But I said, "Of course he did."

He did, huh? Your hard-bodied, dark-haired dream boy did this?

So then I had to tell her everything.

Except I left out about the monster.

Well, I hope that's the only infection he gave you, in love or no.

So then I got my back up. Played defense to her quarterback sneak.

No need to get your back up.

I was just kidding, and of course girls can carry STDs too.

So then Bree felt much better, while Kristina felt really bad.

I know you're sorry. No worries.

Let's chalk it up to jet lag.

Brain Lag

described it better, synapses quieting, gray matter shutting down, except the pain center part, Leigh's elementary nursing-alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and a dab of Neosporin-had only managed to make the aching mess hurt even more, although she probably killed off a germ or two.

At least, lost in the center of my bed, I didn't have to wear jeans or jammies or even panties.

Naked, in that cool tangle of cotton sheets, I felt myself slip far, far away, deep beneath an indigo ocean. Down, down, into a silent, lightless land, and there, in the darkness I found my Adam.

Funny thing, your brain, how it always functions on one level or another. How, even stuck in some sort of subconscious limbo, it works your lungs, your muscle twitches, your heart; in fact, in symphony with your heart, allowing it to feel love. Pain. Jealousy. Guilt. I wonder if it's the same for people, lost in comas. Is there really such a thing as brain death?

Silence

shook me awake.

I groped into consciousness room dark, blinds closed, shadows undulating in air-conditioned waves.

Midday, I thought, house emptied of people, of pets, of life, n.o.body home.

Just me for company, no one demanding conversation or explanations.

I was alone, and I liked it that way.

On the Nightstand

I found a prescription bottle and three notes.

The first was from Leigh: Had some antibiotics I forgot to finish.

You won't get a whole treatment, but they haven't expired. Not the way you're supposed to do it, but couldn't hurt!

The second was from Mom: Your father called to make sure you made it home okay. You are okay, aren't you?

I told him everything was fine.

It is fine, isn't it?

The third was from Jake: Some guy named Adam called. At least I think his name was Adam. He also said Buddy? First he asked for Bree, then changed it to Kristina. Who's Bree?

Good question.

I Went Straight for the Phone

dialed Adam's number, forgetting the area code was different.

Got some creep's cell phone by mistake, and asked for the man of my dreams.

Don't think I know him, but if you talk real dirty, I can fake it.

Bree giggled. Kristina wanted to puke, thanked him anyway, tried again.

Head dizzy, hands shaky, 505 area code inserted correctly, I got his mom.

Buddy's at the hospital. Lince opened her eyes today.

I'll tell him you called.

Kristina felt relief. Bree felt rage and a burning desire for a couple of lines. I thought about the one time I actually sat down and talked to Adam's mom.

Tough thing for two boys when their daddy turns his back on 'em.

Turned his back, packed a bag and hit the highway. Left his family, broke, in a lousy two-bedroom walk-up.

Never said "bye," let alone "sorry."

Sorry speed freak. Least I got to wear my face minus bruises and swollen eyes.

Finally without tears, until her oldest son died, shootin'

speedb.a.l.l.s- just enough meth to stay wide awake for the heroin wild ride over the brink.

Michael took after his dad.

Never too much, never enough of goin' right out of his head.

What did that make Adam?

Watching his dad choose the monster, seeing his brother lie down for the demon, how could he want to party too?

Buddy's all I've got left. I pray to the good Lord he makes better decisions.

And, knowing all these things, perhaps more intimately than I ought to, what did that make me?

I thought about praying too.

Changed

The Phone, Still in My Hand, Rang

I jumped, like a bee had just given me a nasty h.e.l.lo.

I returned the favor with a totally foul, "Yessss?"

(Then thought, jeez, what if it's Adam?) Hey, Kristina. It's Sarah.

How are you? How was your trip? Tell me all about it!

How was your dad? Sweet?

Did you meet any cute boys?

Sarah-my best friend since 4th grade. Crazy smart, pretty in an Irish sort of way, with embarra.s.sing freckles and wicked red hair she was forever trying to tame.

Was is hot down there?

It's been miserable here!

Did your dad have a pool?

Did you get a tan?

What did you do for fun?

What could I tell her?

How much did I dare?

That is, if she ever gave me a chance to talk.

How much did she really want to know?

Did you do any shopping? I already got school clothes.

What did you do for the 4th of July? We went up to Virginia City.

What day was today? The 10th!

Dad never said a word about fireworks.

The 4th of July had slipped on past, with me held fast in the grip of the monster.

We're going camping.

Want to come? My mom said it's okay. I hate to spend a whole week, alone with my parents and little sister.