She laughed. Laughed! The insanity of it enraged me. “What’s so funny?”

“Del,” Shianne said, not one bit of humor in her voice, “who told you you were nice?”

“I—” What?

“Since you have your gripes about us girls and what we don’t see right in front of us, let me put you on to one of my pet peeves about boys. Warped perspective.” She bounced Zoey, who squealed with delight, having fun now. “Her dad has given me many lessons over the last year. We’re only right when we please you. When you’re not pleased, we’re crazy, or juvenile, or stupid, or not worth your time. Because you’re so nice.”

“You’re—” I nearly said “crazy,” but stopped short.

“You think you’re nice, Del. You think you’re nicer than Mason. You spent all that time in her church activities, doing pledges and praying, and whatever else you thought she liked. Things that ain’t really you. But, because you were so nice when you were doing that fake shit, she owes you something, right? Mason’s an asshole for talking about what him and her did in private, but he never pretended to be anything but what he is. Surprise, surprise, honesty worked. Who you really mad at here, Del?”

I chewed my bottom lip, tasted blood. Held back every horrible thing bubbling in my brain. I wasn’t going to fall for this. She was . . . baiting me. Probably mad at her baby daddy and taking it out on me. “I guess I wasn’t so horrible when you needed someone to run a game on your parents so you could watch videos on your iPad.”

“Don’t act like it wasn’t mutually beneficial.”

“I’m gone.”

“Bye, Mister Nice Guy!”

“You’re mean as shit, Shi.”

“That’s why we’re friends, Del. You haven’t figured that out yet? We’re so much alike.”

Chapter 26

AT HOME, I SLAMMED THE door and shook the house. Dad dropped his chopping knife and made a fist, startled by my entrance. “Junior, I know you know better than to come in here like that.”

“Sorry.” I tried to stomp past him, but he rounded the kitchen island, grabbed my arm.

“Hey, what happened to you today?”

Any thought of sulking alone in my room faded as I blurted, “Girls are insane, Dad!”

“In what way?”

“Every.”

He tugged me toward the kitchen table. “Sit down. Explain.”

So, I told him. All of it from the Sunday Newsome busted me and the Purity Pledgers to Shianne’s meltdown. He took his chair at the head of the table, shifted positions a few times like he couldn’t get comfortable. Crossed arms, slow nods, but he didn’t interrupt.

“. . . then Shianne goes off on me saying I was, like, using the church to fool Kiera and I got what I deserved.” Or something. So much of it came from left field, and felt like a blur now. “That’s totally not true.”

Dad seemed to struggle with his words. “Son, when I asked you about that pledge thing a few weeks ago, you told me you were doing it because of Kiera.”