I hustle along the walkway, mostly ignoring the waves and hellos of people I rarely give the time of day to.

...got the lead ...---...

made honor role...

Ian's looking for you.

Ah, see, they're confusing me with Kaeleigh. Sometimes I think that's funny. Other times, it just annoys **

the living crap out of me. Guess that's what comes of sharing a wardrobe, not to mention a face. Oh, well.

25.

At least Mick won't confuse me with her. She wouldn't go near him.

He's much too much like Daddy.

Both of them are tough outside.

But dig down under the skin, there's a soft, gooey core.

Auger into that core, like tapping a maple, you'll get doused with incredibly sweet sap.

It's a lot of work, work that Kaeleigh could never appreciate, because she doesn't like maple **

syrup anyway. But I do. I love it. And if Daddy would just stand still for me, I'd happily tap his core.

26.

Mick's Sexy Chevy Avalanche, with slate gray paint and silver leather seats, idles in a far corner of the parking lot.

Two years out of school, he isn't really supposed to be here.

But he generally comes running when I call. He likes what I give him.

I like what he gives me, too, and I'm mostly talking about the bud. I pick up my pace because right under his front seat I know there's a fat, stinky joint with my name on it.

Okay, Mick's name is there too.

It's his dope, after all.

But he's always happy to share.

Of course, he expects compensation, and after smoking a big ol' doobie, I'm generally willing to cooperate.

Life has gotten better--or at least more bearable--since I was introduced to my good friend, marijuana.

You couldn't have a more decent friend.

I love everything about it.

27.

I love the way it smells--good green bud, anyway, and that's the only kind Mick gets. I guess his brother knows a Humboldt grower. Okay, the pot smells a lot like skunk juice.

But somehow, there's a difference.

A good one.

I love the way the thick smoke tastes, curling across my tongue, snaking down my throat. I love holding it in. Coughing it out.

I love head rushes, the creeping warmth that follows.

And I love the distant place it takes me to. Everything feels right there. Mellow. Easy.

Stress-free. I even love the munchies, the perfect excuse for devouring a pint of Haagen-Dazs. Of course, afterward I have to go stick my finger down my throat. Don't dare get fat.

Daddy would not like that.

28.

Mick and Marijuana Await me. I'm ready to pay Mick's going rate for the pot.

(And I'm not talking money.) Some people would balk at the price tag.

Not me.

You might think, because of the things I've seen Daddy do, I'd be disgusted by sex. No way.

I like it.

I like how it feels physically, yes. Kisses, hot and prickly as August. Hands, tan and rough against my soft white skin. And the last, extreme punctuation.

I get off.

But getting off myself isn't the best part. I do everything in my power to make sure he gets off.

And that puts me indisputably in control. (He thinks otherwise, and I let him.) It's the only time I am in control. And I like how that feels Not me. I like it.

most of all.

29.

Kaeleigh Call Me Powerless Yeah, I know on first glance I have it all. Looks. Money.

Straight As. Leads. Popularity.

I'm a regular princess, right?

Not me.

The final bell rings and I dash for my locker, hoping no one offers me a ride home. Some people despise the bus, but I like it.

Yes, it's mostly freshmen and losers, and I fit right in.

Anyway, no one bugs me with questions or invitations.

I am practically anonymous.

Too soon, brakes screech and I get off a few blocks from home. The walk is usually silent. But today Ian's Yamaha rips around the corner.

It slows, stops, and I wait as he gets off, sheds his helmet, draws near.

Have you been avoiding me?

I have, and I struggle to meet his eyes. When I finally do, I find concern. Pain. Anger. And love, most of all.

30.

Ian is My Best Friend He has loved me since fourth grade. I would trust him with my life, and all my secrets but one.

Soooo...have you?

I wish I were worthy of his love. (Any love.) I should tell him to run.

But I can't. I need him.

Ahem. Hello?

He deserves to be loved, by someone really great.

He's gorgeous, in an artsy way. No ego. All heart.