Crank
      Ellen Hopkins

            DEDICATION
          
          This book is dedicated to my family, and all families whose lives have been touched by the monster.
          With special thanks to Lin Oliver and Steve Mooser and their wonderful SCBWI, which guided my way.
          * * *

          
            AUTHOR'S NOTE
          
          While this work is fiction, it is loosely based on a very true story--my daughter's. The monster did touch her life, and the lives of her family. My family. It is hard to watch someone you love fall so deeply under the spell of a substance that turns him or her into a stranger. Someone you don't even want to know.
          Nothing in this story is impossible. Much of it happened to us, or to families like ours. Many of the characters are composites of real people. If they ring true, they should. The "baby" at the end of the book is now seven years old, and my husband and I have adopted him. He is thriving now, but it took a lot of extra love.
          If this story speaks to you, I have accomplished what I set out to do. Crank is, indeed, a monster--one that is tough to leave behind once you invite it into your life. Think twice. Then think again.

Flirtin' with the Monster
          
          Life was good before I
          met the monster.
          * *
          After, life was great.
          * *
          At
          least for a little while.

        
          
            Introduction
          
          So you want to know all about me. Who
          I am.
          * *
          What chance meeting of brush and canvas painted the face
          you see? What made
          me despise the girl in the mirror
          enough to transform her, turn her into a stranger, only not.
          * *
          So you want to hear the whole story. Why
          I swerved off the high road, hard left to nowhere, recklessly
          indifferent to those
          coughing my dust, picked up speed
          3
          no limits, no top end, just a high velocity rush to madness.
          4

          
            Alone
          
          everything changes.
          Some might call it distorted reality, but it's exactly the place I need to be:
          * *
          no mom,
          Marie, ever more distant, in her midlife quest for fame
          * *
          no stepfather,
          Scott, stern and heavy-handed with unattainable expectations
          * *
          no big sister,
          Leigh, caught up in a tempest of uncertain sexuality
          * *
          no little brother,
          Jake, spoiled and shameless in his thievery of my niche.
          * *
          Alone,
          * *
          there is only the person inside.
          I've grown to like her better than the stuck-up husk of me. She's
          5
          not quite silent, shouts obscenities just because they roll so well off the tongue
          * *
          not quite straight-A, but talented in oh-so-many
          enviable ways
          * *
          not quite sanitary, farts with gusto, picks her nose, spits like a guy
          * *
          
            not quite sane, sometimes, to tell you the truth, even
            I
            wonder about her.
          
          * *
          Alone,
          * *
          there is no perfect daughter, no gifted high-school junior, no Kristina Georgia Snow.
          * *
          There is only Bree.
          6

          
            On
            Bree
          
          I suppose
          she's always been there, vague as a soft
          copper pulse of moonlight through blossoming seacoast
          fog.
          * *
          I wonder
          when I first noticed
          her, slipping in and out of my pores, hide-and-seek
          spider in fieldstone, red-bellied
          phantom.
          * *
          I summon
          Bree when dreams
          no longer satisfy, when
          gentle clouds of monotony
          smother thunder, when Kristina
          cries.
          7
          I remember the night I first
          let her go, opened the smeared glass, one thin pane, cellophane between rules and sin, freed.
          8

          
            More on
            Bree
          
          Spare me
          those Psych '01 labels,
          I'm no more schizo than most.
          * *
          Bree is no imaginary playmate, no overactive pituitary, no alter ego, moving in.
          Hers is the face I wear, treading the riptide, fathomless oceans where
          good girls drown.
          * *
          Besides, even good girls have secrets, ones even their best friends must guess.
          9
          Who do
          they turn to on lonely
          moon-shadowed sidewalks?
          I'd love to hear them confess:
          Who do they become when
          night descends, a cool puff of smoke, and vampires come out to party?
          10

          
            My
            Mom Will Tell You
          
          it started with a court-ordered visit.
          
            The judge had a God complex.
          
          I guess for once she's right.
          Was it just last summer?
          
            He started an avalanche.
          
          My mom enjoys discussing her daughter's downhill slide.
          
            It swallowed her whole.
          
          I still wore pleated skirts, lipgloss.
          Crooked bangs defined my style.
          
            Could I have saved her?
          
          My mom often outlines her first
          marriage, its bitter amen. Interested?
          
            I
            was too young, clueless.
          
          I hadn't seen Dad in eight years.
          No calls. No cards. No presents.
          
            He was a self-serving bastard.
          
          My mom, warrior goddess, threw down the gauntlet when he phoned.
          
            He played the prodigal trump card.
          
          I begged. Pouted. Plotted. Cajoled.
          I was six again, adoring Daddy.
          
            What the hell gave him that right?
          
          11
          My mom gave a detailed run-down of his varied bad habits.
          
            Contrite was not his style.
          
          I promised. Swore. Crossed my heart.
          Recited the D.A.R.E. pledge verbatim.
          
            How could she love him
            so much?
          
          My mom relented, kissed me
          good-bye, sad her perfume.
          
            Things would never be the
            same.
          
          I think it was the last time she kissed me.
          But I was on my way to Daddy.
          12

          
            A
            board United 1425
          
          The flight attendant escorted me to a seat beside a moth-munched toupee.
          Yellowed dentures clacked cheerfully, suggested I make myself comfy.
          
            Three hours is a mighty long
            time.
          
          Three hours is a long time, astraddle a 747's wing, banshee engines
          screaming, earachy babies fussing, elderly seatmate complaining.
          
            Can't stand flying.

            Makes me nauseous.
          
          I get nauseous when vid screens
          play movies I've seen three times, seat belt signs deny pee breaks and first class smells like real food.
          
            Pretzels?

            For this ticket price?
          
          13
          For the price, I'd expect Albert to tone down the gripe machine. I closed
          my eyes, tried to shut him out, but second
          run movies can't equal conversation.
          
            My wife died last year.

            Been alone since.
          
          * *
          I've been alone since my mom met Scott.
          He sucked the nectar from her heart like a famished butterfly. No nurture, no nourishment left for Kristina.
          
            A vacation is a poor substitute
            for love.
          
          14

          
            T
            wo
            Hours into the Flight
          
          Albert snored, soft as a hummingbird's
          hover. His moody
          smile suggested he'd
          found his Genevieve, just beyond time
          just beyond space
          just beyond this continuum.
          * *
          I watched his face, gentled by dreams, until sun winks off the polished fuselage
          hypnotized me, not quite asleep
          not quite conscious
          not quite in this dimension.
          * *
          I coasted along a byway, memory, glimpses of truth
          speed bumps within childish
          belief,
          15
          almost ultimate
          almost reliable
          almost total insanity
          * *
          Daddy waited in the dead-end
          circle, reaching
          out for me.
          I couldn't
          find his embrace
          find his answers
          find his excuse for tears.
          * *
          Faster. Faster.
          He'd waited too
          many years for me to come looking.
          Hadn't he? I
          needed to see
          needed to know
          needed a lot more.
          16

          
            Hot Landing
          
          Hot runway.
          Hot brakes.
          Hot desert sand outside the window, wind-sculpted crystalline
          slivers, reflecting a new
          summer's sun.
          * *
          
            Good-bye, young lady.
          
          Good-bye, Albert.
          * *
          Good-bye, toupee.
          Good-bye, dentures.
          Good-bye, in-flight
          glimpses of a soul, aching, and dreams, fractured, injuries only
          death could cure.
          * *
          
            Have a nice vacation.
          
          You too.
          17
          You relax.
          You pretend to have fun.
          You share a toast with me:
          here's to seasonal
          madness, part-time
          relatives and substitutes for love.
          18

          
            T
            he Prince of Albuquerque
          
          June is pleasant in Reno, kind of breezy and all.
          I boarded the plane in clingy jeans and a long-sleeved T. Black.
          * *
          It's a whole lot hotter in Albuquerque.
          * *
          I wobbled up the skywalk, balancing heavy twin carry-ons.
          Fingers of sweat grabbed
          my hair and pressed it against my face.
          * *
          No one seemed to notice.
          * *
          I scanned the crowd at the gate.
          Too tall. Not tall enough.
          Too old. Way too old.
          There, with the sable hair, much like my own.
          * *
          How was it possible?
          19
          I thought he was much better
          looking, the impression of a seven-year-old whose
          daddy was the Prince of Albuquerque.
          * *
          I melted, sleet on New Mexico asphalt.
          20

          
            M
            utual Assessment
          
          Daddy watched the gate, listing a bit as he hummed a bedtime
          tune, withdrawn from who knows
          which memory bank.
          * *
          "Daddy?"
          
            Roses are red, my love.
          
          * *
          He overlooked me like sky above a patch of dirt, and I realized he, too, searched for a face suspended in yesterday.
          * *
          "It's me."
          
            Violets are
            blu-oo-oo.
          
          * *
          Peculiar eyes, blue-speckled
          green like extravagant eggs, met my own pale aquamarine.
          Assessing. Doubt gnawing.
          * *
          "Hey."
          
            Sugar is... Kristina?
          
          21
          He hugged me, too tightly. Nasty
          odors gulped. Marlboros. Jack
          Daniels. Straightforward B.O.
          Not like Scott's ever-clean smell.
          * *
          
            I can't believe how

            much you've grown!
          
          * *
          "It's been eight
          years, Dad."
          * *
          From daddy to dad in thirty seconds. We were strangers, after all.
          22

          
            I
            Got in a Car with a Stranger
          
          A '92 Geo, pink under primer, not quite a princely coach. Dad and
          I attempted small talk.
          * *
          
            How's your sister?
          
          "Gay."
          * *
          Sequestered on a California
          campus. When she outed,
          I cringed. Mom cried.
          You called her queer.
          * *
          
            How's your mother?
          
          "Older."
          * *
          Prettier, gift-wrapped in 40ish self-esteem, a wannabe writer and workout
          fanatic, sweating ice.
          * *
          
            How's what's-his-name?
          
          "Indifferent."
          23
          Either that or flat in my
          face, yet oddly always
          there exactly when I
          need him. Unlike you.
          * *
          
            And
            how are you?
          
          "Okay."
          * *
          Near-sighted. Hormonal.
          Three zits monthly.
          Often confused.
          Lusting for love.
          * *
          "You?"
          
            Same.
          
          24

          
            S
            mall Talk Shrank to Minuscule

            Hot? Not! Wait till August!
          
          The carriage burped. Screeched.
          Hiccupped. I tightened my seat-belt, like that could save me.
          
            Straight A's, huh? Got your brains
            from your old man.
          
          I was starting to doubt it.
          No air-con, windows down, oil flavored the air.
          Conversation took an ugly turn.
          
            Never been laid? Tell the
            truth

            little girl.
          
          Like it was his business. He
          reached for his Marlboros, took
          one, offered the pack. My lip
          curled. He lit up anyway.
          
            Quit once. Your mother bitched

            me out of the habit.
          
          I watched him inhale, blow
          smoke signals. Exhale. Beyond the ochre haze, city turned to suburbs. Not pretty suburbs.
          25
          
            She was the bitch queen. I started

            again soon as I moved out.
          
          The Geo limped into a weather-chewed parking
          lot. I escaped the front
          seat. Aired out in blistering heat.
          
            Here we are. Home sweet home.

            What's mine is yours.
          
          I'd made an awful mistake.
          Daddy wasn't the Prince of
          Albuquerque. He was the King of Cliché.
          26

          
            You
            Call This a Castle?
          
          Cracked cement ramparts, a less than mighty bastion, swamp cooler overflow, drool down the battlement.
          Behind the stockade walls, faceless generals barked
          orders to their private troops, drilled their little soldiers.
          * *
          
            Welcome to my castle.
          
          * *
          You call this a castle?
          Heat throbbing off the parking lot convinced me to chance crumbling stairs.
          And there, step four, flight two,
          I bumped into my White Knight.
          Okay, maybe more like gray.
          I'll compromise with silver.
          27

          
            Not My Type
          
          No shirt
          hot bod.
          His, that is.
          So why did
          
            I
            break out in a sweat?
          
          * *
          No shoes
          barefoot, bare chest, with a bare, baby face to make the angels sing.
          * *
          Nothing but ragged
          cut-offs, hugging a tawny six pack, and a smile.
          28
          No pin up pretty boy
          could touch, a smile that
          zapped every cell.
          He was definitely
          * *
          not my type.
          29

          
            At
            Least I Had Something
          
          to think about besides my dad's
          less than palatial
          apartment.
          * *
          If he qualified
          As royalty in this true
          blue collar
          kingdom,
          * *
          I had zero desire to see how the working class
          lived.
          30

          
            D
            ad Had to Go to Work
          
          Work?
          
            You've heard of work.
          
          You couldn't take
          one day off?
          
            You don't know my boss.
          
          Does he know about me?
          
            She knows you're here.
          
          Your daughter
          comes to visit...
          
            She doesn't know.
          
          Know what?
          
            That you're my daughter.
          
          Who am I, then?
          
            A long-lost relative.
          
          31

          
            H
            e Worked in a Bowling Alley

            Under the table,
            so I don't screw
            up my disability.
          
          * *
          Unsticking stuck
          balls, fitting stinky
          shoes, collecting
          cash from the crop
          du jour of the great unwashed.
          * *
          
            No one there's

            gonna tell. They

            got their own secrets,
          
          * *
          No worries about bubblegum, athlete's
          foot, or the current
          flu, passed bill to bill, ball to ball, shoe to shoe.
          * *
          
            Like who's making

            out in the back room,
            who's striking out.
          
          32
          Geo unlocked in a parking lot
          where the color of your jacket might
          mean your life, wrong
          night, wrong time.
          * *
          
            It's not the best

            neighborhood, but
            hey, come along.
          
          33

          
            I
            Opted Out
          
          Long trip, long day, no thanks,
          I'll stay.
          * *
          
            Okay.
          
          34

          
            Not
            Quite Silent
          
          The empty boxes
          Dad imagined
          rooms.
          * *
          
            Glurp... glurp... glurp
          
          * *
          Hot drops into deep kitchen
          stainless.
          * *
          
            Plunk......... plunk
          
          * *
          Cool drips on chipped bathroom
          porcelain.
          * *
          
            Chh-ka-chh
          
          * *
          Sleepy branches
          scratching bedroom
          glass.
          35
          
            You crazy sonofabitch!
          
          * *
          Neighbors through thin plaster
          walls.
          36

          
            T
            he Screaming
          
          flashed me back to a time
          when Mom and Dad were still together
          if you could call
          miles apart together.
          * *
          Leigh and I would huddle close under the blankets, whispering, as if the whispers of two little girls
          could blot out the barrage of hateful words beyond our bedroom's thin plaster walls.
          Dad's vicious slurred epithets came through too loud and too clear.
          37
          But it is Mom's low, level threats I best remember.
          
            You
            do not deserve these children and
            when
            I'm through with you in court

            you'll
            be lucky to get visitation.
          
          * *
          She was right.
          And I still had not forgiven her.
          Maybe he wasn't perfect.
          But he was still my dad.
          38

          
            Of Course, When I Was Little
          
          I didn't understand the terminology of words like infidelity.
          Nor the implications of my father's sundry
          addictions.
          I only knew my wicked
          mother took us far away, kept us far apart.
          * *
          Time passed, with little
          word from Dad.
          * *
          But, having experienced
          Mom's growing
          frustration at a stalled career and family life's daily
          limitations
          I put the blame squarely on her. As for Dad,
          I could have forgiven
          39
          him pretty much anything, even his silence.
          * *
          As long as I could forever
          stay his little princess.
          40

          
            Okay, Over the
            Last Few Years
          
          I may have gained a little perspective.
          Mom struggled to raise two kids on her own, at least until Scott
          blundered into her life.
          * *
          Jake was a late addition, one the workout queen accepted
          * * and loved despite killer stretch marks and sure-to-sag-even-more boobs.
          * *
          As for Dad, well, truth be told, his love of drugs surpassed his love of family.
          * *
          And when we were small, he just
          happened to install cable TV, giving him every opportunity
          41
          to experience the wild side of bored, stay-at-home housewives, eager for entertainment.
          * *
          So it was, perhaps, ironic
          that I discovered...
          42

          
            D
            ad Hadn't Paid His Cable Bill
          
          Three fuzzy channels
          
            hissed and spit a rerun of
            Friends,
            extra-inning baseball, and soap opera, en español.
          
          * *
          I should have gone
          straight to bed, counted cracks in the ceiling.
          Instead, I went outside.
          * *
          Cigarette smoke, toxic curls in the stairwell at my feet, soft voices rising, pheromone fog.
          * *
          He was still there, my silver knight, flirting with some
          fallen Guinivere in short shorts and a cropped T.
          43
          I kept to the shadows, observing the game
          I hadn't dared play, absorbing the rules with adhesive eyes.
          44

          
            T
            he Rules
          
          Uncomplicated, this
          child's game.
          * *
          
            He says,
            Please?
          
          She says, "Can't."
          
            He,
            Why not?
          
          She, "I'm not that kind of a girl."
          * *
          Then she spends twenty
          minutes disproving the theory, until
          * *
          
            Mother calls,
            Hija!
          
          She answers, "Mama?"
          
            Mother,
            Come inside now.
          
          She, "Be right there."
          * *
          It's a lie. He pulls her into his lap, silencing
          meager protests with full-lipped kisses.
          45
          
            He insists,
            Now.
          
          She resists, "Later."
          
            He,
            Promise?
          
          She, "Cross my heart."
          46

          
            S
            he Went Inside
          
          I wasn't sure if I felt more
          disappointed or relieved.
          Guinivere really had him.
          * *
          So I shouldn't want him. Should I?
          I didn't really want his perfect
          pout, reaching hungrily for my own timid lips.
          * *
          I didn't have a clue how to kiss.
          Didn't really want his hands, investigating the hills and valleys of my landscape.
          * *
          I'd never been touched by a boy.
          Didn't want his face, burrowing into my hair, finding my neck. Tasting.
          * *
          I'd never even said hello to such a complete stranger.
          Didn't want his smoke, making me gag, making me
          want to taste something so gross.
          47
          It was all so confusing, I mean,
          I didn't want a boyfriend, no summer fling to make
          me want to stay in this alien place.
          * *
          Anyway, I'd be speechless if he asked.
          48

          
            I
            Must Have Moaned

            Hey
            .
          
          He popped above the stairs suddenly, a wild-eyed Jack-in-the-box, anticipating the pay-off crank.
          
            Oh, it's you.
          
          Like he knew me, knew I had no life, suspected I'd come
          spying, set up the game
          just for me.
          
            I waited for you.
          
          I coughed a hello, stamping sweaty
          palm prints into not-so
          wrinkle-free jeans.
          Could he read minds?
          49
          
            I know what you're thinking.
          
          Smile. Nod. Say
          something witty before he finds
          out what an incredible
          geek you are.
          
            That you're too good for me.
          
          He topped the staircase, slinked closer, golden
          eyes narrowing, reached
          out and touched the flush of my cheek.
          
            But you're wrong.
          
          50

          
            The
            Wind Blew Up
          
          My mind raced.
          My heart joined in.
          I shook my head, mute as snowfall.
          
            What, then? Why do you look

            At me that way?
          
          What could I say?
          That some stranger inside me couldn't
          keep her eyes off him?
          
            I know you can talk. I heard

            you before.
          
          I felt her stir, like a breeze blowing up off the evening sea. My
          wind had awakened.
          
            You know, you're kind of cute,
            in a stuck-up sort of way.
          
          She pumped through my veins in hot, red
          bursts. Blood pressure
          rose in my face, blush.
          51
          
            You here for the summer? What's

            your name?
          
          Her tongue curled
          easily behind my teeth, and her words melted between my lips.
          * *
          "My friends call me Bree."
          52

          
            Bree?
            Who Was She?
          
          And where did that name
          come from? I'd probably
          heard it once in my life!
          
            Pretty name, Bree.
          
          Okay, good call.
          Confidence flooded our
          brain like hormones.
          Our turn. Who was he?
          
            My friends call me Buddy.
          
          Hardly a handle for a white knight.
          Bree asked for the name on his birth certificate.
          
            Mom called me Adam.
          
          Better. We liked it. So
          why didn't he use it?
          (Forgetting completely about the Kristina thing.)
          
            Hard name to live up to.
          
          Not really. It isn't hard to fall from grace. Revisit
          Genesis. Maybe I'll go with you. Might be fun.
          53
          
            You're a
            strange girl.
          
          I had to agree. What was up with this person,
          Bree? And was she a permanent fixture?
          
            But I'd like to get to know you.
          
          54

          
            I
            Wanted to Know Him, Too
          
          Wanted to know
          what Guinivere knew.
          * *
          Bree might have pulled him
          closer, tempted his kiss that very
          moment, given hers in return.
          * *
          But with a sudden slam, reality
          kicked into gear. Downstairs,
          Guinivere called his name.
          * *
          He answered,
          
            Up here.
          
          I looked in his eyes, caught a hint of warped humor, jumped up to go inside.
          * *
          He asked,
          
            How long are you staying?
          
          Not long enough, I wanted to say. But I told him,
          "Three weeks."
          55
          He said,
          
            Not
            much time.
          
          Footsteps on the stairs.
          Bree vanished, leaving
          panic in her wake.
          * *
          He finished,
          
            But maybe enough.
          
          56

          
            T
            he Return of Guinivere
          
          She took in the scene, face cinder-block hard, eyes blinking like mad, black turn signals.
          "Who is she?"
          As if he had something to explain. He didn't, did he? Yet his voice was right beside my ear,
          
            Bree.
          
          * *
          I swear I saw her claws
          spring out. I froze, prey.
          She told me her name was
          Lince. Then translated,
          "Lynx."
          She had claimed her territory.
          I decided to let the wildcats
          play, uninterrupted. His warm
          hand whispered against mine.
          
            See
            you soon.
          
          57
          His promise fell, soft as a premonition, followed by the bobcat's
          predatory growl,
          "Me too."
          58

          
            T
            hat'll Teach Me
          
          to spy to moan to covet
          * *
          my neighbor's boyfriend.
          * *
          I ran inside, tried
          * * to breathe to laugh to silence
          * * the drumming inside my head.
          * *
          Went into the kitchen
          * * to get a drink to get away to get a glimpse
          * * of the biggest cockroach I'd ever seen.
          59

          
            T
            oss-and-Turn Night
          
          Bone-oven hot outside, swamp-cooler cool three
          feet up the hallway, temperature in Dad's
          claustrophobic guest
          room: lukewarm.
          * *
          The bed was a monstrous box
          spring. Thin, mildewed foam, two sprays of Lysol, and one
          thrift-store sheet were all
          that lay between
          Bedzilla and me.
          * *
          Tried my right side. Kept
          seeing the kitchen
          cockroach, the one I
          tried to pretend was only a Mormon cricket,
          Los Alamos-grown.
          60
          Tried my left side. Flashed on my bedroom at home.
          Pin clean, pretty in mauve, a ballet of pink
          butterflies on the walls, pillow-top mattress to die for.
          * *
          Flopped onto my back. Found the keyhole behind my eyes, squeezed through, into sleep.
          Not slumber, but sleep just this
          side of waking, where dreams
          fuse with reality.
          61

          
            T
            hrough the Keyhole
          
          I found myself in a meadow, brilliant green beneath a soft
          wash of sunshine.
          * *
          I moved at a near sprint, drawn toward a symphony, primitive passion.
          * *
          Lovemaking.
          * *
          Wildcats mating, snarls at the joining, satisfied roars
          signaling completion.
          * *
          I slowed, shifted upwind, crept very near, somehow unafraid.
          * *
          Fascinated.
          62
          Some movement gave me
          away. Exquisite feline eyes
          found me in the grass,
          * *
          golden eyes, flecked green.
          He purred and she looked up.
          I gasped at her face.
          * *
          My face.
          63

          
            So
            Much for Sleep
          
          Jump-started awake,
          I sat up in bed, found the eyes of the lynx at the glass, snarls in the hallway.
          * *
          Sweat-drenched, shivering, I threw back the sheet, went to the window, three flights above a deserted alley.
          * *
          Found no eyes but dream eyes.
          * *
          One demon conquered,
          I slipped on flip-flops, mediocre protection against monster
          cockroaches, wandered toward the kitchen.
          * *
          Found no snarls but Dad's snores.
          64

          
            I
            Hid Out for Three Days
          
          Spent them sleeping in, like Dad.
          
            I
            work late. No shame in that.
          
          Afternoons we ate fast
          food and talked.
          
            Sure I want more. Some day.
          
          He was pushing 45. Time was running out.
          
            A house of my own. A good woman.
          
          Surely he'd dated one or two since Mom?
          
            Slept with a few.
            Don't do movies...
          
          There's more to dating than movies.
          
            Don't do dinner, unless
            they cook.
          
          Come on, Dad. What about love?
          
            Love is overrated. Besid
            es...
          
          I couldn't believe his confession:
          
            No one can measure up
            to your mom.
          
          65

          
            I
            Even Spent Time at the Bowling Alley
          
          Okay, I'd bowled before, averaged a solid 98, with one or two games around 130.
          But did you know some
          people spend half their lives
          hanging out in bowling alleys?
          * *
          The same people arrived, around the same time
          every night. It took
          me three days to realize
          they came for more than just a few games of good, clean fun.
          * *
          Some came to flirt, obnoxious in their efforts to make their spouses jealous, or disregard
          them altogether, desperate to recapture escaped dreams and wasted years of youth.
          66
          Some came substance shopping, disappearing into back rooms and bathrooms, returning
          red-eyed and crusty-nosed, coughing and sniffling, too
          mellow or very, very wound up.
          * *
          In school I was never confronted with drugs, surely never sought
          them out. But I wasn't exactly
          clueless. As I watched, one
          thing became obvious. Where the party went, my dad followed.
          67

          
            H
            e Hadn't Changed After All
          
          But he wasn't such a bad guy, really. Not ambitious, true.
          In fact, you might call
          him lazy, at least when the drug of the day was green.
          * *
          
            Been smokin' pot since I was 1
            3,
            couldn't quit if I tried. Besides,
            why try? It keeps me happy,
            mellow. Makes me eat

            too much, but
            oh, well.
          
          * *
          The white
          stuff was a different
          story. He'd stay up all
          night, eating zip, bowling and snorting line after line.
          Rent money, right up the nose.
          68
          
            We used to
            do coke, till "Just

            Say No" put the stuff

            out of reach. Now it's crank.

            Meth.
            The monster. It's a bitch
            on the body but damn do you fly.
          
          69

          
            You Fly
            Until You Crash
          
          Two
          days, two
          nights,
          no
          sleep,
          no
          food, come
          down off the monster,
          * *
          
            you

            crash

            real

            hard.
          
          70

          
            Dad Crashed
          
          Slept twelve hours, got up for a drink and a pee, slept six more.
          Good thing it was his day off.
          * *
          But was it always his day off? Or did he sometimes go to work, mind folded down around exhaustion?
          * *
          Did he sometimes
          blow off work completely, call in sick, notating on his calendar the
          Illness of the Day?
          71
          No bowling, no small talk, just plain, empty time,
          I walked down to the corner store for
          
            Pepsi and
            Cosmopolitan.
          
          * *
          Guess who was buying
          cigarettes, copper skin
          glistening bittersweet
          summer sweat. One
          look, I was Play-Doh.
          72

          
            He
            Knew It, Too
          
          He turned, flashed a drop-dead-in-your-tracks
          gorgeous grin.
          
            Hey, Bree.
          
          His voice dripped
          honey and cream, irresistible poison.
          
            You been avoiding me?
          
          I plead not guilty, argued spending time with my dad.
          
            All-night bowling?
          
          * *
          He knew too much. I
          fumbled for change, came up short.
          
            No worries. My treat.
          
          He paid for my Pepsi, asked if he could
          walk me back.
          
            I'll be good. Honest.
          
          73
          Hip brushing hip, his hand slipped around my waist.
          
            You on your own today?
          
          Heartbeat bombs
          went off in my head.
          Spectacular.
          
            Can we talk awhile?
          
          74

          
            H
            is Mom Was at Work
          
          We went to his apartment, a nice
          quiet place to talk awhile.
          
            Mind if I light up?
          
          * *
          What could I say? It was his apartment.
          His lungs.
          
            Bad habit, I know.
          
          * *
          I watched hands, hard and etched like granite, light a match with finesse.
          
            Do you have any bad habits?
          
          * *
          I could have made up something.
          Instead I shook my head.
          
            Want any?
          
          * *
          I wanted him. Bad enough. I reached for the cigarette in his hand.
          
            You don't smoke, do you?
          
          75
          I took a small puff. Struggled like hell not to cough.
          Or throw up.
          
            Careful. You'll get sick.
          
          * *
          So I did the sensible thing. Took
          another drag. Felt better.
          
            Come here, Bree.
          
          * *
          He pulled me close, locked my eyes, tilted his face just a fraction.
          Then I really felt queasy.
          76

          
            He
            Wanted to Kiss Me
          
          I felt it with every nerve, every fiber, every molecule of my being.
          * *
          I wanted him to kiss me, with every nerve, every fiber, every molecule of my being.
          * *
          But I was scared to kiss him.
          Every nerve, every fiber, every molecule
          screamed!
          * *
          He leaned forward, parted those
          perfect lips.
          77
          At that exact moment,
          * *
          every
          single
          thing
          about
          my
          life
          changed.
          * *
          Forever.
          78

          
            F
            irst Kiss
          
          They say you'll remember
          your first kiss forever. I will.
          * *
          It was Fourth of July.
          It was Christmas.
          * *
          Fireworks. Snowflakes.
          Sunstroke and frostbite.
          * *
          It was all that I could ask for and completely unexpected.
          * *
          I expected demands.
          He gifted me with tenderness.
          * *
          I expected ego.
          He let me experiment.
          * *
          I expected disrespect.
          He called me beautiful.
          * *
          I expected him to expect perfection.
          He taught me all I needed to know.
          79

          
            The
            Week Flew
            By
          
          Monday
          Ducked Lince and made out at the park.
          Learned a thing or three.
          * *
          Tuesday
          Took in a movie.
          Sat in the back row.
          Really made out.
          * *
          Wednesday
          Had a Slurpee fight.
          Kissed the sticky stuff off each other's faces.
          * *
          Thursday
          Back to his apartment.
          Things got heavy.
          Heart-stomping heavy.
          80
          Friday
          Bummed a ride and went
          skinny-dipping up
          Red Rock Canyon.
          * *
          Saturday
          Talked with Dad, wishing I was doing
          something else with Adam.
          Sneaked out after dinner for a smoke and a taste of tongue.
          * *
          Sunday
          Met Adam at the bowling alley.
          81

          
            S
            omehow the Place Looked Different
          
          What had changed?
          * *
          It was still a run-down bowling
          alley in a bad part of town.
          I had changed.
          * *
          Somehow I didn't care about other people's
          obsessions.
          I was obsessed.
          * *
          Somehow I didn't care about public make-out
          sessions.
          I plotted make-out sessions.
          * *
          Somehow I didn't care about women, stealing other
          women's boyfriends.
          Had I stolen someone's boyfriend?
          82
          Somehow I didn't care about back-room parties.
          It was my turn. I'd been invited.
          83

          
            C
            hoices, Choices
          
          Life is full of
          Choices.
          We don't
          always
          make
          good ones.
          It seems to
          Kristina
          you gotta
          be
          crazy to open your
          windows, invite the demons in.
          Bree
          throws rocks at the feeble
          glass, laughs.
          84

          
            You
            Have to Remember
          
          It had been a tempestuous week, snared by emotions
          rubbing me so raw
          I hurt at night, alone in the dark.
          * *
          I finagled my way on this trip to fall back in love with my dad.
          Instead I fell for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, worse, the wrong part of the country! I
          had come, wanting to want to go home. Now the dark side of Albuquerque
          looked pretty damn good.
          85
          So when he asked about getting high, I didn't
          think, I agreed. We smoked
          some good California green.
          Took three tries to put me in the place he said I should be.
          Sleepy. Not "high" at all, but real low. And real
          slow. Not my idea of a party, except the munchies part.
          I wanted to meet the monster.
          * *
          Why go down if you can go up?
          86

          
            We
            Met at the Bowling Alley
          
          I introduced Adam to my dad. He and Buddy already knew each other.
          
            Small building, you know.
          
          Their networking surprised me.
          Not exactly sure why.
          
            Some good green bud around.
          
          Dad seemed to accept that
          I knew about such things.
          
            Don't worry. She's safe with me.
          
          Someone called for bowling shoes.
          Adam and I eased down to the far lane.
          
            Okay, little girl. Ready to party?
          
          I was ready to take a big bite of freedom before my time was up.
          
            You gotta be sure.
          
          Mom expected me home in ten
          days. Of course, I was sure.
          
            Let's hit the back room.
          
          We ducked behind a stack of crates, sat on the floor.
          
            You really never tried this?
          
          Like magic, a mirror and razor blade appeared.
          87
          
            You're gonna love it. You'll see
            .
          
          I watched him pour powder, yellowish white.
          
            It will take you to heaven.
          
          Used the blade to chop the chunks
          fine, draw two crooked lines.
          
            Make you want to fly all night.
          
          He held the mirror to my face, handed me a sawed-off straw,
          
            Make you want to make love to me.
          
          88

          
            J
            ust Before the Drop
          
          You know how you
          stand and stand and stand in line for the most
          gigantic incredible roller
          coaster
          you've ever dared attempt.
          * *
          Anticipation swelling, minute by minute by minute, you choose to wait even
          longer, to ride in the front
          car and finally it's your turn.
          * *
          
            They buckle you in, lock the safety bar with a jolting
            clunk!
          
          Hook engaged, the chain jerks
          you forward. You start to climb
          
            crank-crank-crank
          
          89
          Cresting the top, time
          moves into overtime as you wait for that scant
          hesitation, just before you
          drop
          knowing you can't turn back.
          * *
          You know how you feel at that instant? Well, that's
          exactly how it feels when you
          shake hands with the monster.
          90

          
            No
            Time Like That First Time
          
          Fire!
          Your nose ignites, flameless kerosene
          (and, some say, Drano)
          laced with ephedrine
          you want to cry
          * *
          powdered demons bite through cartilage and sinuses, take dead aim at your
          brain, jump inside want to scream
          * *
          troops of tapping feet
          fall into rhythm, marking time, right between your eyes
          get the urge to dance
          * *
          louder, louder, ultra
          gray-matter power, shock waves of energy
          mushroom inside your head
          91
          you want to let go
          detonate, annihilate barriers, bring down the walls, unleashing floodwaters, freeing long-captive dreams
          * * to ride the current
          through
          arteries and capillaries, pulsing, rushing, raging torrents
          pounding against your heart
          * *
          sweeping you away.
          92

          
            B
            ut That's Not Exactly Cool
          
          So you sit and smile, pretending like it's not
          even fazing you, not touching you at all.
          * *
          So he looks you in the eye, trying to measure you, find a hint of reaction.
          * *
          And he says,
          
            Tell me how you
            feel.
          
          * *
          So you can't stand it one more second, and you close your eyes, daring him to kiss you.
          93
          So he does, and it's
          electric, high voltage, stun-gun strength desire
          jolting sinew and bone.
          * *
          And he asks,
          
            How 'bout another
            line?
          
          94

          
            If
            a Little's Good
          
          More must be great, right?
          * *
          Well, sometimes.
          That time!
          * *
          It didn't burn as bad, nasal self-defense,
          I guess.
          * *
          And it launched me to a place, very near the gates of heaven.
          * *
          Adam took my hand, led me the rest of the way. No, not quite all the way.
          95

          
            Al
            though Maybe
          
          it's a matter of semantics.
          How does Webster define
          "all the way"?
          * *
          Does it mean, start to finish, an act of defilement, pure physicality,
          * *
          no choice but yes, no
          stopping now, no holds barred,
          * *
          everything off, nothing
          left to chance, all the way in?
          96

          
            B
            ecause It Wasn't That
          
          It was gentle persuasion.
          
            I can't get enough of you.
          
          Sweetest coercion.
          
            My beautiful angel.
          
          Magnet to metal.
          
            I've got to have all of you.
          
          It was hands, exploring
          taboo places.
          
            Oh, God! You're perfect!
          
          Lips and tongue, not
          far behind.
          
            Let me eat you up.
          
          Skin to skin, belly to shoulder.
          
            Sweet as puddin'.
          
          It was body rush after body rush, intensity building.
          
            Touch me there.
          
          97
          Hot flush, raging
          blush, quick-start
          ignition.
          
            See how much I need you?
          
          Ice flash, instant
          crash, voices outside the door.
          
            No! Don't stop now!
          
          98

          
            I
            Didn't Want to
            Stop Either
          
          but one of those voices
          belonged to my dad.
          
            They were here just a while ago.
          
          * *
          We scrambled to cover skin, passion, and stash.
          
            I didn't see them leave.
          
          * *
          Trepidation, just this side of anticipation, tingled.
          
            They must be around somewhere.
          
          * *
          The monster stomped up and down my spine.
          
            Kristina? Buddy? You here?
          
          * *
          Adam looked at me and whispered, "Who's Kristina?"
          99

          
            F
            or Some Crazy Reason
          
          I thought that was the funniest thing
          I'd ever heard.
          * *
          Creepy, insane
          laughter bubbled up from my gut like lava, erupting
          suddenly in gigantic
          heaving
          gulps.
          * *
          We were busted.
          I was busted.
          100
          And I
          didn't
          give
          a
          damn.
          101

          
            Not
            Until the Door Opened
          
          Guess who was there with my dad.
          
            Wha' the fuck you up to, Buddy?
          
          * *
          Lince pounced through the door, claws extended, golden eyes growing black.
          
            You two been messin' around?
          
          * *
          Hair askew, buttons
          undone, I thought it was pretty obvious. But Adam
          dared say no.
          
            Well, what, then?
          
          * *
          Damn, if she didn't
          want to believe him.
          I almost felt sorry for her. The monster
          shook me smarter.
          
            Okay then. Fix me a line.
          
          102

          
            Like
            an Idiot
          
          I took one too.
          Things went from weird to worse.
          * *
          I mean, there I was, snorting crank with my dad, my boyfriend, and his other
          girlfriend.
          * *
          Something majorly
          wrong with that picture.
          103

          
            T
            he Monster Loves to Talk
          
          He jumps into your head and opens your mouth
          making it spout your
          deepest
          darkest
          deceptions.
          Making you say
          all the things
          you'd rather
          not say, at least not in mixed company.
          104

          
            D
            ad Said

            I
            shouldn't be tootin'. My boss

            almost caught me last time.

            Think I could convince her to
            try a line?

            I'd love to get her in bed.
          
          * *
          Adam said,
          
            Don't blame you there, man.

            She's a babe, for someone

            my mom's age. I'd do her too.

            Think she'd go for a threesome?
          
          * *
          Lince said,
          
            Whoa, baby. Keep it in
            your pants, at least

            till I take it out of them.

            Anyway, three's a crowd.
          
          * *
          I decided
          Three is a throng.
          Four's more.
          105
          I got up, headed for the door, hoping
          Adam would try to stop me.
          But lust is stronger than love. And
          monster lust is unconquerable.
          106

          
            I Was Pissed
          
          Anger seeped from my pores, vinegar sweat, as I stomped
          out the door, into the night, down the dark
          sidewalk.
          * *
          I was hot.
          * *
          Heart
          jackhammering in my chest, pumping fever, toenails to follicles, blistering
          veins and brain cells.
          * *
          I was high.
          107
          I ran through the alley, inconsolable, turned down the sidewalk, invincible, five minutes
          later,
          * *
          I was scared.
          108

          
            N
            ight Had Hung
          
          a sultry, black curtain, sequined gold.
          * *
          It would have been quite beautiful in another part of town.
          * *
          But here, cars
          cruised slowly, checking out the tightly knit groups
          crowding sidewalks and doorways.
          * *
          Here, color was everything, skin color, hair color, the color of your jacket.
          * *
          Fair-skinned, golden-haired,
          109
          I stood out like a moped at a Harley rally.
          110

          
            I Th
            ought I Knew the Way Home
          
          but it all looked different, covered in night, and the buzzing in my brain
          put this sparkling in my eyes.
          * *
          It wasn't like psychedelic, more like my eyes were speeding too, and didn't know
          just where to focus except on points
          of
          light
          in
          the
          dark.
          111
          Whatever,
          I was completely
          disoriented.
          And as I tried to figure out
          which way to go, these three guys in Raiders jackets
          semicircled me.
          * *
          
            Hey, baby,
            can we help you wit' som'thin'?
          
          112

          
            I Tr
            ied to Be Cool
          
          Tried to sound tough, asked if they could
          spare a smoke.
          
            Sure, baby.

            Anything you want.
          
          * *
          Took a cigarette, bummed a light, and with a soft "thanks"
          tried to amble away.
          
            Hey. Where ya going?

            You ain't in a hurry, are
            ya?
          
          * *
          They weren't big, not football
          players, but I was outnumbered and felt it.
          
            Yeah, what kind of
            thanks is that?
          
          * *
          The circle tightened, moving me back, away from the safety of the street.
          
            Damn, you are
            a fine little piece.
          
          113
          Think. Think! But my brain
          moved too fast to process well.
          My eyes gave it away.
          
            Yo. I think this bitch
            been crankin'.
          
          * *
          That was license enough. Bodies
          bumped, pushed me into a doorway, blocked escape.
          
            Ever done a three-fer?

            You gonna love it, baby.
          
          114

          
            H
            ands
          
          covered my mouth, rough, held my arms, strong, ripped my clothes, vicious.
          * *
          Fear danced up my spine, jolted
          my brain, dripped onto the ground.
          * *
          
            No!
            I
          
          screamed into dirty
          flesh.
          
            Not

            this way!
          
          115
          Buttons burst, zippers
          opened,
          I closed my
          eyes, braced for pain.
          116

          
            And Then I Heard
          
          a familiar voice
          
            Hey dudes.

            Whatcha doin'?
          
          * *
          Adam took
          command.
          
            You not bothering

            that little girl?
          
          * *
          The trio
          pulled back, straightened up.
          
            'Cause that just

            isn't right.
          
          * *
          Glared.
          Stared.
          Half issued a challenge.
          
            Nah, man. No need
            to fight. Besides...
          
          117
          Adam pointed to a black and white, two blocks
          away and closing.
          
            You know what they do
            to rapists in prison?
          
          118

          
            Three Raiders Jackets
          
          faded into the night, dissolving like silver and black nightmares.
          * *
          Adam folded me gently into his arms, kissed my sobs, stilled my quaking.
          
            Don't cry, Bree. It's okay now.
          
          * *
          The patrol car drew
          even, slowed to a crawl, window
          rolled down, inquiring.
          
            Remember, you're buzzed. Stay cool.
          
          * *
          Glad he was there, scared he was there, I dug deep for a smile, waved the cop away.
          
            Come on. Let's go home.
          
          119

          
            I Held Tight
          
          to his shirt
          all the way home, clung fast like a paranoid kitten.
          Dad wasn't there, no doubt bowling off his own buzz, so I asked Adam in.
          * *
          We stayed up all
          night, smoking, talking, I struggle to remember
          exactly what
          about.
          * *
          
            Boys
            Chicks

            School
            Detention

            Art
            Sports

            Reno
            Albuquerque

            Mom
            Mom

            Dad
            Long-gone Dad
          
          120
          
            Stepdads
            Boyfriends

            Gay sister
            O.D.'d
            brother

            Buddy
            Bree

            Adam
            Kristina

            Love
            Love
          
          121

          
            Dawn Broke
          
          A rose-colored rain over distant hills.
          * *
          We kissed for about the thousandth time,
          * *
          No promises, no demands,
          * *
          Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.
          * *
          Then I said it.
          He said it too.
          * *
          
            I
            love you.
          
          * *
          And everything
          that went before
          * *
          meant nothing.
          122

          
            A
            bout That Time
          
          Dad stumbled in, looking like the monster
          had boogied on off.
          
            You still up?
          
          * *
          Up, and flying high.
          Was I supposed to go to sleep?
          
            Better get some sleep.
          
          * *
          I walked Adam to the door, promised to see him later.
          
            You two didn't do anything

            I wouldn't do. Did you?
          
          * *
          No way, Daddy dearest.
          And where were you
          when I needed you?
          
            'Cause a girl could get
            into real trouble.
          
          123

          
            Clueless
          
          Dad went to bed.
          I laid on the couch, closed my eyes, let the night slip into replay.
          * *
          Exhilarating, rocketing into my
          mind, reaching
          unimagined
          highs.
          * *
          Depressing, knowing when
          I left, Adam would
          stay. Would he downplay
          * *
          spectacular
          times together, forget the best, remember the lows?
          124
          As if I had
          never entered his life, never existed, would he toss
          * *
          all promise of tomorrow, tumble headlong into old
          routines?
          * *
          As if he had never
          told me he loved me?
          125

          
            I
            Was Supposed to Sleep?
          
          Thoughts bulleted in my brain, ricocheting, creative side to practical side, lustful half to hateful half.
          Sleep? Yeah, right.
          * *
          I got up, located cleanser and sponge, scrubbed the bathroom, washed the dishes, waxed the kitchen floor.
          * *
          Wrote a four-page
          letter to my sister, told her I was in love.
          With a boy.
          I think I asked for her forgiveness.
          126
          Wrote a poem, an epic, tinged with dark humor, decided to give it to my mom because this was all her fault.
          Somehow.
          * *
          Went to the bathroom, considered my growling stomach, but the thought of food made me want to heave.
          Settled for a beer. That went down fine, so I had another.
          And another.
          127

          
            After the Fourth
          
          No more writing paper, nothing left to clean,
          I turned on the TV, thanked God for the
          Jerry Springer marathon, six great hours, filled with pitiful people, whose lives were way
          worse than my own.
          Hard to believe the world is such a screwed-up place.
          128
          I needed food, sleep, but the monster denied
          every bit of it.
          Playing wasted couch
          potato was all that I
          could ask for.
          And more.
          Fading speed buzz, escalating alcohol, it was all I could
          do to stay upright.
          So I didn't.
          129

          
            U
            sed Up
          
          Burned out, adrift on a sea of uncertain synapses, a place where
          your eyes
          refuse to focus and your brain
          refuses to function.
          * *
          Somewhere between the transvestite who slept with his
          (her?)
          mother's boyfriend and the perky
          blond
          (transvestite?)
          evening
          weathergirl.
          130
          Everything
          shut
          down, cerebral
          ghost
          town.
          I
          fell
          into
          sleep.
          Deep, dream-free
          sleep.
          131

          
            W
            oke to Pounding
          
          on the door, insistent vibration, building noise.
          
            Bree? You there?
          
          * *
          Late-day sun
          filtered through cracks in the blinds.
          
            It's me. Open up.
          
          * *
          Late-day? How
          long had
          I slept? Only
          hours?
          
            I need to talk to you.
          
          * *
          Twenty hours, as it turned
          out. I tried to open my eyes.
          
            Please, Bree?
          
          132
          Adam's tone
          forced me into the moment.
          "Hang on."
          
            Something happened.
          
          * *
          My mouth tasted like dead speed, dying beer, and foreboding.
          
            There was an accident.
          
          133

          
            C
            oming
          
          Jumped up, dashed for mouthwash, forgetting the uncertainty
          * * of legs, unused for twenty hours, but spurred to confront the fear
          * * in his voice, and something more, something too like guilt.
          Oh God, who was in the mirror? Not Bree, not Kristina, but some
          evil
          * *
          incarnation glaring
          back at me, a horrid
          red-eyed crone, materialized
          134
          as if from darkest
          dementia, nightmares to come, hibernating inside of me.
          135

          
            I
            Filled the Sink
          
          with cold water, dunked my whole head
          under, counted to ten, came up, repeated the process.
          * *
          Came up again and she had retreated, still close,
          I suspected, but far enough to let me
          go to the door.
          136

          
            H
            is Demon Showed in His Eyes
          
          He stumbled in, tumbled against me, clutching like a scared little boy, in need of his mama's grace.
          * *
          
            She's hurt real bad.
          
          Who?
          
            Lince.
          
          What?
          
            Fell (or jumped) off the balcony.
          
          When?
          
            Yesterday.
          
          Where?
          
            Right outside.
          
          * *
          I didn't
          dare ask
          why.
          Instead,
          I let him
          cry.
          137

          
            He
            Told Me Why Anyway

            She c
            ame home from the bowling alley, went looking for me.
          
          Found me.
          Here, with you.
          * *
          Heard us inside, talking, laughing.
          Looked in the window, watched us kissing, watched my hands, running all up an' down you.
          * *
          
            When your dad came home,
            she
            waited for me to come outside.
          
          Said she wanted to talk.
          But she wanted more than that.
          She wanted to erase you from my heart.
          Never could, Bree.
          Never could.
          And that's what
          I told her.
          138
          The monster rose up hard then, hard in her eyes,
          She looked like an animal, crazy mad, diseased.
          Spit in every word, she swore
          she'd get back at you, at me.
          * *
          Next thing I knew, she was on the sidewalk below, still, except for the blood running
          red from her head.
          * *
          They say it was an accident, she tripped, or leaned over too far.
          Crankin', they said, and she was.
          Oh, yes, she was.
          139
          
            That's what I wanna believe.

            Maybe someday I can.
          
          * *
          
            But
            right now I think something different.
          
          * *
          
            I never saw it coming.

            Never thought she would.

            I would have stopped her.
          
          * *
          
            Could I have stopped her?
          
          140

          
            My
            Brain Somersaulted
          
          My heart picked up speed, my stomach threatened to 86 guilt, drowning in bile.
          Oh, God. I'm sorry.
          
            Hold me.
          
          * *
          I wrapped him tight, hair dripping cool around the stiffness of his shoulders.
          Not your fault.
          
            Whose, then?
          
          * *
          The answer, hanging over my head like a stubborn black cloud, seemed obvious.
          Mine.
          
            Don't say that.
          
          141
          I pictured Guinivere, golden-eyed wildcat, crumpled against the sad, cracked cement.
          Whose then?
          
            Plenty
            of blame to go around.
          
          * *
          Too much truth in that.
          And I never heard a thing, dead to the world for twenty hours.
          142

          
            We
            Sat on the Floor
          
          Tangled up in each other, a knot of emotions
          desperate for release.
          * *
          And the more we kissed, the more we talked, the more confused we became.
          * *
          He loved me. He loved her.
          He loved her first.
          He loved me now.
          * *
          I loved him. I hated her.
          I hated him for loving her.
          I loved him for loving her still.
          * *
          He wanted me. He needed me.
          He needed more to go to her, let her know he loved her still.
          * *
          I wanted him. I needed him.
          I wanted him to forget her, needed
          more to let him tell her he loved her.
          143
          When he asked me to go
          along, some masochistic
          piece of me agreed.
          144

          
            F
            ifteen Blocks on Foot and a Bus Ride Later
          
          We walked through big revolving doors, into the Land of Antiseptic.
          My empty stomach rocked at the alcohol/bleach perfume, yet somewhere in that revolting scent a lovely memory floated, ghostlike.
          * *
          The receptionist told us Lince was in ICI and asked if we were relatives.
          I'd seen enough soap operas to know to nod an affirmative answer.
          Adam played along.
          
            I'm her brother and this is...
          
          I held my breath
          
            ...
            my
            fiancé.
          
          145
          The lady didn't even blink behind her thick
          gray lenses. She directed us to the elevators. We got off on the 7th floor. A nurse said
          we'd missed visiting hours, but since we were relatives
          she'd let us poke in through the door.
          * *
          Intensive care is not a private place, big windows allowed unobstructed
          hallway-to-room views.
          It was a sea of white.
          Uniforms. Sheets. Curtains.
          Floors and walls.
          Why did that feel comforting?
          146

          
            L
            ince Floated
          
          in that white water world,
          Guinivere upon the River Styx, tubes intruding wrists and nose, liquid-filled lifelines.
          * *
          Adam let go of my hand and
          I stopped in mute agreement.
          This was his show.
          I found the waiting room.
          * *
          A dozen needs attacked me there.
          I needed
          food, fluid, soap, shampoo.
          * *
          I needed
          Adam, his heart, his promises his tomorrows.
          147
          I needed to go home
          'cause somewhere
          deep down
          * *
          I needed
          my mommy.
          * *
          And all that made me really
          really need
          * * a line.
          148

          
            E
            vening, When We Left
          
          The breeze, too hot to cool the blooming
          flower of summer
          night,
          * *
          seemed to ignite star
          candles in a sky, darkened as much by mood as time.
          * *
          We found the bus stop in silence, though I knew he had something to say.
          149
          Walked home beneath the celestial
          cathedral. No kiss at my door, only his good-bye.
          * *
          Not enough, but how could
          I beg for more? Did he mean forever, or just for now?
          150

          
            D
            ad Asked Where I'd Been

            How's she doin'?
          
          I opened my mouth to tell him, realized
          I didn't know. Adam
          had given nothing away.
          
            Heard it was touch-and-go for a while.
          
          * *
          Still looked touch-and-go to me, machines pumping
          existence into her through plastic tubes.
          
            Too damn bad. Pretty girl.
          
          * *
          Not so pretty now, Dad, head to toe black-and-blue, and shattered framework, facing uncertain healing.
          
            Hard to believe we just partied together.
          
          * *
          He really didn't get it, turned back to his TV. I
          went to the refrigerator, held my breath, looked inside.
          
            Sorry, not much in there.
          
          151
          Moldy cheese, outdated
          milk, peanut butter, and soggy celery. I found an apple, soft, but edible. Almost sweet.
          
            We could go out
            to dinner.
          
          * *
          My brain claimed I was crazy to even consider such a thing. But my insistent
          stomach won the day.
          
            McD's okay?
          
          152

          
            One
            Hour
          
          Tons of tasteless, useless, meaningless
          food and conversation later, two rounded, roiling
          bellies pushed
          back through the front door.
          * *
          Not that Dad didn't ask plenty of questions, worthy of answers, but how could I tell the man who turned his back on "daddy" status
          how my life had changed?
          * *
          How could I explain
          gut-wrenching insights to someone so lacking
          vision?
          * *
          How could I admit my
          part in the current melodrama to a psyche devoid of guilt?
          153
          How could I share the way my heart was breaking
          when my confessor
          didn't believe
          * * in love?
          154

          
            I
            nstead We Returned to Small Talk
          
          which is probably all we'll ever manage, all we'll ever get to, if we get to anything at all.
          * *
          We couldn't have spent more than two hours, total, within three weeks, tied up in trying to talk to each other.
          * *
          Inter-family communication
          must be an acquired skill.
          He never even asked
          * *
          if I'd gotten high before my little
          Albuquerque adventure.
          Never asked if I enjoyed
          * *
          spending time with the monster.
          He only wanted to know if Buddy and I had done the dirty, perhaps right there
          * * between his own disgusting sheets.
          His question reeked of voyeurism.
          155
          And he accepted my negative answer with a smile that meant he didn't believe a word.
          * *
          I wondered if Mom
          would have.
          156

          
            D
            ad Went Out
          
          Left me
          * *
          to
          fret
          * *
          to
          stress
          * *
          to
          cry
          * *
          to
          choke
          on
          emotion
          and
          * *
          great
          green
          nose
          clogging
          gobs
          157
          in
          sincere
          need of a good
          blow
          * *
          instead,
          I let
          the
          snot
          drip.
          158

          
            I
            Was
            Mid-Drip
          
          when Adam knocked on the door.
          I half considered pretending
          I wasn't there.
          Hurting.
          Bursting.
          Over him.
          Over this whole sorry
          pile of crap
          I'd dug myself into.
          * *
          But I wanted to see him
          more than anything.
          Needed to know
          I hadn't imagined the whole head over heels
          thing. I had to go home in a couple of days. I
          wanted to go
          still in love.
          159
          I found a paper towel, let go a mighty blow and went to let him in, even though I knew
          I must have looked
          very much like my
          dead and buried grandma.
          160

          
            Okay,
            I Looked Awful
          
          To anyone else, he probably looked worse.
          To me, he resembled an angel.
          A poor, sad, beautiful angel.
          * *
          His hurt swallowed mine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine.
          We tangled together
          
            I'm sorry.
          
          Me too.
          
            I'm just so confused.
          
          Ditto.
          
            I do know I love you.
          
          Ditto
          squared.
          161

          
            So
            of Course I Did a Really Stupid Thing
          
          He pulled a bindle from his pocket, tapped the sparkly powder inside.
          
            Cooked up fresh yesterday.
          
          * *
          Mother Kristina said no.
          The monster stormed Bree's door.
          
            That's my girl. Let's forget
            the bullshit and
            fly.
          
          * *
          We soared through the night, well beyond daylight.
          
            Funny thing about the monster.

            The worse he treats you,
            the more you love him.
          
          * *
          I knew already that had to be true.
          Blood geysered in my veins.
          Thoughts stampeded across my
          brain. Together, ecstasy.
          
            You are the most incredible girl.

            I never believed someone like you

            would fall for someone like me.

            But are you Kristina? Or Bree?
          
          162
          At the moment, all Bree.
          "Kristina is who they made me.
          Bree is who I choose to be. How
          'bout you? Adam or Buddy?"
          
            With you, I am Adam.

            And you are my beautiful

            Eve. Let's run away,
            find our garden, live there

            together, happy. Naked.
          
          163

          
            A
            dam
          
          took me in his arms
          kisses melting
          hurt, forgotten ice
          Unhurried hands lifted
          my shirt
          
            Pump. Pump. Pump
          
          Passion rose up in my heart and a bit farther south
          * *
          The monster-fueled
          inferno built
          thigh to belly button
          Adam's mouth moved
          lower, inch by trembling inch
          I was ready to do it oh, so ready.
          right that very instant.
          164

          
            B
            ut First I Had to Pee
          
          Passing the mirror,
          I chanced a glance at Bree, crank embers glowing behind dilated black windows.
          She didn't look half bad, certainly not dead and buried.
          In fact, she looked quite animated.
          * *
          I dropped my jeans. And guess what
          discovered, already staining my panties?
          That pesky monthly visitor who shows, unbidden, on your step, a true-blue party killer.
          * *
          Only this time, encouraged by the monster, it blew across the threshold, smashed down my door.
          I staunched the flow, changed
          my clothes, and went to tell Adam.
          165
          Flustered, flushed, he swore he didn't care, pouted and pleaded and cajoled.
          But I was not about to lose my virginity in a fountain of menstrual fluid.
          * *
          How many times
          have I regretted that decision?
          166

          
            B
            ut That Day
          
          there was still enough
          Kristina left to feel
          humiliation,
          * *
          still a smattering of old-fashioned morals, somewhere
          * *
          inside; still a healthy dose of survival instinct, buried
          beneath
          * * a childhood, fractured by hormones, smashed by the monster's
          * *
          fist and pressed into memory by two-faced
          bravado.
          167

          
            So
            I Said
          
          "No way."
          
            Why not?
          
          "You know
          why not."
          
            But you know you want to.
          
          "I do.
          But I
          can't."
          
            Not right, Bree. Look what you've done to me.
          
          And I
          thought,
          What did
          I do?
          
            You made me need you.
          
          He brought the crank.
          
            Made me have to have you.
          
          He let
          things get
          out of hand.
          
            Not later. Not next time. Now.
          
          168
          And then he took
          my hand,
          
            Put it right there.
          
          showed me
          how to make
          things right.
          
            Yes, just like that.
          
          For him.
          But what about me?
          169

          
            Girl
            s Get Screwed
          
          Not that kind of screwed, what I mean is, they're always on the short
          end of things.
          * *
          The way things work, how
          guys feel great, but make girls feel
          cheap for doing
          exactly what
          they beg
          for.
          * *
          The way they get to play
          you, all the while
          claiming they
          love you and making you
          believe it's
          true.
          170
          The way it's okay to gift their heart one day, a backhand the next, to move on to the apricot
          when the peach
          blushes and bruises.
          * *
          These things make me believe
          God's a man after all.
          171

          
            I
            Considered That
          
          As I considered my suitcase, sitting empty and closed on the floor.
          * *
          Empty and closed like Dad, not quite
          hopeless, but not ready to be filled.
          * *
          Empty and closed like Mom, writing a novel to create the excitement lacking in her own little life.
          * *
          Empty and closed like my sister, genetically
          locked in a maelstrom of meaningless apologies.
          * *
          Empty and closed like Lince, hovering in some
          frozen netherworld neither sun nor rain could thaw.
          * *
          Much too much to think about, I unzipped
          my American Tourister and started to pack.
          172

          
            O
            ne
            Day and Counting
          
          Mom called on her cell.
          
            You ready to come home?

            Don't forget to get to the airport
            at least an hour early.

            Kristina? We've really missed yo
            u
            around here.
          
          * *
          Translation:
          You are coming home, aren't you?
          Your father's a dunce, so remind him.
          You are coming home, aren't you?
          * *
          Dad called from work.
          
            I
            took the dayshift so we could
            spend

            tonight together.

            Want to go out to dinner?

            Did you say good-bye to Buddy?
          
          * *
          Translation:
          We really should spend one evening together.
          The fridge is empty again.
          He's not over there boinking you, is he?
          173
          Adam called from the hospital.
          
            Lince is off the respirator,
            but still in a coma.

            Can I see you this afternoon?

            I've got a surprise for you.
          
          * *
          Translation:
          Looks like she'll survive, with or without a brain.
          Are you still on your period?
          I'm on my way to pick up a bindle.
          174

          
            To
            Speed or Not to Speed?
          
          I told Adam to come on over,
          I wasn't going
          anywhere
          * *
          then proceeded to fret, as I did
          anytime
          * * he and Lince popped up together in a single thought, anyway
          * *
          I had only this day to make
          him remember me, however
          I could.
          * *
          I knew it wasn't a great idea, flying home, mostly high on the monster
          * * or crashing fast, the last tiny remnants of speed and I
          * *
          fighting to feel good, despite what the buzz
          had become--
          175
          low, that is, so low it was hard to remember the best
          * * of it. So of course I chose to go for it. Adam, Bree, and the monster were inextricable
          friends.
          176

          
            A Couple
            of Toots
          
          Skeletal lines, jaundice yellow, evil little breezes up the nose.
          One
          inhale, awesome, mean, tiny
          hammer blows to the brain, and I
          didn't care who knew that
          I was high,
          (well, okay, I preferred clueless cops)
          not Dad, who would be home
          soon. He'd want one or two
          himself. Not the people next door, who I'm pretty sure kept an ear to the wall, waiting to see if
          I would fly, or attempt, like our wingless lynx, to defy all instinct and natural
          law, ball up courage, count to three and crest the edge in one mighty
          leap. Or maybe she did just fall.
          I wonder, as I wonder if
          177
          I,
          locked in a cage of dreamless sleep, a place where only the monster
          can drop you so hard, heard the cry of a fallen
          broken
          bird.
          178

          
            B
            ut Right Then
          
          all I could think of, in that speeded, heated moment, was my own pain, stabbing through the pleasure.
          * *
          I asked Adam to hold me, kiss me longer, harder.
          
            Oh, God, I love you.
          
          Begged him to help me
          remember the taste of love.
          
            How will I live without you?
          
          Pleaded with him not to live without me. Write. Call.
          
            I will. I promise.
          
          And I promised I would
          come back to him.
          
            I want to give you something.
          
          I can't believe I let him, me, la gallina extrema.
          
            So you'll never forget me.
          
          (The extreme chicken.)
          Closed my eyes.
          
            I'll always be a part of you.
          
          179
          Gritted my teeth, locked into the love of the needle.
          
            Right there, on your thigh.
          
          And accepted Adam's tattoo, the tiny heart a very big
          
            Stashed under your skin.
          
          symbol, forever bonding us, his ink in my flesh.
          180

          
            It
            Throbbed
            the Next Day
          
          All the way home red and raw, like my eyes, drained of tears, denied
          sleep's healing, staring at the glare of midday sun in vibrant blue sky at
          20,000 feet.
          * *
          Red and raw like my belly, not even
          MacDonald's to soothe its empty
          demand ('cause Dad, of course, cranked it up when he got
          home--so much for dinner out).
          * *
          Red and raw like my heart, pried from Adam's, the two beating, no
          longer together, but a thousand
          miles between them when
          only yesterday they
          thumped in unison.
          181
          Red and raw like my brain, unable
          To shut down, thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of dueling emotions. Wanting to stay high. Knowing I
          should want to come down and stay
          that way.
          182

          
            I
            Still Wasn't Down When We Landed
          
          High-rise casinos, each with a "got
          rich" story or two and thousands of sad little secrets, gigantic glittering
          towers of glass and ungodly neon
          intruding upon the beauty of the July
          dusk, yet waving a welcome home, midst a bayou of cement, asphalt shingles, tinted panes, fake wood siding, and lingering in the distance, an ocean of sage-embroidered playa, vast as time itself, those very seconds, hours, eons locked within the fringe of great crustal blocks most call mountains.
          * *
          Kristina had seen it all before.
          Kristina was home.
          * *
          Bree saw it all through new eyes.
          Bree was a stranger.
          183

          
            T
            ightened Airport Security
          
          No one greeted me on the far side of the jetway, no relatives, no friends, only slot machines.
          * *
          Tugging those two
          carry-ons, upper thigh
          itching like crazy beneath a tight pair of jeans.
          * *
          I wandered toward the escalators, a 50-foot-long
          mural of blue Lake Tahoe
          flanking me on my left.
          * *
          8-foot-tall showgirls in purple boas (and not
          much else) smiling at me from the right.
          * *
          Kristina drawn left,
          Bree to the right, the monster started to retreat just in time.
          184

          
            I
            Saw Them
          
          before they saw me-- the whole fam-damily turned out to greet me:
          * *
          
            Jake, sweaty and animated, auburn hair (And where did
            that
            come from, Mother?)
          
          ruffled, freckled face (Thank God I missed that recessive gene!)
          handsome with summer color.
          * *
          Leigh, on summer break, too "Brittney-ish" (So much of Mom's platinum beauty!) to really be gay, (What a waste--like a butch would care!)
          legs to die for, unshaved in short shorts.
          * *
          Scott, face losing
          stress as he (Hard day, or another argument?)
          put work behind him, (Mom could have done worse--and had!)
          tall, lean, and great
          looking for 40.
          185
          Mom, somehow prettier with laugh lines, (Would I be able to say the same?)
          visible from here, (Would I ever even be that beautiful?) and a smile that could
          light a starless night.
          * *
          Right at that minute, she saw me. (And, just for an instant, her smile was all mine!)
          186

          
            T
            hen She Caught Sight
          
          of something
          not quite right, something
          not quite familiar.
          She hesitated, unsure
          that I was me.
          Her smile
          dissolved, ghostlike.
          * *
          But then she waved, and my family
          flooded me.
          187

          
            H
            omecomings Are Strange
          
          You come home, and everyone talks at once and everyone asks
          questions, but no one waits for the answers.
          * *
          Instead they talk about themselves, what they've been up to, what they're going to do next, as if you're a photo on the wall.
          * *
          And then they talk to one another, forgetting you've just
          flown in, forgetting you're in the backseat, forgetting they've already said it all.
          188
          And you want to shout, can't you see
          I'm here?
          can't you see I'm
          brand new?
          Can't you see me at all?
          189

          
            My
            Mom Says "I Love You" with Food
          
          So we went out to dinner. Not McDonald's, either.
          We went to a buffet. A mega casino-style buffet:
          * *
          Salads--Oriental chicken; wilted spinach; ambrosia; three-bean; crab (at least that's what they call it); potato (three kinds); pasta (five kinds); carrot & raisin (nasty); and, of course, green.
          * *
          Entrees--pizza, lasagna, mushroom ravioli; fried chicken, roasted chicken, chicken piccata; mahi, halibut, and deep-fried cod; mashed, baked, scalloped potatoes; vegetables; and on the carving board, roast beef, roast turkey, and roast loin of pork.
          * *
          Desserts--apple, cherry, and lemon meringue pies; angel, carrot, and triple-chocolate cakes; pastries, cookies, rum balls, and truffles; cobblers and bread pudding; soft-serve ice cream, with all the fixings; and for sweet-tooths on a diet, strawberries (forget the diet, top with whipped cream!).
          * *
          So Mom gets two plates (low carbs), strawberries (no whipped cream).
          Leigh gets three, eats half of each, skips dessert.
          Scott eats most of three, with a brownie and ice cream for dessert.
          Jake finishes four, down to the gravy; tops that off with three desserts.
          190
          As for me, still battling the monster for brain and stomach space,
          I picked at a single plate.
          191

          
            H
            ome Sweet Home
          
          Our pretty
          little place on a hilltop acre, native
          sandstone and imported
          compost, Mom's handcrafted
          oasis in a northern Nevada high
          altitude valley, not really a valley, but more a depression in the eastern Sierra
          foothills, where mountain streams fed snowmelt to a shallow, silver lake, and everything managed to stay green, despite high desert heat and wild winter winds,
          * *
          looked like it welcomed me looked like it threatened me
          looked just the same to me looked completely different and I was happy to be home and I was undeniably sad and I never wanted to leave and I wanted to turn and run
          wanted to call my old friends wanted to call my newest friend
          wanted to confide everything wanted to keep it all to myself
          needed to boast about the best needed to confess the worst
          needed to hold up needed to break down had to remember had to forget
          had to find Kristina. had to hide Bree.
          192

          
            D
            espite All Trepidation
          
          Despite the monster, fluttering in and out of my head like some demented moth, drawn to whatever light might be left there,
          * * despite Bree, demanding I find a way to get high, as if I had a clue where to get crank
          back here in Kristina Land,
          * * despite Leigh, helping me lug one suitcase, her hand annoyingly pinching mine with every tug, every pull,
          * * despite Jake, dropping the other suitcase down an entire flight of stairs, spilling shampoo, lotion, and tampons,
          193
          despite Scott, smelling depressingly clean, while my own speed-induced
          body odor reeked ever stronger,
          * * despite my mom, insisting I looked fabulous, having
          dropped four or five pounds, all the while wondering if anorexia had arisen....
          194

          
            REGARDLESS
          
          My spotless
          mauve room with pretty pink
          butterflies on one windowed wall and a big old bed worthy of dreams
          invited me into the familiar
          offered to rest my weary body and soothe my sorrowful heart.
          195

          
            I
            Slithered Down the Hall
          
          into the haven of the bathroom, shed
          my clothes, showered, scrubbed my
          skin until I thought it might blister, studied my thigh, found
          likely signs of infection.
          Bree shrugged,
          Kristina
          silently screamed at the angry
          green pocket of pus beneath the purple welt--
          Adam's forever
          symbol of love.
          196

          
            T
            he Door Opened
          
          I did scream then.
          But it was only Leigh.
          
            Hey, it's only me.

            Kinda jumpy, aren't you?
          
          "Did you need something?
          I'm naked you know."
          
            I've seen you naked before.

            'Course I've never seen that before.
          
          She pointed to the tattoo.
          What could I do but ask her opinion?
          
            In my opinion, you've got one nasty

            infection. Did you sterilize the needle?
          
          Thinking back, I wasn't so sure.
          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.
          197
          
            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.
          
          198

          
            B
            rain 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.
          199
          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?
          200

          
            S
            ilence
          
          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,
          
            Nobody home.
          
          Just me for company, no one
          demanding
          201
          conversation or explanations.
          I was alone, and I liked it that
          way.
          202

          
            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 to
            ld 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.
          203

          
            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.
          
          204
          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.
          
          205
          Finally without tears, until her oldest son died, shootin'
          speedballs--
          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.
          
          206
          And, knowing all these things, perhaps more intimately than I ought
          to, what did
          that make me?
          I thought about praying too.
          207

          
            C
            hanged
          
          my
          mind.
          No
          doubt
          the
          good
          If You do still care, Lord, please keep me safe.
          had
          weightier
          things
          to
          worry
          about
          than
          the
          half-
          hearted
          apology
          of
          a
          crashing
          crankster.
          208

          
            The
            Phone, Still in My Hand, Rang
          
          I jumped, like a bee had just
          given me a nasty hello.
          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 embarrassing freckles and wicked red hair she was forever trying to tame.
          209
          
            Was it 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 4
            th
            of July? We went
            up to Virginia City.
          
          * *
          What day was today? The 10th!
          Dad never said a word about fireworks.
          210
          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 sis
            ter.
          
          * *
          I told her I'd ask and call later.
          My brain needed a rest--not to mention my left ear.
          * *
          Kristina could listen to Sarah talk for hours.
          Bree was ready to scream.
          211

          
            At
            Least I Had the House to Myself
          
          I downed an ampicillin, splashed peroxide on my
          wounded
          thigh, which actually
          looked a little better, the heart
          more pink than violet, the pain more a soft
          pulsing
          reminding me with a steady beat of an emptiness so complete I had
          no clue how to fill it, loneliness so heavy I had
          no idea how to lift it, need so intense I had only
          one way to relieve it: a bitter drink
          212
          of its very source-- the deep well of the monster.
          213

          
            I
            Considered
          
          the Reno crank scene, or what I knew of it.
          Legit entertainment--
          music, magic, comedy clubs.
          Legit and semilegit--
          gaming, sports betting, light night carousing.
          Legal, semi-immoral--
          adult revues (aka "titty shows")
          gay clubs, strip clubs, swap clubs, beyond-the-city-limits prostitution.
          Such activities,
          24-7, practically invited the monster's
          participation.
          Remote desert
          dwellings, travel
          trailers and
          214
          sad, little
          shacks, went up in flames regularly, victims of ether-fed fire.
          Oh, yes, there was crank in Reno, waiting for me, calling
          out to Bree.
          All that was left was
          To find it.
          215

          
            S
            uddenly, However
          
          all those days with little or no sustenance hit me in one awful instant.
          * *
          Lucky me! Mom's kitchen was a whole lot better stocked than Dad's.
          (Not to mention a whole lot cleaner--
          no mega-cockroaches allowed!)
          * *
          Summer fruit.
          Garden veggies.
          Leftover roast beef.
          Homemade bread.
          Hand-churned ice cream.
          * *
          I'd almost forgotten how great a cook
          Mom was, at least when she wasn't
          too busy writing or going through one of her "I'm not your damn servant!" phases.
          * *
          Double lucky me.
          It seemed she was going through one of her
          Suzy Homemaker stages.
          216
          Fresh salsa.
          Homemade chips.
          Leftover chili.
          Cherry pie.
          * *
          felt like I'd died and gone to God's grocery stop in the sky!
          217

          
            My
            Luck Ran Out
          
          'Cause after I
          finished pigging out, I
          really wanted a cigarette.
          Nicotine's a strange addiction. I
          didn't even realize I was hooked until I
          couldn't have one. No
          one at my house
          smoked, at least not so you'd notice. Not
          my mom. Smoking
          causes wrinkles. Not
          Scott, who had a family history of emphysema. Not
          218
          Leigh, who said
          they made
          your hair smell like an ash
          tray (only true
          if you don't
          smoke). Surely not
          Jake, the ministud athlete. Nope.
          I
          was most definitely
          out of luck.
          For the moment
          anyway.
          219

          
            It
            Got Worse
          
          because just about then, my mom came home.
          
            Good. You're up. You looked dead
            to the world, so we let you sleep.
          
          Leigh shadowed her through the door.
          "Feeling better? We went shopping.
          I needed a new swimsuit in the worst way."
          Mom put an armful of bags on the counter, ignoring my crumbs.
          
            I
            got you one too. Your old one
            is pretty ratty.
          
          Leigh reached into a Macy's bag, extracted it for approval.
          "Cute, huh? She wanted to get you a tank, I
          
            insisted on a bikini. You
            do
            still like pink?"
          
          220
          Mom looked at the hot pink
          crochet, as if for the first time, shook her head and clucked,
          
            Better try it on. Can't sh
            ow too much

            skin at Scott's company
            picnic.
          
          Leigh glanced down at my T-shirt hem, barely covering our
          sisterly secret.
          "Nope, wouldn't do. Wouldn't
          do at all."
          221

          
            All
            Thoughts of Bad Habits
          
          vanished within a deluge of normalcy.
          Scott's company picnic was an annual
          * *
          family affair, fifty computer specialists, plus kids, wives, significant others, et al, eating, drinking, and being otherwise merry
          * * on the water slides, wave and wading pools at a decidedly fun place called Wild Waters.
          Beyond all things wet, there were go-carts,
          * *
          minigolf, an "invest your entire allowance
          here" arcade, and amusement-park-style rides.
          The day began early, ended late, and we always
          * *
          had a blast. So why didn't it sound inviting? I was home. Everything was the same, everything
          exactly as it should be. Everything, that is, except
          * *
          me.
          222

          
            I
            Went to Try On the Swi
            msuit
          
          Few things are quite as humbling as cinching yourself up in a completely
          revealing
          bikini and standing in front of a full-length
          reflection, rotating like a bird on a spit, trying to admire the naked truth
          staring back at you:
          body slim but not
          fine-tuned
          boyish hips, just
          barely qualifying as curves, uncertain breasts, cup size
          stalled
          somewhere between
          A (plus) and B (minus), womanhood
          223
          desperately trying to escape, succeeding
          once a month, like it or not, ready or not.
          (At least that wasn't
          currently a problem!)
          224

          
            T
            he Tattoo, However, Was
          
          It did look better, but it still didn't look good-- a bright pink, semi-heart-shaped thing, blue ink hiding somewhere beneath my skin, not an easy thing to hide in an itsy bitsy bikini.
          * *
          Band-aids were problematic. A little
          one wouldn't cover it, but one of those big
          square dudes would draw everyone's attention, guaranteed. Besides, have you ever seen a Band-aid, floating in a swimming pool? Would you want to be responsible for such a disgusting thing?
          * *
          And even if one did manage to stay on midst gushing gallons of chlorinated
          water, what would all that wet
          wildness do to the just forming
          scab and retreating infection?
          225
          Still, I couldn't beg off.
          Wild Waters Day was important to Scott's "leg up the management ladder."
          It was Mom's day to strut her stuff in her own itsy bitsy bikini.
          And it was always a summer hit for us kids.
          * *
          If I said I didn't want to go,
          Mom would check for a fever for certain.
          Even if she didn't find one, it would open the door for questions
          I really was in no mood to answer.
          * *
          Questions I knew I'd have to answer soon.
          226

          
            As
            I Pondered
          
          my problem, the telephone rang.
          Jake happily informed me--not to mention everyone else--it was
          Adam/Buddy on the far end of the line.
          * *
          "Hello?"
          
            Hey,
            Gorgeous. I miss you.
          
          Melted butter.
          * *
          "Oh, Adam. Me too."
          
            I can't stay on long. Phone

            bills, you know.
          
          Hot butter burned.
          * *
          "Okay."
          
            Just want you to know

            I love you.
          
          Burned good.
          * *
          "Me too. Always."
          
            Lince is coming home

            tomorrow. She'll be okay.
          
          Burned bad.
          * *
          "I'm glad."
          
            Bree? I've been thinking.

            We're a long way apart...
          
          Sizzled.
          * *
          "I know."
          
            So I think we should give

            each other permission
            to see other people.
          
          Spattered.
          227
          "You want
          my permission?"
          
            You have mine. Just think
            of me from time to time.
          
          Welted.
          * *
          "I don't need your
          permission, Buddy.
          And you obviously
          don't need mine."
          
            Well, okay then. Better go.

            Keep in touch.

            I really do love you.
          
          Scarred.
          228

          
            H
            is Idea of Love
          
          sure didn't mesh with mine.
          * *
          "I love you, let's see other people.'
          Interesting
          sentence structure.
          * *
          "Lince's coming home.
          Let's see other people."
          Unusual
          paragraph construction.
          * *
          My face flushed
          tears poked my eyes, scar tissue twisted my heart, wrapped itself around arteries, closed tight around my jugular.
          I coughed pain.
          * *
          I never went to Albuquerque
          expecting to find love.
          thought it had found me there, followed me home.
          229
          I never came home, expecting to lose
          love in the space of one brief
          telephone call.
          * *
          Is it always so short-lived?
          230

          
            Mom Knocked on My Door
          
          I found that strange.
          She never knocked.
          
            May I come in?
          
          Never asked for permission to come in. Permission.
          That word again.
          
            We haven't had a chance to talk
            since you got home.
          
          Then she looked at my face, all puffy and pissed, read
          everything she needed to there.
          
            Looks like we've got a lot to talk about.

            But maybe this isn't the best time?
          
          I wanted to talk. Needed to.
          But how could I possibly talk to her? She was my mom.
          
            I
            know I'm your mom and not always

            easy to talk to. But I'm here for you.
          
          I was ready for a lecture.
          Why did she have to choose
          that moment to try "nice"?
          231
          
            I
            want to hear all about your trip. Let

            me know when you're ready.
          
          Big girls don't cry, especially
          not in front of their mommies.
          But a cloudburst threatened.
          
            I
            hope you're hungry. I'm making

            your favorite
            --
            lasagna and garlic bread.
          
          I was hungry (somehow).
          I was tired (still). I was hurting (inside and out).
          And more than ever, I wanted to walk with the monster.
          232

          
            Over
            Lasagna and Garlic Bread
          
          I talked about airplanes.
          I talked about lonely seatmates, third-run movies, and pretzels
          (for this price!) in place of meals.
          * *
          I talked about Albuquerque, bowling alley
          etiquette, Los Alamos-grown cockroaches, and walk-ups in decidedly bad neighborhoods
          (omitting the part about my own little nighttime foray).
          * *
          With some prodding, I talked about Dad, his job, and (lack of) girlfriends;
          I talked about his philosophy, somehow sadly yet to ripen into something resembling maturity.
          * *
          With a lot more prodding,
          I talked about Adam aka Buddy
          (omitting everything of use to anyone
          interested in blackmail).
          233
          Considering his recent treachery, it was easy enough not to gush about his hot bod, wildcat eyes, incredibly perfect lips, and intuitive hands.
          * *
          And, mostly because everyone knew it anyway, I talked about how, despite his undying love, he had given us both
          permission to date other people.
          234

          
            Lei
            gh
            Knew
          
          there was a whole lot
          more to the story, of course.
          But I'd never
          told her secrets, and trusted
          completely she would
          never betray
          mine.
          Still, just in case, I
          never dared
          mention
          sex, interrupted by periods;
          Lince, interrupted by drugs;
          235
          or my own
          infatuation with the monster's
          spectacular
          rock and roll.
          No, these
          secrets
          belonged strictly in my own
          private closet.
          236

          
            Later
          
          Leigh climbed into my bed, moved very close to me, her proximity strangely
          unsettling.
          
            Want to talk? I do.

            I miss how we used to talk.
          
          I recalled a time, not so long
          ago, when snuggling with my big sister was comforting.
          
            Tell me more about Adam. Is he
            really your very first boyfriend?
          
          So why did it bother me now, when I so needed the consolation of touch?
          
            I'll
            tell you about Heather. She's

            not my first, but she tops the list.
          
          Heather? Lesbians had names like
          Bobbi or Jo, didn't they?
          "Heather" belonged to a model or cheerleader.
          237
          
            She's a cheerleader. Well, a song

            leader, and pretty much perfect.
          
          Leigh was almost perfect herself.
          
            If she were taller,
            she
            could be a model. Picture-perfect
          
          lesbians. I had to laugh.
          
            What are you laughing about?
            Didn't

            know cheerleaders were my type?

            Didn't know cheerleaders could
            be
          
          that type. Which got me thinking.
          What else might those peppy
          cheerleaders do?
          238

          
            I
            Tucked That Away
          
          And tried to focus on my sister
          going on and on about being in love with a girl: their meeting, touching
          accidentally, connecting
          immediately, interwoven
          hand in hand, heart-to-heart.
          And even though I loved my sister
          had accepted her eccentricities
          I found it hard
          239
          to listen to detailed
          descriptions, abstract
          ambitions, relevant
          observations, hers and mine.
          240

          
            W
            ild Waters Day Dawned
          
          hot, crystal blue--perfect for watery fun.
          I donned my new bikini, disguised the tattoo beneath a hot pink
          gauze cover-up, and on some lunatic whim
          called Sarah to come along.
          * *
          While
          waiting in line, we ran into Trent, another longtime friend, who on his 16th birthday made the huge mistake of climbing out of the closet and waving a big hello.
          * *
          Of course, I was good with it. We were best buds, no matter what, and, of course, there was the Leigh factor. But
          others in our school were not quite so open-minded.
          * *
          Since he outed, Trent
          had been teased, humiliated, beaten, even
          semitortured by some pickup
          truck cowboys who didn't have a clue about the real meaning of masculinity.
          241
          So there I was at Wild Waters, trying to look extremely cool at the coolest place in town, with chatty Sarah
          Baker and Trent
          "the gay guy"
          Rosselli.
          * *
          Turned into an interesting day.
          242

          
            Mom and Scott
          
          wandered over to the group
          picnic area to join the company
          brownnosers and nibble.
          * *
          Leigh and Jake went off together, racing to see who could reach the top of Black Widow first.
          * *
          Trent hit the wave pool.
          Sarah hit the bathroom--she always
          showered before entering the pool.
          * *
          I opted for an inner-tube float along the Lazy River, mostly because of this
          very cute lifeguard, perched overhead.
          * *
          And there was Bree, smiling seductively, and I swear that poster boy lifeguard
          smiled right back.
          243
          And in that righteous moment, complete
          clarity. Bree was not an invention, not a stranger.
          * *
          Bree was the essence of me.
          244

          
            W
            hether That's Good or Bad
          
          I can't say. I just know it's true.
          * *
          Bree opens doors
          Kristina wouldn't dare
          knock on,
          * * like that cute lifeguard's--
          not to mention Adam's, even if that one had recently
          slammed in her face.
          * *
          But Bree insists on having
          things all her way.
          * *
          So when Trent and Sarah
          came trucking up, bickering and tittering and doing all those little
          cutesy friend-type things,
          Kristina never minded.
          * *
          Bree wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, go
          away. Let her play.
          245
          For a while, without the monster
          whispering sweet and terrible
          nothings,
          Kristina was still in charge.
          * *
          But Bree was watching.
          246

          
            R
            ather Than Face
          
          total embarrassment, I
          told Trent and Sarah I'd
          meet them at Black Widow.
          * *
          They looked at me, looked at what I was looking at, hard-bodied and tan on his tall tower.
          * *
          Trent gave me a thumbs-up.
          Sarah broke out in giggles.
          Then they graciously provided space.
          * *
          I invited Bree to take over while
          Kristina took cover. She bent forward from the waist, shook her dripping hair,
          * *
          straightened, flipped it backward, and without a single thought to the puffy pink heart on her thigh
          247
          (let alone its artist), she marched right over to that lifeguard tower, looked up and, without drooling at all, asked,
          * *
          "Do you get a lunch break?"
          248

          
            Before Bree
          
          that would never have happened.
          Whatever she'd done to me, for me, and basically in spite of me, she'd given me a whole
          new sense of self.
          I never knew
          I could play the vamp, do it so well, flirt with total aplomb, and not only that, but look good doing it.
          Before Bree I never
          knew such sheer, depraved
          forwardness could
          be so much fun.
          So I went with it, jumped right into the role of shameless flirt.
          Girls responded
          249
          with pointed whispers, haughty laughter and, as
          I myself have often done, with evil eyes.
          Bree, of course, couldn't
          care less. In fact she thrived on any and all attention.
          Guys responded to that with solid
          once-overs, come-on smiles, and in Brendan the lifeguard's case, with phone numbers.
          250

          
            As
            If That Weren't Enough
          
          I sprinted off in search of my friends and (literally) bumped into Chase
          Wagner, Reno High's storied bad boy.
          Kristina would have offered a quick
          apology and scurried away.
          * *
          It's not like Chase was in the running for Mr. America.
          He looked like a linebacker, one who didn't play much in the sun--the freckles on his cranberry skin almost pulsed pain.
          * *
          But Bree found his bedroom
          eyes--glacier blue--and brooding
          demeanor quite the turn on.
          "Hey, Chase," she cooed.
          * *
          He scoped me out like an old
          tomcat, ogling a brand-new canary.
          
            Do I know you?
          
          251
          
            Kristina knew enough about
            him
            to think she ought to flee.
          
          Chase Wagner could be
          hazardous to a person's health.
          * *
          
            You look familiar, but not, so
            maybe

            I'm thinking of someone else.

            What's your name?
          
          * *
          Just like that, she had him.
          If she wanted him. Her game was no
          less dangerous than his. "Call me Bree."
          252

          
            Right Then, Three People
          
          shouted, "Kristina!"
          Time to beat a face-saving retreat, so
          I smiled and told Chase I'd catch him later.
          * *
          I looked around and saw Mom, waving to come and eat,
          * *
          Leigh, minus Jake, gesturing to come share a towel,
          * *
          Sarah, at the top of Black Widow, watching Trent's wet ride down.
          * *
          "Not hungry yet," I shouted to Mom.
          To Leigh, "Be there in a few."
          * *
          Then I joined my oldest, bestest
          friends in the world, tried to think of something to talk about besides lifeguards, bad boys,
          253
          and this person named Bree, growing stronger inside me, convincing me to be someone
          I never dreamed I'd want to be.
          * *
          I know you should be able to share such news with best friends, but I felt pretty sure they'd never
          relate and maybe refuse to forgive
          * *
          me for trading in the tried-and-true for a test drive of the dark side.
          254

          
            S
            till, When Brendan Came By
          
          I left my friends with my sister, took a walk to the back of the park, the eyes in back of my head noting envious stares.
          Brendan noticed, too.
          
            You related to those people?
          
          "Pretty much." I bummed a cigarette, inhaled like it was the healthiest
          thing a person could do.
          
            The pretty one looks like you,
            but the others don't.
          
          My turn for a jealous jolt. But I had a secret
          weapon. "The pretty one is my lesbian
          sister. The others are my cousins."
          
            Lesbian! Really? I never met

            one before. How about you?
          
          I laughed. "Of course I've met one, if my
          sister is one. Oh, you mean do I lean that
          direction? No way. I prefer male hardware."
          
            I
            like what you've got, too, li'l

            sister. At least, what I can se
            e.

            Male hardware? Must have read it in
            Cosmo.
          
          Whatever. Brendan touched my hair, made a move like he just might kiss me....
          255
          
            Damn. There's my boss. Back
            to work. Call me, okay?
          
          I wondered if I could. I'd always waited for boys to call me. Which is why I never
          talked to any except Trent. And Adam.
          
            By the way, beautiful, what's

            your name? In case you call.
          
          Twice in one day! I almost told him the truth but realized the fantasy was better and rested completely in Bree's hands.
          256

          
            I
            Went Home
          
          tired, tanned, and stuffed on barbecue,
          Scott insisted
          high on life, nicotine, and purloined booze,
          Chase invited
          elated, pumped
          up, full of Bree's
          magical ego,
          Brendan inflated
          chastised, brought
          back down a notch or two,
          Leigh instigated
          then all the way, chest-deep into shit when
          Mom finally noticed the tattoo, my
          meaningless, forever
          symbol of love. Still,
          Bree swore
          257
          whatever
          punishment
          lay ahead, only one thing
          could have
          improved
          that phat, fabulous day:
          * * a big bite of the monster.
          258

          
            Grounded UFN

            Until further notice. No

            excursions, no calls.
          
          How unfair could you get?
          Couldn't she just decide how mad to be, then mold the consequences to fit?
          
            I'm so disappointed in you!
          
          What else was new? She was only good with "all I could be" when it involved a straight-A report card.
          
            Don't you realize this could

            scar you forever?
          
          Well, duh, Mom. It already had, though not in the way you imagined.
          Couldn't you have asked about that?
          
            Why can't you be more
            like your sister?
          
          Did she mean look more like her? Be
          PhD bound? Or maybe she wanted me
          gay? Lesbians and pregnancy rarely mix.
          
            How can I trust you to make

            good decisions?
          
          259
          Oh, great. Here it came. No driver's
          training, no driver's license. Their
          way of keeping me cooped up forever.
          
            Driver's training is on hold.

            And to keep you from feeling

            cooped up, you can pull weeds.
          
          Fine. I was almost 17, would never
          drive, and now I'd spend my summer
          yanking goats' heads.
          260

          
            T
            he
            Pr
            oblem with Being Grounded
          
          is it gives you a whole lot of unavoidable time to think.
          Not even pulling weeds can
          take away your ability to plot
          all the varied and wonderful
          things you might do to get even, or at least to make up just a smidgen for time lost to TV and yard work and house cleaning.
          Time better spent
          camping with old friends
          (even slightly annoying ones), partying with great-looking new friends, and expending a few brain cells with the monster.
          get even,
          261

          
            S
            he Cut Me Loose
          
          Two weeks before
          Back-to-School, gave me her credit
          card and a ride to the mall, her way of apologizing without saying she was sorry for trashing my summer.
          * *
          Jake wanted to come
          along, but I told him
          I'd crawl into bed and stay there rather than haul my little
          brother around the mall. He went fishing with Scott instead.
          * *
          Didn't matter much.
          Summer had dissolved.
          New clothes and a few
          new tunes just might
          improve my "sour
          outlook," as she so lovingly termed it.
          * *
          I usually despise trying on clothes but, finally
          free, I meant to make it an all-day affair, shop
          every store, including
          Victoria's Secret. Guess who I ran into there?
          262
          The Reno High Varsity
          Cheerleaders, all buying
          new undies and bras to shape those tight tanks and sweaters (football
          weather in Reno is an exceptionally mixed bag).
          * *
          I waved to Trent's sister,
          Robyn, then pretended to browse, watching them
          yak a hundred words a minute, and I knew my
          suspicions were accurate.
          * *
          Those goody-goody girls, flipping perfect cartwheels and pert little ponytails, most definitely accelerated their metabolisms. The only
          question was: how?
          263

          
            I
            Pondered That
          
          while I picked out
          my own underwear.
          As I handed the saleslady
          Mom's credit card, someone
          tapped my shoulder.
          * *
          
            Hey, Bree. Can I see

            your panties?
          
          * *
          Chase! I tried to think of a witty comeback, managing mostly to look like a stuttering fool.
          "Uh-oh, uh--old or new?"
          * *
          
            Either, or. Better yet, both.

            What's up? Where you been?
          
          * *
          Like he'd been looking for me since Wild Waters.
          Like I'd been avoiding him.
          * *
          
            You haven't been avoiding me,
            have you?
          
          264
          Why would I? What he might lack in looks, he more than made up for in fringe benefits.
          I explained about the tattoo.
          * *
          
            You really wanna piss her off,
            try a piercing. Want to see mine?
          
          * *
          I couldn't find studs in his ears, lips, or tongue. Which
          pretty much left one place.
          "Didn't it hurt?"
          * *
          
            Like a mother. But it
            feels

            awesome now.
          
          * *
          He guided my hand
          just south of his zipper.
          Kristina recoiled.
          Bree--well,
          Bree was Bree, to Chase's great pleasure.
          * *
          
            Hee hee. So want to take
            a little ride? Got my truck outside.
          
          265
          I started to protest.
          I had some serious
          shopping ahead.
          And Bree or no Bree,
          I wasn't about to do
          Chase Wagner.
          * *
          
            No strings. I just want to
            get
            to know you better.
          
          * *
          Where had I heard a similar tale?
          I was about to give him a definite no when he sweetened the offer.
          * *
          
            I've got a little toot, if
            you're
            so inclined.
          
          266

          
            D
            id It Show?
          
          I mean I'd
          thought about the monster
          dreamed about the monster
          lusted for the monster
          regretted
          knowing the monster but I hadn't
          touched the monster
          * * in over a month.
          Hadn't even seen it.
          * *
          Thought I might be over it.
          Was it still alive in me?
          * *
          Could it still have such a solid hold on me?
          267

          
            We
            Drove Down by the River
          
          parked beneath towering cottonwoods.
          Strange, how intensely desire
          builds when the monster waits at the far end of a drive.
          * *
          On the way I learned, for a bad boy
          Chase was incredibly smart. Webster
          would envy his vocabulary, he was up on current events, could quote Keats:
          * *
          
            Give me women, wine, and snuff

            Until I cry out hold, enough!

            You may do so sans objection

            Till the day of resurrection; for

            Bless my beard they aye shall be

            My beloved Trinity.
          
          * *
          No mirrors, no blades, Chase reached
          deep inside a pocket, withdrew an amber bottle with a tiny spoon attached to the lid. He set it on his knee.
          * *
          
            Hey, you're shaking. You're not

            scared, are you? We don't have
            to do this, do anything at all. We

            can just sit and talk if you want.
          
          268
          "I'm not afraid, Chase." Not of him.
          Not with him. In fact, I felt quite safe.
          It was monster desire that made me
          tremble. Chase noticed.
          * *
          
            Take it easy with this stuff, Bree.

            It brings even good people to their
            knees. Don't get me wrong. I
            like it, too. Just keep cool.
          
          269

          
            One
            Spoon
          
          I was cool.
          Two, I was too
          cool. Three, sub-Arctic. Four, my mouth hit
          monster mode.
          Chase could barely
          keep up. We talked
          about:
          * *
          
            Good girls
            Bad boys

            Smothering moms
            Indifferent moms

            Disappointing fathers
            Obnoxious fathers

            Stepfathers--one
            Stepfathers--three

            Annoying little brothers
            Brothers with very big footsteps

            Summer trips
            Boring summers at home

            Junior years
            Senior years

            Early graduation
            College boards

            Cheerleaders
            Football players

            Artists
            Poets

            Tattoos
            Piercings

            Ex-boyfriends
            Ex-girlfriends

            Dreams
            Doubts
          
          270
          
            Punishments
            Loneliness

            Old friends
            New friends

            Gay friends
            Lost friends

            Desire
            Addiction

            The monster
            More monster

            Kristina
            Bree
          
          271

          
            I
            Had to Explain
          
          about Bree/me; by then, he had
          already asked to kiss
          me, and I let him because I really
          wanted him to, and it wasn't my
          first kiss
          nothing like that one, in fact, maybe it wasn't
          even my
          best kiss but it was pretty
          fine, and the fact
          that he had asked
          will forever make
          that kiss
          272
          stand out in my
          mind, touch my
          heart, make me
          remember a kiss so tender it made me cry.
          He held me then, smoothed my hair and I asked him to kiss me again and he did, over and over, until
          I thought we might
          melt together, fused by kisses.
          273

          
            In
            That Quite Hot Moment
          
          a park ranger cruised by, took a good, long look.
          
            Maybe we'd better go
            .
          
          "I should get back anyway.
          My mom will wonder if I don't
          spend enough of her money."
          
            Ha, ha. I can always
            help.
          
          As we drove away, he pulled me
          close, rested his hand on my knee, shifted between my legs.
          
            Can I see you again?
          
          "Any time, Chase." Any time.
          How weird was that? A few months
          back I would have said no way.
          
            Soon?
          
          As soon as I could break away from
          Mom's watchful eye. Chase sure
          wasn't her type. Was he really mine?
          
            I
            like you, Kristina.
          
          "I like you, too." I did. He was nothing like I had imagined.
          He was bright, intuitive.
          
            Or do I like Bree?
          
          274
          Even if he did ask hard questions.
          Jetting on the monster in spectacular
          fashion, I didn't know how to answer.
          
            Doesn't matter. What's in a name?

            That which we call a rose by any

            other word would smell as sweet.
          
          Chase Wagner and Bill Shakespeare.
          Talk about your strange bedfellows.
          I was in line for that ménage à trois.
          275

          
            Chase
            Wanted to Walk Around the Mall
          
          with me, but I knew I wouldn't get much
          shopping done if I went on a kissing
          spree. A word of advice:
          * *
          Never shop on crank.
          Your brain moves beyond the speed of light as you wander through a familiar store. First, you can't find Juniors.
          * *
          Once you finally do, you need the restroom first, then you get all turned around again.
          Then, you can barely take it all in. Sizes. Styles.
          * *
          Colors. Trends.
          Everything looks great on those goofy mannequins, so it's got to look
          better on you, right? You grab an armful, stumble to a
          * *
          dressing room, try on all those darling clothes and nothing you like fits. So you leave silk and velour and suede behind, settle for two identical pairs of jeans.
          276
          Then you hustle off to the next store and repeat the process, only this time you leave with a couple of tees exactly like a couple you bought last year.
          * *
          And when you realize that, you laugh your
          butt off, but really don't want to hassle with returns or exchanges so you
          decide to accessorize instead.
          277

          
            A
            Second Word of Advice
          
          If shopping for clothes on crank is dumb, trolling for jewelry, belts, and shoes is something
          just this side of insane.
          Suspenders?
          Don't think so.
          Nikes. Vans. Doc Martins.
          One of each?
          Maybe next time.
          Scrunchies. Barrettes. Berets.
          Ebb the sable flow?
          Uh-uh.
          * *
          I was stressing over earrings when
          another hand touched
          my shoulder.
          
            I thought you were going to call.
          
          Brendan.
          278

          
            T
            wo
            Guys in One Day?
          
          Almost too much to consider, although Bree found the prospect
          quite intriguing. So then I had to explain GUFN again.
          "Today is the first day she cut me loose."
          * *
          
            Sounds
            like a reason to party.

            That
            was funny. But it was time to catch my ride home. Since Brendan
            was
            my mom's type--tall, handsome, and gainfully employed--I let him walk
          
          me out. Mom was parked right in front.
          * *
          
            Is she a
            lways so punctual?
          
          I laughed like he was the wittiest
          man alive, and promised to call, wondering what was up. With me.
          Had I lost one boyfriend, to gain
          two? And how could I possibly
          
            want
            these two,
            opposite squares on the chessboard?
          
          279
          
            Damn, your
            mom is fine.

            That
            wasn't funny at all. I had to live with my mom, obey her rules, accept her punishments. But I would

            never
            accept her as competition.
          
          * *
          
            Not as fine as you, of course.
          
          Okay. Better.
          280

          
            Mom Wanted to Hear All About Brendan
          
          I told her what I knew, hoping I didn't talk too
          much. Or too fast.
          
            He's really cute.
          
          Oh, great. Mutual attraction.
          I almost opened my mouth, thought better of it.
          
            Did he ask you out?
          
          In a manner of speaking,
          I supposed. Out. In. I
          doubted he was picky.
          
            Do we need to have the talk?
          
          At that, I really had to stifle Bree. Let me tell
          you, it wasn't easy.
          
            He did seem like a nice boy.
          
          Seeming and being are two different things. You
          seem nice, too, Mommy dearest.
          
            Anyway, did you find some nice clothes?
          
          281
          I showed her what I
          bought, and she grinned a killer smile.
          
            At least you're consistent.
          
          I had to laugh, speeding along with the monster.
          Consistent? Not!
          282

          
            I
            nconsistent Me
          
          could barely look at dinner.
          I told Mom I ate at the mall.
          
            What?
          
          What, what?
          
            What exactly did you eat?
          
          Quick, Kristina, think.
          "Stir-fry. You know, fast food Chinese."
          
            Did you eat all your veggies?
          
          OMG! Here I was, busting
          my brain on first-class speed, and all she cared about was if
          I'd consumed my greens?
          
            'Cause you can't stay smart

            eating only junk food.
          
          Stay smart? First I had to get smart, and it wasn't about to happen
          holding hands with the monster.
          
            Besides, vegetables give a girl
            a healthy glow.
          
          283
          Damn. Wasn't I glowing?
          Then again, even if I was, it could hardly qualify as healthy. Still, Mom
          didn't insist I share the dinner table.
          
            It's only leftovers, anyway.

            By the way, a letter came
            for you today.
          
          284

          
            
              D
            
            ear Kristina,
          
          Hope everything's okay. Hope you're okay.
          Things are okay here.
          * *
          My mom got a new job and she's dating her boss.
          He already thinks he's my stepdad or something.
          Says I'd better think about what I want to do with my life.
          Besides party, that is.
          I hate him already. You know?
          * *
          Lince is home and I guess she's better.
          
            She has to go to PT
            --physical therapy--
            every day.
          
          She's learning to walk and talk, just like a baby.
          It's weird, really weird.
          I try to spend time with her, but it's hard. You know?
          * *
          I'm sorry about that phone call.
          I didn't mean to upset you.
          I was at the end of a three-day binge.
          Too long without food and sleep.
          Your brain starts to play tricks. You know?
          285
          
            I do love you, Kristina.

            You were a summer gift, one I'll always tre
            asure.

            You were a dream I never wanted to wake
            up from.

            You opened my eyes to things I'll never rea
            lly see.

            You're the best thing that will ever happen
            to me.
          
          * *
          
            Be safe. Be smart. Stay you.
          
          * *
          
            Adam
          
          286

          
            Why
            Was Everyone
          
          suddenly worried about my IQ?
          I sank into my
          down
          pillow-top, reread every word
          twenty times, right down to his signature.
          Adam had a poet's soul.
          I put the letter down and considered crying, wondering how loving
          him could bring me so far down, wondering how to stop
          loving him, wondering
          if the monster would soon
          let me come down.
          287

          
            I Did Cry
            Then
          
          Climb-and-dive on the crank coaster,
          I unlocked my heart, let the hurt out.
          And then, like he was listening at the keyhole, Chase called.
          (He even asked for Kristina.)
          
            Hey, sweetheart. Just
            checkin'

            U
            p on ya. You okay?
          
          Let's see. Speedin'. Wantin' tobacco.
          Cryin' over a guy I thought I was over.
          Probably going to start my period--just in time to encourage a few new zits right before school started. "Fine."
          
            Really? You don't sound fine.

            Can I make you feel better?
          
          I told you he was intuitive. Even
          if he wasn't the type I could
          bring home to Mother. Yes,
          I liked Chase Wagner.
          
            I'd sing to you but I'm pretty

            sure that wouldn't
            help.
          
          288
          I jumped into his well of ever-present
          cheerfulness, gulped deeply, laughed out loud. We talked until
          Scott needed to use the phone.
          
            You probably won't sleep

            much tonight. Think of me

            once or twice?
          
          At least. I hung up, feeling much less
          alone. Pulled out my journal and started to write. Wrote all night.
          The monster and I had a lot to say.
          289

          
            C
            hase Was Right
          
          I didn't sleep much that
          night and not for the next
          day or three afterward, either.
          Sarah invited me
          over,
          I told her I felt under the weather, both to escape inevitable
          questions
          demanding uneasy
          answers and to consider my
          options.
          290
          possibility number
          one,
          Chase, likely; two,
          Brendan, maybe; three, someone altogether new.
          Who knew?
          291

          
            I
            Had to Pick Up
          
          my student I.D. card so I bummed a ride from Chase, told Mom I was going with Sarah.
          * *
          It was the first time in a long time I'd out and out
          lied and it bothered me. For about five minutes.
          * *
          I walked down to the 7-Eleven to wait for Chase, anticipation rumbling in my empty gullet.
          * *
          The sight of his red Toyota pickup brought a smile to my lips--and more, inside.
          * *
          We shared a seat, we shared a smoke, we shared a kiss or several.
          * *
          At school, Chase waited with me in some long
          lines. Yearbook. Class schedule. Student body card.
          * *
          I even smiled for the camera. I had to, with Chase
          checking out my student body, grinning like a toad.
          * *
          Back in the truck, more kisses and a cigarette of my
          own (pilfered from his pack, pilfered from his mom).
          292
          He dropped me off around the corner from my house, gave me a stick of gum and a big, wet good-bye kiss.
          * *
          It might have been the perfect day except just as I closed the door, Scott happened to drive by.
          * *
          I learned a valuable lesson about lie construction and Mom gave me plenty of time to consider
          how to do it better.
          293

          
            G
            UFN Again
          
          I
          sat on my bed, absentmindedly
          tracing the lopsided
          heart-shaped scar, didn't
          read, didn't write. All I did was think about my personal
          evolution. Where did I
          belong with my relative innocence
          gone? Where did I fit?
          I felt like I had fallen in
          to
          a critical state of limbo.
          With my old friends mired in status quo, how could I explain
          my
          summer enlightenment? My new
          crowd--if three guys and Guinivere
          qualified--was not what my
          294
          mom
          (or I) expected. I wondered if I should
          confess that her sweet, intelligent
          little Kristina did not exist
          anymore.
          295

          
            L
            eigh Headed Back to School
          
          Mom drove her to the airport.
          I waited until they hustled off, late, then asked to stay home, claiming, "Cramps."
          * *
          Mom gave me a look, but I could prove the cramps were real. Leigh gave me a big, tense hug, made me promise to behave myself.
          * *
          The minute the car turned the corner,
          I was on the telephone, completely
          misbehaving.
          "Come over, Chase."
          
            Now?
          
          "Right now."
          
            Where's your mom?
          
          "Just hurry."
          * *
          Need arose like an angry red dawn.
          I paced until the dogs warned a stranger had just arrived.
          * *
          
            How much time

            do we have?
          
          "Not enough."
          
            What do you

            want?
          
          "Everything."
          
            Will I get you in
            trouble?
          
          296
          "Probably."
          I didn't care. I needed to feel
          good. We snorted, we smoked.
          I asked for,
          "More."
          
            Don't think you

            should.
          
          "Please!"
          
            Take it easy,

            Kristina.
          
          "Can't."
          
            Your mom will be

            home soon.
          
          "I know.
          That's why
          I can't."
          297

          
            C
            hase Left Me with Goodies
          
          He didn't want to, told me
          No way. but Bree, mistress of persuasion, knew a trick or two to get her way.
          Kristina swore to keep her in check and she tried, but no way to slow the electric impulse flow, our brain began to plot. How to get away from the confines of GUFN?
          Sweet-talk Mom?
          Little chance of that working, a crazy
          idea soon hatched to sneak away for one spectacular last
          summer fling.
          Insanity, that's what it was, school
          starting in only two days.
          298

          
            I
            Watched the Window
          
          as I picked up the phone and dialed.
          Bree cooed a throaty hello.
          
            Hey. I'd just about given up on you
            .
          
          I could not admit to GUFN. Not
          again. I concocted
          some lame excuse.
          
            No problem. Want to get together?
          
          I did. Chase or no Chase, I wanted to see what Brendan was made of.
          Bricks, mortar, flesh, bones.
          
            I'll pick you up. Where and when?
          
          Let's see. Wait for everyone to hit the hay, extra half hour, scale down the wall...
          
            That's pretty late.
          
          Very late. But I'd definitely be
          awake. I coughed up the fact
          I was sneaking out.
          
            Okay by me. Just don't get caught.
          
          No duh. I didn't plan on getting caught. Still, what could
          they do if I did? Ground me forever?
          
            What sort of party would you like?
          
          299
          Damn, direct. Not even sure
          if he indulged, I said I'd bring the toot if he'd bring the beer.
          
            Sounds like a deal I can
            live with.
          
          Mom's SUV turned up the driveway. Deal sealed,
          I said good-bye.
          
            See you tonight, luscious.
          
          Luscious? Plain old white
          bread me? I liked it. At least
          I thought I did then.
          300

          
            I
            Hid Out in My Room Until Dinner
          
          made sure to gag down every scrap of spinach, so both my mom and my mouth
          would keep quiet.
          * *
          I still had a valid cramp excuse so I packed it in early. Uh-huh. Sat in the dark, lit as the starry sky.
          * *
          Listened to the sounds of my normality: familiar
          footsteps in the hall; whispers; laughter; baying at the moonlight.
          * *
          And it occurred to me for one uneasy moment
          that every move I had made lately might have
          started a landslide.
          * *
          What if I couldn't go back? What if I died in the crash?
          * *
          Almost immediately, the monster soothed
          me, confused me with a deeper question.
          What if the ride was worth it?
          301
          I mean, who wants to trudge through life, doing
          everything just right? Taking no chances means
          wasting your dreams.
          * *
          How can I explain the pure chilling rush of waiting to do something so basically not right?
          No fear. No guilt.
          * *
          How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?
          302

          
            I
            Hoped Not
          
          As I softly opened my second-floor window, peered down at the cement walk below, took a deep breath.
          * *
          Fingers clutching the upper sill, toes stretching for the first-floor trim, I managed to touch down
          * *
          safely. It may have been the safest moment of the night, in fact. Gulped into darkness,
          * *
          I let my eyes adjust, felt the breeze lift
          goosebumps, listened for signs of household disturbance.
          * *
          No motion. No sudden snitch of a light switch.
          No sound but distant coyote song, I silenced
          * *
          my conscience, quieted my screaming nerves and slipped away unnoticed, for the moment.
          * *
          No streetlights, no headlights, the world
          seemed to sleep beneath my feet as I ran,
          * * a mustang over moonlit playa; a cheetah in high gear. No fear, no brakes, consumed
          303
          by some irrational itch to cruise along shadowy thoroughfares, traveled by demons.
          304

          
            Brendan Was Waiting
          
          in a battered mud-colored Bronco.
          
            Climb in. You look great.
          
          Winded. Hair plastered by my
          escape sprint. He was a liar.
          A smooth, gorgeous liar.
          
            Wanna go up to Chamberlain Flat?
          
          Secluded five miles up a rutted
          dirt track, the played-out mine was a notorious party spot.
          
            Supposed to be a party up there.
          
          Anything could happen at a party up there. Good things. Bad things.
          Truly evil things.
          
            Ever hear about Evan Malone?
          
          Evan Malone, urban legend--eighteen and in league with Satan, skinning
          goats up at Chamberlain Flat.
          
            My brother went out with his sister.
          
          So he was more than just a parental
          fabrication meant to scare kids
          away from abandoned mine shafts?
          
            He was real, okay. Kyle met him.
          
          305
          Met him and what? Dressed up like
          Halloween, prayed to the devil, and sacrificed hoofed animals?
          
            Shared a bong. Said he was creepy.
          
          Major understatement, if the dude was really for real! If pot made you
          buddy up with Satan, you could keep it!
          
            But don't worry. Evan's
            long gone.
          
          I reached for a whiff of courage.
          
            Far fuckin'
            out! Beer's in back.
          
          306

          
            We
            Bumped up the Road
          
          Doing 40 or so spilling some
          foam of summer-warmed brew
          * * and busting our guts, laughing.
          I watched Brendan's muscular hands
          * *
          try to shift, missing gears, try to steer around potholes,
          * *
          not quite evading most of them.
          I studied his face, mentally tracing
          * *
          bone structure a model would kill for, high cheekbones perfect white teeth
          * *
          all sheathed in Mediterranean-
          flavored skin, iced mocha,
          * *
          begging to be sipped, so I did.
          I swear, every guy you kiss is
          * * so different. Each has a unique
          essence, each a significant style.
          307
          Brendan was eau de lavender, vanilla,
          Heineken, Crest and top-notch speed.
          * *
          
            His style was
            "No is not an acceptable

            answer."
            He was Bree, with a penis.
          
          308

          
            S
            aturday Night
          
          postmidnight, 30-some hours till
          back to the books, the party had
          hit high
          gear. Pot smoke hung, a skunky
          green curtain, but I didn't want to fall low so I indulged in another big snort before inhaling a couple of tiny tokes, mostly to satisfy the incredible urge to pollute
          my lungs. I topped that off with a Marlboro, landing on just about the perfect plane, just about the place I wanted to be. Not too speedy, not even close to straight
          falling into the yo-yo rhythm of crank, pot, beer, tobacco, the sensational motion and emotion, up and down,
          Brendan hanging tight, though I suspected he might desert me, take off on a flirting binge. And, oh, god,
          309
          the jealous stares of girls I had envied
          not long before, girls suddenly, strangely on fire to know me, though they had never once in the past returned
          my smile. And now, instead of Kristina, they got to know Bree.
          310

          
            Brendan Stoked the Fire

            Let's take a walk.
          
          I was game to play the game. We wandered
          off, found a soft sitting
          spot in a patch of crispy brown wild wheat.
          
            Come here, Bree.
          
          As he pulled me onto his lap, I wondered if
          I should confess my double identity.
          Instead, I let him kiss me. Hard. Hot.
          
            Oh, man. I'm hot.
          
          He shed his shirt and the moon revealed
          perfect, tanned muscles. He started to unbutton mine, silencing my protest.
          
            Shhh. Don't say
            no.
          
          "I can't. I mean, I never..." Crank-enhanced
          goosebumps lifted as he moved his hands gently across my skin. "Stop."
          
            You know you wa
            nt to.
          
          "I do, Brendan, I really do. But I can't.
          It's the wrong time of the month."
          I'd decked him. He slapped back.
          
            Then, why
            did you call?
          
          311
          I let Bree answer. "Not to get laid, incredible as you are. Is that all you think I'm
          about? What if I told you I'm a virgin?"
          
            I'd call you
            a liar.
          
          Bree wanted to joust, but Kristina thought about a long walk home and put Bree
          back into her box. I looked him in the eye. "No lie."
          312

          
            P
            aydirt!
          
          The "v" thing. Is it every guy's dream to take something so tenuous and make it totally, solidly his? But Brendan softened
          immediately, offered to forgive me if only I
          promised to let him be first. I wasn't sure
          what I needed forgiveness for but I said
          okay, then proceeded to thank
          him as only Bree--and the monster--could.
          313

          
            H
            air Mussed
          
          clothes cockeyed, makeup smeared,
          I would have looked
          fairly suspicious if I
          had walked through the door that night.
          * *
          But I didn't have to and never once
          pondered getting
          caught as I stood
          tiptoe on the first-
          floor window trim, stretching to catch the ledge and crawl
          back inside my window.
          * *
          House dark, no sound but Jake's snoring through the wall, I
          laid in bed, watching a ghost dance on the ceiling, nose sucking
          314
          up sweat, tobacco, and eau de Brendan, wondering what Adam was up to until the sun
          poked through the curtains, less than an hour later.
          315

          
            High
          
          For two days, too much crank, no sleep, liquid diet. The first
          * *
          day of school was a nightmare.
          Good thing I wasn't a freshman.
          * *
          I'd have gotten lost, somewhere between gym and the chem lab.
          * *
          (Almost did, in fact.) I collected
          handouts; tried to follow list upon
          * *
          list of curricular expectations; tried, failing miserably, to conquer
          * *
          new locker combinations; avoided
          eye contact with teachers, staff, and
          * *
          most definitely school police; ducked Sarah and Trent so I didn't
          * *
          have to listen to their chitchat; spent lunch far from anything close
          316
          to food, even though I trembled from near starvation. All the while
          * *
          feeling like my head would burst from thinking so damn much when
          * *
          all my brain wanted to do was close down and fall deep into REM
          * *
          sleep. I considered climbing under the bleachers, letting it do just that
          * * before I did something really dumb like passing out, but just about then
          * * the final bell rang.
          317

          
            D
            ay One
          
          blessedly behind me,
          I rode the belching bus
          home
          wondering how I would
          possibly make it to school the next day. Craved down time when I had to gear up, sustenance
          though I might throw it up, silence when I knew my
          family
          would be waiting to share
          news of the day. The very
          monotony
          I had lately disdained
          
            cried out to me:
            I am
            essential
            without me you will

            wither, like this

            summer

            folding up into fall;
            freeze hard, water in
          
          318
          
            winter

            awaiting the first breath
            of
            spring; uproot, grass in
            a
            wind

            blown into tornado;
            parch, like earth denied

            rain.
          
          319

          
            M
            om's Car Wasn't in the Driveway
          
          I thanked my, for once, lucky stars, went
          inside, ignoring
          Jake completely.
          Scoped out the fridge, grabbed a handful of red
          grapes so sweet
          you could never
          even fantasize them.
          * *
          Downed them like candy, went back for more, chased
          them with fudge
          swirl Haagan-Dazs.
          No homework, I
          went into my
          room, fell straight into bed and the sleep of the dead.
          320
          Mom must have
          thought me dead, when she found
          me hours later, tried desperately to shake me from the devil's deep slumber
          embrace, shouted for
          Jake to bring icewater, threw it in my face
          321

          
            Which
            Roused Me
          
          riled me, made me
          want to scream.
          Instead
          I made a major--in
          retrospect, not the best--
          decision.
          I creaked to sitting, thought
          twice, but when she insisted
          I drag my
          rubbery
          bones to the dinner table,
          322
          I looked her in the eye and for the first time in my life, told my
          mother,
          "Fuck you."
          323

          
            M
            ajor Mistake
          
          Her eyes popped wide, her jaw
          dropped like concrete. She reached
          out and shook me.
          
            What did you say?
          
          Even caught up in confusion,
          I knew better than to repeat myself.
          I shook my head.
          
            Tell me again.
          
          Okay, she was testing me.
          I flunked completely.
          "I said, fuck you."
          
            That's what I thought you said.
          
          Mom's turn for firsts.
          She slapped me so hard my teeth
          rattled and snot flew.
          
            Don't ever say that to me again.
          
          I dissolved into exhausted
          tears, wondering why I'd done it.
          Mom broke down too.
          
            Kristina, what's going on with
            you?
          
          324
          I couldn't tell her the truth.
          What kind of lie might do? I started with a genuine, "I'm sorry."
          
            Oh, God, I'm sorry
            too.
          
          She sat down beside me on the bed, put her arms around me, hugged tight.
          
            You're not in trouble,
            are you?
          
          Trouble? All sorts of trouble, oh, yes. But not the kind she was worried
          about. "No, Mom."
          
            These new friends... are they... okay?
          
          Why couldn't she just say
          what she meant, ask if they'd led
          me down the path to hell.
          
            You've got so much
            promise....
          
          Then again, if she did, would I
          own up? Confess that I had taken the lead on this perilous journey?
          
            Please don't throw it all away.
          
          325
          My mind churned love. Mom loved
          me. Adam loved me. I suspected
          Chase might love me,
          
            I love you, Kristina Georgia.
          
          (I was pretty sure Brendan
          only loved the big "v.")
          Who loved me more?
          Who loved me most?
          
            Now, please come down to
            dinner.
          
          326

          
            I
            Did
          
          I sat at the table, brain blank, head
          spinning, something
          that sounded
          suspiciously liquidy
          whooshing between my ears, trying not to look like the space cadet
          I felt like, struggling to form coherent
          sentences around megabites of chicken and corn bread, waiting for the ax to clobber
          me. But Mom never
          said a word about the reason
          327
          for the red marks across my cheek, and not
          only didn't punish
          me, but let me off
          GUFN.
          Forgiveness
          granted, I made some
          decisions: appreciate
          family, focus on school and hunt for Kristina.
          328

          
            I
            Mostly Managed That
          
          for the next week.
          Hit a reasonable
          educational stride, settled into the rhythm of classrooms, quizzes, study halls, homework.
          * *
          Hung out with
          Sarah and Trent, swapped summer
          vacation stories
          (majorly editing mine), tried out for honor choir and actually made it, despite a voice gone raspy from excess and mushrooming allergies.
          * *
          Did my best to absorb the energy of family, meals, Sunday church, and a Labor Day camp out.
          And I managed all that, barely thinking
          329
          about the monster or wondering what
          Chase or Brendan or Adam
          might be up to.
          * *
          Until in one fateful day
          Adam wrote, Brendan called, and Chase showed up to drive
          me home after school.
          330

          
            B
            ackpack Bulging
          
          I climbed into Chase's truck, slid close. "Where ya been?"
          
            We moved to Sparks. I had to transfer.
          
          Solid explanation. Still,
          "Why didn't you call?"
          
            I
            did. You were grounded. Remember?
          
          That excuse was shakier.
          "Not for the last two weeks."
          
            I
            wanted to give you some space.
          
          Pregnant pause, giving
          himself some space.
          
            Kristina,
            I know I'm not exactly your type.
          
          I looked him in the eye.
          "I don't think I have a 'type.'"
          
            I
            thought it might be the lifeguard type.
          
          Reno wasn't the "biggest
          little city." It was a small-town gossip mill.
          
            Not that w
            e have an exclusive thing, I know.
          
          My cheeks burned. "No, we
          don't. But I really like you."
          
            I
            needed to
            hear that. I like you, too. A lot.
          
          331
          "I went out with Brendan because I was flattered."
          I dared to confess, "I never
          had a boyfriend until last summer."
          
            That's hard to believe, Kristina.
          
          Taking that totally wrong,
          I huffed, "Why?
          Because I'm such a slut?"
          
            No. Because you're so beautiful.

            Tell me about last summer.
          
          By the time I finished, I still
          loved Adam. But I was falling for Chase.
          332

          
            So
            Why
          
          was I so hot to return the phone message, waiting for me to come home?
          * *
          Brendan:
          * *
          
            Give me a call. I want
            to see you again. This time

            I'll bring the refreshments.
          
          * *
          "Refreshments?"
          * *
          I'd perched on my
          pedestal for a whole week.
          How fast could I make it down?
          333

          
            As
            I Considered My Answer
          
          I noticed Adam's letter, sitting on the counter.
          * *
          
            Dear Kristina,
          
          * *
          
            How's school? I hope I can make it through this year. It's really tough, what with worrying about Mom, Ralph (can you believe she'd like a guy named Ralph?), and Lince. She's talking better now, and can get herself to the bathroom. I guess that's good.
          
          * *
          
            I saw your dad the other day. It was kind of strange because he never even mentioned you. Of course, he was with a new woman. (Not bad, considering she's with your dad. Ha, ha.) Maybe he doesn't want her to think he's old enough to have a daughter your age.
          
          * *
          
            Are you going out with anyone special? Half of me hopes so. The other half wants you to always be mine. There's a pretty cute girl at school, Giselle, giving me the eye. She looks a little like you, in fact. I think I might ask her out.
          
          334
          
            Maybe you didn't want to hear that. But you're my
            very best friend, the only one in the whole world I could tell that to. I want to hear everything about you, too. Kind of weird, huh?
          
          * *
          
            So do you have a boyfriend? Is he a jock or what? (Wink, wink.) How safe are these letters, anyway? Does your mom read them? I wonder if Giselle parties. Doesn't everyone? Okay, maybe not.
          
          * *
          
            Write soon. Love, Adam
          
          335

          
            Giselle?
          
          He liked some girl named Giselle?
          Did she speak French (or just give it)?
          * *
          
            Maybe
            I didn't want to hear that?
          
          Why did I read his letter anyway?
          * *
          And what was up with Dad?
          Why hadn't he called?
          * *
          Was he a Daddy Judas?
          Had he sold me out?
          * *
          Should I call Brendan?
          Set myself up?
          * *
          Would I truly let him be first?
          Was I ready to lose the big v?
          * *
          Should I call Chase instead?
          Ask him to score for me?
          * *
          Would he do it if I asked?
          Walk a slender wire for me?
          336
          Did I want to risk honor-roll status?
          Chance further alienating my mom?
          * *
          Had I lost my mind completely?
          Did I really want to get high?
          337

          
            You
            Bet I Did
          
          The monster
          
            shouted,
            Where have you been, my

            sweet Bree? Hurry back to me.
          
          My blood pressure bloomed, my head
          pounded.
          Need rose up, pumping violently through my veins. All I could
          think of, as I reached for the phone on my
          nightstand, were fat ivory lines, waiting to whisk me to a netherworld, far beyond my
          door.
          Chase was "busy" Friday night. So I
          did a really intelligent thing.
          Called Brendan for a date and asked
          him to make a buy. "Can you get me an eight ball?" I figured an eighth of an ounce would last awhile. It cost
          me
          338
          $250, which I was saving to buy my
          first car. But hey, I probably
          wouldn't have my license
          for
          years. Illicit fun settled upon, I put on my most innocent face and went to gift my family with half-hearted
          company.
          339

          
            I
            Could Hardly Wait for Friday
          
          Though the voice of my virginity nagged, the lure of the monster was stronger.
          Besides, I could always say "no."
          Couldn't I?
          * *
          Pretending to be the perfect gentleman,
          Brendan arrived at my door, introduced himself politely.
          * *
          We told my mom and Scott we were going to dinner and a drive-in double feature.
          But food and movies were the last
          things on our minds.
          * *
          Not that we necessarily had the same
          things on our minds. As we drove up the mountain, his hand crept up my leg.
          * *
          I let it do exactly that as I watched for a safe
          spot to pull over. We drove back off the highway, deep into a grove of fresh-scented evergreens.
          Carried a blanket back into the trees.
          340
          He pulled out a bindle, which looked a bit short, and a six-pack of beer. For the next twenty minutes, we snorted and drank, climbing to a very tall buzz.
          * *
          We talked and joked and giggled.
          And it all seemed just like it should.
          * *
          Until it didn't anymore.
          341

          
            It
            Started with a Kiss
          
          Crank-revved, pistons firing full bore, passion firecrackered in tiny bursts from thigh to belly button.
          
            Oh, baby.

            I want you so bad!
          
          "B-b-bad to the bone?" We laughed, but it wasn't a joke. Not for long.
          My shirt tore open. "Wait."
          
            I've waited for weeks.

            Put up and shut up.
          
          Kisses segued to bites. Bruises.
          Pain rippled through my body.
          "Brendan, please stop."
          
            No. You promised,

            You damn little tease.
          
          Off came my shorts. Down went his zipper. I realized I was in serious trouble. "I'll scream."
          
            Go ahead. No one can hear
            but skunks and coyotes.
          
          Still, as I opened my mouth, his hand slapped down over it. Those
          sublime muscles hardened.
          342
          
            Just relax.

            You'll love it.
          
          My brand-new Victoria's Secrets
          shredded, and I felt the worst of
          Brendan pause, savoring my terror.
          
            They all love it.
          
          Had he done it a different way, I
          might have responded with excitement.
          Instead, I froze as he pushed inside.
          
            There it is.

            Oh, God. There it
            goes.
          
          It went, all right, with an audible
          tear. Pain mushroomed into agony and all I could do was go stiff.
          
            You weren't lying,
            you bitch!
          
          I laid there, sobbing, as he worked and sweated over me. Stoked by the monster, it took him a long time to finish.
          
            Give me a line,

            I'll give you an encore.
          
          343
          He pulled away, sticky and bloody.
          Throbbing inside and out, I didn't move, didn't dare look him in the eye.
          
            What the hell
            is the matter, Bree?
          
          I stared up at the clouds, gathering into gloom, shrouding the moon.
          "My name is Kristina."
          344

          
            B
            ut It Was Bree
          
          who got me on my feet
          helped me to the car
          put me on the seat
          kept me semiupright on the long ride home
          Bree, who staunched the blood
          straightened up my clothes
          unsmeared the makeup
          brushed my hair smooth
          willed strength against the aching
          claiming body and soul
          Bree, who understood
          that, wasted on crank, there was nothing I could do but plot future revenge.
          345

          
            Not
            a Blink of Remorse
          
          Brendan didn't say a word
          most of the way home. He
          drove slowly, just under the limit. I watched him, out of the corner of my eye.
          * *
          He didn't look so perfect
          anymore. His nose had a bump and his eyebrows
          almost joined. And, of course,
          I knew what he was made of.
          * *
          Finally, he found a few words-- his thank you for the gift he had
          stolen, the one I should have given and never could again. I will
          remember them forever:
          * *
          
            If I'd have known

            you'd just lay there,

            I wouldn't have bothered.
          
          346

          
            Have You Ever
          
          had so much to say
          that your mouth closed up tight, struggling to harness the nuclear force
          coalescing within your words?
          * *
          Have you ever
          had so many thoughts
          churning inside that you didn't
          dare let them escape, in case they blew you wide open?
          * *
          Have you ever been so angry that you
          couldn't look in the mirror for fear of finding the face of evil
          glaring back at you?
          * *
          I stared at Brendan, trying to find some words--
          any words--to express the terror of those minutes, the horror of his violation, the humiliation at his benediction.
          347
          But my mouth closed up tight around the nuclear force
          building inside, thought after thought churning, the evil in my core threatening to eviscerate me.
          * *
          Would you think it a mercy killing?
          348

          
            Br
            endan Pulled Up
          
          at the foot of my driveway, didn't so much as glance my way
          * * until I opened the door and creaked to the curb.
          * *
          Then he turned and tossed the dwindled bindle at my feet.
          * *
          
            You owe me $250.
          
          * *
          Would you believe
          I paid up?
          349

          
            I
            Stumbled up the Driveway
          
          wanting desperately to shed the lingering traces of eau de Brendan.
          * *
          Even messed up, I realized
          * *
          I couldn't very well go inside and straight into the shower.
          * *
          Someone might wonder.
          * *
          So I aimed for the hot tub, threw back the cover, almost gagged on eau de chlorine.
          * *
          But I didn't care.
          * *
          Steamy water bubbled around me, over me, jetted inside me.
          * *
          The monster laughed out loud.
          * *
          Cleansed, chlorinated to the point of chemical
          peel, sore muscles relieved,
          350
          I felt almost human again.
          * *
          Tiptoe to my room, up a darkened hall, past closed doors,
          * *
          I wondered if I'd ever feel completely human again.
          351

          
            Exhausted
          
          but too buzzed to sleep,
          I pulled out some stationary:
          * *
          
            Dearest Adam,
          
          * *
          
            Always great to hear from you. You're a regular well of information. Why isn't any of it ever good?
          
          * *
          
            If you happen to see my dad again, tell him not to bother keeping in touch. He's a shit and I hope his new girlfriend gives him herpes. Or worse.
          
          * *
          
            How's it going with Giselle? (Were her parents on something when they named her?) I'm sure she gets high if you're attracted to her. Have you two done the dirty yet?
          
          352
          
            As for me, I've got two boyfriends. One is too busy to keep me out of trouble. The other just raped in I think it was rape, anyway. Can you define the word for me? Oops. I think I'm sounding bitter.
          
          * *
          
            Better close now. I need to cry. (Maybe
            you didn't want to hear that.)
          
          * *
          
            Love you, too,
            K... Bree
          
          353

          
            It
            Was Mean
          
          So mean, it made me feel
          better but not quite good
          enough
          I could only think of one
          way to make things all
          better
          okay, so maybe it wasn't
          truly the best way to climb
          above
          my mounting state of depression but it definitely did the trick in fact, I had to laugh, it was so simple. I
          just
          had to open the bindle
          calling
          me on behalf of the monster
          354

          
            Clo
            se to Empty
          
          We had tooted a lot, but not an eight ball.
          I began to suspect
          Brendan had pilfered a bit.
          * *
          Brendan a thief?
          Almost unbelievable!
          * *
          Conservation was the key to seeing me through until morning when I could
          give Chase a call.
          * *
          Conservation, in fact, might be the solution.
          * *
          The solution to staying high and still maintaining my way through class work, homework, and family dinners.
          * *
          I knew I couldn't
          manage it straight.
          355
          Couldn't manage not to sink into a swamp of self-pity, quicksand for a fractured psyche.
          * *
          Kristina crumbled.
          I called for Bree.
          356

          
            B
            rain Waves
          
          ping-ponging inside my skull, no hope of sleep or easy
          egress to a plane where memory
          could not intrude, I bent my
          head, submitting to shame.
          Why had I gone? What
          had I done? Who would
          want me now? How could I
          deny the state of my being or my
          part in its disintegration? No
          way to elude the bitter bite of blame
          I tried to lay the night's
          events on anyone but myself.
          Couldn't. I had tried to play
          Brendan, and he had turned the tables. He was a grand
          master player. I was new to the game.
          357

          
            The
            Game Replayed
          
          over and over all night long, like a cable TV horror flick.
          * *
          I laid in bed, memorizing
          every scene, every line, every plot twist.
          * *
          Finally sunshine
          trickled through the blinds.
          Dust danced in its beams.
          * *
          The house filled with the everyday.
          Footsteps.
          Voices.
          Coffee. Perfume.
          * *
          Nothing new.
          Nothing unusual.
          Nothing, except me.
          whiffed a line of willpower.
          358
          Got up, got dressed in ratty clothes.
          Hair unbrushed, ditto teeth,
          * *
          I went into the kitchen, poured
          hot black brew and lied about my date.
          359

          
            A
            nswer Before They Ask
          
          Great strategy. Mom didn't even snarl
          when I said I was too tired to go to Jake's soccer game.
          * *
          Once I saw her tailpipe, I called Chase.
          Thirty minutes later, he chugged up the driveway. One look, he knew.
          
            What's the matter, Kristina?
          
          * *
          "Too much fun last night. Come inside."
          My mom might have accepted the lie.
          Chase knew better.
          
            You're buzzed. But there's more.
          
          * *
          So much for deceit, for accepting blame.
          So much for never telling a soul.
          I broke down like rotting rafters.
          
            Tell me what happened.
          
          * *
          I told him everything, start to finish, in minute detail. He gathered me up, glued me back together.
          
            That bastard. I'll kill him.
          
          360
          I shook my head, tossing tears and thin
          streams of snot. "It was all my fault."
          Chase grabbed my shoulders.
          
            No! Brendan knew what he
            was doing.
          
          * *
          He pulled me so close it hurt, laid his head against my heaving chest.
          Then hard-ass Chase Wagner cried.
          
            Oh, God, I'm sorry, Kristina.

            I should have been there for
            you.
          
          361

          
            Stunned
          
          I kissed his forehead, licked away his tears.
          He looked up and his eyes told min
          
            I love you, Kristina.
          
          * *
          Eyes couldn't lie.
          Could they?
          With sudden clarity,
          I knew,
          "I love you, too."
          
            Don't say it
            unless you mean it.
          
          * *
          Did I mean it?
          Brendan was no more than a nightmare.
          But, Giselle or no Giselle, what about Adam?
          
            You could snap

            my heart in two.
          
          362
          I thought of the letter in my room, the one
          that had poured from me
          only hours before.
          If I mailed it...
          
            It's bending me.
          
          * *
          I shifted and the throb in my thighs
          reminded me of the "new" me.
          "But what about..."
          
            Come on.

            I'm not exactly chaste.
          
          * *
          Chaste Chase?
          A monster-fed
          giggle tried to slip out.
          I relegated it to a tooth-baring grin.
          
            You're so beautiful

            when you smile.
          
          363
          He kissed me then, so sweetly, I truly
          felt beautiful, despite the ugliness
          that would always remain.
          
            No one can take you
            from you, Kristina.
          
          * *
          Tears slipped from my eyes.
          Chase absorbed
          every one, sponging up regret.
          
            I promise never,
            never to hurt you.
          
          * *
          I wanted him to prove it.
          Needed him to prove it.
          "Make love to me."
          I could feel he wanted to.
          
            I want to.

            You know I do.

            But not today.
          
          364

          
            R
            elief, Disappointment
          
          A flash flood of love and a surge of need so deep it went way beyond the monster.
          * *
          "Please, Chase? I have to know
          what it's like when two people
          really want to."
          
            And you will. I will take you to
            heights you can't imagine.

            But not until you've healed.
          
          * *
          I didn't understand. Go ahead.
          Call me dense. "It's only a few
          bruises, Chase."
          
            I
            meant not until you're free
            from dreams of yesterday.

            When we make love, the only

            people there should be you and me.
          
          * *
          He was right. Adam lingered on my nightstand. Brendan would
          haunt me, a shadow, for days.
          
            When you've vanquished your ghosts,

            I'll be here. Besides, sweetheart,
            anticipation is half the fun.
          
          365
          I could only hope the other half
          might one day be as wonderful.
          With Chase, it seemed possible.
          
            Meanwhile, I'd better go before
            your parents get back. Want to
            go outside for a smoke?
          
          * *
          Soft drifts of nicotine filled my
          lungs, soothing one hunger.
          Chase held me close.
          
            Funny thing, Kristina. Before you
            ,

            I believed love was making love.

            Waiting only makes me

            love you more.
          
          366

          
            P
            owerful Words
          
          Strong
          enough to latch on to me, bear the weight and lift
          me, induce buoyancy, float me in a brilliant, blue sky above the reach of personal demons.
          So peaceful, in the canopy, beyond distress and self-incrimination. I wanted to stay there forever.
          Impossible of course. Chase drove away and almost immediately, fantasy
          dissolved, like sugar stirred into saltwater, as the real
          world
          clamped down around me, slammed me back down to Earth.
          367

          
            I
            Tried to Beat Mom Inside
          
          but she was right on my heels as I went through the door.
          
            Who is that boy who just left?
          
          Busted. I had to tell her something, so I said, "A friend."
          
            What kind of friend?
          
          "My best friend," I wanted to say.
          "My only friend." I just stared.
          
            I asked you a question.
          
          Okay. I'd tell her what she didn't
          want to hear. "Chase is my boyfriend."
          
            Boyfriend? He's hardly your type.
          
          Anger bubbled. I gritted my teeth.
          "I don't have a type, Mother."
          
            Well, at least someone good-looking.
          
          Like Chase wasn't, she meant.
          And, "You mean like Brendan."
          
            Exactly. What happened to Brendan?
          
          I was prepared. "We didn't really
          hit it off." Understated, huh?
          
            But he was so nice, so polite.
          
          368
          I tried to bite my tongue. Didn't work.
          "He wasn't so nice, Mom."
          
            What do you mean?
          
          "He was..." I paused, "all over me."
          She looked at me without sympathy.
          
            Why didn't you tell
            me before?
          
          I took dead aim. "I didn't think
          you'd care. Apparently, I was right."
          369

          
            Leveled
          
          Have you ever actually felt one up on your mom? What an exhilarating feeling.
          * *
          She stuttered, coughed, couldn't say a word because somewhere inside she knew she was wrong.
          * *
          So I pushed even harder. "You always told
          me not to judge a book by its cover.
          Practice what you preach, Mom."
          * *
          Two clichés don't exactly make for deep
          conversation, but I didn't expect
          that (or want it) anyway.
          * *
          I started for my inner sanctum. Paused.
          "I mean look at you and me. On the surface, we both seem so normal!"
          * *
          Her face contorted, emphasizing every wrinkle.
          "Take a peek inside our family album.
          Like what's in there?"
          370
          Do you think that was mean? I guess, but it felt so great, it made me grin.
          Sort of sick, or what?
          371

          
            Light-Headed
          
          Giddy from my absolute bluster
          (not to mention lack of food and a big dose of nicotine),
          I skipped up the hall, singing
          * * a Queen
          song about paying
          dues and doing time, no
          crime committed. Oh, that
          Freddie Mercury. What a waste!
          * *
          That guy was really something--a rebel and worse.
          * *
          In a day when it was supposed to be okay to experiment
          that way. No condoms, just good gay fun. We
          know better now.
          372
          As I thought about that, I had to wonder: What will we
          know better about tomorrow?
          Who cares? Hindsight is useless.
          * *
          Even looking back now, things seem a bit muddled.
          373

          
            N
            orthern Nevada Autumns
          
          are filled with weeds.
          * *
          Toxic, high-allergen garden killers.
          Tumbleweed.
          Rabbitbrush.
          Russian white top.
          Guess how I spent that Sunday.
          Wound up on Claritin
          enhanced crank, it wasn't so bad.
          Yank. Think.
          Tug. Consider.
          I would put Adam's letter in the mail.
          Water. Soak in.
          Watch Mom and Scott
          drive away.
          Bribe Jake to help.
          I would never tell another soul about Brendan.
          Direct Jake to dump the wheelbarrow.
          Yank. Think.
          Tug. Consider.
          374
          I would make love with Chase very soon.
          Start to come down.
          Disappear for a toot.
          Notice my stash was two
          snorts away from gone.
          I would make a cash withdrawal the next day.
          Help Jake finish up.
          Send him to 7-Eleven for Cokes and chips.
          I would call Chase while he was gone.
          375

          
            No
            Answer
          
          No sweat.
          Okay, maybe a little sweat.
          * *
          If I couldn't
          get crank from Chase
          * * who could
          I get it from?
          I thought.
          * *
          And thought.
          And finally, one person
          * *
          came to mind.
          I got on my bike, pedaled over to
          * *
          Trent's, hoping
          Robyn was home and in the mood
          376
          to share some
          information. Vital
          information
          * * to a person
          desperate for a new connection.
          377

          
            T
            iming Is Everything
          
          Mine was impeccable that day.
          Robyn answered the door, quite noticeably strung.
          
            Oh, hi. Trent's not home.

            He went into town with Mom.
          
          * *
          "Cool. I wanted to see you.
          Can I come in?"
          I eased through the door.
          
            I don't know... um.
            ..
            the house is a mess.
            ..
          
          * *
          It was neat as a pin.
          But it did smell like crank.
          I suspected Trent wouldn't
          be home anytime soon.
          
            What's up, Kristina?

            Can't it wait till tomorrow?
          
          * *
          "Relax. I'm not a narc." I
          reached into my pocket for the semimutilated bindle. Robyn's
          pupils went all the way black.
          
            I
            thought you'd lost some weight.

            It's better than the Atkins di
            et, huh?
          
          378
          "It's a helluva lot more fun!"
          We laughed and I offered to share the last of my stash. "Have a mirror?"
          
            Don't tell me you're still snorting.

            Have you ever tried smoking it?
          
          * *
          She was the first to even suggest it.
          Robyn the Reno High cheerleader
          proceeded to show me a whole new
          way to get down with the monster.
          379

          
            We
            Went into Her Room
          
          Locked the door. Sat on the bed.
          Robyn produced a V of crusty foil, tapped in the last crumbs of powder.
          
            This little bit will go right to your

            brain and won't clog your sinuses.
          
          * *
          Won't stay there, draining, little by little. Oh, no. You blow straight through the roof in one giant puff of smoke.
          
            I
            t's an awesome rush. And you won't

            stay awake for days.
          
          * *
          She handed me the stub of a Slurpee
          straw and showed me how to hold it just above one end of the V.
          
            When it starts to smoke, suck fast
            .

            Hold it in as long as you can.
          
          * *
          Robyn held a match just below the yellow powder. It browned, bubbled, smoked. A waft traveled up the V.
          
            Here it comes. Don't let it get a
            way.

            Oh, God, that smells good!
          
          * *
          It tasted nasty. But it took me higher than ever before. The monster
          pirouetted in my brain.
          380
          
            My turn. Don't hold the match too

            close to the foil. Crank can burn.
          
          * *
          In seconds, Robyn was flying. Instant
          bonding. She didn't even blink when
          I asked if she could score.
          
            You'v
            e got the money, I can get the crank.

            For a small finder's fee, of course.
          
          * *
          I expected no less. We planned to meet up the next day. I went home, feeling better than I had in a long, long time.
          381

          
            S
            he Forgot to Mention
          
          a couple of rather important things:
          * *
          Like how, if you exercised
          (riding my bike, for instance), your lungs fought to hold air.
          I huffed and puffed
          all the way home.
          * *
          Like how, when you came down
          (I had to eventually), your head screamed with pain and your body broke out in panicky sweat.
          * *
          Like how your little brother's teasing
          (irritating at the best of times), would set you way off, make you jump off the deep end.
          382
          Like how parental concern
          (inquiring minds wanted to know), might suffocate you, might confuse you, might make you yell,
          * *
          "Just leave me the fuck alone!"
          383

          
            T
            his Time
          
          it was Scott who asked for the heart-to-heart. It was a rather one-sided conversation.
          
            May I come in, Kristina?

            Can we talk?
          
          * *
          He hated confrontation. I
          could play the game two ways.
          In-your-face. Or contrite.
          
            What's going on? Your mom an
            d I
            are worried about you.
          
          * *
          I chose contrition. And feigned
          ignorance. "What do you mean?"
          He came right to the point.
          
            It's like you've become a whole

            different person lately.
          
          * *
          Not all of me. Just the Bree part.
          Not all the time.
          Just with the monster.
          
            Did something happen
            at your dad's?
          
          * *
          Like he wanted to hear about Dad.
          Like he really wanted to know he and Mom were 100% right on.
          384
          
            Don't take this wrong, okay?

            You aren't doing drugs, are you?
          
          * *
          What was I supposed to do--
          admit it? I shook my head in hearty denial.
          
            I
            know adolescence is a time
            for experimentation...
          
          * *
          Oh, yes, he knew. And my mom did
          too. Dad told me all about how they
          
            used to get high together.
            but I hope you'll think twice before
            you do. You've got a lot to lose.
          
          * *
          I bit my lip, filled my eyes with innocence, let it encourage tears.
          "I know, Scott. I promise to think twice."
          385

          
            He
            Talked at Me Awhile Longer
          
          I smiled, nodded, apologized for my foul temper and angry
          words, protested when it seemed I ought to and somehow managed to avoid
          GUFN.
          * *
          When he left, I patted myself on the back for a game well played, snitched open the door and tiptoed down the hall to eavesdrop on the kitchen
          conversation.
          * *
          Mom and Scott believed
          they'd bitten the bullet.
          Little did they know
          I hadn't yet fired off the full
          round.
          386

          
            T
            he Next Few Days
          
          went by in a smoky, crank-scented haze.
          Robyn came through, big time. Her eight ball
          looked closer to the real
          deal, so I was generous with her finder's fee.
          We got to be good friends.
          * *
          I would toot a line before school, hook up with Robyn at lunch, hop into her car for a taste of tinfoil and tobacco chaser.
          stumble into classes
          talkative and glassy-eyed.
          * *
          And just to make things
          interesting, I took up part-time residence on The Avenue.
          387
          Other schools have them too.
          You know, designated
          smoking areas for kids who aren't supposed to smoke.
          * *
          My new friends and I were far enough gone not to care that teachers cruised by us Avenue bums, researching
          potential troublemakers.
          Hedging my bets, I did insist on one thing: out there on The Avenue, everyone called me Bree.
          388

          
            I
            Gave Up the Bus
          
          in favor of rides with Robyn, with a detour or two along the way to indulge in some Homework Helper.
          (Like it really helped!)
          * *
          A couple of afternoons she had cheerleading practice.
          (How could she do back flips and cartwheels without killing herself?)
          * *
          Those days, Chase came by to take me home and stop by the park for a good long
          make-out session.
          * *
          I invited him to share my stash.
          He took a snort or two, but declined the tinfoil routine.
          389
          I let him get away with it the first time.
          On his second refusal,
          I asked why not.
          * *
          He shrugged.
          * *
          
            I've set boundaries.
          
          390

          
            I Meant
          
          to analyze
          Chase's limits
          that very weekend, to learn
          just how far
          I could stretch
          him at the edges, to judge
          how wide
          I might warp his self-imposed
          morality.
          Don't ask me
          why I felt the incredible need to test
          this person that
          meant so very
          much to me, to fathom his most
          personal thoughts, coolly dissect his psyche.
          391
          I only know it was on the table for that Saturday until fate intervened.
          392

          
            O
            kay, the Air Races Intervened
          
          September is Air Race month in Northern Nevada--four
          fabulous days of warbirds, jets, and homebuilt aircraft, racing wingtip to wingtip, balls out, around pylons.
          * *
          It's a must-see event, and we'd made it a family event
          every single year since Jake was a tiny baby, snoozing
          soundly in his stroller, despite ear-splitting military flybys.
          * *
          We always went on weekends and I always begged for more, so it would have looked pretty
          damn suspicious to say I didn't
          want to go. Besides, I did want to go. I just wanted to go high.
          393
          So when Mom reminded us at dinner that we'd have to get up early and dress in layers, I
          cleared my throat as if to protest.
          Instead I asked if I could invite
          My friend Robyn to come along.
          * *
          Again, I'd made the perfect
          preemptory strike. Mom was so happy I would participate without incident that she not
          only gave her blessing, but let me ride in Robyn's car.
          394

          
            Robyn Was Game
          
          Scott's company had box seats and plenty of tickets. Robyn got
          comp tix, with a can't-beat view.
          But that was only for starters.
          
            You bet I'll go. Those flyboys
            are soooooo cute!
          
          * *
          You can guess what we did on the drive north of town. We
          arrived, diamond-eyed, behind dark sunglasses.
          
            Aviator glasses. Ha! Hope those

            pilots aren't as wired as I am.
          
          * *
          I hoped so, too. We sauntered down the flight line in tight
          jeans and tiny tank tops, turning
          more than a few heads.
          
            You'd think they'd never seen girls

            before. Maybe they think we're lezes.
          
          * *
          You thought I was a vamp!
          I couldn't come close to
          Robyn. Even Bree had to work hard to keep up.
          395
          
            Wanna give 'em a show?

            Have you ever kissed a girl?
          
          * *
          The only girls I'd ever kissed were relatives, and only lip-to-cheek.
          Lip locking another female? Never!
          And in public? No way!
          
            Come on. It's just for fun. Promise

            not to slip you the tongue.
          
          * *
          OMG. If I hadn't been so wound, I would have died on the spot.
          Instead, I jumped right into
          Robyn's shameless game.
          396

          
            Wolf
            Whistles
          
          made me pull away, completely red-faced, but LMAO.
          * *
          (You do know what that means, right?)
          * *
          Okay, my a-double-s was still
          attached, but I couldn't
          quit laughing.
          * *
          
            (In retrospect, it wasn't
            that
            funny.)
          
          * *
          At the time, it seemed like the funniest thing
          I'd ever done.
          * *
          (What's the funniest thing you've ever done?)
          * *
          Don't get me wrong.
          I'm completely hetero, and that experience proved it to me.
          397
          (I decided that later, when I had much too much
          time on my hands to think about such things.)
          * *
          But seeing the look on people's faces--some
          horrified, some fascinated--
          made my day.
          * *
          (How would you look, seeing two
          pretty teenaged girls making out, right there on the tarmac?)
          398

          
            We
            Found Our Box
          
          took seats behind Mom, Scott,
          Jake, and a couple of guys Scott
          worked with. Robyn nudged me as Mom leaned over, showing off cleavage to the cute young blond.
          He took a good, long look, then
          whispered something no doubt funny and off-color into Mom's ear. She
          giggled and flirted and carried on like Scott wasn't even there.
          * *
          Worse yet, Scott pretended not to notice. Or maybe, tied up in conversation about the latest
          microchip technology stocks, he in fact didn't notice. He turned the tables nicely when his boss and Mrs. Boss (in a very short
          skirt) joined the lineup. My parents
          set an extremely poor example for us impressionable (ha ha) kids.
          399
          
            Good thing Jake wasn't sitting behind them. Clueless, he
            ooh
            ed at every aerial maneuver. Robyn and I observed the whole show
          
          (including the terrestrial maneuvers in our box) with pure enjoyment. It's
          always great to watch the world's
          best pilots fly, and better yet to see
          adults behave like juvenile delinquents.
          400

          
            Th
            ree Races
          
          and two stunt performances
          later, Robyn and I excused
          ourselves for a trip to the outhouse. We hustled off to the car to
          "powder our noses," then hurried to pee before we were missed.
          * *
          As we headed back to our seats, a familiar form came striding in our direction. Brendan.
          Attached, as if sewn on, was a girl, not more than 14, with a fashion doll body and child actress face.
          * *
          Her shorts, cut high on the thigh and low on the hips, revealed a stud in her navel. I thought about turning around or ducking into the swirling crowd but without warning,
          Bree took over. "Hey, Brendan!
          401
          Great to see you again," she gushed.
          "Raped any schoolgirls lately?"
          
            He maintained his frosty cool as he leveled his eyes.
            Can't rape the willing.
          
          "That's what I've heard." I turned to his sidekick.
          "How about you? Are you willing?"
          * *
          Still locked to Brendan, she quite obviously
          deflated, and her face paled beneath an overdose of cover-up and cheap blush.
          "Well, have fun you two. Don't do anything
          I wouldn't do." I started away, calling over my shoulder, "Watch your back, Barbie doll."
          402

          
            Robyn Wanted the Whole Story
          
          I told her, then she shared her own sordid tale:
          * *
          
            I
            started crankin' to keep up with schoolwork
            around gymnastics, cheerleading, student

            council, and other extracurricular crap.
          
          * *
          
            You'd be surprised how many brownnosers

            get high, and with so much around, I thought it
            would always be easy to score. Sometimes it goes dry.
          
          * *
          
            During one particular drought spell, I was hurtin'
            for certain, and went looking for a new source.

            Found him in a casino arcade, cruising for fresh meat.
          
          * *
          
            He flashed a bindle and I followed him out to his car.

            I still can't believe I was stupid enough to get inside.

            He drove east of town, all the way out in the desert past Mustang.
          
          * *
          
            After a couple of snorts, he was all hands, all over me.

            When I told him to stop, he said, "It's a long walk back,
            even if you don't get lost. Anyway, we both know what kind
            of a girl you are."
          
          403
          
            That stung, but not much. All I could do was ask for
            more

            crank so maybe I could halfway enjoy it. I didn't. He
            was dirty.

            Smelly, like he hadn't showered in days.

            And after he started, he got mean.
          
          * *
          
            He did things to me
            --
            terrible things, I've still got the
            scars--

            things no sane person would ever do. Of course,
            he wasn't exactly sane.

            Afterward, neither was I.
          
          404

          
            N
            ow, You Might Think
          
          an experience like that
          would serve as a stern
          warning, make a person
          do a quick about-face and sprint in the other direction.
          * *
          Didn't happen like that for Robyn.
          * *
          Didn't happen like that for me.
          405

          
            Before I Met the Monster
          
          Life had a certain
          rhythm.
          An easy
          downhill
          flow.
          Seconds, minutes, hours, days, a segue of perpetual
          motion.
          Everything in its proper
          place, at its proper
          time.
          Morning alarms, kitchen clatter, bus gears, school bells, teacher talk.
          Locker clang, hallway
          laughter, slamming
          doors.
          After-school
          queries,
          406
          homework, music,
          TV.
          Contentment
          thrived in repetition, routine, familiarity.
          407

          
            B
            ut
            Now
            Nothing
          
          felt
          right
          nothing
          seemed
          proper
          but
          getting
          out, getting
          away, getting
          crazy, getting
          high.
          408

          
            P
            roblem Number One: School
          
          Getting up in the morning, was it only moments after finally falling into a state of semisleep?
          * *
          Finding clean clothes
          (I was supposed to put my dirties in the laundry room, but who could remember?)
          * *
          Sucking down coffee, nibbling a half cup of honey-sweetened corn flakes for a slight rush of caffeine and carbs.
          * *
          Catching a ride with Robyn or one of my Avenue buds, coaxing myself
          mostly awake with a whiff of white.
          * *
          Twenty minutes on the Avenue before the bell rang, tempering
          my morning buzz with nicotine.
          * *
          Stumbling into homeroom, most likely tardy, hoping Mrs. Twedt wouldn't notice and reward me with detention.
          409
          Making some classes, cutting others, deciding which would be which by which was which the day before.
          * *
          And somehow I managed to convince
          myself life with the monster was not routine.
          410

          
            P
            roblem Number Two: Relationships
          
          Old friendships, tucked away like treasures, relegated to tokens of yesterday.
          * *
          New friendships, faulty ground to cultivate and build a future upon.
          * *
          Old boyfriends, a very short list, abbreviated
          further by definition and distance.
          * *
          New boyfriends, one definite but distracted, and no shortage of Avenue wannabes.
          * *
          Siblings, one too close and curious, the other much
          too far away to serve as confidant.
          * *
          Parents, ever-present shade, dimming
          my sparkle, kryptonite to quell my bid for superpower.
          411
          Teachers, counselors, preachers, scaffolding, crumbled by the weight of my monster.
          412

          
            P
            roblem Number Three: Connections
          
          How to get high and stay that way?
          (Coming down was a bitch and a half.)
          * *
          Finding crank
          wasn't really difficult.
          Most of my new crowd knew
          * *
          someone who dealt
          (or knew someone who knew someone who did).
          * *
          Getting what you paid for proved more problematic, unless you went straight to the source.
          * *
          Even then, things were iffy.
          (Stoners aren't the most reliable people.
          Even they would have to agree.)
          * *
          Fronting years of hoarded
          allowances and birthday gifts
          sometimes resulted
          413
          in disappointing returns.
          And my bank account was dwindling fast.
          414

          
            Problem Number Four:
            Feeling Good
          
          The biggest problem of all.
          * *
          You know how riding real fast in a car or a spectacular takeoff in a jet
          gives you an awesome rush of adrenaline?
          * *
          You know how spotting an eagle
          cruising low over the treetops, it watching a baby finally master the try-try-again of walking makes you glow all over?
          * *
          You know how singing a beautiful song with dead-on pitch, or getting every test answer right, including the extra credit
          brainteaser, makes you feel like you could take on the world?
          415
          You know how waking up to perfect skies, enough sunshine to warm you, not
          enough to bake you, watching a silent fall of quarter-sized
          snowflakes
          gives you delicious shivers of pleasure?
          * *
          Somewhere on my stroll with the monster,
          * *
          I'd lost these things.
          416

          
            F
            eeling Good
          
          became a matter of scale.
          One to ten,
          * *
          "ten" being one step shy of shredding the time-space continuum,
          * *
          "one" being ten steps shy of dropping flat in my tracks.
          * *
          Every increment
          required meth or more meth.
          * *
          I didn't have to go all the way up, but up,
          I did need to go.
          * *
          After a while, even high,
          I could almost
          make believe food
          didn't taste like cardboard,
          417
          almost float down into REM sleep,
          * *
          almost function the next day,
          * *
          almost look forward to my
          almost 17th birthday.
          418

          
            I
            Would Celebrate Several Ways
          
          One with my family. My mid-October
          birthday always meant a
          * *
          trip to San Francisco to play tourist on Fisherman's Wharf, scarf
          * *
          too
          much seafood, shop Ghiradelli Square, and visit my grandma--to see just how
          * *
          far she had slipped away toward the underworld of dementia.
          * *
          We
          went down the weekend before and it was just as I imagined. I knew things
          * *
          had
          taken a turn for the worse when Grandma
          stood up in church and yelled, "I have
          * * to go to the bathroom!" Flying relatively high on the monster, I laughed like a lunatic all the way
          * *
          home.
          Which made Mom mad and made me wonder:
          
            Does insanity swim in our gene pool?
          
          419

          
            In
            One of Her Better Moments
          
          Grandma drew me aside, put one finger to creviced
          lips and whispered,
          * *
          
            Kristina, dear, I've got something

            here I want you to have.
          
          * *
          One tentative hand stretched toward mine. Grandma's eyes
          sparkled, glass under rain.
          * *
          
            My grandmother gave this to me
            on my own 17
            th birthday.
          
          * *
          It was a beautiful gold locket--24
          karat, with an inlay of diamonds.
          But the real treasure was inside.
          * *
          
            That's my wedding picture, there.

            And my grandmother's, there.
          
          * *
          Both women wore ivory lace, simplicity made lovely with a spray of yellow roses--and my locket.
          * *
          
            I
            ask only one thing. Please pass
            it on to your own granddaughter?
          
          420
          "Of course, Grandma. Thank you!"
          It felt like wealth around my neck-- a wealth of love.
          421

          
            C
            elebration Two
          
          My birthday fell on Friday night.
          After dinner Mom broke out the cake and presents--cool velour jeans from
          Leigh, matching sweater from Jake, diamond studs from Mom and Scott.
          
            Hope you like them.
          
          * *
          
            "
            I love them. Thanks, Mom."
          
          What wasn't to like? I went to look in the mirror. The stones magnified the pale bathroom light, like my growing
          guilt. Mom came in behind me.
          
            I wanted you to have

            something special.
          
          * *
          I watched her in the mirror.
          She reached out, as if to touch me, withdrew instead. Maybe if she had
          followed through, everything that
          came after wouldn't have.
          
            I
            feel like I've lost

            you, Kristina. I guess
            it had to happen

            sometime. It's as much

            my fault as yours.
          
          422
          It was a stunning confession.
          And probably not completely accurate.
          Yes, she had distanced herself through work and stretching her affection. But the monster was a mightier intruder.
          
            Please be careful.

            I'm worried that

            you've made some

            bad choices. Don't

            let them go from
            bad to worse.
          
          423

          
            H
            alf
            of Me
          
          wanted to whine.
          Wanted to rage.
          Wanted to get right up into her face and shout,
          * *
          
            "What about
            your
            bad choices, Mom?
          
          Have you ever once stopped to consider
          how they not only created me, but helped mold me into the not-so-fine, not-so-upstanding, old-beyond-her-years, not-exactly-a-lady
          standing in front of you?"
          * *
          The other half
          * *
          told me to shut up, told me to smile, told me to find a hint of contrition and agree,
          424
          "You're right, Mom, some of my choices
          haven't been the best lately.
          I promise to try harder to do the right
          things, and make you proud of me."
          * *
          Considering I had made plans with Chase for celebration number three, plans that might very well test
          just how bad my choices had become, guess which half won.
          425

          
            L
            et's Just Say I Got to Go
          
          Chase picked me up for my Big Day.
          
            He actually knocked, went
            mano a
            m
            ano with Mom and Scott.

            Evening. So nice to finally meet

            you. Kristina has told me so
            many good things about you.
          
          * *
          Oh, that boy was a player! Scott
          shook his hand, invited him inside and Mom thawed her frozen glare.
          
            Don't worry about a thing. The

            concert may run late, but we'll be

            back before we turn into pumpkins!
          
          * *
          We didn't have a concert in mind, of course. Chase's mom was out of town.
          He had a special party planned.
          
            I
            got the E. It's critical--
            pure MDMA,
            the rea
            l deal. But you don't have to try
            it if you don't want to.
          
          * *
          Speed, with a hint of psychedelia?
          Going primeval, no fear, no pain?
          "I want to do everything with you."
          426
          
            Cool. 'Cause I want you to go

            all the way to heaven.

            And I want to take you there.
          
          * *
          We got to his house hours before the others would arrive. (Parents gone?
          Stoner grapevine buzzes overtime.)
          
            Let's drop the
            E right now.

            I want you to peak while it's

            just you and me.
          
          * *
          I had no idea what to expect.
          It took an hour to come on and discover a new universe.
          427

          
            E
            cstasy Is Hard to Describe
          
          It's like falling
          softly into a pool of crystal
          mountain
          water
          * *
          floating on your
          back
          circular
          beneath
          vibrant
          sky
          * *
          deciphering
          codes in the clouds
          spinning
          dizzy
          fast.
          * *
          It isn't at all like going
          clear
          out of your
          head
          lunatic
          mad
          * *
          throwing
          yourself in front of a runaway
          train
          insane
          * *
          hallucinating
          black
          widows and black
          helicopters behind you
          crazy.
          428
          It's a lot more like jumping
          into
          your own
          brain, ferreting
          what's
          inside
          * *
          accepting
          past
          failures
          freeing
          self
          destructive
          demons
          * *
          forgiving
          yourself and those
          you love and even
          those you
          despise.
          429

          
            C
            hase Was Right There
          
          riveted to my side as I laughed, as I cried.
          * *
          Finally, he kissed me, and it was just as fine as any kiss
          could ever be.
          Tender.
          Blossoming.
          Passionate.
          Intense.
          * *
          Only on E, it was more.
          It was like opening
          myself up as wide as
          I could go, inviting him inside.
          * *
          He crawled right in, filled me with love so close to perfect,
          I asked him to pick me up, carry me off into his bed.
          He did.
          430
          Chase Wagner, the most beautiful man in the whole wide world
          (despite what the rest of the world
          could see),
          * *
          showed me exactly how
          making love should be.
          431

          
            I
            Was Aglow
          
          at the first knock.
          Soon the house filled with friends, with acquaintances, with complete strangers.
          I wanted to get to know
          each and every one.
          I wanted them all to know
          everything about me:
          my intellect, my beauty, my righteousness.
          Maybe you have to have been there (or to a rave) to relate.
          I had accessed my innermost
          recesses. I needed to explore, to expand, to excavate.
          The most incredible place I'd
          ever been was right inside of me.
          If I left, I might never find it again, and so I refused
          432
          to sink down, to close the door, to rebuild the wall.
          When someone offered a second dose of birthday E, I said, "Absolutely."
          And when someone broke
          out the crank, I was ready to snort up, to smoke up, to shoot up.
          I should have been scared to death.
          But ecstasy dissolves all fear.
          433

          
            Unforgettable
            Birthdays
          
          aren't easy to come by.
          * *
          Do you remember
          Your 4th? Your 12th?
          * *
          To my 90th birthday,
          I will never forget my 17th.
          * *
          If you do remember
          them, why?
          * *
          It was a day of firsts: giving
          myself willingly to ecstasy.
          To a man. A needle.
          * *
          Presents? Surprises?
          Firsts?
          * *
          It didn't hurt, not at all.
          The sting was rather
          pleasant, like excising an ingrown toenail.
          * *
          Or did pain define
          those memorable days?
          * *
          Now take the rush of snorting, multiply by
          100, you get smoking.
          To find mainlining, you
          approach infinity.
          434
          Have you ever once in your life
          reached out to touch infinity?
          435

          
            E
            levation
          
          Oh, but a whole lot more. They say people who die from ecstasy die from overheating.
          * *
          Adding speed to the mix accelerates the process because it makes you want to dance until the sun comes up.
          * *
          The music made me dance. It entered my brain, firing spark plugs and pistons. It revved me to my feet.
          * *
          The crank was jet fuel, pumping through my veins, propulsion.
          I shifted into overdrive, motor heating steadily.
          * *
          I danced with guys, I danced with girls, hotter, closer, melting together like candles in a south-facing window.
          * *
          Our dance was primitive, beautiful, waves at high tide.
          Our dance was sensual, sexual, and yet somehow innocent.
          * *
          Spent calories orbited, raising temperatures. Some drank alcohol.
          The wise drank water. It tasted as good as champagne.
          * *
          And then somehow the subject of my birthday came up.
          Word spread and the mood elevated beyond celebratory.
          436
          Gifted with kisses. Tender. Probing. Inviting. Feminine. Masculine.
          One emptying into the next, eddies in the swollen river.
          * *
          I kept my eyes closed, absorbing sensation until it screamed for release. So the part that came next seemed very right.
          437

          
            I
            Don't Know
          
          whose blade it was, whose idea it was.
          * *
          I don't remember
          saying yes.
          I know I didn't
          say no.
          * *
          The knife was sharp.
          One knick at my wrist.
          It didn't even hurt.
          It didn't seem wrong.
          * *
          Rust in my mouth.
          Rich red salt.
          I drank it down, asked for more.
          438
          Offered my own to those who would partake.
          Fever. Fire. I was on fire.
          Time hesitated.
          Solid earth gave way.
          Strong arms caught me, carried me into the cool of outside.
          * *
          A familiar mouth found mine.
          I looked into Chase's eyes, found emotions in turmoil.
          * *
          Fear. Need. Concern. Lust.
          And then he said the words
          we were both afraid to hear.
          
            I
            love you, Kristina.
          
          439

          
            I
            Was Cinderella
          
          and Chase was my unlikely Prince Charming.
          (Hey, I'd graduated from knights to princes, even if they were unlikely.)
          * *
          Suddenly I was very sure.
          "I love you, too, Chase."
          
            For real?
          
          * *
          I reached up and kissed him and it was very, very real, despite the quite
          surreal juxtaposition of colors in the night sky.
          
            You take my breath away.
          
          * *
          "Make love to me. Please? I don't
          care who sees." He might have.
          But just then his watch beeped "two."
          
            No way. Come on, let's go!
          
          * *
          Well beyond the witching hour,
          Chase hustled most of his guests
          out the door. (A few were tied up in the bedrooms.)
          
            I
            didn't want to piss off your parents.
          
          440
          We wouldn't make it home until almost three. But the E insisted
          I remain hopeful.
          "They're always in bed by ten..."
          
            Doesn't look
            like they're asleep.
          
          * *
          Every light was on, upstairs and down, and I caught my mom's face at the window. We had turned back into pumpkins after all.
          441

          
            If
            You Guessed
          
          I was GUFN, two points for you.
          Can you believe Chase was brave enough to walk me to the door?
          Mom pounced.
          "Do you realize it's three A.M.?"
          * *
          Chase tried to apologize, said we'd lost track of time, talking.
          
            "I'm
            sure
            that was all you were doing."
          
          * *
          Mom lectured him on responsibility and gave
          him the old,
          "We were worried to death!"
          * *
          (She looked just fine to me.) What could
          Chase do but nod?
          "Well, Kristina won't be going
          anywhere for a while."
          * *
          I tried to talk my way
          out of her anger zone.
          No good.
          442
          "What were you thinking, Kristina?"
          * *
          Scott flashed a half
          apologetic look as
          Mom carried on.
          "Don't you know the cops keep a lookout for kids like you?"
          * *
          I wasn't a kid. And
          I'd never so much as seen a cop drive by.
          Not yet, anyway.
          443

          
            Exiled
          
          to my private mauve island where pretty
          pink butterflies fluttered on my wall in a lovely E-enhanced butterfly dance,
          I tried to be angry, but the ecstasy
          wouldn't let me. In fact, it made
          me take a peek at things from my
          mom's POV. I
          mean, we did
          stay out until the cock woke up to stoke his crow. Not only that, but we did the very things she worried about us doing, and more.
          Introspection
          would be easy as a dual-edged
          sword. If you
          acquaint your
          self with your
          self, you don't
          always like the person you find
          inside. I could deal with that. The
          bigger problem was discovering Bree
          didn't really give a damn about liking me.
          444

          
            I
            Spent the Next Day
          
          helping Mom can tomatoes.
          It was an annual event and I
          had always hated the tedious
          chore. But the last tiny tendrils of ecstasy, infiltrating me, somehow
          made it enjoyable. I didn't even mind
          my mom's company. In fact, my mood
          seemed to rub off on her. She didn't once
          bitch, though she enthusiastically quizzed
          me about the previous evening's activities.
          This very big part of me wanted to confess, to ask forgiveness, request help. Oh, I knew
          my bad habits had escalated, and if Kristina
          had had her way that day, well, who knows?
          But over the last few weeks, Bree had grown
          stronger and her argument--that Mom might
          put her away, far removed from friends, Chase, and all personal choice--was feasible. So I
          refused to waver from the concert and long
          conversation excuse. And when she asked about drugs, I summoned every ounce of righteous indignation I could muster and denied touching a thing except a toke or
          445
          two of weed. I knew she wouldn't be
          too upset about that. And by the time
          all the jar lids popped down on row upon row of salsa, sauce, and ketchup,
          I was still grounded. But at least
          Mom wasn't as mad anymore.
          446

          
            Bur
            ned Out
          
          Burning
          up, coming down,
          I popped three
          aspirin against the
          * *
          throbbing in my skull, and attempted a nap.
          I laid in bed,
          * *
          sweating
          out toxins, the last of the E and crank,
          * *
          aching from the inside out. Could I ever
          shift into reverse?
          * *
          Falling from euphoria,
          I face-planted into depression. Hard,
          447
          somersaulting through your own
          manure. Harder yet to get back up without
          * *
          tripping and falling all over again. I felt out of control, a meteorite
          * *
          tumbling through space, tugged by gravity toward certain doom.
          448

          
            J
            erked Awake
          
          well after dark, yanked into consciousness by Mom and Scott, yelling in the hall.
          * *
          "Are you blind, Marie? You don't sleep like that unless you're crashing."
          
            She's running a fever, Scott.

            And just what makes you an expert?
          
          * *
          "Come on. We both know the scene.
          You just refuse to believe it."
          
            We had a long talk today. She swears
            the only thing she has tried is pot.
          
          * *
          "Like your sweet, little Kristina is above lying to you?"
          
            But what do we do? Search her
            room? Have her tested?
          
          * *
          "We pull the reins tighter. No dates.
          Straight home after school."
          
            For how long? We can't keep her
            locked up here forever.
          
          * *
          "At least until report cards come home.
          If her grades are okay, she's free."
          449
          
            What about tonight? Should I try
            to wake her up for dinner again?
          
          * *
          "Let her sleep, If she's really sick, she needs the rest. Especially after last night."
          
            Okay. Just, please, try to keep
            an open mind. And, Scott?

            Thank you for caring.
          
          450

          
            R
            eport Cards?
          
          If grades were the criteria,
          I would be in deep frigging dung.
          Two weeks till "d" (for dung) day, no way could I make up for how
          I'd screwed up this quarter.
          * *
          And if they were going to start
          searching my room, I had some
          serious stashing to do.
          But I didn't dare move, not for a while. I stared off into the dark, thinking about Chase.
          * *
          No dates? Home straight after school? How could I live without seeing Chase?
          Alone in my bed, I could taste
          him, embrace him, feel his skin, warm against my own.
          * *
          There, as the house fell silent,
          I could hear him tell me,
          
            I
            love you, Kristina.
          
          Live without him? They couldn't
          
            make me.
            Wouldn't
            make me.
          
          I would go to him that night.
          451
          I grabbed my "hideables."
          Out the window. Down the wall like a spider, on night prowl.
          No way to call him to come and get me. How would I ever
          get myself into Reno?
          * *
          One way came to mind.
          I swallowed my fear and stuck out my thumb.
          452

          
            A
            nyone Could Have Come Along
          
          A rapist.
          A serial killer.
          Brendan.
          * *
          Lucky me.
          I drew a cop.
          * *
          The black and white
          approached slowly, crept past.
          Brake lights flashed.
          * *
          Thank God I
          thought to reach into my pocket and toss the contents into the weeds
          * * as he pulled to the shoulder, red and blue revolving.
          * *
          I wasn't high, but I felt buzzed.
          453
          I wasn't holding, but I broke out in fear sweat.
          * *
          Goosebumps popped out like disturbed wasps.
          How much would he notice?
          * *
          How much more would he guess?
          (And how much did guesses count?)
          454

          
            He
            Got Out of His Car

            Evening, young lady.
          
          His flashlight found my face, concentrating on my eyes.
          * *
          
            Kind of late to be out alone.
          
          My mouth felt paralyzed.
          All I could do was nod.
          * *
          
            Going somewhere important?
          
          I drew a deep breath. Exhaled
          slowly. "Just to a friend's."
          * *
          
            Do you realize it's after curfew?
          
          I wanted to say something
          smart. What I said was, "It is?"
          * *
          
            Do your parents know you're out?
          
          Parents? Couldn't involve them!
          "Th... they're out of town."
          * *
          
            I
            see. Then I can't take you home.
          
          Yes! He couldn't take me home.
          Relief segued into apprehension.
          * *
          
            Looks like I'll have to take you in.
          
          In? Where was "in"?
          He couldn't mean jail?
          * *
          
            Tsk. Wittenberg isn't a good place.
          
          455
          Juvenile hall? I was dead!
          Mom would kill me.
          * *
          
            ...
            for a nice girl like you.
          
          He escorted me to his car, put me into the backseat.
          * *
          
            What's your name, anyway?
          
          If I told him my real name, they might call home anyway. "Uh..."
          * *
          
            Tough question?
          
          It never crossed my mind I
          couldn't get out without it.
          * *
          
            You have to answer it sooner or later.
          
          "Bree," I said. "Bree... Wagner."
          456

          
            I
            Wasn't
            Scared--Yet
          
          They asked me lots of questions.
          I made up every answer, the most important one being,
          * *
          "My parents can't be reached.
          May I call my brother?"
          They handed me the phone.
          I could only hope he was home.
          
            Brrrng... brrrng... brrrng...
          
          * *
          "Chase? It's Bree--your sister?
          Listen, I got picked up for curfew..."
          I had rousted him up out of deep crash hell. It took a few
          minutes for him to come to.
          * *
          "Since our mom and dad are out of town, they brought me to Wittenberg..."
          Somehow he got my drift. He
          told me to chill, he'd see what he could do.
          * *
          No more questions. No tests. Not even the rush of a strip search.
          They marched me down to a holding cell, gave me four solid
          hours to wonder what came next.
          457
          No word from my family. Not
          Kristina's. Surely not Bree's.
          They took my clothes, gave me
          baggy gray sweats, assigned me a bed in the dormitory.
          * *
          I joined the general population.
          I wonder where that term came from.
          They were not general at all.
          Roomie #1, Lucinda, was a gangbanger, involved in a drive-by.
          * *
          Roomie #2, Felice, was in for wrecking a Caddie, carjacked at knifepoint.
          Roomie #3, Rose, had beaten up her mother--with the butt of her gun.
          Of course, she had a good excuse.
          * *
          All of us had one thing in common: a total infatuation with the monster.
          Tell you the truth, that scared me a little. But not that much.
          458

          
            Tough
            Girls
          
          I spent much of Sunday listening to them talk.
          * *
          Trash talk.
          Honest talk.
          Tagging
          Expression
          Street fighting
          Courage
          Color
          Family
          Hunger
          Need
          Speed
          Crashing
          Connections
          Scoring
          Trafficking
          Shooting up
          Popping a cap
          Remorse
          Doing time
          * *
          I let Bree do my trash talking.
          Kristina stuck with honesty.
          Somehow, Lucinda and I found an odd rapport.
          * *
          And by the time Chase called my parents to let me know where they could find me
          
            (can you believe it takes a
            real
            parent to get you out of juvie?)
          
          459
          and they released me bright and early, Monday morning,
          * *
          I was a tougher girl with a new connection.
          460

          
            C
            ause and Effect
          
          The admitting clerk was irate.
          She had to redo all the paperwork, using my real name.
          She made me wait for almost two hours
          while she drank coffee and shuffled files.
          * *
          
            The counselor assigned to my case was unsympathetic. He read my folder, nodding and
            hmmm
            ing.
          
          He told me being a loser was easy, then
          ordered 24 hours community service.
          * *
          Scott sulked like a pissed puppy. He
          would have preferred lockup to my
          picking up trash along the highway.
          He refused to say one word, and his silence told me all I needed to know.
          * *
          Mom manufactured a plethora of tears to accompany her long-suffering mother diatribe.
          She had plenty to say about deceit, distress, and sexually transmitted diseases.
          461
          Jake was enthralled by the whole
          idea of my temporary incarceration, and the reasons behind it.
          He wouldn't shut up, just kept
          asking inane questions.
          * *
          As for me, I was less than contrite.
          Picking up trash wasn't so bad. There were ways around GUFN.
          And I now had a direct in with a monster manufacturer.
          462

          
            Back
            in My Room
          
          My life closed in around me. I was no longer my own.
          Mom had poured through all
          * *
          my stuff, scoured
          my journal, letters, and address book.
          She did find a bit of evidence--a
          * *
          crumpled Marlboro
          wrapper and a new
          lighter. Hey, it made her day to discover
          I was a hard-core
          * *
          tobacco user. More
          lectures, more useless
          promises on my
          end. She went off to work on her book.
          463
          A sudden wave of exhaustion swallowed
          me. I'd walked through the last few days in a total haze. My system
          * *
          had finally purged itself of "go fast." It was time to shut down. I laid down and surrendered myself to the comfort of dreams.
          464

          
            R
            esolutions
          
          I awoke the next morning, semirefreshed.
          As I got myself ready for school,
          I made the following resolutions:
          * *
          * One week to the end of the quarter, grades slipping into gutter, I would ask for some extra credit work.
          * *
          * I would help out more around the house, show my parents
          
            I
            was
            grateful for the many things they'd given me.
          
          * *
          * I would write to my Grandma once a week, even if she might not be sure who the letters were from.
          * *
          * I would reconnect with old friends. And my dad.
          * *
          * I would finish up the many projects I'd started while under the influence--a macramé wall hanging, a portrait of John
          Lennon, a song I'd written about my walk with the monster.
          465
          * I would never shoot up again. I would smoke less, toot
          less, keep my bad habits manageable. (Notice I didn't say
          quit them.) I would also avoid sipping other people's blood.
          * *
          * I would go to Planned Parenthood and get on the pill. Making
          love with Chase was awesome, and we didn't need a baby
          spoiling that.
          * *
          The problem with resolutions is they're only as solid as the person making them.
          466

          
            O
            ther Problems
          
          Mess with a teacher, even one that has always
          liked you in the past, you're liable to get screwed.
          Ditch their classes, they might
          give you makeup work, but they don't have to. I was four
          out of seven toward screwed.
          * *
          I tried hooking up with
          Sarah. She was nice but had
          moved on to more reliable
          friends. Straight friends.
          Trent knew exactly what was what with his sister, and so with me. The Avenue most
          definitely wasn't his scene.
          * *
          On the home front, I couldn't
          buy Scott's trust by washing
          windows or vacuuming. I had
          zero idea how to turn it around.
          467
          Mom, she wanted her little girl
          back. I couldn't go that far.
          She wavered between forgiving, stern, spiteful, and loving.
          * *
          I did write Grandma a couple of times, lively, newsy letters.
          She never replied, but I
          didn't really expect her to.
          Hopefully, I brightened a few of her last days. She would pass
          away in January, cold and gray as a San Francisco winter.
          * *
          When I returned to the macramé, my fingers struggled over the knots. I scrapped that project, but did finish John Lennon.
          As for the song, I had lost the melody and my will to find it. And the lyrics brought
          me back to the fold of the monster.
          468

          
            Crank,
            You See
          
          isn't any ordinary
          monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving
          * *
          its tentacles not
          just around you, but through you, squeezing
          * *
          not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling
          * * until you try to get
          away. Try, and you
          hunger for its
          grasping
          * *
          clutch, the way its
          tendrils prop you
          up, your need
          intensifying
          469
          exponentially
          every minute you
          refuse to admit its
          being.
          470

          
            By
            Wednesday
          
          I was starving for speed and for Chase, in that order. I bummed a snort from Robyn, borrowed her cell.
          * *
          I made the call with trepidation but Lucinda had given me all I needed to know--her name, her brother's name, and these very scary words: La Eme,
          * *
          "Eme" meaning M, for Mexican
          Mafia, hardcore importers and traffickers, plus a few chemists, doing their thing in desert hideaways. Roberto already
          * *
          knew about me. (Lucinda had
          used up one of her weekly calls and expected a favor one day.
          La Eme is all about favors.)
          * *
          Roberto set up a meet for the following afternoon.
          Then I called Chase's cell, asked him to pick me up
          471
          last period, take me to the bank. (I had a D in P.E.; what could one
          more ditch hurt?)
          472

          
            The
            Good
            ...
          
          Seeing Chase's truck pull into the far parking lot. Hearing,
          
            It's been a long four days.
          
          * *
          Kissing him, knowing better things
          lay in store, right up the road.
          
            I've missed you so much.
          
          * *
          Detouring to a secluded spot. Gentle
          lovemaking, set to romantic sonnets.
          
            It's never been like this for me before.
          
          * *
          Riding into town, head on his shoulder, listening to words of love.
          
            My heart will always belong to you.
          
          * *
          He was the second person to tell me
          that. The first, well, he had his Giselle.
          473

          
            ... T
            he Bad
            ...
          
          Noticing the letter lying
          open on the passenger-side floor.
          
            I was going to tell you...
          
          * *
          Chase had been accepted by USC-- the University of Southern California.
          
            They have an awesome film school...
          
          * *
          Early graduation, a full scholarship, for him, a dream come true.
          
            I'll
            leave after Christmas break.
          
          * *
          For me, a dream or three, annihilated.
          I didn't know what to say.
          
            Please don't cry. It's not so far away.
          
          * *
          It might as well be clear across the globe.
          Out of sight, out of my mind.
          474

          
            ... And
            the Ugly
          
          I was still upset when
          we pulled up to the bank.
          I was a ton more upset
          * *
          when the teller informed
          me that Mom had restricted
          my access to my own account.
          * *
          Okay, it had dwindled considerably.
          But I had to have cash the next day.
          You should not stand
          * * a guy like Roberto up.
          And I was in serious want of a fabulous bender.
          * *
          I'm not sure which one of the two made me more panicky.
          I asked Chase if I could
          * *
          borrow some money.
          But when I told him why, he told
          me I was nuts and took me home.
          475
          I didn't even say good-bye, just slammed the door and went to check the mailbox.
          I figured I'd better keep checking
          * * it until my report card arrived.
          It wasn't there. But something a whole lot
          better was--two letters from Citibank.
          * *
          Inside one was Mom's new credit card.
          Inside the other was a PIN.
          476

          
            I
            Did Think Twice
          
          about using that Visa, maybe
          even three or four times.
          But it was just so easy, like fate
          had mailed it directly to me.
          * *
          Mom wouldn't miss it for weeks.
          And then I would deny ever
          having laid eyes on the thing.
          * *
          Robyn gave me a ride to meet
          Roberto. He didn't look near as scary as he really was.
          The buy was a piece of cake.
          Except for one thing.
          * *
          Roberto wouldn't deal less than half-ounce quantities. That much, straight from the source, was relatively
          cheap. And Visa paid for it.
          477
          I didn't need it all, of course.
          The plan was to sell some, so my own stash would be free.
          Every dealer thinks that until their nose gets busy.
          * *
          That's what I became that day. A dealer.
          I had just taken a very big step up in the hierarchy of the monster.
          478

          
            I
            Became an Instant Celebrity
          
          out on The Avenue.
          The crank was superb.
          And I, being new to the deal, didn't know enough to cut it.
          I sold it like I bought it--rich, yellow, moist, and stinky.
          * *
          I offed the half, went
          back for more, offed that, too.
          My friends were happy.
          Roberto was happy--
          enough to front me even more.
          * *
          And I was nonstop wired.
          Nonstop tired,
          I needed more and more just to get through the day.
          More and more just to feel okay.
          479
          Who knows how much I'd be doing now!
          Who knows how much money I might have made?
          Who knows if I would
          have smoked up all the profits?
          Who knows if I would have
          ended up in prison--or worse?
          * *
          But one morning in early
          November, I woke up and the moment I got
          up, I heaved until I hurt.
          It might have been the flu or a bad reaction to Mom's sloppy Joes.
          * *
          But it wasn't.
          480

          
            Clear Blue Easy
          
          was clearly blue.
          * *
          But there was nothing easy
          * * about finding
          out I was pregnant.
          * *
          I didn't know
          what to do.
          * *
          I didn't know who to turn to.
          * *
          You've probably heard
          that story before.
          But until you're in those shoes,
          * *
          wearing them seems so straightforward.
          * *
          Keep your baby?
          Give it away?
          * *
          Abort your baby?
          Give it life?
          * *
          If you think you
          have a clear idea,
          481
          try throwing drugs into that picture.
          * *
          Not quite so cocky
          now, are you?
          * *
          So tell me. How
          would you choose?
          482

          
            I Went
            Through
          
          the next few days
          pretty much like a zombie.
          * *
          People wanted crank.
          I sold it to them.
          * *
          Teachers wanted homework.
          I gave it to them.
          * *
          Jake wanted to razz me.
          I let him.
          * *
          Mom wanted to know what was wrong.
          I had nothing to say.
          * *
          The monster called to me too.
          For once,
          I refused to answer.
          * *
          Friday night, I crawled into bed, sank way, way low.
          483
          Submerged myself in a world of watery dreams:
          * *
          Tears. An ocean of tears.
          And a baby, a boy, afloat in that salty sea.
          * *
          He cried out to me.
          Could I swim away solo?
          Would I drown saving him?
          484

          
            Saturday
          
          I spent the day:
          Throwing up.
          Sweating speed.
          Shivering.
          Shaking.
          Tingling all over.
          And otherwise fighting the symptoms of withdrawal.
          * *
          Sunday
          * *
          I spent the day:
          Throwing up.
          Sweating speed.
          Off-balance.
          Confused.
          Weeping.
          Tumbling end over end, deeper and deeper into the throes of depression.
          485
          Monday
          * *
          I spent the day:
          Throwing up.
          Eating.
          Emotional.
          Dazed.
          Lost.
          Alone.
          Finally, I went to the pay phone and made two calls. One to
          Planned Parenthood. The other to
          Chase.
          486

          
            My
            Appointment Was at Two
          
          Chase picked me up at noon.
          Pale, shaky, I climbed in beside him.
          
            Hi. You look awful.
          
          * *
          I smiled. "Whose fault is that?"
          We laughed at the not-funny joke and headed into town.
          
            Are you okay?
          
          * *
          I shook my head. "I'm pregnant, remember?" I leaned into my hands, let the tears flow.
          
            Please don't cry. I'm here for you.
          
          * *
          Here? He was going off to sunny
          Southern California. I didn't need
          him anyway. Did I?
          
            I
            love you. More than I realized.
          
          * *
          "I love you, too. But I'm scared,
          Chase." He pulled to the side of the road.
          
            I'll
            take care of you. The baby, too.
          
          487
          Was he giving me another choice?
          Could I make that decision?
          I was only 17.
          
            Marry me, Kristina.
          
          * *
          My knees buckled. My stomach
          churned. Chase had stepped up to the plate.
          The pitch was up to me.
          488

          
            P
            lanned Parenthood
          
          was a cinder-block
          nightmare. It felt like prison without the comfort of bars.
          Ugly in orange, the waiting room
          made me want to throw up. So I did.
          * *
          A dozen women
          gave sympathetic
          looks as I returned from the bathroom.
          * *
          One by one, they
          disappeared as a stern woman in white
          called their names.
          * *
          Chase held my hand as we watched them
          reappear, one by one, ashen as ghosts.
          489
          A procession of wraiths, that's what it was. And I was in the back of the line.
          * *
          I rocked against the hard plastic chair.
          Finally the woman
          called, "Bree Wagner."
          * *
          Chase flinched, then
          whispered in my ear:
          
            I prefer the sound
            of Kristina Wagner.
          
          490

          
            I
            Already Knew My Options
          
          I listened patiently as the saccharine
          Ms. Sweetwater outlined them again.
          * *
          She did confirm that should I choose
          abortion, my parents would not
          have to know. All I needed was $500 and someone to drive me home.
          * *
          She gave me the name of a local adoption agency, urged me to consider placing
          my baby in a loving home.
          * *
          And then she asked me the date of my last period.
          Hard as it was, I thought
          back to a night up at
          491
          Chamberlain Flat, when I used
          that period as an excuse to say no.
          It was the weekend before school
          started. Add a couple of weeks and...
          * *
          I gained a terrible insight.
          Chase was not the baby's father.
          * *
          Brendan was.
          492

          
            The
            Realization
          
          was like jamming a paperclip into a light socket:
          profoundly stunning;
          * * like cinching a garbage bag tight around my neck:
          completely suffocating.
          * *
          A mad surge of blood rushed to my brain, pounding temples and eardrums
          * * before draining
          away completely.
          My face went Arctic, diving deep freeze,
          * *
          glacier blue.
          Graveyard cold
          hugged me tight, rattling teeth and bones.
          493
          Chase called my
          name. Ms. Sweetwater
          skittered to her feet and everything went black.
          494

          
            P
            assing Out
          
          is the strangest thing.
          One minute
          you're here.
          * *
          Then with a mere
          cerebral flutter, you're not
          * *
          Part of your brain
          insists you're dead.
          Of course, you're not.
          * *
          Another part says it's
          better there, in the dark.
          Where, exactly, are you?
          * *
          Somewhere, you hear
          voices, urgent.
          Could you be in limbo?
          * *
          A thin beam of light
          calls to you.
          495
          Will you reach heaven?
          * *
          Brighter now, white and beautiful.
          You hurry in that direction.
          * *
          Your eyes acquiesce, and open to discover...
          you're back in hell, after all.
          496

          
            Voices

            Chase
            Sweetwater

            Nurse
            Doctor
          
          * *
          
            Kristina?
            "Bree?"
          
          "Honey?" "Young lady!"
          
            Hello?
            "Hello?"
          
          * *
          "Heart rate?" "Accelerated."
          
            Wake up!
            "Wake up!"
          
          * *
          "Breathing?" "Shallow."
          
            Please?
            "Now!"
          
          * *
          "Here she comes." "There she is."
          
            Talk to me.
            "Talk to us."
          
          * *
          "She'll be fine." "She's fine."
          
            You fine?
            "She's just fine."
          
          497

          
            Oh
            Yeah, I Was Fine
          
          Dandy in fact
          Pregnant by a sex fiend.
          Starving for the monster.
          Scared to admit either
          * * to those close to me who remained
          * *
          clueless
          eyes closed to every
          negative
          thing about me, or dying
          To know every
          dirty
          little tidbit.
          * *
          And the only one who knew every little
          negative, dirty thing
          would have
          * *
          forgiven
          me anything
          498

          
            C
            hase Steadied Me
          
          as we walked to his truck, hand in hand. He opened the door, helped me inside, slid in behind the wheel.
          * *
          
            So tell me.
          
          * *
          I considered playing
          ignorant, but knew he wouldn't let go.
          "About the baby..."
          * *
          My eyes unlocked from his, but not quickly
          enough to conceal the truth.
          * *
          
            Brendan is the father.
          
          * *
          My throat constricted, like a rubber band twisting around my admission.
          499
          "Oh, God, Chase.
          It's all so wrong!"
          * *
          Our eyes reconnected.
          In his, I found sympathy.
          And jealousy.
          * *
          
            It doesn't matter, Kristina.

            We can make it right.
          
          500

          
            He Drove Me Home--Slowly
          
          My stomach flip-flopped with every curve and brake.
          * *
          Finally, he asked,
          
            So what do you think?
          
          I had no answers.
          None at all.
          * *
          So he joked,
          
            Should be a cute kid, anyway.
          
          Which made me smile but still gave me no answers.
          * *
          He offered,
          
            Don't answer me now.
          
          Not then, but soon.
          I was already six weeks p.g.
          * *
          He probed,
          
            I
            know it's a tough decision.
          
          501
          Tough. Too tough.
          And all mine to make.
          * *
          
            He dared,
            but life is full of tough decisions.
          
          Like a guy would ever
          
            have to face
            this
            one.
          
          * *
          He suggested,
          
            Maybe you should talk to your mom.
          
          502

          
            My Mom?!?!
          
          The ice princess? The bitch queen?
          The "mother" of all mothers?
          * *
          What was he thinking?
          
            How could I talk to
            her?
          
          * *
          We hadn't really talked in months.
          What would I tell her now?
          * *
          That I was pregnant?
          That I was pregnant because I was raped?
          That I was raped because I would have done
          * *
          
            anything
          
          * * for just one more taste of the monster?
          * *
          Where would I start?
          Where would I finish?
          How much to admit?
          How much to hide?
          503
          How much to confess?
          * *
          Where would I find such nerve without crank to open my mouth?
          * *
          And if I did dig down deep enough to find it, would I crumble and weep?
          * *
          Would she?
          504

          
            T
            he Kitchen Was Warm
          
          and carried a scent of hot butter, wrapped in cinnamon.
          * *
          It reminded me of when I was little.
          * *
          Before Jake.
          Before Scott.
          Despite Dad.
          * *
          Back when I still believed
          Mom was the perfect mother.
          She, Leigh, and I were the trinity.
          * *
          We baked together.
          Canned together.
          Planned together.
          505
          Plotted birthdays and holidays around homemade gifts
          that didn't cost much but time and love.
          * *
          And the fun was not only in the giving, but in the shared creation.
          * *
          I adored Mom then.
          * *
          Could my own child
          ever love me so?
          506

          
            S
            omehow She Didn't Notice
          
          the wavering tone of my "Hi, Mom."
          * *
          I sat down at the table and she brought
          me a plate of warm oatmeal cookies.
          
            Hi, Honey. How was your day?
          
          * *
          I almost laughed. I almost cried.
          I managed to hold both inside. "Okay."
          
            Good deal. Hey, I need your input.
          
          * *
          
            My
            input? Was this some odd
          
          attempt at bonding?
          
            What should we get Leigh
            for Christmas?
          
          * *
          Christmas. It would come right on schedule, despite my predicament.
          
            I already put an Xbox
            on layaway
            for Jake.
          
          * *
          Whatever choices I made, Jake would
          indulge in the latest video games.
          
            And I got Scott a new

            set of clubs.
          
          * *
          Come spring, regardless of my decision,
          Scott would enjoy a great game of golf.
          
            But I'm just not sure about Leigh..
            ..
          
          507
          Leigh. Would she ever know the pleasure--or terror--of pregnancy?
          
            Does she have a DVD player?
          
          * *
          I bobbed my head. "Heather does.
          How about a Palm Pilot?"
          
            Great idea! Leigh's so disorganized!
          
          * *
          The ice princess gently stroked
          my hair, and for one very scary instant...
          
            There's the buzzer. More cookies?
          
          * *
          I verged on coming clean.
          508

          
            I
            Opened My Mouth
          
          just as Scott rumbled through the door, winding down what
          I guessed must have been a very long ramble:
          * *
          
            ...
            out-of-touch politicians...

            ... the !@#!*#@ economy...

            ..
            . the next round of layoffs...

            ..
            . the boss's decision to scale

            back raises and Christmas

            bonuses, despite signing
            off on his own 20% pay hike...
          
          * *
          So much for ho-ho-ho.
          So much for confessions.
          So much for answers.
          509
          And then Mom made the mistake of turning on the radio as a weather
          forecaster announced
          we could expect snow, and enough of it for the ski resorts to enjoy a lucrative Thanksgiving.
          Scott went off again.
          * *
          
            Just @!$%#@i perfect,
            with the Jeep in the shop
            and the Subaru needing tires.

            November snow!

            Can you imagine a worse omen?
          
          510

          
            O
            mens! Great!
          
          I wasn't about to try and dissuade the Powers-That-Be.
          I still needed answers, however.
          I picked up the phone, went into my room, and made a few calls.
          * *
          The first was to Dad. Not sure why.
          Got his answering machine:
          
            Me and Linda Sue were feeling

            blue, so we went to Mexico.

            Leave your number.

            I'm getting a hummer.
          
          * *
          Linda Sue? Was she from Kentucky?
          No doubt "Miss Louisville" paid for their trip.
          But did the world have to know they had oral sex?
          And who made Dad a (very bad) poet?
          * *
          On a crazy whim, I called Adam next.
          Guess who was whining in the background.
          511
          
            Kristina? [Momento, Lince. I'll be right there.]

            Well, yeah, we're hangin' out pretty steady.

            In fact
            --you won't believe this--

            I'm going to be a daddy next summer.
          
          * *
          Oh, yeah, I believed it all right.
          Apparently, though Lince still lacked
          feeling in one arm, other parts felt plenty.
          So much for Giselle. So much for summer visits.
          * *
          I muttered congratulations and hung up without sharing my own "good news."
          512

          
            I
            Thought About Calling Leigh
          
          but figured she'd tell Mom, "for my own good."
          I called Robyn instead.
          * *
          "So I've got this friend who just
          found out she's pregnant..."
          
            Total bummer. How far gone
            are y
            --
            I
            mean... is she?
          
          * *
          "Six weeks. She's too scared to tell her parents...."
          
            No doubt. What about the father?

            Does he know?
          
          * *
          "No. And she's not going to tell him. He's a real a-hole."
          
            No help from the father, no help
            from her parents? Only one answer.
          
          * *
          "You mean abortion. What about adoption?"
          
            Let me tell you a little story about
            what happened to a friend of mine.
            ...
          
          * *
          Seems Robyn's friend chose adoption, then saw her baby and changed her mind.
          513
          "I don't see what's so awful about that!"
          
            Ask the adoptive parents.
            I'd tell you
            to ask the baby, but you
            can't.
          
          * *
          Seems Robyn's friend wasn't really
          ready to be a mommy.
          * *
          "So... what? She gave the baby up for adoption, after all?"
          
            She went on a three-day
            bender. The

            baby's crying drove her nut buckets.
          
          * *
          Seems, arm in arm with the monster,
          Mommy shut the baby up.
          For good.
          514
          
            S
            now

            Began

            to

            Fall
          
          come
          dusk
          lovely
          tangos
          wind
          and
          flake
          silent
          wisps
          growing
          bold
          wicked
          relentless
          hinting
          winter's
          random
          temper
          silver
          frosted
          morning
          white
          landscape
          reflecting
          purple
          painted
          sky
          breath
          taking
          dazzling
          lifting
          me to heights
          I'd
          never
          approached but as
          Newton
          would
          opine
          what
          goes
          skyward
          must
          surely
          crash.
          515

          
            S
            now Day
          
          No plows, no buses, no school, nothing to do but fret.
          I picked up the newspaper.
          There, headlining Local News:
          * *
          MAJOR DRUG BUST with a picture of Roberto in a sporty pair of cuffs, followed by a daunting exposé--
          La Eme and the crank epidemic.
          
            Plus, in
            Sierra Living
            a complementary piece
          
          outlining the horrors of meth:
          * *
          How it eats big holes in the brain,
          Destroys the pleasure center. How it shows up in X rays as big black dead spots spoiling gray matter.
          * *
          How quitting is next to impossible and even those users who suffer through often never recover completely.
          Footnote:
          516
          Possible
          pregnancy
          complications
          crank
          baby
          birth
          defects
          health and behavior
          abnormalities.
          517

          
            Too Much
          
          to think about.
          * *
          Too much to bear.
          And time was running short.
          * *
          I knew
          I couldn't marry Chase.
          * *
          I knew he would stand by me.
          But he deserved his dreams.
          * *
          I feared
          closing that door.
          * *
          I feared the uncertainty of choosing parenthood.
          * *
          I doubted
          I could give my baby away.
          * *
          I doubted more I could raise it on my own--with or without defect.
          518
          I needed a solid dose of courage.
          * *
          I needed the strength only the monster could give me.
          * *
          I regretted
          my weakness as I inhaled.
          * *
          I regretted making the decision to snuff out my baby's life.
          519

          
            I
            Needed Two Things
          
          The ride home was easy.
          Robyn offered to drive, as long as it didn't interfere with her cheerleading.
          * *
          The $500, however, presented a challenge.
          My bank account was low desert dry.
          The Visa was maxed high.
          * *
          Chase refused to help.
          He was "floored" by my decision.
          Another option came to mind, one
          that owed me a lot more than money.
          First Brendan denied paternity.
          I reminded him about DNA.
          * *
          Next he claimed poverty.
          I threatened full disclosure.
          To his hoity parents. To his toity girlfriend.
          To his probation officer.
          (A DUI, post-Air Races.)
          Okay, he'd cough up the money.
          520
          Distasteful as it was to see
          him again, it provided a matchless opportunity.
          * *
          
            You sure you're pregnant?

            You sure it's mine?

            You're not b-s-ing me?
          
          * *
          "I'm sure. It's yours. No bull.
          Hard to believe your balls were big
          enough to accomplish it, huh?"
          521

          
            H
            ow Big
          
          were
          my
          balls?
          * *
          Big enough
          to
          follow
          through?
          522

          
            I

            Didn't Sleep
            the night before, just sat at the window staring at starlight, gentle glitters upon a crust of new snow, wishing I could wish upon a star and make it all just an evil dream, one I could wake from, but no such
          
          luck.
          523

          
            M
            esmerized
          
          By the come and go, the sad drift and flow
          lives in painful transition,
          I sat, waiting for an ending.
          * *
          The clinic was gated, walled and secure, but nothing felt safe
          nothing felt sane.
          * *
          Why do they make you
          wait so long, trembling in the shadow of fear and remorse?
          * *
          I wept, as my sisters
          wept at what might
          have been, had we turned in another direction.
          * *
          And then, midst waves of heartache, I felt a flutter in my belly, no more than the whisper of an eyelash.
          * *
          Later, my doctor and my
          mom would tell me it was much too early to feel a fetus move.
          524
          Whatever it was, maybe gas, maybe God, I took it as a plea from the life growing
          viable inside me.
          * *
          I would not abort my baby.
          Nor give it away. I
          would carry it proudly, and when it entered this world,
          * *
          I would be the perfect mother.
          I could only hope it wasn't Bree, materializing inside of me.
          525

          
            More
            Choices
          
          I told you once before that life is full of choices.
          Sometimes, good or bad, hard or easy, we make the right choices.
          * *
          When I told my mom, she cried and cursed
          my choices.
          Then she softened and thanked me for honoring
          my child.
          * *
          She and Scott argued, talked and finally agreed to offer haven as long as I finished school.
          Chase likewise promised to care for
          * *
          us, work two jobs if need
          be. It gave me even more to love
          him for, but I sent him off to USC. As my baby grew, mother love
          526
          
            replaced romantic love,
            almost
            diminished love for the monster. I tried to quit, but my need was so deep
          
          * *
          I did slip once or twice.
          One tiny snort was all it took to satisfy desire so deep it snatched
          my breath away.
          But don't worry.
          I swear it was only a time o two.
          You won't tell, will you?
          527

          
            I
            Won't Bore You
          
          with all the tedious details of the next seven months-- the day-to-day grind, belly burgeoning around the life
          growing
          inside
          me.
          * *
          Instead,
          I offer a few highlights, the top ten reasons
          my pregnancy wasn't so awful, followed by a top ten
          countdown of lowlights
          * *
          (I know that's not a word.
          Consider it poetic license.)
          528

          
            H
            ighs

            10) Feeling my baby move at 16 weeks exactly, knowing it
            wasn't
            gas, but something--someone--
          
          incredibly, remarkably, alive.
          * *
          9) Calling Dad and getting
          Linda Sue. Asking her to define "hummer" before imparting the fabulous news
          that her boyfriend was to become a grandpa.
          * *
          8) My ultrasound--seeing a heart, beating strong inside me.
          Having my doctor
          inform me that my baby was all in one piece, then
          suggest I shop "blue."
          529
          7) school counselor,
          Mrs. Green, arranging a home-study program to let me graduate
          right on schedule.
          (Six days before I gave birth!)
          * *
          6) Calling Grandma, expecting a lecture and getting one-- about how every baby, regardless of circumstances, is an angel on a special mission.
          * *
          5) Scott's losing his anger
          long enough to teach
          me to drive. Getting
          my driver's license when
          Grandma left me her obnoxious (but mint) '75 LTD.
          530
          4) Jake, sharing his Internet
          research on fetal
          development. Did you
          know that a fertilized
          egg, 36 hours old, is the size of a pinhead?
          * *
          
            3) Sorting through 35,000 names in the
            Dummy's Guide
            to

            Naming Your Baby,
            opting for the strong, masculine moniker
          
          Hunter Seth.
          * *
          2) Epidurals. I meant to do
          Lamaze, really I did, but I managed to miss
          most of the classes.
          Here's to labor, without unimaginable pain!
          * *
          And...
          531

          
            T
            he #1 Best Thing
          
          about those seven months:
          * *
          Holding
          my baby for the first time, knowing just how to do it.
          * *
          Thinking his red, scrunched-up face was really quite handsome.
          * *
          Unwrapping the blanket to count fingers, eyes, ears, and toes,
          * *
          Finding
          all twenty-four, precisely
          where they ought to be.
          * *
          Crying because suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, everything felt right.
          532

          
            Lows
          
          10) Morning sickness. Puking
          my guts out as soon as I lifted my head from the pillow, each and every day for weeks and weeks.
          * *
          9) Listening to Mom and Scott
          argue. About me.
          About the baby.
          About the odds of it being some
          sort of freak.
          * *
          8) Trying to quit tobacco after learning how
          every puff made
          my baby's heart
          stop beating. How
          could I be so hooked?
          533
          7) Going to school (before
          my "condition" became
          obvious) an outsider.
          Knowing my old
          friends and I had
          lost all common ground.
          * *
          6) Boredom. The succession of little-to-do
          days, stretching
          longer and longer toward the longest
          day of the year.
          * *
          5) Long letters from Chase.
          USC was great.
          The football team was great. Los
          Angeles was great.
          Great enough to call it home.
          534
          4) My dad's silence. He did call
          once, to confirm Linda
          Sue's tale. Then not a word, as if not talking about it could make the "problem" disappear.
          * *
          3) Losing Grandma, just when
          I'd found her again.
          A waterfall of flowers
          brightened her funeral, but they couldn't disguise the stench of death.
          * *
          2) My water breaking, mid-Walmart...
          Contractions, uterine lightning
          bolts, striking
          immediately and not letting up for 18 hours.
          * *
          And...
          535

          
            The
            #1 Worst Thing
          
          about those seven months:
          * *
          My steady, needful, forever
          relationship with the monster.
          * *
          Learning
          that "addiction" is much more than a buzzword.
          * *
          Discovering
          how very much it applied to my "me first" psyche.
          * *
          Struggling
          not to give in to inner voices
          much stronger than my own.
          * *
          Winning
          most of the time, gritting my
          teeth and "just saying no."
          * *
          Losing in those moments
          when the world
          I'd created for myself
          closed in around me.
          536

          
            H
            appy Endings
          
          I'd like to give you one.
          But I'm not really sure
          how this story ends myself.
          * *
          Being a mother is hard.
          A lot harder than I imagined.
          My baby boy is beautiful.
          I sense an Old Soul within him.
          * *
          But he cries a lot and he doesn't really sleep like a newborn should. No lectures, okay? I accept my part.
          * *
          I watch my mom with my son, loving him, as she must have
          loved me. She's patient when he cries. She paces him to sleep.
          * *
          I wish I could be like that. But
          I'm only 17. I feel like life is passing
          me by as I stand here on the deck, listening to him fuss inside.
          536
          537
          Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball and roll away. Sometimes
          I just want to die. I only know one
          thing that can make me laugh again.
          * *
          Crank is more than a drug.
          It's a way of life. You can
          turn your back. But you can
          never really walk away.
          * *
          The monster will forever speak to me. And today, it's calling me out the door.
          537