"Went on a date with the pool bunny."

I could've killed him.

"She figured it out," Jess explained. "When you weren't here and I was. She knew."

"Great," I said. "Beautiful."

"I tried to get her to talk, but it's not the same with me, you know? You were the one she wanted."

I nodded; we both knew it was true. "So is she okay now?"

"I don't know," he said. "Want me to see if the door's still locked?"

He did and it was. When he returned, he asked me if Sea and I had ever really talked about Frank.

"No," I said. "Not that it surprises me. I mean, you and I never talk about Dad."

"I think about him, though," Jesse said quietly. "I think about him a lot, actually."

"So how come you never said anything?"

"What's there to say? 'Gee, it really sucks that my father was a loser who ran off before I was out of diapers.' You know, when he died, I didn't feel anything. How could I? I never even knew him."

I nodded. "I didn't know him much better than you did."

"Yeah, but at least you have memories. All I've got is a single Polaroid of him holding me when I was still covered in birth slime."

"Jess, man-I had no idea."

"Whatever." He folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "Don't act like I'm all wounded. Truth is, if he hadn't run off, Mom wouldn't have hooked up with Frank, and you and I wouldn't have a sister."

"Good point."

"Not to change the subject," Jesse said, "but you're going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow."

"Because of the money?"

"No, because of the car," he said, looking confused. "What money?"

"Never mind."

"Hey," he said, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "What money? My money?"

I shook my head. "I took Layla's ATM card. I used it to get the money for my date."

Jesse's jaw dropped. "Why would you do that?"

"Don't start with me," I said. "You weren't here, she took off with Frank, and I needed cash."

"So you just stole it?"

"No. I mean, okay, yes. Temporarily. But I'll take the money you were going to lend me and deposit it back in tomorrow. It'll look like a bank error."

"And what if I don't lend you the money now?"

"Come on, Jess," I said. "Do you want to watch Layla lose it completely?"

He glared at me. "I already did."

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"You," he said. "I'm tired of having to take care of your sorry a.s.s."

"Cry me a river," I shot back.

"Screw you." After some more glaring, he added, "I gotta work at six tomorrow. Since I don't have access to my own bed, I'm taking yours. You can sleep on the couch."

"What makes you think you can kick me out of my room?"

"Oh, I'm guessing my forty dollars can buy me a night's rest."

There was no point in arguing. "Fine," I said. "But make sure I have it in hand before you leave."

Once I hit the couch, I couldn't sleep. Thinking about Sarah soothed me. Everything about her was soft-her hair, her cheeks, her lips. Even her fingers were free of hangnails and paper cuts. It was like making out with a big stick of b.u.t.ter.

Keeping her on the brain, and forcing out thoughts of anything and anyone else, I eventually drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Hard Lesson to Learn.

When I woke up the next morning, there was a note from Jesse pinned to the front of my shirt, saying that he'd take care of "it" on his mid-morning break and that I owed him "huge." In the kitchen I found another note, this one from Layla, taped to the fridge. It read "Say goodbye to your car privileges. We'll talk when I get home."

After a stretch, a yawn, and a scratch, I made breakfast: untoasted strawberry-flavored Pop-Tarts and a mug of c.o.ke. As I ate, I thought about Sarah's party. After what Jesse had told me, I knew there was no way I could bring Sea with me. I had a feeling this party would be my audition for a full-access pa.s.s to Sarah World, and I couldn't let anything jeopardize that.

But I couldn't not invite her, either. Not when she and Jess and I always spent the Fourth together. Layla too, when she wasn't aiming for more overtime.

The only option was to make the party sound as stiff, formal, and dull as possible-make her an offer she would want to refuse.

Sea wandered in a little while later. "Hey," she said sleepily. "I wasn't sure you'd be here."

I let the comment slide; she looked like s.h.i.t and didn't need me heaping on any more. "How are you doing?" I asked. "Jesse told me what went down last night and-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

She grabbed two more packets of Pop-Tarts from the cupboard and tossed me one. "There is something I want to talk to you about, though."

"Yeah?"

"I think I might ask Scott to hang out with us on Sunday. I was telling him about the fireworks at the Riverfront, and how much fun we usually have there, and it seemed like maybe he'd want to go."

Score!

"That's cool," I said. "Sarah's invited us all to a party that night, but I think it's going to be lame. Her dad's a dentist, and you know how boring those dentist types are."

"Hmm."

"Plus," I continued, dunking a piece of Pop-Tart into my c.o.ke, "I think it's a dry party. No alcohol or anything." She shrugged, and I pressed on. "I think Scott would like the Riverfront, though. Especially the fireworks. There won't be any of those at Sarah's party."

Another shrug.

"Yeah, it's going to be a total drag," I said, wondering if I sounded half as desperate as I felt. "I mean, I have to go. She really, really wants me there. But there's no reason you guys can't have a fun Fourth without me."

"If I didn't know any better," Seattle said, "I'd think that you didn't want us at your girlfriend's little get-together."

"Why would you say that?" I asked in my Mr. Innocent voice.

"Oh, cut the c.r.a.p. You don't want me there because I don't like Sarah, and you clearly don't like Scott. So fine. I won't go. Really, I have bigger things to deal with right now."

She buried her head in the fridge and I shrunk into my stool. I'd been so focused on me and Sarah that I'd practically forgotten the stuff that had been going on between her and Frank. I felt like a complete a.s.shole.

"You misunderstood," I said quickly. "Of course I want you there. We always spend the Fourth of July together, right?"

I opened a third packet of Pop-Tarts, crumbled them into a cereal bowl, drowned them in milk, and offered them to Seattle. "Thanks," she said. "I haven't had real food in forever. Scott and I ate at this Indian place last night. It was . . . different."

She spooned some of the Pop-Tart mush into her mouth, looking up like she was testing me for a reaction. So I smiled and said, "Indian, huh?"

"Yeah. It was okay. Some of the stuff was really salty, though. Not in a good way, like the chili cheese fries you make, but pucker-your-mouth salty.

"He's building me a skateboard," she continued. "It's going to be totally rad." She pushed her bowl in my direction, and I dug into her leftover mush. "I had to borrow the money from Jesse," she confessed. "I was thinking I might try to get a job at the skate shop this fall."

I didn't tell her I already knew; no use in selling Jesse out like that. Instead, I said, "That's awesome, Sea. I bet you'd be good working there. You'd make sure those guys gave all the skater girls the respect they deserve."

She laughed, and her whole face lit up. "You know it."

It felt like the tension that had been growing between us was starting to relax, and I didn't want to waste the opportunity. "So you're feeling okay?" I asked, trying to sound casual about it.

"What, you mean about last night?"

I nodded.

She shook her head like she used to when she still had dreads and liked to make them flop in her eyes. And then, as if she realized they were gone, she rubbed her fingers over her peach-fuzzed scalp. "He told me he wanted to know me again. Said that's why he came back. The stupid thing? I want to believe him. I hate that I want to believe him, but I do."

"What's wrong with that, though?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because you know-you know -it's not true. I mean, he probably thinks it is, but it'll be just like before he left for good. You know, when he'd disappear for a week or two, come back begging Layla to forgive him. The minute things get tough he'll be out of here again. Why do I want to put myself through that?"

"I don't know, Sea. Jesse said he looked really devastated last night. Maybe he's really changed this time."

"Maybe."

I opened the last pack of Pop-Tarts and offered one to her, but she shook her head. As I started to nibble on mine, she said, "I think I missed this."

"What?"

"You and me. Talking. There hasn't been a lot of talking lately."

I had to agree with her. "I guess it was bound to happen. You know, when we really started dating."

Her right eyebrow shot up. "So you're dating her now?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I thought she had a boyfriend."

I balled the foil wrapper and shot it into the trash can. "She did. Now she doesn't."

"That's convenient."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "You can date whoever you want."

"Yeah, but why do you hate her so much? It's obvious, you know, how much you hate her."

"Sort of like how you hate Scott?"

"That's different."

"Why?" she demanded. "Because he's a skater? Because he's in college?"

"No," I said, even though both were partly true. "If you want to know the real reason, it's because in less than two months, he's out of here. And I know how well you deal with goodbyes."

I meant it sincerely, but she must've misread something in my voice. "Go to h.e.l.l," she spat, before running upstairs and slamming her bedroom door.

So much for talking.

Ghetto Blaster.