Caffeine turned abruptly and walked over to the trash can at the end of the bench, tossed the pencil pieces in, then looked at Grant. He leaned away from her, bumping into me. Caffeine smiled, showing her teeth, then turned and walked away.

I got up, swinging my backpack onto my shoulders, then looked back down at Grant. I raised my eyebrows.

"Okay," he said in a whisper. "It's a date."

"A date?" I said.

"Tonight. At The Brass."

I'd never been. The Brass was a music venue for teens, or at least for nondrinkers. They did food and dance, and weekend and Wednesday nights they had live music. Today was Wednesday.

"What do you mean, a date?"

"Dinner. You have to dance with me at least twice."

My eyes went wide. "Oh, really? And you'll answer my questions?"

He looked shocked, and I wasn't sure if he was shocked at himself for asking or shocked that I hadn't refused him out of hand.

"Uh, yeah?" he said, far more of a question than a statement.

I thumped my finger into his chest. "Is that an actual answer? Come on. Yes or no?"

He exhaled then licked his lip. "Yes."

"You don't drive, right?"

"Right." He sucked on his lower lips then said, "But I'll still pick you up. Get my mom or sister to drive us."

"When?"

"Seven?"

I nodded. "At seven."

He looked totally taken aback. "Aren't I too young for you? I mean, girls dig older guys, right?"

"Some do. Some like all kinds." I laughed. "My mom is three years older than my dad." His eyes went wider and I said, "It's just a date."

"Yeah!" he said suddenly. "A date!"

Oh. I guess it all depends on where your set point is.

I sighed. "I'm going to regret this."

I begged off our usual Krakatoa homework session after school.

"I know," said Tara. "You've got a hot date."

"Hot? Who said it was hot? Forget that-who said I had a date?"

"Who didn't? Why, is it a secret? Cause Grant sure isn't acting like it's a secret. More like the best thing that ever happened to him."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I thought back to a couple of strange looks I'd gotten earlier in the day and was enlightened. I'd been right-the date was three hours away and I already regretted it.

"Ah," said Jade. "Young love. Really young love. I mean...."

"I agreed to go out if he'd answer my questions," I said. "About Caffeine."

"Is there kissing involved?" Tara asked mildly. "You could always use him for practice." She pursed her lips and blew a kiss out into the general world.

I felt my face get hot. "That would just be mean."

"Oh, thought about it, eh?" said Jade. "What else were you thinking of practicing?"

"There's never a snowball around when you need one. Why are you giving me such a hard time?" I said. "You two don't even like guys."

Jade looked a little surprised, exchanging a glance with Tara. Tara shrugged. Jade said, "What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes and said, "Is it really such a big deal?"

Tara took Jade's hand. "Around here, yeah it's a big deal. Mom knows. Jade's parents know but they're, like, in denial."

"Homophobic?"

Jade shook her head. "They're worried for me. They want it to be 'just a phase' because they know how hard it can be for lesbians."

"A phase?" I said.

Jade amended it. "Well, that I might be bi. Get a nice boyfriend later."

Tara snorted.

"We're discreet," said Jade.

"Sure," I said.

"Who told you, then?"

"Your eyes, your voices, your faces. You can touch someone with more than just your hands."

Jade frowned and Tara laughed. They looked at each other.

I said, "See?"

"I've got a date tonight," I said to Mom. "I won't be eating at home."

Dad, reading at the other end of the couch, looked up from his book. "A date? A date date?"

I nodded.

"Who with?"

Mom looked at him and laughed.

Dad looked offended. "You don't think I should ask that?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. It's the edge of panic in your voice and the extra white showing around your irises."

He frowned. "I didn't start dating until I was eighteen."

"Technically you were still seventeen," Mom said, "It was forty-five minutes before you turned eighteen. I was there, remember?" She turned back to me. "My first date was when I was fifteen."

Dad winced.

"It's Grant Meriwether. He's taking me to The Brass."

Dad raised his eyebrows and Mom said, "The music club down on Main."

Dad said, "Isn't he a little young for you?"

I doubled over laughing and Mom joined in.

Dad turned bright red.

Grant showed up at the door five minutes early. He was wearing a suit.

Little jerk.

I was wearing jeans and a nice shirt.

"Oops. Sorry, time got away from me-haven't changed yet. Have a seat and I'll be right back."

Mom followed me around the corner and, when I jumped to my room back in the Yukon, she followed. "He really dressed up," she said.

I bit my lip. "Yeah."

"You could've just gone as you are, so I guess you want to dress up a bit, too?"

"I don't want to embarrass him. Even if this is sort of a practice date."

She gave me a look. "You aren't leading him on, are you?"

"He knows the score. I was very clear."

"That may be, but young men are still capable of not getting the message. In fact, they specialize in that." She lowered her head looking at me to make sure I understood that.

I nodded, my face serious.

"Okay. You could wear your suit, the one you wore to school ... or you could make him the envy of all he surveys. Which is it?"

There'd be lots of Beckwourth students at The Brass. Maybe even that jerk Brett.

"Let's knock their socks off."

Mom took me to her closet.

When we returned to the living room in New Prospect, jumping first to my room, then coming up the stairs, Naomi had come in from the car, apparently to see what was taking so long. Dad had served them ginger ale and was drawing Naomi out about her college plans.

Grant looked nervous, like he was going to throw up.

I smiled and said, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

I was wearing my full-length wool coat, buttoned, with a scarf tucked in at the neck. Normally he was taller than I, but I'd changed to heels so my eyes were slightly above his.

"No problem!" I'm sure he meant to sound cool, but he blurted it out.

I nodded and said hello to Naomi.

She looked at my heels and then up at the small diamonds Mom had hung in my ears. "So this is a real date?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Didn't Grant tell you?"

She swallowed the rest of her ginger ale and said, "Oh, yeah. But ... it's Grant."

Grant looked offended but, as Naomi was the transportation, he wisely didn't say anything.

Naomi dropped us at the curb and said, "Nine-thirty sharp, right?"

Grant mumbled, "Yeah."

Then, as Grant was sliding out of the car, Naomi locked eyes with me and said, "Unless you want to leave earlier, then just call my cell."

Grant, holding the door, hadn't noticed the look, but he said, "Right."

I smiled at Naomi. "Don't worry." I followed Grant out of the car and strode across the sidewalk to The Brass's entrance. Grant slammed the car door and scrambled to get there ahead of me, lest I open it myself.

There was a beverage/snack bar at the far end of the room, across the dance floor. The stage was a two-foot riser on the left, and on the right, a slightly raised mezzanine filled with mostly occupied tables. The band wouldn't start for another hour, though their gear was set up. Before the drum set, a woman with a ukulele doing the Amanda Palmer thing: solo covers of rocks songs in a torchy way.

Grant paid the cover charge and told the greeter, "table for two." She nodded and said they were cleaning a table now and it would just be a few minutes.

Most of the people, especially the younger ones, were wearing jeans and I really felt overdressed. I considered excusing myself, heading for the bathroom and, from a stall, jumping back home and changing back into something more casual. I'd gotten as far as visually locating the restrooms (back by the beverage bar) when the greeter said something I didn't catch and I looked back at her and Grant.