She’s one to talk. She’s done a lot more than flirt with older guys. In fact—she’s done a lot with a lot of guys. “And I don’t flirt with older guys.”

“Oh, please. I’ve seen you around Cole’s father, Miss American Beauty. And let’s not forget Coach Rick.” In eighth grade she accused me of being a cock tease to our soccer coach. I was so repulsed when I felt him erect a tent during a post-scoring hug with me that I quit the team. I was his best player. He told me so. I’ve never played a sport since.

“Mr. Blakely is a nice man, I can’t believe you’d even suggest that, and Coach Rick was an asshole.”

“So was that guy.”

“Oh, come on, he just wanted to give us a ride.”

“Don’t be so naive, Ser. A guy like that would love a little piece like you. A girl who will hang on his every word, treating him like fucking royalty just because he pats her head once a month between beatings.”

“Fuck you,” I said without emotion. This was just Kori being Kori.

“A ride is a ride. A fuck is a fuck. It is what it is.”

“So why couldn’t he give us a ride?”

“Because he wanted a whipping bitch.”

“You just blew holes in your is-what-it-is speech. Besides, how do you know he didn’t just want a fuck?”

“Because he was trying to impress you with his truck and business and saving your poor little messed-up life with his stupid lighter, and you were eating it all up with your shining puppy-dog eyes, because he had that I’ll take care of you vibe that you lick up. Yeah, he’d take care of you all right, with his fist. And anyway, if all he wanted was a fuck, he would have approached me.”

“Ouch. Tough love.”

“Just love. Period.”

“He wasn’t that old,” I muttered. Then: “If I wanted to date a high school guy, I would.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her cell phone, putting it to her cheek. With a sharp inhale, she mimicked Josh’s facial expressions with frightening accuracy. “Um, hello. Um, S-S-Serena? Y-y-yes? H-hello, I um … I um … I … Um. I—oh, never mind.” I attempted (poorly) to restrain my laughter and to get away. She jogged after me, grabbing at my thermal sleeve. “N-no, wa-wa-wait! I want to ask you out! Yes! S-S-Serena! And … I-I-I lalalalove you! Wait! No! Oh God, I mean yes. Wait! Oh, na-never mind.”

“You’re such a shit, you know that?” But, unfortunately it was the truth. The only high school guy to show real interest in me was Poor Josh.