I smiled, thinking back to the easy camaraderie I’d felt with them. We’d just clicked. It was a revelation to be surrounded by people who didn’t know my tragic past or treat me like I was from the weird family. She’d been like an older sister to me during that week, the happiest I’d been since Mama died. I didn’t know whom I liked more, Reese or her brother. I sighed. Reese, unfortunately. Because even though kissing Ryan was a pleasant enough experience, I still didn’t go weak-in-the-knees, just weak-in-the-stomach—I got some weird vibes from him.
I sighed again, wishing for the umpteenth time that I had a cell or access to a computer so I could message her.
“What’s the matter with you, pouty?” Ashley-Leigh poked me in the ribs. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Nothing made Ashley-Leigh madder than you being mad at her. She couldn’t stand being outside your circle of love for even a minute without falling apart.
I shook my head. “I’m just ready to go home. Can you drop me off at my car before y’all go out?”
“Fine. It’s your birthday . . . do what you want.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I muttered.
After a few moments of sulking, Ashley-Leigh huffed out some air. “You know, I went to a lot of trouble for you tonight,” she reminded me, unable to keep her feelings in for all the iced-tea in Texas. “You could at least pretend that you’re havin’ a good time.”
“I am,” I argued feebly.
“You’re no fun anymore, Katie,” she stated.
I knew that was almost the worst insult she could give someone, second only to “you’re not pretty anymore.” I didn’t protest that which we both knew was true. “I’m sorry, Ash. I’m tryin’, really.”
“I don’t think you are.”
“Well, I am.”
“Then prove it—come out with us. Be seventeen. Get kissed . . . for real. It’s your birthday! YOLO, baby!” She nudged my shoulder, nearly dumping me into the aisle.
“I have been kissed!” I practically growled.
Her eyebrows shot up, mouth gaping open at once. “I knew it! You have been keepin’ secrets from me!” she accused. “I want details! Who, what, when, where, and . . . forget the why. I know why!”
Thankfully our waitress just showed up, balancing a birthday cake lit with a single candle and a fistful of forks. I recognized the look immediately— scram! She slid the cake ceremoniously in front of Ashley-Leigh, incorrectly guessing the birthday girl from her general diva attitude. Ashley-Leigh beamed up at her before reluctantly sliding it over halfway to me. She shhhhhed the table into quiet obedience.
“Okay, birthday girl, make a wish!” she directed for the second time tonight.
I debated a moment on wishing for the same impossible thing I did earlier. Maybe wishing for it twice would make the impossible possible? In the interest of teen spirit, I decided to go a more predictable route. Closing my eyes, I blew out the candle to a round of applause, trying not to blush scarlet from being the center of attention. And my secret wish.
“I bet I know what she wished for!” sneered Madison.
“What?” Ashley-Leigh asked, either because she hadn’t heard, or to give Madison the opportunity to deliver her line.
Like lightning before thunder, I knew what was coming and braced for it.
“. . . To finally be kissed!”
As far as I could tell, about half the table laughed like idiots, and the other half looked like they just plain felt sorry for me. Either way, I couldn’t stand it so I rose to my feet, shaking.
Ashley-Leigh took one look at my face and the reactions from the majority of the table. Quick as one of her winks, she turned on her friend. “Shut up, Maddy!”
“What? Oh please—I was just joking. God! Don’t be so sensitive, Katie.”
Ashley-Leigh yanked on my arm, but I didn’t budge this time. I’d had more than enough of my girls’ night and was ready to get back to my boys. I bit out a farewell over everyone’s heads, then turned to Ashley-Leigh. “Thanks for, uh . . . everything.” I threw a fiver down before beating a hasty retreat.
I could hear several protests around the table, and Stephanie Aguilar called out, “Come out with us, Katie!—we never see you anymore.” I threw a half-wave over my shoulder and saw that Ashley-Leigh was giving it to Madison. And I actually felt a little vindicated by my former best friend in that moment.
Putting one foot in front of the other as fast as I could, I headed for the back exit, hoping to slip out unnoticed. But to my dismay, faces popped up like bobble-heads doing the wave as I walked by. . . . Dang Daisy Dukes! I silently cursed Ashley-Leigh and her crazy outfit not two seconds after feeling tender towards her.
How do I get myself into these situations? was just what I was thinking when I hit pavement, heat, and lonely darkness on the other side of the door.
7
A CLOSE ENCOUNTER
There were no two ways about it—I was stranded as a one-winged June bug on a windshield. My clothes were sitting in a paper sack, innocently awaiting my return in the backseat of my car. Which was parked at the curb of the Montgomery house. And here I was, standing in the emptying parking lot of Chapas Sports Bar, dressed like a streetwalker. With my car keys winking at me from my handbag.
“Dagnabbit!” I kicked a piece of gravel with my boot, scratching up my industrious polish job. No way was I going back in there now. I mean—you can’t just slink back into the same place you just stormed from. Pathetic. No way I was gonna be that.
I was busy huffing back and forth about a tailgate’s length of sidewalk, debating my options, when I heard a deep voice inquire if I needed a ride. I cringed under the scrutiny of an aging cowboy, eyeing me and my sorry situation from the comfort of his pickup truck.
“Um, no thank you,” I replied.
“Really . . . it’s no trouble.” His voice rose up a persuasive octave.
“No thanks. I’m . . . ah, actually waitin’ for someone.”
Beneath his oily hat, he stared at my poker face a beat longer before starting his truck with an abrupt roar. “Suit yourself, missy.” He flicked his cigarette butt out the window and screeched away.
Charming. Relieved, I decided it was time to strike out on my own before Animal House let loose and decided I needed more “birthday fun.” But first I needed to tone myself down. I dug into my woven bag—past my useless keys—and grabbed my almost as useless glasses. Thought about putting my hair up with the omnipresent ponytail holder I had dangling around my wrist as a substitute bracelet then quickly dismissed the idea— I was already naked enough without exposing my back, too.
My loose plan was to get the heck out of Dodge and then figure out my next move. Bypassing the snake of cars leaving out the only exit, I stepped neatly over an orangey-yellow parking block and into a ditch, cursing my Connelly pride. Any normal person would’ve turned back and simply asked for a ride, or at the very least to use a phone. But I couldn’t call my father in this condition (if I wanted to live to see my eighteenth birthday), didn’t know Mrs. M’s cell phone number, and didn’t want to get Ashley-Leigh into trouble. No, I got myself into this mess by stomping out like a lunatic . . . I’d get myself out.