The evening was definitely improving.

We took our treats around back and ate them while sitting at a wooden picnic table. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and every thirty seconds one of us was slapping them off our skin.

"So what instrument do you play?" Sarah asked, nailing a big mama trying to drink from her elbow.

"None."

She seemed surprised. "I would've sworn you were a musician. You're so . . . you know . . . opinionated about that sort of thing."

"I love music," I said. "Other people's music. I have zero desire to write or perform my own."

"Why's that?"

I couldn't tell her the real answer, which featured my father the junkie, so I shrugged and said, "Because then it would be too much like work."

She laughed. "What, are you allergic to work or something?"

"No," I snapped.

If I'd been looking for the perfect way to kill a conversation, that would've been it. Sarah didn't say anything else; she just licked her cone and looked off into the distance. I took a long drag of my root beer float and tried to figure out why talking had come so easily at the pool-and why now it seemed like the hardest thing of all.

I looked Sarah straight in the eye. "I have to go to summer school because I failed English. That's why I'm not working this summer." I slapped at yet another mosquito on the back of my neck.

"So what?" she said with a shrug. "Lots of people have to go to summer school. h.e.l.l, I probably would've failed precalc if my teacher hadn't been a perv or I'd flashed him a little less leg." She grinned. "Besides, working is overrated. I prefer playtime myself."

Nice.

I was staring at the little dribbles of melted ice cream that kept falling onto her wrist when Sarah thrust the dregs of her cone at me. "You want this?"

"That's okay."

She popped up and dumped it into the trash. When she returned, she sat on the edge of the table and rested her feet next to me on the bench.

I chuckled. "You know, I would've pegged you as an honor student. You seem really . . . smart."

"I do okay," she said. "I could do better, though, if I cared enough. But my parents have made it clear that they'll only pay for college if I go to Delaware and live at home instead of the dorms. It's not much of an incentive."

At least your parents can afford college, I thought.

"So what about you?" Sarah asked. "Got any post-high-school plans?"

"Not really. My mom's pushing for me to go to school, but I don't know. My brother, Jesse, is the genius in the family. He can read something once and remember it forever. Me, I could read the same thing fifty times and it still wouldn't stick."

"I know what you mean," she said. "It's like my brain is this blank tape, right? I can record a bunch of stuff on it-dates, formulas, whatever-but then as soon as I've taken the test, it's gone. I never feel like I'm actually learning anything, except maybe how to take tests."

I couldn't take my eyes off her. It was as if she had morphed right before my eyes, turning back into the girl who'd told me she wanted to live in a song. I wanted to say something truly profound in response, but I had lost the ability to form complete sentences.

"So what are you doing on the Fourth?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "We usually end up at the Riverfront. Sea gets off on the medley they play during the fireworks-you know, all those I-heart-America tunes. Taps into her inner cheese, I suppose."

"How would you like to do something different this year?"

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, trying to suppress a grin.

She smiled. "My family hosts this ma.s.sive pool party cookout every Fourth of July. They even hire caterers to set up a spit and roast a whole pig, head and all."

"Wow," I said. "Sounds gruesome."

"Yeah, I guess. So what do you think? I mean, I can't offer you a cheesy medley and fireworks, but my dad usually plays the Beach Boys' entire catalog, and my uncle Phil brings cartons of smuggled sparklers. Plus, there's the pool, and my parents don't mind if my friends have a couple beers, as long as they hand over their keys when they get to the house."

"All that and Hog-on-a-Stick? How can anyone refuse that?"

"So you'll come, then?" Her voice was sweet and clear, like honey.

I wanted to say yes-this was exactly the kind of in I'd been waiting for-but I couldn't help wondering what the crowd would be like. "Who else is going? Anyone I'd know?"

"Kristen Seltzer-she's my best friend-and most of the girls we hang out with: Jaime Black, Kate Cotillo, Erin Blair. But they go to New Castle Baptist with me, so I don't think you'd know them."

"No."

She continued to reel off names of people I'd never heard of or even run into, even though half of them were from Haley. It was a big school, but not that big. It made me feel like I'd been sleeping through the past three years.

"What about Boyfriend?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Duncan," she said flatly. "No. No, he's not. He was supposed to come, but apparently he's got double sessions at soccer camp. Says he can't skip out because the guys would rag on him too hard."

More trouble in paradise? The night was getting better by the second.

"Oh well," she said. "At least I know where I rank, right?"

Again, I searched for the right words, but the only thing that came out was "Okay, sure. I'll be there."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Excellent," she said. "You should bring your brother. I'd like to meet him. Your sister, too, if you want."

Her smile was warm, s.e.xy. It helped me block out thoughts of the trouble I knew Sea would probably cause if she went to Sarah's party.

Sarah bent over so that her head was closer to mine, giving me a clear view down her bathing suit. What did she want from me? I'd misinterpreted so many signals from her already that I couldn't decide whether or not to make a move.

Finally, she whispered, "If I told you that I wanted you to kiss me, would you do it?"

Before I could answer, her lips had already made contact.

seattle.

Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide.

Scott and I drove around for hours. We didn't even talk most of the time; we just listened to the radio. The music and the motion of the car were soothing, and I was grateful for the silence.

Eventually, though, we had to head back to New Castle. Scott wanted to drive me to my house, but I was worried that Layla would be sitting on the front stoop, ready to pounce. I told him I would walk home from Russ's, but then he wanted to walk with me. Finally, I had to come right out and say it: "You can't be at my house. Not right now."

The compromise was that he'd drop me off a block away and watch from the street until I got inside. But the closer we got, the sicker I felt. There were too many people waiting for me in there, and memories I'd tried so hard to block out.

As the car idled, Scott said, "I'll need a couple days to get your board ready."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be beautiful, though. I promise."

A surge of grat.i.tude shot through my body. "Hey, thank you. I mean, really. Thanks."

He smiled. "Thank me when I give it to you."

Scott was stroking the side of my face, looking so deep into my eyes that I got that naked feeling again. What was wrong with me? This was the kind of moment girls were supposed to dream about, but there I was, fighting hard not to pull away.

"I'll see you later," I said, and scrambled out of the car before he could lean in for a goodnight kiss.

Why Ask Why?

I'd barely walked through the door when I heard Layla growl, "Where the h.e.l.l have you been?"

I swallowed hard and said, "Out."

That was when all h.e.l.l broke loose.

It was one of the loudest, most effective guilt trips Layla had ever delivered-a voyage spiked with obscenities that shocked even me. She screamed so hard and so long that even Jesse got alarmed; instead of weathering the storm in the shelter of our room, he came downstairs to try to calm her down. It was an unwelcome gesture. Layla shook Jesse's arm off her shoulder and shouted, "Stay out of it!" As for me, I just stood there, absorbing her wrath.

Finally, Layla was all screamed out. She sat on the bottom step and started to cry. If anyone in the world was less of a crier than me, it was Layla. Watching her lose it sent me over the edge again. I felt myself starting to shake, just a little at first, until all the things building inside me started to spew out: "How can you yell at me when this is your fault? I told you I didn't want to talk to him-but you made me! Why did you do that?" When she didn't answer, I continued, "You think you know what's best for me, but you don't. You don't know what I think. What I feel. Not when it comes to him."

She lifted her head and stared straight at me. "So why don't you tell me, then?"

"I hate him!" I howled. "He abandoned me-abandoned all of us. I hate him for that, and you will never make me understand why you don't hate him too. For Christ's sake, Layla, all you've done for the past six years is take care of his mistakes-me included."

Jesse cut in. "Sea, stop."

"I won't," I said, never taking my eyes off Layla. "You know it's true. How many times are you going to let this man screw us over? I don't know what's worse- you taking it from him or asking me to."

"That's not what this is about," Layla said wearily.

"All I know is that you're the reason he's here. You. He wouldn't even have known how to find us if you hadn't drawn him the map. And now he's here, and the two of you want me to let him play daddy- as if none of it ever happened. But I can't do that, Layla! It's not my fault he's all kinds of crazy, and it's not my fault that he didn't love me enough to stick around."

I'd barely gotten that last sentence out when I realized why Jesse had been telling me to shut up earlier.

Frank walked in from the kitchen, a bottle of beer clutched tightly in his hand. "Is that what you really think?" he asked.

I was too stunned to answer.

"I didn't come back here to play daddy. I came back because no matter how big a mess I made of my life- and trust me, it's bigger than you know-I always knew there was at least one thing I did right: you. I just wanted the chance to know you, Seattle. That's all." He handed Layla his beer. "I'm taking off now."

"Frank-no."

"This was a mistake," he said. "I shouldn't have come back here." He mumbled an apology in my direction and was out the door before I knew what had hit me.

None of us said a word, but I could feel both Layla's and Jesse's eyes glued on me, to see what I might do or say next. When I couldn't take the silence any longer, I said, "Well, I'm glad that's finally over." Then I ran up to my room, locked the door behind me, and cried myself senseless.

critter.

Crazy About Her.

Sarah dropped me off at my car around twelve-thirty, and we kissed a little more before saying good night.

"I probably won't get to talk to you before Sunday," she said. "It's going to be pretty crazy the next few days, helping my parents get ready for the party and all."

"Sure," I said. "I won't take it personally."

What I did take personally was the kissing, which was beyond hot. So much for Duncan Mackenzie. I had a feeling she'd be dropping his jock a.s.s the first chance she got.

Driving home, I listened to Lynyrd Skynyrd on the eight-track, singing "Simple Man" at the top of my lungs. Everything was falling into place with Sarah and it felt amazing. So amazing that I'd forgotten to worry about the fact that I'd pretty much stolen Layla's car, not to mention her ATM card and forty bucks.

I cut the Cougar's lights as I rolled onto our street. It was after one and the house was completely dark. Hopefully that meant everyone was asleep. They were-except instead of nestling in his own bed, Jesse was sleeping soundly in mine.

It took me a few tries to get him up. When I did, he told me that Sea had locked him out of their room. Then he told me about the showdown between her, Layla, and Frank.

"But the thing that really threw her over the edge," Jesse said, "was you."

"Me? What did I do now?"