270.

I Triple Promise I'll give him a call.

Straight up, I will, because one guy will never be **

enough for the likes of me.

Truth is, I can't believe one anything (guy, **

girl, whatever you happen to be into) could be enough for anyone.

Too, too many "anyones" in this ol' world.

Let's see. I'm currently **

working on three.

All different. Smart. Not so.

Accomplished. Not **

so. Older. Not so. Oh, and speaking of Not So, better late than never, Mick **

arrives.

271.

Ty's Quite Recent Invitation Was totally beyond my control.

I didn't solicit. Didn't even agree.

So why, pray fucking tell, do I feel guilty? Guilt is not a Gardella trait.

Certainly not a Raeanne trait. What the hell is up with me? Mick parks **

with an overt flourish. Not much subtle about Mick. He reminds me **

of a Rottweiler. Eighty percent brawn. Twenty percent affection, **

long as you treat him right. I jump up into the Avalanche, scoot almost **

into his lap, give him an over-the-top kiss, hoping he doesn't taste guilt.

Whatever he tastes, he likes it, wants another dose. I stop his tongue (not **

to mention his hands) with a single word. "No." Then I assuage his obvious **

disappointment. "Not enough privacy here for what I've got in mind. Let's go."

272.

He Starts to Turn South But I stop him, with a hand on a spot too high on his thigh to qualify as "thigh." "Let's go to my house.

It's empty." And, of course, it should be empty, with Manuela out sick.

It's a gamble, inviting Mick to my house to party. But Mom's campaigning. Daddy's judging, and I.

am the only one brave enough to veer from the "should do" straight into the "want to do." And that is so what I'm going to do. Better to be a little reckless than like Kaeleigh-- all uptight and frozen all the time.

Okay, so maybe I lean a bit too far the other way, but scared is something I refuse to be. I'd rather spit in the devil's face.

So Mick and I will smoke up and make out in my bedroom.

I don't think we'll get caught, but the very possibility is half the fun. And, with a modicum of luck, no one will know.

273.

Kaeleigh I Thought Last Block Would never come. I've had Ian on my mind all afternoon.

I know right now I should concentrate on Ms. Cavendish and her impassioned stage direction.

But I'm standing here, so close to Ian. And he smells good and all I.

want to do is kiss him again, like we kissed earlier. Because for the very first time, a kiss felt right, and exactly the way a kiss should be instead of like something dirty.

And what rose up inside of me was something so intense and so completely new, it scared me, only it scared me in a good way instead of making me want to crawl in a hole and die.

I slip my hand inside Ian's and I don't want anyone to see because I'm afraid someone will pull me away from him if they know.

274.

Our Fingers Interlock And it feels like commitment.

And that begins a tug-of-war **

inside me.

I want Ian to give me all of himself.

But that means returning **

the priceless gift.

I want to open myself, let him inside.

But how do I give what has **

always been taken?

I want to know what it means to be in love.

But in my dictionary, "in love"

is indefinable.

275.

We Have to Unlock To rehearse. And I feel regret, and I know Ian feels it too.

At least our love scenes should come easy for once. If I can just remember my lines!

Places, everyone, directs Ms. C.

From the top, no music today.

Reluctantly, I start stage right.

Ian stops me with a gentle hand, whispers, We need to talk. Can I take you home? Please?

Yes. No. Oh God, what does he want to talk about? A wave of fear crashes over me. Makes it hard to draw breath. Still I croak, "Okay," look into his eyes, try to discern what's hiding there.

I cannot see anything secret.

only love and something I myself know only too well--fear.

276.

Ian, Afraid?

What can he possibly be afraid of? He's the strongest person I've ever known.

I fret on that all through drama, flub my lines every time the thought blankets my brain, disrupts rote memory.

Finally the bell rings.

As we gather our things, I notice Ian barely looks at me, or at anyone else for that matter.

And believe me, we are the focus of more than one person's attention.

The one who I notice most, beaming evil rays from her charcoal pencil-smeared eyes, is the most-likely-to-be- our-next-class-president, the ever-amiable Madison.

277.

Ian Walks Past Her Without so much as a nod, despite the come-on smile she gives him, as an obvious jab at me. What's up?

Ian slides an arm around my waist.

Ready?

His touch sends little electric jolts through parts of my body I usually try to ignore. "Ready."

Madison is still staring as we **

exit. I can feel her eyes stab my back, and when I turn, she mouths a single word.

Slut.