“Where to?” Connor called out, managing to drive, text, and smoke at the same time. He had long black shaggy hair, a pointy chin, and a wardrobe of black T-shirts and jeans. He was sexy in a rough, disheveled sort of way and I couldn’t decide if I liked him or not. At first I thought he and Freda were hooking up, but now I knew they didn’t believe in boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. Thank God. I couldn’t handle any more bullshit politics on who was with who, and who was cool to hang with and who wasn’t. After Ryan Thomas, straight-A student and track star, tried to shove his hands under my skirt at Bonnie’s house, I was done with trying to be seen with the right crowd. Even worse, when I tried to tell Bonnie and Claire what he’d done, they’d actually berated me for not wanting him, taunting me with my virgin card. Like I’d ever give it up to an asshole.

“My dad’s gone this week. We can go to my house,” David said. I studied David, taking in his messy brown hair, his dark eyes, and the scar that ran down half of his right cheek. He was the quietest one, taking things in before deciding to speak, but his body language was jerky, as if he was always nervous about what he might encounter.

We drove for a while, then pulled into a house that looked like it needed some TLC. The lot had sprung up with weeds, and the porch seemed to sag. The color was muddy brown with some shingles missing, but I already liked it better than my own house. Sometimes, I felt like I lived in a museum, with furniture I couldn’t sit on. The floors were too bare and the ceilings too high, and I was too damn lonely on a regular basis. I’d take a house well lived in anytime.

We walked inside, straight into a living room with dirty beige carpeting and a large chocolate suede couch. A beat-up leather ottoman and a coffee table were the only other furniture besides a few basic lamps and a large-screen TV. The house smelled like coffee, cigarettes, and bacon. I spotted a small kitchenette ahead and a few doors down a short hallway. The walls were covered with various framed record stuff that looked like they were some type of important awards.

Dave headed to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of vodka and a pint of OJ. Freda brought in a few glasses and we all took a seat on the couch. More cigarettes came out while Freda poured hefty servings of liquid breakfast. I put up my feet and sipped tentatively at my vodka. I’d had vodka and rum before, but never this early, and never this much.