Part 32 (1/2)

He laughs. The sun comes out from behind the cloud. ”Come on, cheeky,” he says. I tug the bottom of my shorts and join him to walk down the sidewalk to his old truck. He opens the pa.s.senger door. It feels like a date. He stands, holding it and waiting for me to climb in.

”Uh. I can get in on my own,” I tell him, worried stepping up in front of him will expose way too much of my rear end. He already thinks I'm an a.s.s- I don't have to show it to him. I make a quick decision. ”Wait,” I say.

He stares down at me, still holding the door.

”Are you in a rush? Can you wait while I go and change?”

He shakes his head. ”Uh. No. Not if you want to. But you don't have to. You look fine to me.”

”I want to.”

He steps back and holds out his hand. I pull down my shorts again and run back toward my house. ”I'll just be a minute,” I call.

I run into the house, past my mom and brothers sitting in the living room. Mom is sipping from a wine gla.s.s. I stop and glare at her. She puts the gla.s.s down on the table beside her.

”You sure you should be drinking that?” I can't help asking.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r ”Don't judge,” Josh says. He's got a bottle of beer in his hand.

”She's allowed one gla.s.s a day.”

I shake my head and start walking down the hallway.

”What're you doing?” Jake calls.

”Changing,” I yell and open the door to my room and go inside.

”Into a nicer person?” I hear Josh say, but I ignore him and close my door behind me.

I hurry to my closet and stand in front of it, staring at a sundress hanging in the middle. It's never been worn. It's so pretty, with greens and blues. I bought it with Lexi last year. On sale. We were going to wear the sundresses to a dance. And then the video went viral, she stopped talking to me, and I stayed home from the dance.

I've been saving it for a new special occasion. I take a deep breath.

This is it.

I pull off my dirty shorts and T- s.h.i.+rt and chuck them on the floor beside my bed. I carefully remove the dress from the hanger and pull it over my head. Then I slide on a pair of sandals that are on the floor of my closet, go to my dresser, and take two seconds to finger comb my messy hair. There's permanent frizz in it from the damp air, so I fluff with my fingers, decide I don't have time for makeup, and sigh.

I run back in the hallway, past the living room.

”Hey,” Jake calls. ”Where you going in a dress?” He stands up and follows me to the front door. I bend down to dig through the backpack I left there, grab my purse, and shove my phone inside.

”Was that a boy out there?” my mom asks from where she's sit- ting in the living room. I hear hope in her voice and frown.

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sixteenthings.indd 222 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e ”Seriously?” I force myself to look at her.

”You look pretty,” she says softly.

I press my lips together, say nothing, and turn away.

”We're going to take Mom to a movie,” Jake says, ”if you come back later and we're not home.”

Do they think I'm over this? That all is forgiven?

I reach for the door. ”Fine,” I tell him. ”I think I can handle it.”

”You going out with a boy?” Jake asks.

”Yes.” Without saying bye, I run out the door, trotting up the driveway and up the sidewalk to Adam's truck. He's sitting inside, so I climb in and put on my seat belt.

Adam turns the volume b.u.t.ton down on the radio. ”Wow,” he says. ”You look like a real girl.”

”As opposed to a fake girl?” I say.

”No. A real girl. Real pretty.”

I make an embarra.s.sing scoffing sound and realize how transpar- ent I am, trying to impress him with a dress.

”I like it,” he says.

I dip my head to hide my smile and force myself to say what I'm thinking. ”You look nice too.”

He revs up the truck and pulls out on the street.

”So, you want to go somewhere in particular?” he asks.

My tongue's suddenly thick and I shake my head.

”How about I drive for a while?”

”Sure.”

”So,” he asks after we pull out of my neighborhood and onto the main road, ”how'd it go with your mom?”

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sixteenthings.indd 223 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r ”Probably about how you think.” I glance out the window as we pa.s.s by a row of lavender trees. I press the b.u.t.ton to unroll my window and inhale the scent. ”I love that smell. Lavender.”

Adam doesn't respond.

I press the window closed and sigh. ”There was screaming. And tears. But that was from my mom.”