“Can-dy!” Luanne wails, showing her empty sucker stick to anyone who looks at her.

“What?” Morgan shrieks.

“You heard me.”

Even her rust-fleck freckles pale. “I … don’t … steal.”

Luanne wails and more heads turn, even as we keep moving.

“Come on.” I lower my voice. “At the convenience store you —”

“Pay for everything I take. Like I told you before. Just ’cause the guy there thinks all teenagers steal doesn’t mean you should believe him.”

“Shh, shh,” I tell Luanne. “Do you want a nice juice?” I fumble for a box in my bag.

Morgan holds two twenties in my face. “Uncle Lurch gave me money for helping him clean one of his other pools.”

“And you want to lend it to me?” Luanne reduces her sobs to loud inhales as I pop the straw into the juice box.

“If you’re going to high school, you’re going to have to stop dressing like a toddler.”

“You’re so insulting.” I bend to hand Luanne her drink and then straighten again. “C’mon.”

“What’s it going to be?” Morgan pushes the money toward me again. “Little Mermaid or knock-’em-dead red?”

Knock ’em dead? I push the money back. “No, thank you.”

“Uh! You are so frustrating!” Morgan tucks the money away again.

“No. I’m not.” I glance back at the shop. “You take Luanne over to the food court. I’m going back for it.” I take a deep breath. “Going to use my debit card.”

“Woohoo! You won’t be sorry! Those girls are gonna be our besties.” Morgan smiles.

I look down at my watch and shiver. Still THU, still July 01, still 4:30. The exact time I dove into water around those girls and it didn’t end well. But they’ll watch out for me, now that they know I exist. Everything should be fine. Maybe Morgan’s right about my time counter. “Afterward, Morgan, let’s pop into Batteries-R-Us and get my watch fixed.”

16

Monday, June 28:

Life Counter

The watch battery checks out fine in the store — the numbers just will not budge. Our life counter, Diesel calls it. It’ll work once he saves me. But I’m not going to jump off any dock again, so he’ll never need to, and I should be able to just throw the watch away. Somehow I can’t. It would feel like tossing away my life preserver.

Also, it would feel like I’m giving up on Dad and his dorky presents. How can I hope Mom will take him back if I give up, too? A lucky charm for Dad, and in a few days it will tell the right time, even for just one moment. So I keep wearing it.

It’s a great day anyway, with finding my first adult bathing suit that fits. I start to believe maybe I can learn to swim.

To top it off, just like the last Monday through, Mom brings home a supermarket rotisserie chicken that comes with bread, fries, and coleslaw. “A picnic in a bag,” she says, on special for less than she can make it herself.