Drop the gear shift to D. Hit the gas...

420.

The Avalanche Lurches Forward Wheels spinning in the gravel.

Mick rolls out of the way.

Good thing. With more force of will than talent, I manage to get tires onto asphalt, weaving back and forth until I sort of get the hang of driving a straight line.

Almost makes me wish I wasn't so high. Almost.

This isn't so hard. I play a little, testing brakes, acceleration, and steering capabilities. Not exactly rocket science. Uh-oh.

Here come some curves.

I ease off the gas, maneuver through them, half thinking about what I'm doing.

The rest thinks about Mick.

He's pissed, for certain.

But what's he going to do? Call the cops? His word against mine. Still, if the cops come knocking .

421.

How Would That Look on Headline Hews?

CONGRESSWOMAN'S DAUGHTER ARRESTED.

for theft of would-be rapist's truck. Says they were smoking pot after curfew when things got out of hand.

I could go back, pick him up.

If I could manage to turn around, anyway. But you know, I really don't think I will. He started this game.

I'll play it to the end.

It's one thing to say okay, do me, do me any way you want and it's no problem, **

because I gave you permission.

But to say no, and have him insist he will anyway?

No damn way. And as I work it through, it comes to me that for once, I did say no.

What's up with me, anyway?

422.

The Road into Town Is pretty much deserted this time of night. I drop over the last dark hill, pull well off the pavement, onto the shoulder. Wouldn't want some loadie to come along and smash into the Avalanche.

Guess I'll leave the keys under the seat. I think enough to wipe them off, along with the steering wheel. Any other fingerprints of mine would probably be smeared together with Madison's. Wonder if she says no.

I know it's stupid as hell, but now I'm worried about Mick. It's a damn long walk from where I left him.

Oh, well. He deserves it. If he gets lucky, maybe someone will happen by. Yeah right. Well after two on Tuesday morning. Election day.

Better worry about myself. It's a long enough walk for me, and I most definitely better be home well before the sun comes up.

423.

An Hour's Walk Home Back in through the window.

I listen intently, but all's quiet.

My clothes smell like Mick so I yank them off, crawl into **

bed naked. I don't usually sleep in the raw. But I'm high and tired, **

and the cool cotton sheets feel like water. I'm skinny-dipping.

Swimming toward deep, deep sleep, and I'm afraid to go there.

Because when I wake up again, it will be tomorrow. The day **

everything changes. Better?

Worse? Whichever. Looking **

back at this afternoon, not to mention tonight, I understand **

the transformation is already well underway. And I'm scared.

424.

I Wake to a Hailstorm Of sound: Footsteps.

Slams.

Some news channel.

Daddy.

Mom.

Furniture scraping Orders .

barked.

The telephone.

The telephone.

Dishes crashing.

The telephone.

The telephone.

425.

Light Through the Window Informs me I've overslept.

The clock confirms nine twenty-two.

Oh, yeah. Way over. On a normal day, Daddy would have been in here, yanking my butt out of bed.

Oh. but this is not a normal day.

I slink out of bed, naked. Naked?

Last night's clothes are heaped on the floor. Last night!

Wonder if Mick made it home yet. Wonder if I'll hear from him.

Like he could keep his mouth shut.

Oh, well. Not to worry. If he wants to play rough, I'm up for the game.

Meanwhile, I'll bask in the memory of him, moonlight falling on his moon.

Shower. Dress. Wade into the madness.

See if anyone even knows I'm here.

426.

No One Has a Clue I emerge from my room, a butterfly from her cocoon, and no one seems a bit concerned about the metamorphosis.

I could spread my wings, let them dry, then fly far, far away, and no one would notice my departure.

I'm a shadow.

Daddy and Mom have retreated to their separate rooms to dress for a joint trip to the polling place, no longer at each other's throats, not until this day settles into dust.

Wonder if I should just go to school late, pay my pound of flesh, accept detention without complaint. But how would I get there? Can't exactly call Mick for a ride, and I can't ask my clueless parents.

I look out the window. Hannah's home. Delicious. If she'll take me, I can draw a little figurative blood.

427.

Kaeleigh The Dreaded Day Has arrived, and with it total trepidation. Where will my family be, once it's all over? What sort of metamorphosis will we experience? I'm torn in two. I mean, most of me hates everything about my life (except for Ian. of course). I feel like I'm a shadow behind my mother, always there, but rarely acknowledged.

I love her the way I always have. How can it be that she no longer wants to be my mom? What have I done? Is it because of Daddy? Does she know about-- and ignore--his taste for young flesh, and not only young flesh, but...

No, that can't be. When she heard about Hannah, she flipped, issued an ultimatum, and I'm pretty sure Daddy will at the very least be much more careful about his extramarital fun.

Mom is totally out for blood.

428.

Most of Me Does hate my life.

But this tiny sliver is more afraid of what life might become than it is of pain, ever-present now.

**At least I recognize the boundaries imposed on me. I know how far to push. I know when to step back.