His fingers catch my cheeks, pinch until my mouth opens.

I'll decide what is or isn't trouble.

You just follow orders. Understand?

Drool dripping from my open mouth, all I can do is nod.

His hand falls away from my face, and stress falls away from his.

That's my girl. You're the one person in the world I can count on.

168.

After That He pulls carefully away from the curb, turn signal doing its obligatory thing.

To the casual observer, I know, we are quite a picture.

Judge Gardella, dashing in tailored navy blue, and his teenage daughter, pretty in pink angora. But what's underneath that sweater is the antithesis of normality, however that word is defined.

And hey, when it comes to abnormal, I can only be one-upped by the man driving the car. What would the neighbors think if they could look through our windows, beyond the closed curtains, and see what's inside?

169.

Raeanne School Drags Today Not that it's ever exactly exciting, with the possible exception of Lawler's history class.

I know it's terribly warped of me to spend an entire block thinking about what's tucked behind the man's zipper. Oh yeah, pretty damn sick, okay. But at least I'm not bored. Right now I'm in English, trying to figure out how the word "faggot" is defined, other than by a homophobe.

We have to do a paper about how English has been bastardized by popular culture. But, much like Kaeleigh's door, the cover of a dictionary is not particularly something I want to open to see what's inside.

170.

I'm Trying to Avoid Exactly that when Shelby taps my shoulder.

Look.

Outside, clearly framed by the window glass, **

my best and dearest friend Madison sidles up to Ian.

A deep shade of anger blossoms beneath my skin.

Screwing around with Mick-- and so me--is one thing.

Messing with Ian is something else, something unforgivable.

I can't believe I'm standing up for Kaeleigh, but I so am.

I raise my hand. "Excuse me, Mrs. Finch, but I feel sick.

May I go to the rest room?"

Clearly unwilling to invite **

diarrhea or vomit, she waves me out the door.

171.

I Have No Real Right To play stand-in for Kaeleigh, but she wouldn't have the nerve to do what needs to be done anyway.

Sorry, twin o' mine, but it's true.

I watch from a short distance for a minute or two, trying to size up the situation, head to toe. Or maybe boob to chest is more apt.

Not a millimeter separates Ian's T-shirt from Madison's blouse.

In his defense, I will say Ian looks immensely uncomfortable.

As I start toward them, he sees me, and his demeanor shifts from complacency to sheer panic.

Oh darlin', you just wait.

At the terrified look in his eyes, Madison turns to face me. Smiles.

Oh, girl. That is so not the way to deal with this. I'm ready to rock.

But since I'm supposed to be Kaeleigh, I'll notch it back to something more like passive.

At least for the moment.

172.

As I Move Closer The tenor of the scene changes yet again. Madison remains possessive, of course. It's Ian whose body language alters.

I had expected contriteness.

Instead he seems unmovable, despite the certain emotion betrayed by his eyes: hurt.

Okay, what did that bitch tell him? All thoughts of Kaeleigh tossed aside, I move faster toward the two of them. With obvious intent. Madison's smile falls from her face and I know she has read the message in my eyes: Get the fuck away from him! She does, too.

But not far. She's a total player, and all in all, a worthy opponent.

Oh, hey Hope you don't mind my borrowing Ian's ear. I was just asking him to vote for me for junior class president.

OMG! She's got to be joking.

"Oh, really? Brave of you to run..." I leave the obvious 173.

message hanging. Think better about letting her off so easy.

"I'm sure Ian is smart enough to vote for the best candidate, though." Then I move between them, turn to face Ian's sad eyes.

"May I talk to you for a minute?"

His response is unexpected.

He levels me with his dark gaze.

Not right now. I'm late for an appointment with my guidance counselor. Later.

And off he stalks, leaving **

Madison and I standing here together. We both stare after him, nothing left to say to each other. We both know exactly what the other thinks.

174.

Maybe That Wasn't Such a good move. Then again, maybe it was. Hopefully I at least managed some sort of damage control. Then again, maybe not.

I wonder what she said to Ian.

Well, it still isn't really my business.

And right now my mind is wrapped around Mick, who's supposed to pick me up during third block. Spanish.

Uh-huh, I'm ditching. Oh, well.

I stand on the side of the gym, where hopefully no teachers will notice me, waiting to do one more wrong thing. Okay, several wrong things, all at once.

I can't help but think about Ian, and I can't help but wonder what I can do to shut Madison's big mouth once and for all.

It's a quandary, needing a fix.

Maybe getting my head will fix it, I sometimes believe I think best when I'm the most loaded.

Probably just wishful thinking.

But hey, here comes my ride.

175.

Once Again My escape is successful.

Once again Mick greets me with an uncomplicated Hey.

Once again he points the Avalanche away from town, heads into the countryside.

Once again he leaves it to me to roll and light a fatty. Has it only been a few days since I last indulged this not-so-bad habit?

Once again we engage in easy sex, hardly a word exchanged between us. We are so not about conversation, and only body-to-body communication.

Once again we clean up the obvious, straighten our clothing, pop a few breath mints, and start back toward school. Only this time, Mick's erratic driving draws unwanted attention.