Jordan, who was meant to be her first kiss. All her friends thought it was hilarious that she’d never kissed a boy. Most of them had kissed boys when they were fourteen or fifteen. Some had kissed several! Some had taken it further. But Callie had waited. She’d thought it was all going to be okay when Jordan leaned in towards her. She’d thought she could push down all those repulsive thoughts of Tony. But instead, the moment he’d placed one hand on her waist, something had zipped through her body. And it wasn’t a nice feeling. It was a nasty feeling.

Callie had chosen to sing that night because she’d thought it was going to be her turning point. The idea came to her when Peyton called her a wuss after she’d originally turned down Jordan’s request to perform a duet together. ‘OMG, why wouldn’t you?’ Peyton had groaned. ‘If I had a voice like yours, I’d want everyone to hear it. Come on, Callie, be brave!’

That word had played on Callie’s mind for days. She didn’t feel brave. She felt weak. She felt powerless. And she hated it.

She’d walked up to Jordan at school and told him she was in. And then she’d gone straight to the girl’s bathroom and thrown up.

Be brave, she’d told herself as she sat in front of the toilet and wiped the corner of mouth after she’d been sick. Just be brave. Then maybe . . . after you’ve done this . . . you can be brave about anything.

Maybe you can tell someone. Maybe you can tell Mum.

But now everything she had with Jordan had been ruined. And she didn’t feel brave. Not even a little bit. All because of him.

Tony turned around once again to talk to Tara and while his attention was elsewhere, Callie’s eyes shot around the car, as she tried to figure out what to do, how she could stop him if he went too far again. If he tried to touch her. If he tried to touch Tara.

Her eyes fell on the cigarette lighter in the centre console. Tony still wasn’t looking. She pushed it in to start heating it.

*

Andrea

Andrea wanted to cry. She had answered the phone to the sound of Heather’s wild voice: ‘WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CHILD?’

She’d tried desperately to explain what had happened. But she had no idea if she’d talked Heather out of calling the police or not. She’d assured her, over and over, that she was absolutely coming back with Violet, that she knew she’d done the wrong thing, that she’d only been trying to take care of her. That there had been a huge misunderstanding with Violet about where Heather was. But Heather had just screamed and screamed at her.