something down on a piece of paper he’d pulled miraculously out of the confines of his pocket.

“Here,” he said, handing it out to me.

“What is it?” I asked, taking it, though I thought that I already knew.

“My cell number. I’ll come get you and walk you home.”

“My friend’s mom’s going to take me home,” I assured him.

I just wanted them to beat it already. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t really want them to, but I was uncomfortably aware that Charlie and her mom (who was apparently home from work) were standing out on their front steps, ready to get into the car, staring. Charlie’s mouth was even hanging open (rather unbecomingly, I might add).

“Take it anyway,” Joe said, and I nodded.

“Here,” John added, holding out another piece of paper at me. “Just in case you can’t reach Joe.”

“Thanks,” I said, now thoroughly embarrassed, and folded both pieces of paper together, putting them in my back pocket with my cell phone.

“You be careful, all right?” John asked, cocking an eyebrow and grinning at me.

“Yeah. ‘Cause we can’t follow you all the time,” Joe added.

I rolled my eyes.

“Glad to know you have so much faith in me, guys.” I paused. “And thanks, by the way.”

John waved a hand impatiently and Joe said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“See ya later,” John said, raised his hand in a salute good-bye, and then he and Joe started off down the sidewalk.

I turned around to see Charlie and her mother still staring at me, Charlie’s mouth still hanging open in disbelief and awe.

“What?” I asked, walking towards them. “Are we going to the mall or what?”

Chapter 2

Save Me

“Wow, Drew,” Charlie said once we’d gotten into the car and had been driving in silence—and a rather uncomfortable silence, I might add—for a while.

“What?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. I didn’t like the tone in her voice and what it implied.

“Two guys? Wow. Just…wow.”

“Charlie!” I said, appalled. “Nothing happened but them saving me from a group of hoodlums!”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, rolling her eyes. But I could tell that now she just teasing, and we both burst out laughing.

We were just pulling up outside of the mall now, and Charlie’s mom let us out of the car. I had a brief battle with an evil seatbelt, and then we were out onto the sidewalk of the mall. I smiled as Charlie’s mom rolled down the window.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up, all right?”

“Okay, Mom,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes.

“Thanks for driving us, Mrs. Wood,” I said politely.

She nodded, smiled, and then drove off, leaving us to walk into the mall.

“So. What were their names?” Charlie asked, nudging me with her elbow.

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, a slow grin and a blush spreading across my face.

“Joe and John.”

“Which one was which?”

“Joe was the Hollister-looking one, and John was the gangster-looking one. And Eric was the one walking away.”

“I didn’t see him,” Charlie said, frowning thoughtfully.

“No, you probably didn’t. He looked like he wanted to beat it out of there or he would’ve kicked my head in,” I replied sourly.

“Well, he sounds pleasant,” Charlie commented.

“Mmm,” I replied, pursing my lips.

“Go the other way,” I whispered hoarsely to Charlie.

We were just heading down the sidewalk outside of the mall to the benches by the movie theater. There was a group of boys there, those “gangster”-type people again, and I just didn’t want to deal with that sort of crap right now. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not stereotyping them or anything, but they just didn’t look like very upstanding gentlemen. There are some “gangster” people that have the greatest manners I’ve ever met, but these guys didn’t seem like that type.

“But then we have to go all the way around the mall!” Charlie complained.

“Char, I am not walking past those sickoes. You can if you want to, but I don’t wanna be jumped again.”

Charlie sighed, throwing up her hands in dismay.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, defeated.

Well, as my bad luck would have it, there was a second group of not-so-upstanding gentlemen walking our way from the other end of the mall. And now we were trapped. Like rats. Charlie was dialing her cell phone to tell her mom to come and pick us up—it was late. Maybe about nine at night, so it was pretty dark outside.

“Hey there, girls,” I heard someone say dangerously close to my ear.

The smell of cigarettes hit me so hard in the face that I gagged, and I for a moment I thought I was going to throw up or choke. Or both. I whipped around I’m actually surprised that I didn’t get whiplash.

“Get the hell away from me,” I said, my hand reaching into my Hot Topic bag. There was a belt in there, and it had studs on it. Ever been belted with a belt with studs? I have. By accident, of course; Charlie whipped around with one in her hand and whacked me pretty good. But it hurts like hell.

“Excuse me,” he said, holding up his hands. “I just wanted to see if you ladies would be interested in a good time.”

“We’ll pass, thanks,” I said coldly.

He seemed to be backing off, so I let go of the belt and relaxed a little. Charlie’s mom wasn’t picking up the phone, and I groaned inwardly. I wanted to get the heck out of there as fast as I possibly could. I was about ready to start walking home when I remembered the numbers in my back pocket. I pulled out my cell phone, and the paper fluttered to the ground.

“Shit,” I muttered, crouching down to pick it up.

I suddenly felt a hand on the back of my neck and I struggled against it. It hadn’t occurred to me that the gang of guys was still there.

“Now. You’re gonna get up, and you’re gonna come with me. Got it, girlie?”

I grumbled, but stood up obligingly, but not before picking up the paper with the numbers on it first.

“And what’re we supposed to do when we come with you?” Charlie asked.

I stared at her; what was the matter with her? It’s not like they wanted to discuss the Cold War or something.

“Read a magazine, Char,” I stated sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

She glared at me in reply; her eyes suddenly flickered to my hands, then back up to my face, and I knew was she was thinking. I closed my eyes in a silent prayer to let her be all right, then opened them again and nodded. All at once, Charlie took off running down the parking lot, and all of the guys followed, completely forgetting about me for the moment. I frantically dialed Joe’s number first.

It rang once…twice…three times…four…five…six…

“Hey, this is Joe, I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave me one and I’ll get back to you!” A computerized woman replaced Joe’s warm voice. “To leave a call back number, press five n—”

I closed the phone, and then dialed John’s number. It rang once…twice…

“Drew?”

His voice sounded breathless, almost as if he’d run all the way down the block or something to get to the phone.

“John?”

I was shocked by the hysteria in my voice and fought to calm it, which, of course, only made me panic more. I was starting to hyperventilate, and I knew I needed to calm down before I went into a screaming fit.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still breathless—he’d apparently caught the hysteria in my voice as well.

“There were these guys—not the same ones as before, different ones—at the mall. I’m still at the mall. They started coming onto my friend Charlie and me and we told them to beat it, and they didn’t take that so nice. They were gonna kidnap us or something, but Charlie took off running so I could call you. I called Joe, but he didn’t pick up, and I’m scared and”—I broke off. I was in danger of crying or screaming or both.

“All right. Calm down.” I could hear a car motor starting up in the background, and also the blast of rap music, which was quickly turned off. “Where are you? Which mall?”

“Neshaminy…”

“What does your friend look like, in case I run into her on the way to get you?”

“She’s wearing a bright yellow shirt—you can’t miss her.” I took a few deep breaths. “I’m standing by the movie theater entrance. Oh! Charlie’s coming up right now…”

Charlie came pounding up on the sidewalk, and I heard the sound of horns blaring through the phone, and suddenly my eyes widened. “John!” I cried in realization. “You can’t run red lights!”

“Yes, I can. Now shut up. I’ll be right there.”

The line went dead, and I shoved the phone and the numbers into my back pocket again. This, in turn, turned me back to panicking, and I turned to look at Charlie to occupy myself. She was a little scratched, but otherwise unharmed.

“What happened?”

“I ran through a few bushes. Lost them for a few—shit, here they come!”

The gang was running, top speed, up the parking lot toward us. At that moment, a blue-green SUV squealed to a stop in front of us and John threw open the back and passenger doors.

“Get in!” he shouted.

I obligingly ran forward and threw myself into the passenger seat. The back door slammed shut simultaneously with mine, and I knew Charlie had followed suit. I buckled my seatbelt just as John hit the gas and roared through the parking lot. He aimed the front of the GMC SUV at the group of guys that had stopped to stare, dumbfounded, at John’s car as the headlights washed over them.

John swerved away just in time to avoid hitting the boys. His position was relaxed enough—one hand on the steering wheel, leaning back in his seat, the other hand hanging out the open window—but I could tell that he was angry. His jaw was clenched, and his hat lay, discarded, on top of the dashboard. I could see now that he did, in fact, have hair. It was brown, and closely cropped, as if he’d recently had his head shaved. I took notice of his eyes now—they looked like green chips of ice.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly, afraid of angering him further.

He sighed, and his jaw relaxed slightly. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, but he nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Are you?”

I kept my eyes away from the speedometer—I knew we were going way too fast to be allowed—and nodded slowly, knowing he’d see me.

“What about you?” he asked, inclining his head towards the back, to Charlie.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You look a little roughed up.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

He looked at me then, and I was struck by the intensity of his stare. “Joe didn’t pick up?”

“No. But don’t be mad at him,” I said quickly. “It’s not his fault. I’m sure he was doing something else…”

I withered under his stare and fell silent. My eyes fell upon a stack of CDs on the floor. “Can I?” I asked, pointing.

He nodded. “Fine. Just be careful—they’re Joe’s.”

I pulled the CDs into my lap and flipped through them, stopping short on the one with Motion City Soundtrack on the font. I opened it, sliding my fingers gently over the top of the CD.

“Put it in,” John said quietly.

I looked at him—there was something in his voice—but he was looking away from me. I nodded slowly, and delicately removed the CD, sliding it into the CD player in the radio and rolling down my own window so I could turn up the music.

John surprised me by singing along with the music, and I stared at him in amazement. He didn’t come across as the type to listen to this sort of music. He seemed like more of a Snoop Dog lover or something. He must’ve caught me staring, because he laughed.

“I’m in the car with Joe a lot.”

“Oh. Is this his car?”

“No. This is mine. Joe has a red Grand Prix.”

I nodded slowly, aware that we had arrived in front of Charlie’s house about ten minutes earlier than we should have. I waved good-bye to Charlie as she hopped out and promised to call me tomorrow, then rested my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. It felt like two seconds later (and probably was, considering John’s driving), when I felt the SUV stop moving. I opened my eyes and was startled by how close he was to me.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

His breath was warm on my face, and sweet-smelling. I offered him a smile and sat up more properly—I’d slid down in the seat considerably.

“Yeah. I am.”

“This is your house right?” he asked, nodding out the passenger window.

I turned and looked. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I live right there,” he said, pointing down the block some two houses.

“Oh.”

Now I felt really stupid. How had I totally missed someone this gorgeous living on my own street?

I was climbing out of the car and had shut the door when I heard, “Hey.” I turned back. John was leaning towards the open window, a grin on his face, his hat back on his head.

“I’ll take you to the mall tomorrow. This way I can guarantee your safety.”

Without another word, he leaned back in the driver’s seat and drove off to a parking spot in front of his house, two houses down and across the street. I stood out on my front steps, watching him as he got out of the car, locked it, and jogged up the steps and into his house.

Chapter 3

Out With John

“Have fun on your date, Drew!”

I turned and glared at my mother in what I hoped was an angry look, even though I knew it wasn’t—I probably looked extremely nervous.

“It’s not a date, Mom…”

“Now, remember. No funny stuff or I break out the shotgun.”

“Aw, Dad…”

“I’m kidding. Have fun.”

I waved a little, then turned and headed out the door. I almost hit John in the head with the storm door—he was sitting on my top step, waiting for me. I apologized hastily, over and over again, waving my arms frantically.

He laughed, waving his hand. “Calm down, calm down. I’m fine.”

“I’m still really sorry,” I said again, my eyes wide and threatening to take over my whole entire face.

He rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Drew. You didn’t decapitate me. Now. Let’s go.”

I nodded, following him as he jogged down my steps to the GMC that was waiting, engine running, behind my dad’s Durango. He held open the door for me, which was probably a good thing, because I was trying to figure out how to get in without killing myself—I hadn’t really looked at it properly last night when I’d been in my haste to get out of there.

“Oh, come on. Your dad’s Durango is higher than this,” John griped.

“Just give me a minute,” I snapped in reply, sizing it up. My luck, I’d slip and go tumbling onto the sidewalk, cracking my head open or something. “What’re you doing?” I cried as I felt John grab my waist.

“Getting you in,” he replied, picking me up and depositing me in the passenger seat.

He shut the door, and then slid into the driver’s seat, putting the car into gear and pulling away from the house. I kept my eyes firmly away from the speedometer as he drove because, once again, I knew that he was driving too fast.

“Are you all right?” he asked, glancing over at me.

My knuckles were white from clutching the sides of the bucket seat so hard; we were on a major street, and he was swerving dangerously in and out between cars. I must’ve been as white as a sheet. I would’ve looked at myself in the rearview mirror, had I been able to turn my head.

“Drew?” he asked, urgency in his voice this time. “What’s wrong?”

“Your driving…” I swallowed. “It’s going to get us killed.”

John laughed, running his hand over his hair—his hat lay on the dashboard. “I drive like this all the time. We’ll be fine.”

“It still scares me,” I replied. “Are you suicidal or something?”

He laughed loudly, looking over at me, grinning, and asked, “Are you for real?”

When I nodded, he laughed again. “No, I’m not suicidal. Why? Just because I drive a little fast?”

“A little?” I cried, and, as if for emphasis, he swerved around a few cars at that moment. The speedometer was edging dangerously toward eighty, and I turned and fixed my eyes down on my feet.

“Okay, okay, I’ll slow down…”

I looked up gratefully at him just in time to see the guy passing us on the left giving us the finger. My, what a pleasant fellow, I thought sarcastically. John waved pleasantly, and then turned to look at me, grinning widely.

“Wanna go see a movie or something?”

I shrugged; I liked movies, but it depended who I saw them with. I just hoped that John wouldn’t have a problem with me yelling at the screen most of the time; I tend to talk (and not so quietly, might I add) during movies.

“Sure.”

“Which one do you wanna go see?”

“Doesn’t matter. You pick.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned, saying, “What about that new horror flick?”

“Sure,” I reiterated, nodding slowly. “Sounds like fun.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “For real?”

“I love horror movies,” I replied, grinning at his shock.

“Wow…a girl who likes horror flicks. You’re somethin’ else.” He shook his head, laughing. “Guess there goes that whole you grabbing onto me during the scary parts thing.”

“Oh, please,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “That’s not me…” I paused, and then threw him a wicked grin. “Bet you’re gonna scream like a little girl, though.”

“I’m not the girl here,” he said pointedly.

“Sexist,” I mumbled.

He cast me a shocked look, his mouth wide open. “I am not sexist!”

“Could’ve fooled me…” I teased, grinning widely.

“Do you wanna survive this car ride?” he threatened playfully, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s gonna believe you just lost control?” I challenged.

“Everyone who’s seen me drive,” he replied smugly.

“Damn…” I mumbled. “Okay, so I lost that one. I’ll get you yet.”

“And my little dog, too?” he mocked; I stuck out my tongue at him, and he laughed.

“No, you stupid idiot! Don’t run up the stairs! The front door is wide open! What’s gonna save you upstairs? Oh, real good, hide under the bed. Because everyone knows there are so many escape routes there. The mole people dig them in the middle of the night!”

“D-Drew…”

“Aw, lighten up. No one else is in here, anyway. Just that guy in the front, but he fell asleep a long time ago…”

John was practically peeing himself laughing in the seat next to me while I yelled at the movie screen.

“Oops, he found her. Who would’ve thunk it? Because it was such a good hiding spot.” I grinned at John as he slid down in his seat a little more, shoulders shaking uncontrollably with laughter. “What? It’s the truth. Horror movies are so cliché any more. The best one so far was When A Stranger Calls or The Grudge. But in When A Stranger Calls, she was already upstairs, so she couldn’t run upstairs, and in The Grudge, the evil lady-thing was coming from the upstairs and going towards the thing that is trying to kill you is a big no-no.”

He shook his head, pulling his hat down over his eyes to muffle his laughter; it didn’t work very well.

“Oh, John, look! The killer is leaving his mark. Oh, what an idiot! You don’t use your bare hand to make a handprint. They can trace your fingerprints, you dope!”

“Isn’t he wearing gloves?”

“No. Because he’s so smart and won’t get caught…”

“Aw, what the hell? You mean to tell me no one hears that chainsaw?”

“Exactly! See, John, you’re catching on. I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

He grinned at me, shaking his head. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He snorted with laughter once more, and I shook my head.

The end of the movie came shortly after. It was very cryptic: a girl (who strangely resembled the other one) was talking on the telephone and a shadow was creeping up behind her. The screen went black; you heard her scream and then the sound of the broken connection on the telephone. The credits began rolling, and John and I looked at each other.

“That’s the end?” we both asked incredulously.

“I wait all of this time to see what happens to that girl’s body, what happens to the killer, who the killer is, and that’s the end?” John griped miserably, adjusting his hat.

“You’re not kidding,” I replied irritably, glaring at the steadily rolling credits.

“And what about the cop?” John asked the movie screen; the credits kept on rolling as the lights determinedly stayed black.

“Wait. The lights aren’t coming on yet. That means that there’s something after the credits…”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Sure enough, I was right (of course). Almost immediately after the last credit rolled upward and off screen, the scenery became the house of the girl again, only this time you could see what had happened to the girl—blood was splattered everywhere, along the walls and couches, and the revving of a chainsaw was starting.

“You know, you really brought this on yourself…” came a silky voice from the speakers.

The killer turned around then, and the mask he had been wearing (which resembled a drunken clown) was gone; the killer was the police officer.

The screen went black for the last time, and the lights slowly came back on. John looked at me, one eyebrow raised, while I stood up, stretching my arms above my head and yawning.

“Well…that was better than I expected…” John commented brightly.

The car ride home was filled with uproarious laughter. The radio was on, and we had the windows rolled down, but we paid no attention to the music pumping from the speakers. We were laughing too hard to notice.

“I can’t believe that we scared them so bad…” John was saying, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand.

“Oh, I can. I’m just surprised that her boyfriend didn’t murder you on the spot. Did you see his face?” I replied, throwing him a grin.

“I could’ve taken him,” John said in an attempt to be tough.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“You watch it, missy. That threat still stands.”

We had walked around the mall for a little, but, since I had been there the previous night, there was really nothing new that I wanted to get. So we agreed to go back and see the horror movie a second time. This time, the theater was slightly more crowded—there were two other people besides John and myself.

A couple of about our age sat down in front; John and I had sat all the way in the back, right under the projector, so we were relatively hard to see due to the blackness under the bright light. About three-quarters through the movie, the couple had decided to start making out, so John and I crept down and sat behind them. The two of them made out for approximately fifteen minutes before we did anything.

Since we’d seen the movie already, we knew what part was coming up around that time—when the killer kills the first girl that he’s been stalking. I settled back in my seat and threw a grin at John. As soon as the bloodbath began, I screamed shrilly and John yelled, “Oh, my God!” with a few profanities thrown in between. The couple abruptly pulled apart and the girl promptly fell out of her seat in shock.

We were just pulling up in front of my house now, and I was still chuckling slightly. I untangled myself from my seatbelt; John came around and opened my door for me.

“Thanks for taking me,” I said, leaning back against the GMC and noticing that my parents’ cars were gone. My mom, I knew, had been going shopping, and I vaguely remembered my dad saying something earlier that day about going hunting. He wouldn’t be back until next week, I knew.

“No problem,” he replied, nodding, folding his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked, not wanting to be rude.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “My mom will have the police breaking down the door if I’m not in soon. I told her we’d be back an hour ago.”

“Oh,” I said, slightly disappointed. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

He nodded. “Yeah…”

There was an intensely awkward silence between us for a moment, and I pushed myself off of the SUV and started for my steps.

“Drew?”

I turned around and was startled by how close John was to me. I looked up at him, and suddenly it felt like I was trying to swallow my heart. His eyes searched my face for a moment, and then he leaned down and pressed his lips gently against mine. He stood up properly, and then backed slowly toward his truck, his eyes still searching my face. All I could do was stand there, staring, dumbfounded, after him as he climbed in his truck and cruised into the parking space in front of his house. It felt like a major case of déjà vu.

Chapter 4

(An Early) Breakfast At Tiffany’s

It took me quite a long time to fall asleep. After all, how can you expect a girl to fall asleep after something like that? As lack of sleep will do to anyone, I was pretty sure that I was going crazy. When I began hearing the tapping at my window, that pretty much confirmed my fears. Thinking I was delusional from lack of sleep, I rolled over on my side and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep.

Instead of going away, the tapping became more incessant, and I groaned, throwing back the covers and walking over to the window. I pulled back the blinds and opened it to tell whatever the hell it was that was tapping on my window to shut the hell up and go to sleep, but I stopped short. I couldn’t be mean to him—not with the face of an angel.

Joe was standing below my window, one finger still raised in midair. He’d been tapping my window the whole time, and his finger rested against the screen. He was all-smiles, his hair falling into his eyes and making me just was to reach out and hug him. I felt kind of guilty—did he know that John had kissed me? Even though I wasn’t with Joe, I was still terribly undecided between the two of them, and felt like I had betrayed him in some way.

“Hey, Drew,” he said, his voice a low whisper.

I smiled slightly, leaning on the windowsill to talk to him. “Hey, Joe.”

His smile slid off of his face and he frowned. “I’m really sorry I didn’t pick up. I would’ve been there. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I said, nodding. Something about him made me just want to go “Aww”. “It’s fine. John picked up. I figured you were busy.”

He sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Still. I should’ve picked up…”

“Joe, knock it off. I told you it’s fine, okay?” I asked, smiling. He was making me sad, the way he was so hard on himself. “Don’t be so rough on yourself.”

“Can you come out?” he asked suddenly.

“Not really…” I said, frowning. I’d heard my mom come in about and hour and a half ago, and she’d skin me alive if she caught me sneaking out at one in the morning.

“Can you lift the screen?” he asked hopefully.

“You want me to climb out the window?” I asked, laughing slightly.

“Aw, c’mon. Please? I’ll catch you, I promise,” he added, holding out his arms.

I frowned, pretending to debate, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come…”

I pressed the metal buttons on either side of the screen and lifted it; it slid upward silently, and I thanked God for that. I frowned, sizing up the window, then slid my legs out first, and then the rest of my body just sort of slithered out after them. Joe caught me, as promised, and I closed my eyes for a moment to revel in the warmth of his embrace. Even though it was spring, the night was rather chilly—the breeze was strong.

He released me and lowered my window so that it was only open a tiny crack—enough to let me slide my fingers under and open it later, but not enough to make the air cold so that my mom would come in to see why my window was open.

“So,” he said, grinning at me.

“What do you want to do?” I asked, feeling slightly awkward. Even if he didn’t know, I still felt guilty.

“Want to go out and get something to eat?” he offered.

“At one in the morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” he replied, shrugging.

“What place is open at one in the morning? And don’t say Wendy’s or McDonald’s,” I added.

“Tiffany’s,” he replied promptly.

“But—I’m not dressed…” I protested limply. I really did want to go with him, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate.

“We’re right outside your room. C’mon. I’ll boost you back up.”

So up through the window I went, landing in an uncoordinated mess on the floor. I changed quickly out of my Eeyore pajamas into jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on socks, shoes, brushed my teeth, my hair, and put on makeup so I didn’t look like I hadn’t slept all night.

Joe caught me again as I clambered out the window, which he lowered again in the same fashion as before. His car was parked in front of my driveway, engine running, and I grinned. It was a gleaming red beauty, even if it wasn’t the newest model out there.

I clambered into the passenger seat and Joe slid into the driver’s seat. The windows were rolled down, and the radio was on. I recognized the music.

“Wow. First Motion City Soundtrack and now The Pink Spiders. A boy after my own heart,” I said, grinning.

Joe laughed, putting the car into gear and heading off down the street. He didn’t drive as fast as John, for which I was grateful, but he still drove about fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, and the cool wind whipped my face, sending my hair flying behind me. We sang along with the music (rather loudly, might I add) until Joe turned off the car in the Tiffany’s parking lot. The hostess, who was about my age, eyed Joe appreciatively as she led us to a booth.

“You know,” Joe said thoughtfully, completely unaware to the fact that the hostess was gawking at him, “you should’ve worn your pajamas. It would’ve been funny.”

The hostess shot us both a look, a look that clearly read, “What the hell?”

I dropped down into the booth and picked up my menu after thanking the hostess before she walked away. “I’ll bet you were having a nice laugh,” I commented sourly. “First, I was in my pajamas. Second, my hair was in fifty different directions. And third, I climbed out of a flipping window. Now, let’s face it—that must’ve been funny. I’m not exactly Miss Congeniality.”

Joe opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, the hostess walked by again, leading a group of what looked like construction workers but could’ve been mechanics. She was clearly unhappily aware of the fact that they were eyeing her almost hungrily—and I think one was a woman.

I raised an eyebrow, and, as soon as they were out of earshot, Joe burst out laughing. It took him a considerable amount of time to regain composure, and the waitress that had come over was staring at him. Part of it was probably because of his looks (I mean, let’s face it—he’s gorgeous), but the other part was most likely because she thought he was some sort of mental patient.

“Um…may I take your order?” she asked, eyeing Joe a little apprehensively as he gasped for air.

I hadn’t caught her name, so I looked at the nametag. It said her name was Crystal. “Sure. I’ll go, so you can start breathing properly,” I said, throwing a grin at Joe, who gave me a thumbs-up, still too out of breath to speak. “I’ll have a chocolate milkshake, no whipped cream, and a BLT, dry, please.” I handed her my menu, and she smiled.

“And you?” she asked Joe, who was back to breathing normally.

“Uh…I’ll have a vanilla milkshake and a burger…” He handed her the menu.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back with your drinks…”

“Take your time,” I replied, and she smiled in reply. I rested my chin on my hand and stared out the window onto the boulevard, watching the cars whizzing by, their headlights shining bright pools of light in front of them as they traveled way too fast to be allowed.

“Something wrong?” Joe asked, and I felt his fingers on my arm.

I looked up, smiling. “No. I’m fine. Really,” I added, because he was looking doubtful.

“You sure?” he pressed, his fingers gripping my arm more tightly.

“Yeah,” I replied more convincingly, nodding. To tell the truth, I was still feeling guilty about John, and not really knowing why. It’s not that I didn’t like John, because I did, but I also liked Joe, and— I sighed, leaning back in the booth and closing my eyes, pressing my fingers to my temples and massaging them in a slow circular motion. I felt tired and confused and was also beginning to feel like if I thought too much that my head would explode.

“Here you go,” I heard someone saying, and opened my eyes, dropping my arms. Crystal was setting down our orders and drinks.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling.

“Anything else?” she asked.

I tapped my straw against my lips for a moment, debating. “I’ll have a piece of chocolate cake in about five minutes,” I said finally, and she grinned.

“You’ll love it,” she promised before walking over to take the order of the construction workers.

Joe was staring at the maraschino cherry on top of the whipped cream in his milkshake. “Uh…what do they taste like?”

“You’ve never had a maraschino cherry before?” I asked, laughing.

He frowned, looking up at me through a mass of bangs, still holding the cherry between two fingers. “Will you make fun of me if I say no?”

I was so struck by how innocent he looked, how much he reminded me of a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner, that I was rendered speechless for a moment. “No,” I said finally when I regained the ability to speak. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Well…” he debated, biting his lip. “No.”

“Well, I, personally, don’t like them very much,” I stated matter-of-factly, shaking my head for emphasis.

He stared at the cherry, his eyes growing wide with apprehension, and I was once again struck by his innocence. Finally, he lowered the cherry into his mouth and pulled it off the stem with his teeth. I watched him as he chewed it slowly, swallowed, and then made a face.

“That was an experience I’d rather not relive,” he said, placing the stem down and glaring at it as if it were some rancid piece of meat.

I laughed, taking a bite of my sandwich. “I told you I didn’t like them.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me how awful it was gonna taste. Blegh!” He made a face again, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“What a face that was,” I said, laughing.

He stuck his tongue out at me, just as Crystal placed down the cake slice. She cast him an odd look and asked, “Anything else?” When I shook my head, she set down the check. “Have a good day,” she said, offering us a smile and walking away.

After I finished my sandwich, I started in on the cake. Joe took a stab at it with his fork and I stared as he put it into his mouth.

“Hey! Get your own cake!” I exclaimed, laughing.

“But it’s better when you share with someone else!” he protested. “It means you don’t have to finish it all by yourself…”

I rolled my eyes but pushed the plate to the center of the table.

“So…” he began slowly. He was staring at the piece of cake on his fork, and I could tell that he was about to broach a subject that he felt uncomfortable about; he wouldn’t look at me. “How was your date with John?” He looked up at me through his bangs again, and the look made me feel guilty; it made me want to hug him; it made me want to cry.

I wasn’t going to lie; I couldn’t like to Joe, not when he was looking at me like that, anyway. So I stabbed at the cake and sighed. “It was nice. We saw a movie…twice. Yelled at the screen. He threatened my life… Kidding, Joe, he was kidding!” I added hastily in alarm, for Joe’s face had turned angry.

He sighed, setting down his fork. He pushed the plate with the last piece of cake on it toward me. “But…what about this?” He gestured between the two of us. “Would you rather an actual, you know…” He sighed, gathering his thoughts. “Are you more into the whole ‘formal courtship’ thing?”

I didn’t know what to say. Joe was so sweet, so innocent, and so afraid that my answer would be the wrong one. And I was afraid, too: afraid that I would hurt him, afraid that I was leading him on when I was still so unsure, and afraid that my answer would be the wrong one.

“I like this, too,” I finally said, and it was the truth; I liked this more than he could ever imagine. “It’s been a while since I’ve just hung out with anybody, really…”

“What about Charlie?” he asked, and I could see that he was skeptical.

I snorted. “Charlie’s pretty much focused on guys and clothes and makeup. Not that it doesn’t matter to me, too, but she just doesn’t seem to want to talk about anything else. ‘Oh, he’s cute,’ or, ‘What about him, Drew? You know, ghetto is so in right now…’” I rolled my eyes. “It’s so good just to talk about something else, anything else, once in a while, something different. Just life.”

He smiled, his expression brightening considerably. “Oh. All right.”

After we left (Joe paid for all of it, despite my protests), Joe drove me home. We lay on my lawn for a while, just staring at the stars. Finally, though I knew we were both very reluctant, we decided we’d better get going so that we both could get at least a little sleep. So we made our way back over to my window.

“Thanks, Joe. I had a really good time.”

And I meant it, too. Once again, I felt that I couldn’t lie to him. I don’t know why, but I felt that if he found out, it would crush him. And it was also the little part of me that still felt guilty about kissing John that was making me feel that I needed to make up for it in some way, even if it meant overcompensating. Even if Joe didn’t know, that feeling of betrayal still sat like a stone in the pit of my heart.

“I had a good time, too. It’s been a while since I’ve really hung out with anyone in a while, too.”

He smiled, and there was something in the way he was staring at me that made me think he was going to kiss me. But he didn’t. Instead, he held out his arms, and I hugged him. He held me tightly, and we stood there like that, not speaking, my head against his chest as I listened to his heartbeat and breathing. I’m not quite sure how long we stood there, holding each other like that, nor do I care, but it felt nice. And somehow, deep down, I knew that this moment would mean more to me than a kiss ever could.

Chapter 5

Dinner With The Family

I was pretty much a zombie in school that day. I’d lain in bed, staring at the clock for a while, just thinking about what a nice time I’d had, how nice it had felt that, for once, some guy wasn’t trying to get into my pants. Not that I’d felt that way with John, but Joe was different. He wasn’t like all the other guys. He was like the sweet guy in the movies, the best friend that the girl never realizes is in love with her until it’s too late. But I knew that Joe liked me, and that made me feel special. The last time I remember seeing was four o’ clock. Next thing I remember, my alarm was going off, AFI singing “Prelude 12/21” loud enough to wake the whole block.

Anyway.

I don’t know how, but I passed the two tests and one quiz that I took. At lunch, I nearly fell asleep while listening to everyone else talking about her weekend. My head was dangerously low, nearly touching the table, and, in a minute, my face would’ve been in my plate of fries. Thankfully, Charlie woke me up a little by speaking.

“Drew, you okay?” she asked, half impatiently, half worriedly—I guess she’d called my name more than once.

“Yeah,” I said drowsily, nodding. “I’m all right. Just tired, I guess…”

After eighth period, which I’m not quite sure how I got through, Charlie walked with me from our lockers down to the lobby, and then waved good-bye as she headed to her flute lesson.

“Be careful, all right?” she added as we parted. “You don’t look so hot.”

I smiled half-heartedly and headed outside. That meant I’d be taking the bus by myself. Great. Bring on the perverts, I thought dejectedly. As I neared the circle where everyone is supposed to get picked up by her parents, I sighed. I could’ve brought my car, but I’d need a parking permit (which cost ten dollars and was nonrefundable), and they’re more partial to give them out to the seniors, anyway. So, since I was so out of it, I didn’t pay attention to the girls talking about “that really hot guy” that was apparently waiting for someone. At least, not at first, anyway.

“Drew!”

I stopped. I recognized that voice. I turned in the direction of the circle and there, leaning comfortably against his gleaming red beauty, was Joe. I had to blink a few times just to be sure. I was quite aware that everyone had stopped to stare, astounded, at the fact that I knew the angel that had miraculously appeared to grace our school with his presence.

“Joe!” I said, once I was quite sure that he was not a mirage, a figment that my over-tired mind had dreamt up. However, just to be sure, I ran over and stared intently at him. He held out his arms for a hug, and I willingly threw myself into his embrace. No, this was Joe, in the flesh. I could tell the girls watching weren’t too happy.

He laughed. “Hey. Thought I’d surprise you. Are you surprised?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I am. And so is the rest of the population. Which I’m sure you’ve established by now is all female.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, too bad for them. You’re the one I’m picking up today; the only one. So get in, hmm?”

He opened the passenger door for me, and I smiled, sliding into the seat.

“You look exhausted,” Joe commented, looking over at me as we cruised out of the parking lot.

“I am,” I replied truthfully, leaning back in the seat and closing my eyes. The radio was on (like always), playing yet another band I recognized. “The Academy Is,” I said without opening my eyes.

He laughed. “You have good taste in music.”

“I know,” I replied, and we laughed.

When we got to my house, he touched my arm to stop me from getting out.

“Do you think you could come over my house for dinner? My parents want to meet you. They think me and John made you up.”

I laughed. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

He grinned. “Great.”

When I got inside, I broke into a hysterical fit of laughter. The thought that their parents thought that they made me up was just too much. I got changed out of my uniform and went to check the answering machine. There was one message. I pushed Play and listened as my mom talked.

“Hey, Drew; it’s Mom. I’m not going to be home until later. There’s still some stuff I have to take care of at work, and then I have to run some errands, and I’ll probably drop by to see my parents. So I won’t be home until around ten. Order a pizza or something, okay? There’s money in my dresser drawer. Call me if you need me!”

Well, that just solved my problem, I thought happily. When I walked into the living room, my smile vanished. My homework was waiting for me. I usually did it on the bus, but I hadn’t taken the bus today. I sighed, heaving my schoolbag onto my shoulder and heading outside. I sat down on my top step to start my work. The only think I had was math, but I detested math with every fiber of my being. I was about halfway done when I heard someone ask, “Need any help with that?”

I looked up, startled, only to see John grinning down at me. I shook my head, and he sat down beside me.

“You’re coming over for dinner, right?” John asked; I was aware that he was watching me do my homework.

I nodded slowly, punching in a few numbers on the calculator and then writing down the answer. “Mmhm.” He nodded, then remained silent until I closed my books and put the calculator away. It was one of those fancy ones, the graphing kind. TI something-or-other.

“About yesterday,” he said as soon as my books had been put away, “I’m really sorry, but I just—”

I help up a hand to stop him. “John, stop. What’re you sorry for? I’m not mad at you.”

“You sure?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m positive. There’s nothing to be mad about.”

He sighed. “Good. Hey,” he added to Joe, who was jogging up the steps.

“Hey,” Joe replied, dropping down on the step below us.

“How all-out is she going with dinner?” John asked carefully, his face giving the impression that he was expecting the worst.

Joe cast him an exasperated look. “The works.”

“Soup appetizer? Chicken, pork, and fish main course? Chocolate mousse and devil’s food cake for dessert?” John asked, and Joe nodded somberly to each question. “Jesus Christ,” John sighed, picking his hat up off his head and running a hand over his hair.

“What’re you talking about? Enlighten the ignorant,” I said, looking between the two of them.

“Our mom,” they said together, sounding very sullen.

“She makes this huge meal for anyone new. All of Liz’s new boyfriends, when she first met Eric, for God sakes, she even makes a huge meal for our grandparents,” Joe said.

“And she knows them,” John added.

“It’s all to impress them,” Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I would’ve been okay with a burger!” I said, now thoroughly embarrassed.

“God, don’t tell her that,” John said suddenly. “She’ll think you’re deprived or something…”

“Oh. Uh…okay…” I said, frowning.

John looked at his watch. “Four o’ clock.”

Joe sighed, looking as if he were being led to his own hanging. “Let’s go.”

I locked my door and then we set off down the street. We crossed at my driveway to the other side and then headed up the steps to Joe and John's house. It was a twin, and it had a porch, which I wish my house had. It also had two stories, where my house had one. But my backyard looked bigger than theirs, and mine had a pool; I also had a driveway.

John reached around me and opened the door. I followed Joe inside as he pushed open the wooden inside door. The television was on, and three men sat on the couch in front of it; a girl sat on the floor, doing what I assumed was her homework. The screen door closed behind John, and then he shut the wooden door, cutting off the only source of light that the room had had besides the television.

“Is that you, boys?” came a call from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom!” Joe called, cutting off the sarcastic remark that John was about to say.

A woman poked her head around the corner. She had short blond hair and glasses. “Oh! You must be Drew!”

I nodded as the lady hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. She clasped my hand and pumped my arm vigorously up and down.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she said excitedly. “Honestly, I thought they made you up,” she whispered, laughing.

“Joe’s not that smart,” John said, grinning.

“And yet I’m the one on the honor roll,” Joe replied smugly.

John glared, and I looked between the two of them; whether John was playing or not, he looked like he was going to pound Joe’s head in.

“Anyway,” began their mother, defusing the tension abruptly, “I’m Donna. That’s Tim, Joe and John’s dad.” She gestured to the man that had gotten up off of the couch. He was about forty, and not too bad looking. He had John’s (and previously Joe’s) brown hair, and Joe’s laughing smile. I could see where Joe and John got their looks.

“Those are their uncles—Fred and George.”

My first thoughts jumped to the twins from Harry Potter—the incredibly funny and, in the movies, the incredibly gorgeous twins. This thought was quickly squashed, however, as I looked at them. The two men remaining on the couch waved. One looked skinny and rather scrawny, while the other one gave me the impression that he could snap my body in half with his bare hands. I waved nervously.

“And that’s our daughter, Liz. She’s sixteen.”

The girl that was sitting on the floor hadn’t even moved when we’d walked in. She looked up now, shooting me what was possibly the dirtiest look I had ever received in my life. I waved in an attempt to be friendly, and she turned back to her homework. She wasn’t much nicer to me at dinner, either. She wouldn’t look at me. She even snorted a few times when I spoke.

“So, Drew…Do you do well in school?” Donna asked, looking curiously at me.

I shrugged, carefully chewing my chicken before replying. “I do all right, I guess. I got straight A’s on my last report card…”

Snort. That came from Liz’s end, and John shot her a look like he’d beat her if she didn’t knock it off. Which, of course, she didn’t.

By dessert, I was ready to load up my spoon with whipped cream from my chocolate mousse, pull it back, and let it go, letting the whipped cream splatter all over her frowning face. But I didn’t. When it was time to clean up, Donna (which she insisted I call her despite my protests), asked Liz to help her clean up. Liz, of course, hemmed and hawed, complaining the whole time. I, being the good guest that I am, leapt up.

“I’ll help!” I said, beginning to clean up.

“No, no!” Donna said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t let you do that!”

“But I insist,” I replied stubbornly. “You go sit down; you did enough preparing this wonderful dinner.”

Liz shrugged. “Fine by me,” she said, and stalked into the living room.

John muttered something like, “She wasn’t talking to you…” with a few profanities thrown in there, casting a dark look after his sister.

“Oh, well…I still feel bad…” Donna said hesitantly, frowning.

“I’ll help her, Mom,” Joe offered.

“Oh, well, all right. But I warn you—it’ll take some elbow grease. We don’t have a dishwasher,” Donna warned.

“Sure you do. His name is John,” John said, grinning cheekily at his mother.

Donna rolled her eyes, and then disappeared into the living room with the rest of the family.

“Who’s doing what, here?” John asked, holding out his hands for the stack of plates I had.

“I’ll wash,” I offered, gratefully handing them over. “You two can fight over who gets to dry.”

“Because that’s the highlight of my afternoon,” John said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll dry,” Joe offered, following me into the kitchen. “John can put them away because he’s so overtaxed.”

“There’s no need to pick on me just because I’m devastatingly gorgeous,” John said, grinning.

“Ooh, using big words now, are we?” Joe teased. “Don’t think too hard, your head might explode.”

“Oh, I’m cut,” John moaned sarcastically. “I’m dying…”

“Oh, cut the crap, drama queen,” Joe said, rolling his eyes.

“Fight nicely, children,” I admonished playfully.

“Oh, shut up,” they both retorted.

“Well, excuse me,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I turned on the water and motioned for John to load the dishes into the sink.

After we finished with the dishes, we headed into the living room. The men were sitting in recliners all around the room, and Liz was sprawled out across the couch. Donna sat outside in a white plastic chair on the porch, a book open in her lap and a mug of coffee on the table beside her. In short, there was nowhere to sit.

“Move, Liz,” John said, tapping her leg with his hand.

She glared in reply, which is not something I would ever dare to do to John. “Why?”

“Because me, Drew, and Joe need somewhere to sit,” he replied irritably.

She groaned, but moved her legs. She still managed to take up half of the couch, however. I’m not saying she was fat, because she wasn’t. She was just sprawled all over.

John sighed and sat down. Joe, too, sat down, and there was a tiny space for me. Joe looked at me, and I understood. If we had been alone, he would’ve held out his arms for me to sit in his lap. But John was here, and I knew he wouldn’t do that to John. I smiled to show that I understood, then sat down between them, in that nearly microscopic space, halfway sitting on both of them.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling rather crowded,” I commented.

Joe nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Let’s boogie,” I replied.

On the bus ride the next week, Charlie insisted I fill her in over every single detail that had happened at the dinner with Joe and John’s family…again.

“Did you find out their last name?” she asked for the umpteenth time, cocking an eyebrow as we got off at the school.

I nodded slowly, fixing my schoolbag more securely onto my shoulder. “Yeah. It’s Masters.”

She nodded and remained silent until I finished for the millionth time, lastly telling her about Liz.

“What a bitch,” she said indignantly, snorting in disgust.

“You’re not kidding.”

I’d thought Liz would’ve been warmer toward me now that I was hanging around with her brothers so much, but that was optimistic to the point of foolishness on my part. She’d gotten, if anything, even colder. I felt a vibrating in my jacket pocket and grabbed Charlie’s arm to stop her.

“Oh, hold on a sec. Phone’s ringing.” I slid my phone from my pocket. “Hello?”

“Hey, Drew? It’s John.”

“Good morning,” I said brightly.

He laughed. “Someone’s happy. Look, I’ve just got to ask you a quick question. I know you’ve gotta get to school. Does Charlie have a boyfriend?”

My smile faded. John liked Charlie, not me. Even though I still couldn’t pick between Joe and John, it was still crushing.

“No…”

“Would she be interested in going out with Eric?”

I froze, my mouth hanging open. Charlie was staring at me worriedly, and John’s voice was growing frantic. “Drew? Drew? Are you all right? Are you there? Christ, Joe, I think I killed her!”

I could hear Joe in the background, “Good job, idiot! Give me the phone!” There was a shuffling noise as the phone switched users. “Drew? Drew, it’s Joe. Can you hear me?”

I swallowed, and finally managed to speak. “Y-yeah…”

He sighed in relief. “Guess you got a bit of a shock, huh?”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah.” I could hear John’s voice in the background, though I couldn’t really make it out. But I could picture him, overly protective (in a cute sort of way), hovering over Joe, wanting to make sure I hadn’t dropped dead of cardiac arrest.

“So is it a go?” Joe asked. “John wants to know, because Eric’s been bugging him for a while.”

“But I haven’t even seen him!” Charlie replied when I asked.

Joe, apparently having heard her outburst, said, “Look, I won’t pick you up today. John will. He’ll take you home, you can get changed, and then you’ll go to dinner or something so she can meet Eric. Deal?”

“Sounds fine,” I replied once Charlie okayed the plan.

“Awesome. Well, we’ve gotta get to school, but I’ll see you later.” The line went dead, and I smiled. It quickly faded, however, when I thought of Eric’s surly nature. I only worried what would happen if Charlie said yes.

Chapter 6

An Unlikely Pair

I was going to wait with Charlie on the pavement by the driveway of the school until John came, but he was already there. The girls had gotten used to seeing Joe (he had been picking me up all week), but John was new. There were about five girls standing around him as he leaned against the GMC, searching for me. They were attempting to engage him in conversation; it wasn’t going too well.

“Hey, you,” he said when I strolled up, grinning.

“Hey yourself,” I replied. “Are we going to be having suicidal driving today or just good old road rage?”

“It depends,” he replied, laughing. “Which would you prefer?”

“Surprise me,” I replied with an airy shrug.

“Hey, Charlie,” he added to her, grinning.

Charlie grinned. “Hi. John, right?”

He nodded. “Mmhm.”

“Drew!” came an excited squeal, and then I suddenly felt like someone was trying to pop my arm like one would a pimple. “You didn’t tell me you had such cute friends!”

I stared at the girl who was clinging to my arm. “Do I know you?”

“Of course, silly!” she replied, giggling madly.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who this girl was. She wasn’t in my homeroom, and I had no classes with her, and she most definitely did not sit at my lunch table. This must’ve shown on my face, too, because Charlie said, “I think you’ve got her confused. I mean, look at her face—she has no idea who you are.” Then she added in a whisper in the girl’s ear, “And just so you know, don’t tell Drew, but John’s an escaped convict that’s decided he’s going to kidnap Drew and run off with her to Mexico. Child molester,” she added, pointing at John and nodding significantly.

The girl cast a fearful look at John, then scurried off to join her friends. Charlie and I looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. John, who had missed the last part, looked between the two of us.

“Did I miss something?”

“No!” we replied, grinning, and loaded our things into the back. I hopped in the front and Charlie got into the back. Feeling that I’d best be prepared, I buckled myself in and leaned back in the seat. After we had both changed into normal clothes at my house, we piled back into the GMC.

“Is he meeting us there?” I asked John, flipping through radio stations until I found one that I liked.

“Huh?” he asked, looking at me. “Yeah. You don’t mind Nifty Fifty’s, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said sarcastically. “We hate the restaurant with the best milkshakes in the world.”

“Oh, shut up,” John replied, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

We pulled smoothly into the parking lot and John cruised right into a parking space, barely missing running the person who was pulling out of it over. He killed the engine, and then we all piled out, heading toward the entrance. Eric was standing out front, waiting, and I was shocked by how much different he looked—his beard was now a simple goatee, carefully trimmed, with a thin mustache. He looked a lot better, in my opinion.

“Hey, man,” John said to Eric, who nodded; they clasped hands, did that shoulder bump thing, and then Eric surveyed Charlie and I.

“Drew, right?” he asked me; I nodded nervously—he still didn’t look very friendly towards me. “And you’re Charlie,” he added to Charlie.

She nodded. “Charlotte. But everyone just calls me Charlie.”

I stared at her, then looked at John, who shrugged from behind Eric. He opened the door and we headed inside. I made it a point to go last.

“What’s up?” he whispered in my ear.

“Charlie never tells anyone her name’s Charlotte,” I replied, glancing at Eric and Charlie; they seemed to be getting to know each other. Or, that’s what it looked like, anyway—Eric was showing Charlie a few of his many tattoos.

“So?” John asked, holding the door open again for an older couple.

“So? She didn’t tell me until three months after I knew her,” I replied uncertainly, eyeing the two of them as the hostess beckoned to us and led us to a booth.

John shrugged, sliding in by the window; I sat across from him, and Charlie sat beside me, leaving Eric to sit next to John. After we’d ordered our food, Charlie and Eric were already deep in conversation, leaving John and I sitting there in a totally clueless silence.

“And this is Jamie. She’s three months. Love her to death.”

“Aww, she’s adorable,” Charlie cooed over the picture.

“Yeah. I just love cats, don’t you?” Eric asked, looking pleased; this shocked me. For a moment, I’d thought they were talking about babies.

“I have five,” Charlie replied, laughing.

John was sitting with his head in his hands, staring at me with the most horrified expression I’ve ever seen on a person. In reply, I picked up a fry from the basket we were sharing and munched on it. Charlie and Eric were sharing the other basket. Their fries were untouched as they goggled over the many pictures of their cats they carried in their wallets as if they were their grandchildren; mine and John's, however, was halfway empty. An hour later, Charlie and Eric were still rambling; John and I were still exchanging horrified looks.

“It was really sad for me,” Eric said, dabbing at his eyes with his napkin.

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Charlie said reassuringly, patting his muscular forearm.

John’s eyes were widened; he looked like he was going to hang himself. I replied with an expression like I was about to be sick.

“She was my favorite, you know? Always gave me presents…”

“You’ve gotta love those presents,” Charlie said, nodding.

I hadn’t really been paying attention much; John and I had been having a light saber-like battle with our french-fries. Thinking they were talking about their dead grandmothers or something, I whacked John’s fry absently, not really paying attention as it broke in half, and turned in to contribute.

“Sure. All those dead mice and birds…” Eric said, dabbing at his eyes again.

My eyes widened again. His grandmother gave him dead animals as a present?

“What’d she die from?” Charlie asked.

“Antifreeze,” came Eric’s sullen reply.

John and I looked at each other, frowning; John’s fry still hung limply, one half dangling by the edge of the fry.

“That’s how it is with most street cats. Live by the street, die by the street,” Charlie said, shaking her head.

John and I made exasperated faces at each other. John looked at his watch. “Well, we’d love to stick around some more and talk about Jamie and Fuzzy and…um…Skanky and all of your other cats, Eric, but I’ve really got to get Drew home and Charlie came with us, so…”

“I’ll take Charlie home,” Eric said, shrugging. “It’s no big deal,” he added forcefully when both Charlie and John opened their mouths to protest, though I’m quite sure it was for different reasons. And John, looking fearfully at Eric’s bulging biceps, was forced to agree. Charlie and Eric slid out of the booth and John put money on the table to cover both of us.

“What’re you doing?” he asked as I dug in my pocket for money. “Put it away, will you? I’m paying. No buts,” he added when I attempted to protest.

I groaned, shoving the money back into my pocket and following him out of the restaurant, stealing one last glance back over my shoulder at Charlie and Eric, who were, once more, deep in conversation—probably still about cats.

The car ride home was awkwardly quiet, and John’s driving was (if possible) even more reckless. He barely stopped in time for a red light and threw out his arm to keep me in the seat.

“Sorry,” he said, exhaling. “I don’t know about you, but that was the weirdest dinner I’ve ever sat through.”

I nodded mechanically. “Oh, yeah. An hour and a half talking about cats.”

“I thought they were talking about their grandmothers toward the end,” John said as the light turned green.

“Yeah, me, too,” I said, laughing.

“Well, I’m never doing that again,” John said with finality, shaking his head.

“And if you do, I’m not coming with you,” I replied, grinning.

“Well. What happened to moral support and all that?” he asked, laughing.

“Moral support’s peachy when I’m not confused whether the present topic is cats or grandparents. Which, by the way, I was about to contribute to…”

John looked at me, his eyes wide. “You can’t be serious!”

“No, I mean, when I thought it was about their grandmothers. God, not about the cats…” I shuddered. “That was so weird…”

“I didn’t even know Eric owned cats,” John said, making a disgusted face as we pulled up in front of my house.

“Yeah, I can’t really picture him the spinster type,” I replied, hopping out of the GMC.

“Ha, ha. Hey, Joe,” he added to his brother.

Joe nodded. “Hey. How was it?” he asked, stopping beside me and looking between the two of us.

John and I exchanged a look.

“You do the honors. It was, after all, you who learned something new about your best friend,” I said, gesturing to John.

“What’d he learn?” Joe asked, confused.

“That Eric’s a spinster with fifty cats!” I said, laughing.

Chapter 7

A Little Sibling Rivalry Never Hurt Anyone…Right?

The next day on the bus, Charlie informed me that she had liked Eric very much, and then continued to ramble on and on about what they’d talked about. Quite shockingly, it hadn’t been all about cats. She told me that she was going to go out with him again and that she’d tell me everything as soon as she got home. And then the conversation turned in the direction I’d been dreading.

“So. You and John seem to be getting along very well…”

I nodded, attempting to squash a conversation flat before it even got off the ground. “Yep.”

“So…are you two like…together?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” I replied sharply, wishing that she would just drop it already.

“Because you’re with Joe?” she asked, prodding more deeply.

“No,” I replied, more sullenly this time.

“Who do you like more?” Charlie asked, leaning back in her seat and putting the tips of her fingers together. She put on a fake German accent, “Just tell Mees Vood your problems und she vill feex zem.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “The problem is, Char, I don’t know who I like more…”

Charlie frowned, dropping the accent. “There’s time, Drew. Judging by the way that those two look at you, I don’t think they’re going anywhere any time soon.”

I’d grown so accustomed to seeing Joe’s red Grand Prix parked out in the circle that it was a shock when I saw John’s GMC for the second day in a row. He was leaning against the hood, arms folded, when I ran up to him.

“Where’s Joe?” I asked, concerned. “Is he sick?” Joe had told me that if he was sick or couldn’t come get me, then John would.

“No,” John replied, shaking his head.

“Is he coming to get me?” I asked, not liking this situation. I could already anticipate the answer, and I wasn’t going to like it.

“I don’t know,” came the reply, and he shrugged.

If my face was horrified then, I wonder how it must’ve looked after Joe’s Grand Prix cruised in right behind John’s truck. The engine quieted abruptly, and Joe climbed out, looking positively livid. He slammed the door and strode around the front of the car to reach John and I. He glared for a while, seething, but attempting to keep his tempter in check; he wasn’t about to duke it out with his brother in front of my school.

“What’re you doing here, John?” he asked, his tone a very forced calm.

John surveyed Joe with a look of cool superiority. “I’m picking Drew up from school.”

“You know damn well that I pick her up after school,” Joe whispered angrily, his eyes burning.

“And yet here I stand,” John said calmly, though he, too, looked a little angry. “So. Drew. Which one of us are you going home with?”

My mouth dropped open, and Joe swiveled around to look at me, eyes wide. I couldn’t pick between them. Not now. I could feel the hot tears of frustration welling up in my eyes.

“I can’t pick…” I said quietly. “Don’t make me do this. Not here. Not now. I’m not ready for this…”

Joe looked like he’d like nothing better than to hold me and make it all better. “But, Drew…how will you get home?”

I fished in my pocket and pulled out a bus token. “I always carry them, just in case. Just don’t…” The tears were flowing freely now, and I could do nothing to stop them. “Don’t make me pick now…”

With that, I left them both standing there and ran down to the stop just in time to catch the bus. The driver glared at me as I ran, gasping, on board and threw my token into the slot. I took a seat in the very back and settled in, closing my eyes and resting my head against the window. The bus pulled away from the curb, and I looked out the window to see Joe and John climbing back into their cars. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily.

I was actually enjoying this. It was giving me some much-needed time to think about my knights in shining armor. There was so much to think about, so much to take into consideration, should I ever have to make the decision of whose heart to break.

On one hand, there was John. He was wild and reckless, but I knew that he could be sweet and tender. He would always protect me, always keep me safe. That, I must admit, was a feeling I’d never had before. Protection. John gave me that feeling the minute I saw him, and it made seeing him all worthwhile, even if it meant being in unfathomable peril.

On the other hand, there was Joe. Sweet, innocent, loveable Joe. Thinking back on it, Joe’s look hadn’t really been one of anger so much as it had been one of crushing defeat. The look on his face was one of hurt, of anguish, of unexplainable pain. He’d thought that I’d rejected him even before he got there; I saw that on his face that day that he came to knock on my window, too.

I was so confused, and I was beginning to wonder vaguely if this was what one felt like when one suffered a nervous breakdown. It sure felt like it. Or perhaps I was going crazy, had already had a nervous breakdown as a result of my monotonous life, and was now sitting in a padded cell in some insane asylum, a victim to my over-active imagination.

I quickly squashed that notion. There was no inventing the softness of John’s kiss, the warmth and security of Joe’s embrace. There was no inventing these past weeks, for I had been quite sure that I would never find one nice guy, let alone two, so it would’ve been quite impossible for me to dream up something I thought was unfathomably ludicrous. This, however, was not helping me pick whom I liked better.

The bus was slowing down at my stop, and it was with a start that I realized that I had pulled the cord and was standing at the back doors, waiting for them to open. Both Joe and John were waiting for me at the corner of my stop, and I paused in front of them. I wiped my eyes and sniffed. My crying hadn’t stopped during my forty-minute reverie. It had, if anything, intensified; perhaps that was why the woman sitting next to me had been casting me such odd looks. Joe’s face still had that pained, hurt expression, and John couldn’t seem to look at me.

“Uh…hi?” I said uncertainly, unsure if they could see me; they seemed pretty lost in thought.

“Hey,” they both grunted sullenly.

Joe held out his hand from my schoolbag, and I gratefully handed it to him—I had two textbooks in there. He grunted under the weight, and then heaved it onto his shoulder. I looked between them as we walked, in stony silence, down the block, around the corner, and down the block.

“Okay, you two are driving me nuts!” I said finally, stopping abruptly. They both turned to look at me, astounded. “Say something, anything! Punch each other; I don’t care! Just do something! I can’t take this!”

Their mouths hung open and their eyes were widened in identical looks of shock. John seemed to regain composure first. “Drew…what do you want us to do?”

“Anything!” I cried desperately, realizing that I sounded like some sort of madwoman.

John sighed, walking over to me and wrapping me into a hug; I was shaking violently. “Okay…okay…” he murmured. He looked at Joe. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I just…”

Joe shook his head, laughing slightly. “I get it. I know the feeling well. Just let me know next time, huh?”

“I’ve got an idea,” I interjected. “John can drive me to school in the morning, and you can pick me up so that we can avoid uncomfortable situations such as this one.”

They looked at each other. Joe shrugged; John nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” Joe said.

I nodded. “All right, then. But just so you both know—the sixth is my last day.”

“That’s next week!” John said, his eyes widening.

I shrugged. “What can I say? We start early.”

Chapter 8

The Somers Family Dinner

“Drew! You’re going to be late for your bus!” My mom was pounding on my door. I was in the process of putting on my uniform.

“I’m not taking the bus today!” I hollered back, finally managing to stick my head through the correct space.

The door opened simultaneously with me zipping up the side of my jumper. “How are you getting to school?” my mom demanded, folding her arms.

“I’m getting a lift from John,” I replied, beginning to run a brush through my hair.

“When are we going to meet this John of whom you speak so fondly? And his brother, too. What’s his name?”

“It’s Joe, Dad. Joe. And I can invite them over tonight if you like.”

“That would be wonderful,” my mom said, beaming. “Dinner’s at five. Do they need directions?”

“Mom…” I said tentatively, capping my mascara and turning to face her with a disparaging look on my face, “they live right down the street.”

“Oh. Right. Well…”

A horn blared outside and I grabbed my schoolbag. “I’ve got to boogie. Love you!” I called, running out the door and closing it behind me. I jogged down the steps and slid smoothly into the passenger seat of the GMC.

“Morning,” John said cheerfully, grinning at me.

“Hi. Oh, I have an announcement to make,” I said, becoming serious.

“Uh-oh…” John said, laughing.

“A Mr. Johnathan Masters and his brother, a Mr. Joseph Masters, have been cordially invited to dine at the Somers residence for dinner this evening. Thank you.”

John stared at me. “Get out!”

“I would, but you’re my only way to get to school…” I said, frowning.

“No, I mean—your parents want to meet us?” John asked, incredulous.

“Well, you are hanging out with their daughter an awful lot,” I pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. “This is true.”

Charlie was just walking down the sidewalk along the circle when John dropped me off. She, too, had apparently gotten a ride, for the bus wouldn’t be there for another half hour. She was all smiles as she turned to face me as I climbed out of the car.

“Thanks, John. See you after school. Don’t forget to tell Joe.”

“I won’t,” he promised, and I shut the door, turning back around to face Charlie as he drove off.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” I commented, and she laughed. “How was your date?”

“Oh, Drew! I’m so sorry I never called you, but I got in so late!” She threw me a grin. “Eric’s amazing. He took me out to dinner at Friendly’s and then we went to his friend’s show. We got backstage!”

My eyes widened. “Get out! What kind of band? What was their name? Were they any good?”

“Oh, there was no band. He’s a rapper.”

I stared. “But…Charlie…you don’t like rap…”

“Oh, get with the times, Drew. Rap is the new rock. Just like pink is the new black and all that.”

“I’ll stick with my music, thanks. And pink is not the new black. Whoever came up with that deserves to be shot,” I mumbled.

“I heard we’ve been given the honor of dining with the esteemed Somers family this evening,” Joe said as I closed the door.

I laughed, rolling down the window. “Yes. You both should be so proud.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Oozing waves of pride are just seeping from my pores.”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere,” I said reprovingly; he stuck his tongue out at me.

“Are you free Friday night?” he asked, grinning.

“As far as I know…” I said, nodding.

“Good. Because I want you to come watch my band play.”

“You’re in a band?” I cried, swiveling to face him. “And you never told me this before?”

“I didn’t think it was important,” he replied, shrugging. “Obviously I was wrong.”

“Obviously,” I replied, snorting. “I should’ve known. You’ve got the awesome hair.”

“What?” he asked, laughing.

“All people in bands have awesome hair. Except that guy from Seether. He needs to invest in a comb. You, however, have awesome hair. Ergo, I should’ve assumed that you were in a band.”

“I have awesome hair?” he asked, incredulous. He threw me a grin, tossing his head and flicking his hair off of his face. “Oh, I know. I’m so beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, brother. You pay him one compliment and suddenly he thinks he’s Johnny Depp…”

“Not Brad Pitt?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I shot him a glare. “I thought you wanted to be beautiful. But if you want to be ugly, devastatingly ugly, then so be it.”

“Oh. Never mind, then…” He paused, tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. “What time do you want us there?”

“Um…” I wrinkled my nose, thinking. “Four-thirty. My mom said dinner was at five, but it’s always best to be early. Pork chops tend to be unpredictable.”

“Like those trees,” Joe said, nodding.

“What?” I asked, staring at him.

“Trees. You know, those ones that magically grow in two seconds so cars run into them.”

“Oh,” I replied, nodding. “Telephone poles, too. And train supports.”

“Huh?” he asked, bewildered.

“Like the support beams. Kind of like the ones that hold up highways, only for train tracks. They’re big and blue and have black-and-yellow caution signs on them.”

“And people still run into them?” Joe asked, incredulous.

“All the time,” I replied, nodding. “I saw a group of guys run into one. Car was totaled. And they were laughing about it.”

“Probably high,” Joe said, nodding.

I nodded. “Those were my first thoughts.”

Joe stopped the car in front of my house. “All right. You’re going to have to drive yourself to my show. It doesn’t start until about eight, but I want to be able to hang out with you before we go on. So try to get there around seven. It’s at Triton Guitars near Richboro.”

“Why can’t you drive me?” I asked, slightly disappointed.

He laughed, ruffling my hair playfully. “’Cause I gotta be there early. Trust me, I’d love to drive you. There’s three other guys in the band. Shaynne can’t wait to meet you.”

“Shaynne?” I asked, confused.

“He’s my best friend,” Joe explained, and I nodded. “All right, then,” he said, grinning. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

There was a knock on the door promptly at four-thirty, just as my mom was setting dinner on the table. I jumped up and walked over to open it. Joe and John stood there, waiting patiently. Joe had on his classic winning smile, along with a black Motion City Soundtrack T-shirt, long blue jeans, and a pair of Vans. John had even dressed up, in a sense, for the occasion. He wore white sneakers, long blue jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt; no had graced his head today, showing that his hair was starting to grow. He too, smiled when I opened the door.

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” I said, beaming. I stepped aside to let them in. “Mom, Dad, this is Joe, and that’s John.”

My dad shook each of their hands, eyeing them both as he did so. “Andrew Somers. This is my wife, Jamie.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. And Mrs. Somers,” Joe said politely, and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding in; my dad seemed to be all right with them.

Dinner turned out to be a success—Joe and John loved the food and my dad seemed happy that they knew a lot about cars. When the conversation turned away from vehicles, I felt that I could contribute.

“What do you boys do for fun?” my mom asked curiously.

“Joe’s in a band,” I interjected enthusiastically.

“Really?” she asked.

Joe grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. We’re not that good, don’t have a record deal or anything, but we have fun.”

“Well, that’s all that really matters,” my mom said, smiling, and my dad nodded in agreement.

Chapter 9

Joe’s Secret

Friday rolled around relatively quickly. At six, I hopped in my car to head off to watch Joe’s band play. I picked up my directions and sighed. The website had calculated that it would be about a forty-five minute drive. I laid the directions on the passenger seat and started the engine of my gold Honda Civic. It had been my grandmother’s, but a car was a car, and it had been free. The speakers blared to life as I was rolling down the windows, the sweet music of Elvis Presley serenading all of those on the street.

I pulled away from my house, made a U-turn, and then cruised down the street, singing along with the music. The directions were relatively easy to follow, and it ended up only taking me about half an hour to get there. The parking lot was gravel, uneven, and had quite a few large, deep potholes that I wasn’t about to let my car drive over, so I parked in the deserted lot of the bait and tackle shop across the street. As I got out of the car, I surveyed the building. To me, the place looked like a large garage or perhaps a one-room cottage. Tentatively, I made my way up the wooden steps and opened the door.

The place was practically deserted, and it was considerably bigger on the inside. I took a few steps inside and poked my head around the doorway. A group of guys were hanging out on the floor of a rather small room. Joe was nowhere in sight, but this seemed like the right group of people—they reminded me of Joe, anyway. I took a few steps closer and knocked on the wall. They all looked up, startled.

“Uh…hi. I’m Drew. I’m Joe’s friend…”

A boy with rather long and shaggy black hair stood up and made his way over to me. His eyes were startlingly green, leaving me to do nothing but stare helplessly. He was cute and innocent looking, like Joe. He held out his hand.

“I’m Shaynne. I’m Joe’s friend. He said you’d be coming.”

The other couple of guys said something about sound check and left the room.

I shook his hand, feeling very relieved. “Hi, Shaynne. Do you know where Joe is?”

“He had to run out—Mickey broke a couple of guitar strings. He said he’d be back as soon as he could. Here, have a seat. I’m afraid that the only thing I can offer you to sit on is a box—in case you haven’t noticed, there’s no furniture in this place.”

I nodded, laughing, and took a seat on a rather long, large wooden box.

“You know, Drew, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but I just think that you should know—you’re the best thing that’s happened to Joe in a long time.”

I looked up at him, curious. “What do you mean?” I asked, bewildered.

Shaynne sighed, sitting down beside me. He swept a hand through his hair and looked at me; he looked incredibly gloomy.

“A few months ago, Joe was going out with his girl named Kate. Real pretty girl, polite, nice, too—or so we thought. They’d been going out since the eighth grade; they were the golden couple. Joe was crazy about her. She moved to California with her family around December. Joe was crushed; they’d been in love. Or, at least, he had. Her birthday was in the third week of January, and she told Joe that all she wanted for her birthday was for him to fly her out to see him.”

“Well…that’s not so bad,” I said, frowning.

“No, there’s more,” Shaynne said, shaking his head. “First of all, they couldn’t get a straight flight out here. We figured she’d have to switch planes and stuff, but we didn’t anticipate that it would be so hard. There was a plane to Arkansas, and then there was flight in three days from Arkansas to the Philadelphia airport. That was good, because Joe was afraid he’d have to go out-of-city to pick her up. Not that he wouldn’t have.

“So Joe paid for everything—the plane from Los Angeles to Little Rock, the hotel for the stay in Little Rock, the flight from Little Rock to Philly—out of his own pocket. And it wasn’t cheap, either. It cost him about eight hundred dollars. So, he wired her the money. She never came.”

My eyes widened. “That’s awful.”

Shaynne shook his head again, sighing. “Joe thought that maybe something had happened. He called, and he called, and he called, but he kept being told that the number had been disconnected. Finally, he gave up. He was devastated. I’ve never seen him so torn up. But, after a while, he started to get over it, started to be himself again. Then, about a month ago, he got a phone call from Kate. She was crying and begging for him to take her back. Said she loved him, that she was so sorry. Basically, told him a whole load of shit and hoped he’d believe it. He didn’t, of course, but she just kept calling, and calling, and calling, and he finally had to change is cell number. He hasn’t heard from her since, but that call really messed him up…”

“Well, yeah. I mean, she just left with his money like that. It would kill anyone,” I said, not really understanding.

“No, Drew. You see…Joe basically quit. He still went to school, still went to work, but he was a zombie, a shell of what he used to be. He didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh, just holed himself up in his room when he came home. John was worried sick about him. Those two may fight, but they love each other, and I’ve never seen John fight so hard for anything as he did fighting to get Joe back on his feet.

“He lost his job because he didn’t go anymore. He’d follow Joe everywhere. He was so worried that Joe would try to off himself when no one was watching. Joe had sunk deep, and John was getting depressed, too, because he couldn’t do anything to help him. And then, like magic, two weeks ago, Joe came in, all smiles and laughing. We were happy, sure, but we didn’t know what had caused it.”

Shaynne fixed me in his intense stare, and I swallowed hard. “It was you. Meeting you made him feel whole again. At least, that’s what he told me when I asked him about it. He said he liked you, how nice you were, how understanding, how trusting. You totally turned his life around, Drew, when no one else could. You fixed him. So he’s not the only one that’s grateful to you. We all are, John especially.”

I stared. I’d never known. Joe seemed so happy, so carefree. “But…” I had to swallow against the rapidly rising lump in my throat. “But Joe doesn’t—”

“Yeah, seem the type. I know. But he was. Lord, you should’ve seen him, Drew. No, on second thought, you shouldn’t have. It would’ve killed you. Lord knows it almost killed me…”

Shaynne trailed off, and I stared at him, the tears welling up in my eyes. I felt so badly for him; I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve felt like. He was staring at the wall, a forlorn expression on his face. The door opened and we both looked up as Joe walked in, all smiles. I quickly wiped my eyes and jumped up, smiling.

“Hey, Drew!”

“Hey, Joe. I was just, uh, meeting Shaynne.”

Joe grinned, setting down the bag he had, containing what I assumed were Mickey’s guitar strings, and held out his arms. I hugged him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder. He didn’t know that I knew what could possibly be his darkest secret, and he didn’t have to, but I wanted to make sure that he knew that I was here for him.

“Have you met the rest of the guys?” Joe asked, grinning, if possible, even larger than before.

I shook my head. “No. Not yet.” I looked around. “Place is kind of shabby, don’t you think?”

Joe shrugged. “We get paid to play; I’m not complaining if it pays the car insurance.”

“Too true,” Shaynne said, nodding.

“Hey, Joe. Thought I saw your car pull up,” came a voice from behind us; I jumped and turned around.

The two guys from before were standing in the room, leaning against the wall and grinning at Joe and Shaynne. One had long black hair that came to his shoulders; it was parted to the side and fell over one of his eyes. The other had bright orange hair that was sort of in a mop on top of his head; he had to flip it out of his eyes a lot.

“Hey, guys. Got your strings, Mick. Try not to snap any more, okay?” Joe said, cocking an eyebrow and tossing the bag to the redheaded boy.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

“I’m guessing you’re Drew, right?” the other boy asked me, standing up off the wall and walking over; he walked with a fluid grace that I’d never seen a boy walk with before.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m Drew.” It felt like a really stupid thing to say, but what else what I supposed to say?

He held out his hand, and I noticed that his nails were panted—every other one was black while the remaining ones were a deep purple. “I’m Jason. It’s great to finally meet you. I could write a book about you by now for all that Joe talks about you.” He smiled, and I decided that I liked him already.

I shook his hand. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

He laughed. “You’re funny. I like you. Did you know Joe was in a band?”

“No, I did not,” I said, shooting Joe a playful glare. “He failed to mention it.”

Jason laughed. “What clued you in after he told you? No, wait; don’t tell me. It was the hair, wasn’t it?”

I laughed, nodding. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“I’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. That’s how my boyfriend figured out that I was in a band.”

I smiled. I wasn’t at all shocked by the fact that Jason was gay; it wasn’t going to bother me, anyway. He was nice guy. “I take it that you must be Mickey, then?” I asked the redhead, who was still leaning against the wall, trying and failing valiantly to open the package of guitar strings.

He looked up. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Nice to meet you,” he said, and then returned back to his guitar strings, becoming more frustrated all the while.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “He’s not a very big people person.” This was said sarcastically.

“So,” I said, looking around at the three boys standing around me, “what’s the band’s name?”

“Have you told her nothing?” Jason asked Joe, his eyes widening. “For shame, Joseph,” he teased, and Shaynne laughed, making tsking noises.

“I was getting around to it,” Joe grumbled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I won’t hold this one against you. Should you forget next time, however…” I trailed a finger across my throat.

“Gee, thanks, Drew,” he said, rolling his eyes and messing up my hair.

“We’re The White Minivan Syndicate,” Shaynne said proudly.

I grinned. “I like it.”

“Good. Mickey, get those strings on. We’ve got a show to do,” Jason said, throwing me a smile.

Chapter 10

You Gave Me A Reason

Joe’s band was awesome. Shaynne sang lead, and I loved his voice—it was edgy yet calming. They were scheduled to sing five songs, and Shaynne had sung the first four, so it was a surprise when Joe stepped up to the microphone, and he and Shaynne traded places.

“Hey, everyone. This is our last song, so we’d just like to thank you for coming out to see us and the other great bands that are gonna be playing after us tonight. Hope you enjoyed the music we had for you, and our CD, Off The Beaten Track Without Four-Wheel Drive, is on sale at the counter.” There was clapping and cheering, and Joe beamed; a few of the girls standing next to me sighed in bliss. I get to see that smile every day, girlie, I thought, smirking. “And this—uh—this next song I wrote just recently. It’s called ‘I’m Done’ and, uh, hope you like it.”

He took a deep breath and started to sing. I froze. His voice was amazing. It took a moment for me to register the words. When I did, I realized he was singing about Kate:

You led me on

Led me to believe that I

I was the one

For you, but

You cut me deep

Took everything that I had

And now you wanna come running back to me.

But I don’t trust you

As far as I can throw you

And that’s not very far all at.

So you might as well just save yourself the pain.

‘Cause I’m done.

I guess that you

Expected me to wait

Forever here

But you were wrong

And I’m over you

You’re just a song

That’s stuck in my head

And I don’t trust you

As far as I can throw you

And that’s not very far at all

So you might as well just save yourself the pain.

‘Cause I’m done.

After they were done, Joe found me as I was attempting to battle my way through the crowd over to the counter. He popped up in front of me, grinning hugely. I hugged him.

“Joe, you were great!”

He laughed. “You think so?”

I nodded. “Mmhm. I was just on my way to get your CD.”

His eyes widened. “Drew Somers!” he said, aghast. “You do not pay here!”

I stared as he pulled out a CD from his pocket. He held it out to me.

“No—Joe—I have to pay you for this…” I stuttered helplessly, flabbergasted.

“No, you don’t. You know me. I’m part of the band. I gave it to you. It’s free. Take it.”

I hugged him again as the band came over. I turned over the CD to look at the other songs. “I’m Done” was on there. That brought back Shaynne’s story about Kate, and I decided I had to go find John. The other band had started playing, and Mickey was shouting to be heard over the noise.

“Drew! We’re all going out to grab a bite! You wanna come?”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a few things I need to take care of. It was nice meeting all of you, though. See you tomorrow, Joe.”

They all waved, and I headed back out to my car, praying that someone hadn’t gotten it towed. I sighed in relief upon seeing that it was still there. I unwrapped the CD and laid it on the seat beside me, along with my directions. The ride home went just as smoothly as the ride up, considering that most of the people had stayed to watch the other three bands. I jogged up the steps of Joe and John’s house. Donna answered.

“Hi, Drew!” she said brightly. Liz appeared at her shoulder and scowled at me; I smiled in reply.

“Hi, Donna, Liz. Is John home?”

“No,” Liz said vehemently.

“He’s at Eric’s. I could give you the address if you like,” Donna offered, casting a reproving look at her daughter, who merely rolled her eyes and returned back to the living room.

“Could you? It’s important.”

Five minutes later, I was back on the road, Eric’s address in my hand and Joe’s CD in the stereo. I was loving the sweet sounds of Shaynne’s voice, and I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Just as I found Eric’s house (with John’s GMC out front), I pulled over. “I’m Done” was just ending and, not really in the mood to hear the whole CD again, I was about to eject it when Joe’s voice came through the speakers.

“Hey, Drew. It’s Joe. In case I tried to stop you from buying a CD, which I probably did, now you know why. I recorded this especially for you.” A guitar started playing, and Joe’s voice followed:

I was too far gone to notice all the pain inside their eyes.

She’d hurt me real bad and I had nowhere to turn.

My life was goin’ downhill real fast;

Didn’t think I was gonna last…

And then you saved me,

Gave me a life.

Whoa and baby,

You don’t know how much it meant to see your smile.

And all I wanted to do was hold you in my arms forever

Not let you go

No matter what transpired.

You lit my fire again,

Gave me a reason to live.

We’d had what I’d thought was love.

But obviously I was wrong.

And, girl, I need you to know

That this is your song…

And then you saved me,

Gave me a life.

Whoa and baby,

You don’t know how much it meant to see your smile.

And all I wanted to do was hold you in my arms forever

Not let you go

No matter what transpired.

You lit my fire again,

Gave me a reason to live.

And all I wanted to do was hold you in my arms forever

Not let you go

No matter what transpired.

You lit my fire again,

Gave me a reason to live.

By the end of it, I was crying, and I was forced to sit in my car and regain myself before I went to knock on Eric’s door. Eric opened the door. He stared at me with a rather disgusted-looking expression on his face.

“Yeah?”

I sniffed. “Is John here?” I asked, even though I knew he was.

“Sure. Hold on. John!” He disappeared into the house.

John came to the door. He took a look at my tear-stained face and his eyes widened. He pulled me close to him, holding me tightly against his chest.

“Drew…” he murmured soothingly. “Drew, what happened?”

I was half-laughing, half-crying into the front of his shirt. “The CD…Joe…so…beautiful…” I managed, wrapping my arms around his waist and sniffing.

“Drew. Did something happen to Joe?” he asked, looking fearfully down at me.

I shook my head. “Not…recently,” I replied, looking up at him; I was beginning to regain my composure.

“What?” he asked. He guided me over to the steps and we sat down; he slid an arm around my shoulders.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? About Kate,” I added, because he was looking bewildered.

He sighed, looking up at the sky; the stars twinkled happily in back in reply. “Drew…don’t think I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t trust you, because I know I can. But…that was an all-time low in Joe’s life, something he doesn’t like to have brought up.”

I nodded slowly. I could respect that. John had just been looking out for Joe. “I heard that you lost your job,” I said quietly.

“Better than losin’ a brother,” he replied. I suppose he thought that his gruffness could mask the pain, but I could still hear it, still see it in his eyes. Shaynne had been right; they really did love each other. A lot. I hugged him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder.

“It must’ve hurt,” I said, frowning. “To see him like that.”

“You have no idea,” John replied, shaking his head. “You fixed him. You fixed both of us, ‘cause I was getting pretty down, too.” He paused thoughtfully. “Did Joe tell you? ‘Cause he doesn’t really make a habit out of telling people.”

I shook my head. “No. Shaynne told me. Don’t tell Joe that I know, okay?” I asked.

John laughed. “He’ll tell you sooner or later. You’re a pretty good actress. Just pretend that it’s the first time you’ve heard it.”

I nodded. There was so much that I didn’t know, and I vaguely wondered if there was something about John that I didn’t know. Or Shaynne. Or Jason. Or Mickey. Or Eric—oh, God forbid, not while he was going out with Charlie. Or even Charlie. I knew there were things she didn’t tell me. I had my secrets, too, after all. But were hers worse than just kissing John?

All of this was really making me wonder just how much I knew about my friends, both new and old. This must’ve showed on my face, too, because John was looking at me with a worried expression on his face.

“Drew? Is something wrong?”

I didn’t want to admit to him that I thought that he could be hiding something from me. That was something you didn’t do, even if the person in question had not just told you of one of the darkest moments of their lives. So I simply shook my head and offered a quiet smile. There were some things that you just didn’t tell those you cared about. Especially not those that you were beginning to love.

Chapter 11

It’s Like We’re In The Movies

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of voices in the living room. I looked at the clock. 6:59 blinked lazily back at me. I could hear the theme song to Murder, She Wrote and jumped out of bed, not wanting to miss it—it was our Saturday routine. I brushed my hair so that I looked somewhat presentable, readjusted my Eeyore pajama pants, and headed out into the living room, still a little bleary-eyed.

“Morning Mom, Dad…” I paused, noticing two other people sitting on my couch; I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and therefore was not seeing clearly. “Did we adopt two people or something?” I asked, confused.

“Good morning, Drew,” said a voice that I knew very well by now.

I froze. I stopped rubbing my eyes and blinked a few times. Joe and John sat on my couch, grinning at me, and I wanted to kick myself in the head. I looked horrible. Even though I’d brushed my hair, I still had tired circles around my eyes and my pajamas were wrinkly. I wanted to die. But, instead, I just shuffled over to the couch and dropped down between the two of them, tucking my legs up under me and preparing to get into the television show.

“Oh, my God…” John muttered under his breath about five minutes into the show.

“What?” I asked, looking up at him.

“This is the corniest show I have ever seen.”

My dad looked over from his newspaper. “Thank you! Finally someone agrees with me!”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, get used to it if the two of you are going to be hanging around here every Saturday morning. You’re encroaching upon our routine.”

“And what about me?” my dad asked indignantly.

“You encroached about a month ago when your shift got moved and you work Monday to Friday instead of Tuesday to Saturday,” my mom replied, taking a sip of her coffee and flipping through the circulars.

I laughed, standing up as the commercial break came on. “I’m getting some hot chocolate. Anyone want anything?”

“I’ll have some,” they both said, looking up.

“I’ll help you,” Joe offered, standing up and following me into the kitchen.

“I—uh—I listened to your CD,” I said, pulling the hot chocolate mix out of the closet and then heading over to the cabinet to get three mugs.

“Oh?” he asked, looking down at me. “And what did you think?”

I couldn’t look at him; I could feel the lump rising in my throat as I imagined the words again: You lit my fire again, gave me a reason to live. “It was…beautiful…”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my head. “Drew…I meant it. All of it.”

I nodded. “I know…”

I felt his lips press gently against the top of my head, and I had to swallow very hard to fight the lump back down. I turned on the instant hot water tap and let the mugs fill up. “Joe…what was the other song about? The one you sang at the show?”

I felt him stiffen, and he released me, moving around to stir the powder into the hot water. “I’ll tell you later. Not now, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Which one do you want?” I asked.

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter…”

I handed him a mug with a rooster on the front; he wrapped his hands around it and stared at me with that wide-eyed, innocent expression that got me every single time. I picked up my mug, a pink soup-bowl type thing with Alice in Wonderland on it, and I also picked up John’s mug with a Collie on the front.

“Joe?”

He paused; he had been ready to turn back around to head into the living room. He looked back at me. “Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I know you meant it. Thank you…” I kissed his cheek gently and then headed into the living room; I handed John his mug.

“Thanks,” he said as I folded myself back down beside him.

I nodded, not looking at Joe as he sat down beside me; he seemed in a sort of daze.

Later, after Joe and John had left and my parents at gone out to run some errands, I was sitting outside, listening to music, just staring at the sky. The sky was not at all inviting, and it looked like it was about to pour buckets any minute now.

“Hey, Drew.”

I looked up; Joe was standing in front of me, his hands in his pockets. He sat down beside me as I took the headphones out of my ears, his arms resting on his knees.

“You wanted to know what ‘I’m Done’ was about, right?” he asked, not looking at me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I did, but you don’t have to tell me right know if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head. “No. You have a right to know.” He sighed. “A few months ago, I was going out with this girl. Her name was—”

“Kate, I know,” I said. I didn’t think I’d be able to take hearing the story again—once had been enough. He looked at me, and I could tell that he was shocked. “Shaynne told me; don’t be mad at him.”

He frowned. “Well…what did you think?”

“Joe! You’re talking about it as if it’s some fairy tale! You’re talking about it like it didn’t hurt! How can you do that when I broke just listening to it?”

“It did hurt!” he cried passionately, looking at me and jumping up. “It hurt like hell, dammit!”

I stared fearfully at him. He was beginning to pace, raking his hand through his hair again and again.

“I almost committed suicide, Drew! Suicide! Bet you Shaynne never told you that, did he? No! Because he didn’t know! John found me trying to hang myself in my room. That’s when he wouldn’t leave me alone; he was really worried about me and—God, Drew! What if John hadn’t found me? I never would’ve met you, never—”

He dropped back down onto the steps again, his face in his hands. I hugged him, staring forlornly at him. He was so sad, and it was making me sad, too—really sad. I reached up to pry his hands away from his face.

“Joe,” I whispered, touching his cheek gently. “But John did find you, Joe. That’s what matters. And you