It’s ten, so I spend an hour on homework, and then fall in bed. It’s one before I finally drift off, and even then, my sleep is sporadic, plagued by the Dream. There are half-empty liquor bottles everywhere. I break one. Another. The glass sprinkles over me. I walk on it, but there’s no pain. I’m crying, but I can’t feel it; my face is numb. The tears taste like salt in my dry mouth, and my feet are bleeding. The red stains crushed packs of cigarettes, and my toes nudge a bright yellow lighter. Yellow on a stoplight means caution, but I pick it up anyway.

Smoke and licking flames, and there’s only my heartbeat pounding in my ears, my ragged breathing. I jolt upright in a pool of sweat. My aunt doesn’t know the Dream is haunting me again, or she might insist I go back on meds. But I hate how they screw with my brain. I want to feel things, even if they’re bad. I have to learn how to deal.

At six, I’m wide-awake, so I get up. Scramble some eggs. I do everything I can to be a good niece, a good kid. She’s the only thing standing between me and the system; and on days like today, I feel irrationally scared that my good, safe life could inexplicably implode. It’s the kind of fear that my old therapist would pick apart with a fine-tooth comb, asking me endless rounds of why, why, why. Then he’d offer me a new prescription.

I suspect I’m so nervous because I have a date with Shane tonight. I think.

School is school. There’s no quiz in geometry, but I did my homework right. Now we’re moving on to a new set of theorems, so I need more tutoring from Shane. I love that he waits for me after class, and that the jocks seem to have forgotten about him, mostly. Dylan gives us both a look, but he has bigger fish to fry, as from the loud convo, there’s a senior walking around in a sweater vest and bow tie. Clearly that challenge cannot go unanswered.

Shane smiles as we step into the hall together. “I put in an application at the P&K.”

“And?”

“When they found out I could work any hours, they hired me.”

I hug him to celebrate the awesome, and when his arms go around me, I swear my heart skips a beat. He smells of laundry detergent, sunshine, and fresh air, no cologne, no body wash. And that works for me in a big way. I imagine pressing my lips to the curve of his jaw. In helpless reaction, I curl my fingers into his army jacket, hoping he won’t notice my unsteady breathing. His eyes are so, so blue …

When somebody bumps us, I break away and head toward his locker. Shane is a few steps behind me, looking thoughtful. As he dials his combination, he says, “You know, it would save time if we just picked one and shared it.”

I know some couples do this, but I’ve never—does this mean we’re a couple? I wish I had a clue what’s going on between us. If I was brave, I’d just kiss the hell out of him and see what happens. I lack the confidence for that maneuver. Also, I’m not exactly sure how to kiss.

So I just say, “Sounds good. Which?”

“Yours,” he says.

“Okay. When do you want to move your stuff?”

“Might as well take care of it now.”

So while I wait, astonished, he packs up his stuff and sticks most of it in his backpack. I carry a few odds and ends, and then we’re at my locker. My hands shake as I dial the combination, so I need to do it twice. “Did you catch what it was?”

“No. Can you tell me?”

I raise up on tiptoe to whisper it, and I swear his eyes fluttered closed briefly, like he’s really into me exhaling right there. It gives me a weird feeling to realize that Shane might be as into me as I am him. Or maybe I’m reading him all wrong because I so want him to be.

In two minutes, he’s all moved in. My locker has more personality than his, as I’ve had the same one for two years, going on three. It’s a desirable location as well, located in the main hallway, equidistant to all classes and departments. Shane pauses, examining the pictures I’ve cut out and stuck in the door. Unlike most girls I don’t have a mirror, snaps of hot guys, or tiny plushies. He’s seen the décor before, obviously, but he feels more investment now that he’s sharing it, I guess.

“What are these places?”

“Pictures of countries that have better conservation and recycling programs than the U.S. I want to visit all of them and bring back ideas we can use here.”

“That’s pretty cool. How did you get so into this stuff?”

Nobody’s ever asked me that before, and I struggle for an answer that won’t give away too much. I’ll tell him about myself … I owe him some answers after how open he was with me, but not here, not in school on the way to the cafeteria. So I eventually say, “I lived in a bad area when I was younger. I guess … I want to fix the world for other kids. Well, try anyway.”

His expression reveals pure surprise. “I thought you’d been here longer. You seem really at home.”

“No. I moved in with my aunt three years ago.”

Questions stir in his eyes, but we’re at the lunchroom, and our crew waves with mad enthusiasm. I can see that Mel already has lunch set out, and as we approach, they’re all saying how awesome it is that we’re hanging on Sunday. Operation Lasagna is a go.

Shane gives me a look that says he’ll ask later. Tonight, probably, and I dip my head in silent acknowledgment. I don’t know if I’m excited that he wants to know me or terrified about how he’ll feel once he does.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tonight, Aunt Gabby has another date with UPS Joe. This time when he picks her up, I notice that he has kind eyes, and he takes the time to chat with me while she putters in the bathroom, pretending to put the finishing touches on her face, but really she’s just making him wait. With some women, this would be a power play, but with my aunt, it means she’s nervous.

“You have plans tonight?” Joe seems like a good guy. I mean, he’s trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, we’re seeing a movie.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t even know what’s playing. It’s not like we have a choice.”

He makes a face. “Small town.”

“Pretty much.”

Eventually, my aunt comes out, looking beautiful. I don’t know why she worries. Unlike their first date where she went for cool sophistication, tonight she’s wearing a bold pink-and-purple-print dress with kicky retro shoes, chunky gold jewelry, and her hair up in an adorably complicated twist. They must be going to dinner in a neighboring town, or possibly even the city, a fifty-five-minute drive on the highway.

“Where you taking her?” I ask Joe.

Some men might get irritated, but he answers me in a quiet, polite tone. “To Rudolfo’s. We have reservations at eight.”

Yep, he’s taking her to the city. Rudolfo’s is where the rich people eat before prom. Then they take a limo back to be dropped off at the country club in style.

“Have fun,” I tell them both.

“Ryan’s not coming over tonight?” My aunt knows I’m talking to Ry again, but things are still awkward between us, made more so by his quiet jealousy.

“Actually I’m going to see a movie with Shane.”

Things have been so crazy, I forgot to tell her, but this works out better for me. In front of Joe, she won’t go all hyper-protective and ask a million questions. She can’t implore her date to stick around so she can meet mine without looking anal, plus it would ruin Joe’s reservations. Aunt Gabby gives me a look that says we’ll talk later.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she says pointedly. “Be home by eleven.”

“The movie will be out by ten or so, and there’s nothing else to do. So … definitely.”

I give Joe a smile as he sets a hand in the small of her back. It’s not a gesture that casts aspersions on her competence, more a quiet assertion that he’ll help if she needs it. After all, the driveway is rocky and she’s wearing heels. She kisses my cheek on the way out, then I scramble to finish getting ready. Shane will be here in an hour, and I don’t even know if this is a date.