At least, not for a while. Not until the current cycle is well out of my system. You're lucky you didn't get busted when they did all that blood work, he said. You get busted, I get busted. You've got a big mouth.

I figure I'll finish up what I've got left and dry out for a while.

See if lifting alone will keep the ol' bat hot. And hopefully leave GBME kicking in my dust.

As For The Big Mouth I struggle with that. Right now, seeing Cara down the hall at her locker, it's all I can do not to shout something obscene.

Don't want to risk a cell, though. And now I've got Aubree to keep me in line.

She's a little like taffy- all pliable and chewy and sticky sweet. Except she's really not sweet at all. She can be one s.h.i.t-talking, backstabbing girl. And in fact, it was she who spread those pics of Cara across the ether. When I asked her why she wanted to ruin a supposed friend's reputation, she told me, Cara only acts like she's your friend. She'd never have your back if it meant offering up her own.

I don't know if that's exactly accurate, but now that I think about it, Cara doesn't really have friends. Lots of people hang around her, but I'm not sure how many of them liked her, even before they knew she was a d.y.k.e. Too bad, so sad. I'm not sure how many people really like Aubree, either. She's kind of stuck-up.

But she's a fine little piece of distraction right now.

And with her being the one to keep the pressure on Cara, I don't have to. She texts her sometimes, using stolen cell phones, so the messages can't be traced back to her.

Or me. Hey, I don't ask her to.

Cara Knows Aubree and I are kind of a thing.

Not like we try to hide it. Aubree flaunts it, especially when Cara is in clear sight. Like now. We have to walk right by her to get to cla.s.s. I cinch my arm around Aubree's waist, and she tucks her head against my shoulder.

"You're coming to the game today, right?" I kiss her forehead.

You know I wouldn't miss it. I love watching you play.

Hit a home run, I'll give you a special reward. She runs her hand down over my crotch, leaving no room for speculation about what kind of reward she has in mind. I glance at Cara, who quickly turns her face away. But she saw.

That gives me some strange satisfaction. All things considered, Cara shouldn't give a d.a.m.n. So what compels me to say, loudly enough so that she (and everyone else nearby) can hear, "b.l.o.w. .j.o.b for one homer. All the way in for two. Deal?"

People are waiting for her answer. And when it comes, it's all Aubree. Deal. As long as it doesn't turn me into a Les. Bi. An.

Totally directed at Cara, who shoves her face into her locker. "No worries.

I happen to know gay. You're not." Laughter echoes down the corridor, and I almost feel sorry for Cara. But not quite.

The Rumor Hits Full Force By lunchtime. It's pa.s.sed on to me by (who else?) Aubree.

Did you hear what happened to Jenna Mathieson? Some guy raped her. Cut her up, too.

"Kendra's sister?" Pretty little thing, all flesh and curves, usually sneaking out of her clothes.

Can't say it's a total surprise.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

I heard she was hanging outside of Safeway, b.u.mming beer, and he forced her into his car.

Guess it was pretty ugly. A jogger heard her screaming and banged on the window, or she might be dead now. G.o.d, do you know what he did?She goes on to give me a hideous description of all the ways rape can be done.

See what you missed, whispers GBME. You could have tried ...

I force myself not to engage him. Last thing I need is Aubree thinking I'm a whack job too.

She won't be back at school this year,Aubree finishes.

Someone said it took over five hundred st.i.tches to close up all the wounds. G.o.d. The scars!

That's what rape is. Not what happened with Cara. She wanted ...

You mean she asked for it, says GBME. But you think Jenna asked for it too. Just in a different way.

"Shut the f.u.c.k up!" I yell.

What? demands Aubree.

"No. Not you. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to ... never mind." What have I done now?

GBME: You really need to stop yelling at yourself. People think ...

It's obvious what Aubree thinks.

Are you nuts or what? But then she smiles. I kind of like crazy guys. They're hot. Come here.

She kisses me, and it's totally hot, and if that makes her crazy, I kind of like it too. I am so hitting a couple of home runs.

I just hope I can claim my reward without GBME giving commentary.

Andre

Crazy To dream of her still.

To wake, shivering desire, and wonder if she is dreaming of you, despite all odds.

Crazy, waiting for her return, when you were the one who walked away. Pushed through the pain. Spring days are growing longer, reaching for summer. What plans you made for elastic afternoons, stretched long to lean against moon-shadowed evenings.

Crazy, remembering how her smile thawed your winter heart, when what you must do to salvage your sanity is forget her.

What Have You Done?

Tempted fate once too often. Tempted the wrong man. Dangled your bait in the wrong place, and the wrong fish took it right off the hook. Oh, Jenna!

Why couldn't I save you?

Why couldn't I make you love me enough?

You lie here, sleeping. The bandages can't hope to hide all the damage to your face. But it will heal eventually.

I wish I could be that optimistic about your heart. I want to touch you, but I'm afraid even the slightest caress will cause you pain. I close my eyes, lay my head on the bed next to you. The sheets smell of bleach. But lingering beneath the Clorox is a faint scent of rot.

Is it from your bloated wounds? Or is it decomposing dreams?

As If Hearing My Thoughts She stirs. Her fingers test my hair, recognize it. Hey. Her voice is raspy. Thanks for coming.

I lift my head, look into the slits where her eyes must be. "Welcome.

Just so you know, you look like c.r.a.p."

Better than how I feel, then. Guess you know what happen ... the rest is swallowed by a coughing fit. "Stop talking for once in your life, would you?

Yes, I know what happened. I'm sorry."

I should h-have l-listened ... and now she's crying, at least I'm pretty sure she is. It's hard to tell.

"Doesn't matter now. What's done is done, as my grandma Grace always used to say." The thought of her, overseeing my childhood, sears my heart almost as much as seeing Jenna like this does. "Listen, now.

First things first...." Another Grace-ism.

"You heal up. Once all those st.i.tches come out, my mom wants to see you. She's a regular wizard, you know.

Making girls beautiful is what she does best. You can skip the b.o.o.b job, though. Yours are perfect, as is." I stand.

"I should probably go now.

Let you rest. I'll come see you again soon."

W-wait. You never told me about your audition. Wha-what happened? Are you going to Vegas?

I Sit Back Down "Okay, I'll tell you the story, but only if you're positive you want to hear it, and only if it won't make you too tired." She gestures for me to go on. "The show isn't quite the cattle call that some of them are.

They solicit auditions from some of the best dance studios in the country.

Which means it's extremely compet.i.tive.

Liana ch.o.r.eographed an amazing routine for Shantell and me.

We aren't going to Vegas-yet. But we have been called back for a second audition.

Out of five thousand dancers, we are in the top one hundred.

Our next audition is in Los Angeles in three weeks. Liana thinks both Shantell and I have a decent shot."

Jenna does her best to touch my hand. I'm re-really happy for you.

Know what I think? That you're going to Vegas. Kn-know wh-what else? I'm glad you have the guts to go for your dream. All the talking is tiring her.

"Tell you what. If I make the top ten, I'll make sure you have tickets."

I whisper-kiss her forehead. "And don't worry.

Jazz isn't nearly as boring as ballet." Her eyes close, and I think she must be asleep again, so I start to leave.

Psst, she says, eyes still closed. Know what's bad here? No alcohol.

But know what's good? Killer drugs.

What I Didn't Tell Her Is that I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going down for that second audition. One of the judges, this brilliant Broadway ch.o.r.eographer, totally loved me, at least it seemed that way. He gushed about technique, and when he found out I've only been training for a relatively short while, called me one of the greatest natural talents he's ever seen. Not sure if that was meant for the camera or for real, but I may have a very good chance of finishing in the top twenty. Which means they'd want me to do the TV show.

Just appearing on Now This Is Dance almost guarantees work, and I'm just not sure that dance can take me where I want to go. Liana says don't even worry about all that yet. You're awfully full of yourself, aren't you?

was actually what she said. You haven't even made it past the second audition, and you're already worrying about how to spend your prize money and organize your tour schedule?

One step at a time, Andre. Now, let's work on that solo.

Prize money wasn't even on my radar.

Maybe because I never expected to get this close. Shantell, however, was not surprised. G.o.d, Andre. What did I tell you? When some snooty ch.o.r.eographer says you've got an incredible natural talent, you get all excited, but when I told you the same thing, you thought I was blowing smoke?

You have to do this. It's a once-in-a lifetime opportunity, and if you don't, I swear you will be sorry. You can always go to college, but if you decide to leave dance behind in favor of school, you may never come back to it. You'll end up in some dull career, with a bucket full of regrets.

Shantell wouldn't dream of not going for it, whatever the outcome on the far end. Maybe that's what I'm really worried about. Not winning.

Not succeeding. I've never failed at anything. Except Jenna.

She's Sleeping Now Off someplace too deep to dream in, thanks to the morphine drip fed into one of her veins. Good drugs, indeed.

I wonder if this girl can be saved, and why she won't save herself.

"I love you, Jenna." I know she can't hear me, and maybe that's for the best. "Bye, baby."

One thing I do know is that I can't watch her self-destruct anymore.

I glance at the big clock on the wall. Almost two. I've got a lesson at three. With Shantell, who will be after me to make a decision. G.o.d, hospitals stink.

All the cleaning they do can't erase the dirt of sickness and death.

I don't look into open doors as I head for the elevator. Don't want to consider what's on the other side. Instead I look down, counting tiles until I reach the bank of elevators.

Just as I get there, a set of doors opens, and who walks out of them but Kendra.