Dad and Laura. Bitter argument.

I took the stairs two at a time, bolted into my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I felt dreamy. Maybe this was what it was like to be on drugs. Without turning on the lights, I peeled off my soaked clothes down to my dirty skin. My thighs were bruised and sore. I was sticky down there, where some of it had leaked out. My body ached inside, but it was a good ache. A first-time ache.

My independence day.

Oh, God, the pill! I couldn’t forget that, not tonight. I rummaged through my underwear drawer and found the pink plastic container I kept hidden in the back. I thought about taking two, just to be sure, but that was stupid. I also thought about throwing open my bedroom window and shouting to the world: CINDY STARR IS NOT A VIRGIN! Really stupid.

I pulled on clean panties, jumped into my pajama bottoms, and slipped a Fleetwood Mac T-shirt over my head. I didn’t take a shower or brush my teeth. I lay down on top of the blankets with my eyes wide open. No way I was going to sleep tonight. I was too full of Jonny.

I had dropped him off at his house after we left the park. His mother was waiting up for him. She doesn’t like me, but I know what she’s been through since she lost Jonny’s dad. It was that way with my dad, three years ago, when my mom died. Mrs. Stride is terrified of losing her son, like Jonny is the last thing that reminds her of her husband. And I’m a threat. She knows I love him. We’re going to get married, I don’t know when, but we’re going to get married. I’m going to take him away from her.

Too many things in my head!

I sat up in bed and pushed my long hair back behind my ears on both sides. I needed to talk to someone. I don’t have a million girlfriends, because there’s always too much to do at home to be out spending time with friends. I thought about going downstairs and calling Jonny again, just to hear his voice one last time, but he was probably in bed by now, and his mother would answer, and that wouldn’t be a good thing at all.

I decided to talk to Laura. The truth is, I don’t do that a lot.

You have to understand that Laura and I have always been close, but not really close, you know? I’m seventeen, she’s eighteen. It’s just the two of us, but we’re like magnets that push each other apart. I’m the funny one, the athlete, the flirt, and Laura is moody, mysterious, and scared of boys. Being opposites as sisters isn’t such a good thing. You’re always looking in the mirror and thinking about what you don’t have.

It’s been hard for Laura since Mom died. She and Dad scream at each other all the time. Mostly, they argue about God. Laura stopped going to church after Mom’s accident, like it was God’s fault that we lost her. Dad tells her she’s going to hell for turning her back on Jesus. Yeah, he really says stuff like that. Dad has always been a starched-shirt-on-Sunday Christian, even more so these past few years without Mom. He talks about God punishing him for his sins. I think it was just a drunk driver.