"So where's my sister?"

"Right here," Seattle replied, wandering in from the kitchen. "Is that what you're wearing?"

I took one look at her and almost died. It was my worst fear realized. The right half of her peach-fuzzed scalp had been dyed with stripes of red, so that next to the white-blond tufts tipped in blue they made her head look like the American flag. And it didn't stop there. She'd put on a matching red tube top that made her b.o.o.bs look like they could fall out at any second. She'd paired this with a bright blue cheerleading skirt worn over her jeans, which she'd cuffed about three inches at the bottom. And, what else? A pair of boots that looked remarkably like the ones Skater Boy had strapped on his feet. He put his arm around her protectively.

"You," I said, because I didn't know what else to say.

"Me what?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Jesse came bounding down the stairs then, and all three of us turned to see what sort of costume he'd put on. Thankfully, he was wearing crisp khaki shorts, a fitted navy blue polo shirt, and a pair of loafers. When he hit the bottom step, he took one look at us and burst out laughing.

"Shut up," I said. "And get in the car."

"Don't worry, bro," he said after the laugh had died down to a chuckle. "I'm sure your girlfriend will appreciate the arrival of the freak brigade."

Having a Party.

Sarah's street was so jam-packed with parked SUVs that I had to swing around the corner just to find a spot. It wasn't any hotter than usual, but the back of my hair was soaked in sweat, which I could feel trickling down my neck.

"It's the hat," Jesse said as I was wiping away some of the wetness. "Traps the heat on your head."

I ignored him and started walking toward Sarah's house, which I hadn't counted on being quite so big. It looked three stories tall, faced in real brick and white wood siding, with a choke chain of hedges so perfectly trimmed that Edward Scissorhands himself could have been their gardener.

If Sea hadn't brought Skater Boy, I might've stopped there. I could've said something like, "This scene looks whack. Let's bolt and go to the Riverfront instead." But Skater Boy would know I was wussing out, and I wasn't about to lose face in front of him.

So I kept walking around to the back, where all the noise was coming from.

There were people covering every square inch of green. Women in lawn chairs, drinking out of plastic cups that had paper umbrellas stuck in them. Girls in the pool, riding the shoulders of guys in what looked like a match of water chicken. Men standing around in a circle topped by a cloud of smoke, watching, I guessed, the pig get charbroiled.

The four of us stood there, right inside the gate. This wasn't like any party I'd ever been to. Most of our parties were held in bas.e.m.e.nts, the s.e.x Pistols cranked, couples making out in dark corners, people pa.s.sing beers and cigarettes and the occasional joint. Not this outdoorsy thing, with a white tent shading part of the yard, covering a long row of tables and benches that were set like it was the Last Supper and not some Fourth of July barbecue.

I was the first to spy the huge metal buckets, filled with ice and water, beer bottlenecks peeking out the tops. I made a beeline for them, grabbed a Bud, twisted off the cap, and downed three-quarters of it in one long gulp. It was too much too quick, and the minute after I swallowed, I let out this belch that was so loud, it embarra.s.sed even me. Some dudes in shorts and black kneesocks turned to see the source of the noise, so I grinned and waved and tried to pretend like everything was cool.

Seattle brushed by me to grab a beer of her own, muttering, "So much for the dry party."

I didn't take the bait, deciding my energy was better spent trying to locate Sarah in a sea of golf dads and silky-blond soccer moms. All the kids, I guessed, were either in the pool or near it. I focused my attention there, and sure enough, not thirty seconds later I saw Sarah pulling herself out using the ladder. She was showing more of her skin than I'd ever seen-in real life, anyway-and man, it was a sight to behold, her tanned and toned bod against a white bikini top and flag-patterned swim shorts.

I swatted Jess on the arm and pointed my chin toward Sarah. "That's her," I said.

"Dude," he said.

"Yeah," I said.

"Dude," he said again.

"I told you," I said. "You get it now?"

He nodded without saying another word.

Sarah greeted me with a quick hug, her wet bikini top barely making contact before she pulled away. It didn't stop me from popping an instant b.o.n.e.r, which would have been tragic had I been the kind of person who didn't wear shorts two sizes too big.

The spirit of Rod was surely watching over me.

Sarah turned to Jesse and introduced herself to him. As they shook hands she said, "I've heard a lot about you."

"I've heard a lot about you, too," he said, grinning. "A lot. All good, though, so no worries."

"Really?" Sarah said. She was smiling, but it was the kind of smile you wear to mask something else. Jesse's gushing had probably thrown her off a bit.

Before I could get her away from him, Sarah excused herself to say h.e.l.lo to more guests. She didn't indicate whether I should follow her, so I hesitated. The pause gave me time to hear Sea trying to b.u.m a smoke off one of the nearby golf dads. He was holding a small plate of deviled eggs and there was a pack of Marlboro reds poking out the top pocket of his patriotic-plaid shirt.

"Aren't you a little too young to be smoking?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Aren't you a little too fat to be eating those?" she shot back.

As if on automatic pilot, I grabbed Sea's arm and started dragging her back toward the gate, throwing an "excuse us" over my shoulder almost as an afterthought.

"Get off me," she growled, trying to shake free.

I dug into her arm even harder. "What is your problem?"

"Let go!"

"I will not let you start any trouble here, you got me? So you'd better behave."

"Or what?" she snarled.

"Listen," I said, starting to twist her arm a bit. "I don't know why you hate that girl so much. But you know what? I like her. I like her a lot. And you know what else? She likes me, too. And I'm probably going to sleep with her later tonight, because her G.o.dd.a.m.ned boyfriend was too stupid to leave his jock friends and play escort at this party.

"So if you do anything-anything at all-to screw this up for me . . . I will make you pay."

"Ooh, I'm so scared."

"Good," I said. "You should be."

I threw her arm down and walked away.

seattle.

Bruised.

My first instinct was to grab Scott and get the h.e.l.l out. But my pride was way stronger than Critter's grip, and I knew if I slinked away, he would win. It was all about power, and who had it. If I stayed, I might be able to wrestle some of it back.

So I picked my chin up off my b.o.o.bs, as Layla liked to say, and marched forward. Scott started walking toward me, this concerned Boy Scout look on his face. "What was that all about?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?"

Before I could answer, Jesse grabbed my non-bruised arm and I was dragged away for the second time in five minutes.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Me? What am I doing? Did you see him a.s.sault me?"

Jesse snorted. "Stop antagonizing him. He's only giving you a hard time because you've been so moody lately."

I pulled away from him. "Thanks a lot."

"Come on, Sea. Let's get real, okay? You're acting weird. You have been ever since you guys went to that pool the first time."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Yeah, and . . . ?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining things. But . . . did something happen between you and Critter?"

"What do you mean by 'happen'? We're fighting, that's what happened."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "It's just . . . you guys have been acting really off. Like, jealous and possessive of each other. More like-"

"Like what?" I demanded.

Jesse sighed. "Never mind."

I stomped back over to Scott, so p.i.s.sed off that I could actually feel the scowl stamped on my face.

"Seattle," he said. Just my name, nothing else-but his voice was so tender. If I had been a weaker person, it might have made me break.

"What?" I snapped.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on!" I said. "I'm just hungry. Jesus. Aren't you hungry?"

He didn't answer me; he only kept giving me that concerned look of his.

"Well, I am," I said. "I'm famished."

He didn't look completely convinced, but he definitely seemed less concerned. "Okay, let's get some food."

There were all these food stations scattered across the yard. One for finger food, another for lemonade and punch, and another that was a full-on bar, surrounded by these giant tubs of beers. It was like something you'd see in a magazine. Plus, there were flags everywhere. Fabric flags, plastic flags, flags pinned on a circus tent they had set up in one corner like a mess hall. And there were Survivor tiki torches planted throughout, each one gussied up with a stars-and-stripes ribbon bow. There were even these totally tacky flag-patterned pinwheels marking a path toward the circus tent/mess hall. Not to mention the people. Almost all of them had on those flag T-shirts that Old Navy and the Gap hawked each year. Literally flags as far as the eye could see.

When we reached the finger food station, Scott said, "Oh, excellent-they have crudites."

"Crew-da-what?"

"Crudites," he repeated, smiling. Then he leaned in, like he was about to share a state secret, and stage-whispered, "It's a fancy word for raw vegetables." He grabbed a baby carrot, chomped down on it, and gave me a wink.

We filled our flag plates with more crudites, some of those deviled eggs I saw the fat guy eating earlier, and fruit kabobs. Then we walked over to a willow tree in the far back corner of the yard and took a seat under it. Scott swirled a piece of cauliflower into some green dip he'd spooned on his plate, and I watched his mouth as he ate it.

"Do you want to try some?" he asked.

"Sure."

He dunked a fresh piece of cauliflower into the green goop and held it up to my mouth. It surprised me, him trying to feed me, so at first I didn't do anything; I just sat there like some kind of idiot.

"Go on," he said. "It's pretty good."

I took the chunk and my lips brushed his fingers. Hot sparks flowed throughout my entire bod. Somehow cauliflower dipped in green goop had just become about the s.e.xiest thing going. I swallowed hard.

"Are we ever gonna do it?" I blurted out.

"Do what?"

"You know," I said. "It."

"Oh," Scott said. "I don't know, are we?"

"You tell me."

His eyebrows bunched up some, like he was deep in thought, and he set his plate aside. "You know," he said after a while. "This is the second time you've propositioned me for s.e.x."

"And it's the second time you've acted like you don't want to sleep with me."

"Seattle," he said, in the meat-tenderizer voice. "Of course I want to sleep with you."

"So what's the problem?"

Scott sighed. "I don't think it's the right time."

"I didn't know there could be a wrong time for boys," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "Maybe it's more like I'm the wrong person."

"No," he said. "That's not it at all."

I looked away. "Whatever."

Scott's lips brushed my shoulder, giving me gooseflesh all over. He leaned into my ear real close and said softly, "Will you at least let me explain?" I nodded, and when his right hand crawled over to my left one, I let him lace his fingers through mine.

"I didn't want to tell you until after the party," he began, "but I got this message when I was out with you the other day. The thing is there's a really good possibility that I'll have to go home sooner than I thought."