“You sound just like… Oh gosh. Give me a chance, huh?”

I still hated her. But that silly “gosh” softened me. Besides, everyone, even Merilee deserved a chance.

“I’ll consider it,” I said. “But don’t hold your breath.”

EXT. BEVERLY HIGH

NOON

Nicole and I sat in the quad outside the cafeteria, passing a plastic Ronald McDonald’s to-go cup filled with tequila between us. She was working away at the tear in the knee of her jeans, the lunchtime activity reflected in her Ray-Bans. She looked particularly pretty that day, her skin almost clear now after a bout with acne. She’d cut bangs and her blonde hair hung loose to her waist. I straightened mine with a blow dryer, but it still only reached the middle of my back, and if it rained it curled back up to my shoulders. Nicole had gotten even taller that year. I felt almost invisible beside her. Not to mention her amazingly big boobs I would have killed for, but which in my opinion, she accentuated too much.

Most kids were in the cafeteria eating. We were on “yellow alert,” which meant the smog was so bad no one should be outside breathing.

“Are your eyes stinging?” I asked. “Mine sting like crazy.”

“Yes, and my chest hurts when I breathe. But maybe that’s from smoking,” Nicole said.

“God, I miss the beach.”

“Me too.” Nicole sighed. “The city sucks.”

She’d been down in the dumps all week because of what had happened with Andy Webb, this senior she was into, with gorgeous green eyes and a killer bod. He appeared way older than eighteen and had already been in a commercial for shaving cream. Nicole had gone all the way with him, and he hadn’t called her since. I knew exactly how she felt. What was it with guys? No wonder women in the olden days kept a lock on it ‘til marriage.

“Don’t worry, Nic, you’ll get over it.” I passed her the McDonald’s cup. “Andy Webb isn’t worth your time.”

She took the plastic straw out of the cup and drank from the edge. “Yeah, well, he’s now on my shit list, and that my dear is that.”

“And that my dear is that” was Nicole’s favorite expression.

She handed back the empty cup, and I reached in my backpack for a refill.

“So, what’s this big news you couldn’t say on the phone?”

“We need drinks first. What’s your pleasure, vodka or gin?” I asked, showing her the mini choices.

“Both,” she said.

I checked that no teachers were around, then unscrewed the caps on the tiny bottles, dumped the contents into the plastic cup, and took a big swig. “Okay. Guess who called yesterday?”

Nicole shrugged.

“The WPE.”

WPE stood for Worst Parent Ever.

“No shit!”

I took another swig. “Here’s the kicker, she wants me to visit her.”

“What?”