At some point, time had simply stopped. I didn’t blame Chance for crying. I remembered a jet of blood, hot and quick, from some big man’s neck.

I could still smell it.

Why were we still alive?

That was the first question, and as questions went, it was pretty fucked up. I’d driven it around the block once or twice. It had something to do with Jason. That’s all I could figure.

Why the trunk?

What were we waiting for?

I took those questions for a longer spin, but came up just as empty. I was in the dark, and cooking alive.

Hot air in.

Hot air out.

Nothing changed until the phone rang.

When Becky Collins woke that morning, she took particular care of her appearance: the low-rise jeans that flared just right, the white vinyl belt and the daisy-print top, a little makeup, but not too much. She wore the round sunglasses with purple lenses, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Most of the clothes were secondhand, but they fit right, and made her feel right. Even Dana White sensed the change. “Damn, girl. What’s gotten into you?” She was leaning against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette ten minutes before first bell. “Go on, girl. Swing those hips.”

Becky couldn’t hide the blush, but didn’t mind it, either. Life was different. She’d crossed over. “Give me one of those, yeah?” The cigarette gave her time to settle her thoughts: the shakeout and the light, the first, deep drag. She leaned against the same yellow brick, pushed out the same smoke, and shared the only thought that made this day different. “I’m looking for Gibby. Have you seen him?”

“It’s 7:50 in the morning. Why would you want to see any boy at such an unholy hour?”

Becky tried to play it cool, but her lips twisted in a way that most young women would recognize. She didn’t mean it to happen, but it did. And when it did, Dana came off the wall, her eyes widening into a knowing, almost suspicious look.

“Is that why you’re so smoking hot today? Because of Gibby French?” Dana said it jokingly, but gawped as the blush in Becky’s face spread like wildfire down her neck. “Wait. Is that it?” She looked Becky up and down, nothing almost about her suspicions. A wry smile twisted her face. “Did he get to second base?” One eyebrow went up, teasing her. “Third base?”

Becky turned away, dropping the cigarette at the same time, and grinding it beneath a boot.

“Oh my God.” Dana was so excited, she was almost dancing. “You went all the way! Look at your face. You totally slept with Gibby! The most notorious virgins in the school…”