Perfect. Part 16

The question is directed at her mother, who answers with a shrug.

I know I shouldn't ask, but I do. "Who?"

My poor excuse for a father. Can you believe he's getting married, and he wants Ken and me to be in the wedding party? Bridesmaids?

I wouldn't even do that for someone I liked. What a joke.

Arguing with her is not a wise thing to do.

So why do I let words fall out of my mouth? "But wouldn't you feel bad if he got married without you there?"

At her evil expression, I joke, "Anyway, you know you'd look amazing in one of those beautiful bridesmaid dresses.

Maybe amethyst or fuchsia or something?" My grin is met with bitter stares.

Both from Jenna and from her mom. I don't think I'm making much of an impression on Mrs.... whatever her name is.

"Okay, maybe not. Well then, are you ready to go?

Does your sister need a ride?"

I haven't yet met the infamous Kendra, either.

She drives, you know. And she left hours ago.

They have to warm up, not to mention all that makeup and hair stuff.

Jenna is more the natural type. She's pretty without makeup, and all her waist-length hair needs is brus.h.i.+ng.

Standing here is getting uncomfortable, though.

"It was very nice to meet you," I tell Jenna's mom. All she does is nod.

We Are Halfway There And neither of us has said a word. I know Jenna is stressing out about her dad's wedding, but I'm stressed about something totally different. "Did you ever tell your parents about me? I thought your mom's jaw was going to stick in the open position when she saw me.

Didn't help things when I didn't know her name. What is it, anyway?"

Jenna pulls herself out of the trance she's been under. What? Mom's name is Caroline. Why do you want to know?

"Not her first name. Her last name. You never told me, and it was rather embarra.s.sing not to know it."

I did tell-I never told you? Her- Patrick's-last name is Carruthers. Sorry. I could have sworn...

Funny, no matter what she does or doesn't do, all she has to do is say "I'm sorry," and my anger just melts away.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter now. I was a shock, obviously. Don't you talk to your mom about who you're dating?"

Seriously? Of course not. We're not, like, best friends or anything.

G.o.d, I barely talk to Kendra about stuff.

"Why not? I thought sisters told each other everything." Not that I'd know anything about it, except what I've seen on TV.

You don't believe everything you see on Lifetime, right? Wait. Do you watch Lifetime? Because that's weird.

"Lifetime? Wha...?" And now we're both laughing. Jenna has the rare talent to be able to turn anything into a joke.

The Carson High Parking Lot Is overflowing cars, and a steady line of people heads toward the gym. "Wow.

How many teams compete in these things?"

Jenna shrugs. Pretty much every northern Nevada high school will be here. Even some from the rural counties.

Which makes it dozens. We squirm our way through the door, look for a couple of empty s.p.a.ces in the packed bleachers.

The compet.i.tion is well under way. We watch a team from Reno High complete a complicated routine. I'm not a huge sports fan, so rarely watch cheerleaders. But after witnessing three or four squads do their thing, I have to admit I'm impressed. They could be really great dancers, not to mention gymnasts. "They're really athletic, aren't they?"

Jenna snorts and elbows me in the ribs. Well, duh. What did you think this was? Third-grade gymnastics? It takes years of practice to reach this level. And that takes real dedication, which explains why you'll never see me cheer.

"Is there anything you are totally committed to?" I guess I'm hoping she'll say me. Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

Her fingers knit with mine, and my heart tries to convince my brain that she's going to say the words I want to hear.

My brain is not surprised when she whispers, Commitment means losing yourself to gain something temporary.

Nothing lasts. Not looks. Not love. I'm living large and living for today because there might not be a tomorrow.

Her Admission Stated so matter-of-factly is like a slap to my cheek. I suck in breath. How did she become so world-weary?

I want to argue. But she's right about looks not lasting. Even my mom, who is beautiful for her age and knows every skin care secret, is starting to look middle-aged.

Love? Well, it seems to fade for everyone eventually. And tomorrow?

Okay, fine. I kiss her gently on the cheek, softly exhale into her ear. "If all you can promise me is today, I'll take it and hope for tomorrow. And just so you know, today I love you, Jenna." Her face swivels toward me, and her eyes bore into mine.

If she's looking for lies, she can't find them there. But though she blushes pleasure, all she says is, Thank you.

More Than Anything I want to take her out of here, find a warm hideaway to show her exactly how much I love her. But just now the announcer tells us the Grizzly Girls are making their way to the floor.

No need to ask which one is Kendra. She's her mother's daughter. Except she's rice-paper thin.

"Does your sister eat?" I ask, half expecting a rebuke. Instead, Jenna answers, Only when she absolutely has to. She's doing the heroin chic thing.

You'd think Mom would do something, huh?

Actually, yes. But Kendra seems to be strong enough. She's tall, so is on the bottom rung of all their pyramid stacks, along with a muscular girl with toffee hair and a chubby redhead. A girl on the middle tier draws my eye. She is compact. Round. And black.

The Grizzly Girls Are a formidable team, and they place well ahead of the rest. After they collect their trophy, Kendra waves toward Jenna. Guess we should go say hi. She gloms onto my hand, holds tight, leads me down the bleacher stairs like I'm a little kid who can't handle it on his own.

But that's okay. I like the possessiveness.

All eyes are on me, and each pair seems to hold a different opinion. Jenna makes the introductions.

This is my sister, Kendra. The toffee-haired girl is Cara; the redhead, Aubree. And the black girl is named Shantell.

It is she who gives the most scathing look.

And when I say, "Pleased to meet you," she turns around, stalks away.

Cara

Turned Around I can't see the hurt in Sean's eyes. Blinders on, I can pretend he wants me to run from him.

I.

have opened the flood- gates, am helpless against the furious flow. I don't have the strength to fight, can barely keep my head above water, and I don't know where I'll wash up if I just let go. Does it hurt to drown?

No one teaches you how to walk away from someone who you know loves you.

No one teaches you how to say good-bye.

I Have Become An Expert At making excuses. Manufacturing lies. Walking the tightrope between fact and fiction. Why can't I just come clean? I'm such a coward.

I am afraid of hurting Sean, who hasn't done anything wrong except not be Dani. And maybe, just maybe, not belong to the right gender club.

I'm also afraid of that possible truth.

Can a girl fall in love with a girl and not be gay? Can she dream of silken skin, perfumed with female musk, yet joyfully submit to a man's calloused touch? I still think I owe it to myself to find out for sure.

So why do I keep finding reasons to distance myself from Sean? I told him I'd see him last night. Instead, when he came over to get me, we ended up in a major fight about my leaving the game without hanging around to say hi. Considering his home run won the game, I probably should have. But I wasn't in the mood for questions about Dani. Not that he hasn't asked me about her since.

So who was that hot chick with crazy hair? I don't see her around school.

I could confess a couple of things.

"I met Dani boarding at Rose. She dug me out of a drift, in fact. And she goes to TMCC." It was enough. For the moment.

I Hope He Doesn't Ask More About her tonight. We are going to a movie, then maybe (maybe!) finding a nice, quiet place for me to get the answer I desperately need. I watch for him out the window, trying not to listen to my mom and dad talking too loudly about my brother.

They haven't really fought in a while, but they're currently having a smack- down. Seems Conner refuses to come home for a scheduled Easter visit. Dad chooses to take it personally.

What the h.e.l.l is wrong with him?

Does he really prefer the company of lunatics to that of his family?

Mom raises her voice in answer.

Let him stay in that place if that's what he wants. Who needs the stress of having him here? What if he tries again? His progress is questionable.

Dad volleys back. What's in question is the ability of his so-called doctors.

We're hemorrhaging money to keep him there, with what probability of success?

Money? That's what he's worried about? He could hemorrhage cash by the barrel and still not bleed his bank accounts all the way out.

I don't know what you want me to say! Mom shrieks. No wonder Conner flipped. It's in the genetics.

Both of his parents are freaks.

Unfortunately, they're my parents too. Fortunately, headlights coming up the drive mean I can escape them.

At least for a few hours. I start past, ignoring the heat of their mutual glare. And out of my mouth comes, "Hey. What happens to Stanford if you have to sign up for welfare?"

I Half Expect Them To be so wrapped up in grappling with each other to worry much about wrestling me. Which, of course, turns out to be wishful thinking. Mom halts me with her forearm. I do not appreciate your snide commentary, nor your eavesdropping. Whose side are you on here? She waits for my answer. I glance toward Dad, but I'm not sure why. He is still-frozen as winter gla.s.s.

"I may be rude, but I'm not a spy.

You weren't exactly whispering.

And anyway, it was just a joke.

Try developing a sense of humor."

Why must I poke toothpicks at snakes?

There is nothing funny about our current situation, Mom declares.

But Conner will be fixed. And by no means is your education at stake.

Fixed?

Like a car in need of a tune-up?

Would installing a new set of spark plugs make Conner run like a champ?

If so, could that be true of my parents?

Or me? Maybe I should schedule an appointment. As for Stanford, I have zero worries. Not going there would mean more than disappointment.

It would mean solid defeat, especially for Dad, who has paved the way for his children to shadow him there.