Punk 57(64)

I reach down, pretending to get something out of my bag as I whisper to Masen. “Tell me you’re jealous.”

I say the same words to him as he said to me at the drive-in. I don’t want to go to prom with Trey. I don’t want to even talk to Trey.

But Masen has given me nothing, and I’m not putting my life on hold in the meantime.

“Tell me I’m yours,” I say.

He lets the protractor fall to the table and looks down, keeping silent.

My jaw aches, and I feel tears sting the backs of my eyes. “I feel like you’re going to disappear any minute. Like you’re not really real.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” he whispers back. “I promise. Just not yet.”

I wipe away the wet at the corner of my eye and clear my throat. I like Masen. A lot. But he has no roots here, and once the year ends, nothing is keeping him here. I’m nervous.

A low growl catches my attention, and I turn my head, realizing it’s coming from Masen’s stomach. He shifts in his seat, looking a little embarrassed.

“Have you eaten today?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “I just didn’t feel like gas station food again.”

I watch him, the realization of his situation hitting me. Does he just go to the Cove after he leaves here? Is he alone all the time? How much money could he possibly have to eat and get gas and do laundry?

Sadness creeps in. No one’s taking care of him.

He must sense me watching him, because he jerks his chin at my drawing, changing the subject.

“What is that?”

I swallow, gazing down at my third try at the coal sketch which looks more like a Rorschach ink blot.

I suck.

“It’s an album cover,” I tell him. “That friend I told you about? Misha? He writes music. I was making him a surprise for graduation.”

His eyes narrow on it, and his breathing turns fast and shallow.

“What?”

He turns away, blinking rapidly. “Nothing.”

I let out a sigh and turn back to my work. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I might lie a lot, but at least I say something.

I reach into my bag and pull out a granola bar, tossing it in front of him before I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

It’s only eight o’clock in the morning, and I think I’ve already had enough boys for one day.



Squeezing out the packet into the cup, I replace the plastic lid and shake the salad inside. The Caesar dressing mixes and coats the contents, and I grab a plastic fork and a bottle of water, moving down the cafeteria line to the cashier.

“You’re eating?” Lyla steps up next me and reaches over, taking a cup of fruit.

“Yeah.” I hand my lunch card to the cashier, and she swipes it. “Spring fever. Might as well eat. I can’t concentrate on schoolwork today.”

Or at least not at school. My mind is on Masen all the time. Is he here? Is he close? Is he going to push me into a classroom, touch me, and kiss the daylights out of me?

Please. God. Yes?

“You know, I should tell you,” Lyla says, giving the cashier some money. “You leaving the drive-in with Masen Friday night was pretty shitty.”

I stop and turn my eyes on her, my heart catching in my throat. I don’t really care if she knows I left with him, but does she know what we were doing in his truck at the drive-in?

She smiles sarcastically. “Him pulling out of the drive-in right in the middle of a movie, and you nowhere to be found? It wasn’t hard to figure out, and I’m willing to bet Trey’s figured it out, too.”

I exhale, relaxing a little. Okay, she doesn’t know much else then.

“You know what?” I say. “You actually shouldn’t tell me anything. You didn’t see me leave with him, you have no clue what’s going on between us, if anything, and you’ve given more guys a ride than a bus. When you’re perfect, then we’ll talk. Got it?”

Her eyes flare, shooting me a nasty look as she opens her mouth to speak again.

But I cut her off. “You’re done,” I tell her. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

I turn around, but I see Trey and J.D. approach and stop.

Son of a…

“You wanna have some fun?” Trey comes in, placing his hands on my hips.

What? I breathe out a laugh, a little exasperated. I can’t keep up with the intrigues right now.

But I blink, trying to focus myself again and find my quick wit. “Sure.” I give in. “I was wondering when you’d start getting interesting.”

J.D. laughs, and Trey cocks an eyebrow, half-amused and half looking like he wants to teach me how to keep my mouth shut.

“Laurent can’t seem to take his eyes off you,” he says.

He turns his head over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze, finding Masen sitting at a table full of the worst delinquents in school. He leans back, his long legs stretched out, and his hands locked behind his head, laughing with the guy he’s talking to.

“So?” I look back at Trey.

“So I think he wants you,” he answers. “I want you to use that for me.”

And then he leans in, holding the other side of my face and whispering into my ear. “Get him to come to my house next week for the party.”