“Hump.”
“Screw.”
“Shag.”
“Making love.”
“Carpet munching.”
“Ewww! Chaz! Don’t be vulgar.”
“What?” I laughed. “Fine, bonking. But I’m up two.”
Sadie furrowed her precious brow, trying so hard to one-up me in our tasteful game of synonyms. “Making whoopee!” she squealed. “Getting laid!”
“No.” Sadie crossed her arms. “You just made that up. Go again.”
“Mating.”
“Intercourse.”
“Hot beef injection,” I beamed. “Horizontal hula. Mattress dancing. I could go on all day.”
Sadie stuffed her face into my bed pillow, hiding. Her muffled voice muttered, “Chaz, there’s something seriously wrong with you.” She looked up at me and grinned.
“I am very cute.”
“Agreed. But in that grody, sick sort of way.”
“At least it’s not sick the way you’ve been sick for the last two weeks.” I watched as Sadie rolled over so she was looking up at the ceiling. She looked thinner than usual—her squeezable, chubby cherub cheeks were more angular—and there was still sort of a sick pallor to her skin. “Are you gonna heave on my bed?”
She pulled a magazine off my bedside table and began to rip pages out of it. “I don’t think so. The worst seems pretty much over.”
I lay next to her and watched what she was pulling out of the magazine—I suspected she was on the hunt for a new hairstyle. “I’m glad. You look a little … um, dead.”
Sadie lifted an eyebrow. “Um, thanks?”
“Just eat up to get your girlish glow back, okay?” I kissed her cheek. “Now, getting back to the subject,” I said, eager to continue the conversation that had led into our sexual synonyms throw-down. “How’s the sex?”
“It’s not about sex,” Sadie said, looking all dreamy. “I am completely in love.”
“That’s pretty obvious.” Sadie’s happiness was infectious, and nothing made me happier than seeing my best friend feeling the way she does about Trav. Trav is kind of a dip, if you ask me, but he treats Sadie like a princess, and she deserves someone like that. So even though he isn’t exactly my type, I don’t need to fake the enthusiasm. “But the sex …”
“Yes!” Sadie threw the magazine down and covered her face with her hands, knowing what I was asking. “It’s better.” The first few times Sade and Trav did it, Sadie had pretended things were awesome and romantic and perfect, but I finally got her to admit that she was woefully uncomfortable the whole time, and went home less than impressed. I had armed her with what appeared to be quality literature I’d found online, and had suggested she study for sex with the same passion she used to study for American history exams.
“Does it rock your world?”
“You need to get laid.” Sadie rolled onto her side to face me. “I want you to get out of my business and get into some of your own.”
“I do too.” My mind flashed to the fantasy of Sebastian, then wandered off to the reality of Hunter. After a long pause I finally said, “I’m thinking about trying again with Hunter.”
Sadie sat up and leaned against the wall, her eyes wide with surprise. “You wouldn’t!”
“I would,” I admitted. “There aren’t any more tasty options, so I better take what I can get.”
“What about Sebastian?”
I shook my head—he clearly wasn’t going to be easy to figure out—and said, “What’s the chance that’s going to happen, really? Gotta settle for the best Milton has to offer.”
“What’s wrong with waiting?” Sadie and I have different ideas about sex. She had always intended to wait until marriage—but modified her promise when confronted with love—and I wanted a sufficient level of sexual experience before I settled down. If I ever settled down. I can’t explain how my attitude toward sex was formed, but I’ve just never had the same monumental fear and anticipation of losing it that many other girls in my town do. Sex exists for a reason, and it wouldn’t be offered up as an extracurricular activity if it were something we weren’t supposed to do.
“I’d rather not.”
“At least your mom will be happy.” Sadie shrugged. “She loves Hunter.”
“I’m not doing this to make my mom happy. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be entering into a relationship or holy matrimony or anything. It’s just sex.”
Sadie frowned. “It’s not just sex, Chaz.”
“We have to agree to disagree. Again.” The truth was, I was scared of the sex that wasn’t just sex. I didn’t want sex plus. I wanted to experience the physical piece of it, which was why Hunter was a rather superb choice. I knew there wasn’t much risk of me developing anything beyond the experimentation stage with Hunter. The emotional bullshit Sadie was always talking about scared the hell out of me. Blech.
“Fine.” Sadie resumed her magazine reading. “But maybe you should consider a relationship with Hunter. He’s really sweet.”
“That’s completely settling, Sade. I don’t want sweet. I want sinful.” I grinned and pulled out last year’s yearbook, flipping to Hunter’s picture. I pointed to his puffy hair and dopey, close-mouthed grin. “I want sexy. I want sizzle.”
Sadie laughed. “You’re not going to get sizzle with Hunter. I can guarantee that.”
“So you do get it!” I slammed the yearbook closed. “You know I’m not looking for someone who’s going to analyze my feelings and comfort me when I’ve had a shit day—that’s what you’re here for.” My best friend rolled her eyes, tearing a picture of Katie Holmes’s latest haircut out of the magazine, then holding it next to her face. I shook my head no and continued. “What you and Trav have is great, but there isn’t a Trav for me here in Milton. I don’t want a Trav here—I want to get the hell out and look for my guy somewhere else. Emotionless fucking suits me just fine for now. Or it would if I could even get that.”
“I know you want to get out of Milton, Chaz. But don’t do anything stupid.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “This from the girl who’s sneaking around, having sex in her boyfriend’s car? Is that what I’m supposed to aspire to?”
“We did it in his room a few weeks ago when his parents were gone,” Sadie giggled. “He lit candles and everything. It was really sweet.”
“If I lit candles with Hunter, I bet his hair would catch fire.”
“Fair enough,” Sadie agreed. “But just be careful with Hunter. I’m not entirely sure you and he have the same sensibility about these sorts of things. You said it yourself—he’s the best thing this town has to offer, and what you’re planning may be more fucking with him than fucking him. That’s all I’m saying.”
She was totally wrong. Right?
The roar of a snowmobile echoed off the brick school wall on Thursday afternoon, the second-to-last day before winter break. There was a biting chill in the air, and most people were hustling to the buses or their cars. Me? I had forgotten my hat in the car when my dad had dropped me off that morning, and now I was bracing myself for the frozen walk to Matt’s. Matt had begged me to start my shift right after school that day, since business was really picking up as people came home for the holidays, zipping in from their shiny new towns to visit those of us still stuck in Milton.
This time of year was always like a big, happy town reunion. The shops on our main drag did half their business in the few days leading up to Christmas, and everyone spent evenings gathering at Matt’s with old friends and family. The visitors who didn’t know any better went to Gina’s or Café Cheapo, but the Milton originals knew Matt’s was the place to be. The holidays couldn’t fool me, however. All I wanted for Christmas was a ticket out of here.
I took a deep breath and stepped out the front door of school into the wind. I had only taken a few steps when the roar of the snowmobile growled behind me and whirred to a stop. “You need a ride, pretty lady?” Vic grinned at me from beneath his full-face-mask hat (yes, the kind with two eye holes and a circle for the mouth). He revved the motor and patted the seat behind him. I considered my options and promptly hopped aboard. “Where to? My place?” Vic grinned.
“Matt’s, please,” I replied. “Though your offer is certainly tempting.”
Vic looked back at me with eyes wide inside their knit holes. “Really?”
“Not really.” I narrowed my eyes at him before wrapping my arms around his midsection and hiding my face in his back. “Freezing here … can we get a move on?”
“Right.” The snowmobile roared to life, and we were at Matt’s in less than a minute. Vic rolled the bottom of his face mask up to blow me a kiss. Then he slapped my ass … again.
“Why?” I asked, backing away from his snowmobile. “What would Tina say if she saw that? Are you trying to get me scratched to death?”
Vic chuckled. “I guarantee Tina’s already pissed at you, since I was supposed to give her a ride home from school—but I picked you up instead.” He shrugged. “A little competition is healthy for chicks.”
“Seeing as how I have no interest in any part of that competition, I’m going inside now. Thanks for the lift.” I opened the front door to Matt’s, and the very first person I saw was Hunter. He was sitting with his mom and my parents at a table in the middle of the restaurant, and all four of them were staring at me like I was topless.
Before I bothered saying anything, I turned to look back out the window to see how much of my Vic interaction they’d witnessed. And there in front of the window sat Sebastian. As usual he was busy watching the action on the street. He turned to look at me, and that slow, seductive smile passed across his face. Today was going to be a jolly good time, of that I was certain.
“Christmas comes early for Chaz,” I muttered under my breath.
I could hear my mom asking Hunter, “Was that Vic Burrows?”
After a quick smile in Sebastian’s direction, I reluctantly wandered over to my parents’ table. “What’s the occasion?” I smiled hugely at Miriam and my mom. My dad didn’t even look up from his piss-water coffee. He looked like he’d been dragged along for the ride.
“Miriam and I just finished Celebrate Christmas rehearsal at church.” Celebrate Christmas is the choral “event” that my mom lives life for. For our small-town church choir, Christmas Eve services are the equivalent of a performance at Carnegie Hall. “When we picked Hunter up at school, he reminded us you were working all afternoon.” He did? I looked over at Hunter, who was flushing a deep shade of magenta. “We just ordered burgers!” My mom giggled, as though this were the most novel concept the world had ever heard. She’s always watching her weight, so I suppose bacon-fat-fried hamburgers were sort of giggle-worthy.
“Well, isn’t that fun?” I continued to smile. “I sure wish I could sit with you and enjoy a cozy little holiday lunch, but I’m afraid I need to hop to it.”
Miriam Johnson looked at my mom, then back at me, and with a pinched half smile asked, “Are you and Vic Burrows an ‘item’ now?” Yes, she made air quotes around the word “item.”
Nosy, nosy Mrs. Johnson. But, um, ew. “No, Miriam. Thanks for asking, though!” I traipsed off to the back room with no further explanation, where I wrapped myself in an apron and hoped the waitress costume would make me invisible to my family and their wannabe son-in-law. I willed that the apron would have the exact opposite effect on my man at table six.
Angela sashayed up and bumped my bony hip with her own. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Are you covering my parents’ table?” I begged.
She grinned. “Yeah. What a sweet family get-together,” she teased. Angela had her suspicions about my history with Hunter. We’d never actually discussed it, but the clues were pretty obvious to someone who spent as much time with me as Ange did. She wasn’t necessarily the most astute individual, but Angela had a special eye for sex clues and relationship drama.
“Yes, isn’t it?” I grabbed an order pad off the back counter and stuffed a couple pens in my back pocket. “Has it been busy?”
“Nah, but we’re staffed up. Guess who’s back in town?” Angela shot me the sultry look usually reserved for her boy toy of the month. I raised my eyebrows and waited for the announcement. “Danny!”
“Danny Idol?”
Angela snorted. “Danny Idol” was the pet name I’d assigned to Danny Pratt, one of Milton’s most illustrious alums. During his junior year Danny had left Milton for two weeks to participate in the Hollywood round as an American Idol hopeful. He’d been booted off the show before he got even fourteen seconds of airtime. His only real claim to fame was being featured in a montage of performances during group week. His group had choreographed a boy-band-meets-line-dance mash-up sort of thing, and the producers had aired it as an example of a totally ridiculous performance. But that mattered little when Danny came home to Milton—he was hailed as a hometown superstar (complete with a winter parade and everything) and had lived his last year and a half of high school as a veritable celebrity.
Danny graduated last year and is now the front man for a rock band called Suck This that plays the coffee shop circuit around Northern Minnesota. Despite the fact that I totally made fun of Danny behind closed doors after the whole Idol thing, even I couldn’t deny the fact that Danny was a major sexpot. I’d always had a little physical crush on him. “What’s he up to?” I asked Ange casually.
“Winter break dishwasher.”
“Here?” I paused. “At Matt’s?”
Angela winked. This was new—she had become a winker in the last few days, perhaps something she’d picked up from watching TV. I didn’t quite get the meaning behind the winks, but she looked kinda cute doing it, so I understood why she was trying to make it a regular new affectation. “His gigs don’t pay, and his parents wanted him home for the holidays. So he managed to beg a few weeks’ work off Matt.”
Excellent, I mused. “Will he be treating us to a special performance over the holidays? Is Matt’s hosting a Suck This gig to celebrate the return of the hometown hero?”
“Ask the hero himself,” Angela suggested. “He’s working this weekend, so you guys can get all caught up.” She winked again, then headed back out to the front room to drop off my parents’ burgers.
I hustled past their table as Ange delivered food, hoping Mom (and, less likely, Hunter) would be distracted enough by the fatty beef that she would fail to notice me passing by. Sebastian was still holding his menu in one hand, book in the other, and had clearly not yet ordered. It was an unspoken thing between Angela and me that Sebastian was mine. She didn’t approach him, and in exchange I’m sure she expected that I would give her all the gritty details if anything happened between us.
“Good afternoon,” I purred, standing beside his table. “Aren’t you a little early today?”
“Lucky me,” he said dully. “I feel fortunate to have arrived early enough to see your charming boyfriend again.” He smiled, and with it my insides wrapped into twisted spirals.
“He’s not—”
“I know.” Sebastian cut me off. “I’ve been paying attention.”
“You have, have you?” He has? “And what have you learned?”
He glowed with pride. “Name Chastity, goes by Chaz. Runs cross-country. Single and flirty. Parents sitting fifteen feet away”—he motioned toward my parents with a subtle nod of his head—“with a boy who is clearly infatuated with their daughter.”
So far, so observant. Overall I was unimpressed.
Then he continued in a lowered voice that forced me to put my hands on his table and lean in to hear him. “Wants a fast ticket out of her small town. Arms herself with an attitude that keeps people ten feet back.”
I stared at him without saying anything. What did he know?
Against my will my eyes started to fill up with tears. That was his opinion of me? Clearly, I had made quite an impression. I swallowed against the hurt that burned my throat, and smiled. “You certainly are quick to judge.” My hands remained on his table, holding myself up. He moved his hand across the table and put it near mine—but stopped short of actually touching me—while I willed myself to breathe again.
“It’s not judging.” He looked at me with an intensity that made me shiver, then pulled his hand away to pick up his menu.
“Okay. Do you want anything to eat, or are you just here to serve up an order of analysis and criticism?” I said this lightly, jokingly, in a voice that defied the rotten feeling in my stomach.
Sebastian looked down and pushed his book—Nine Stories by J. D. Salinger—across the tabletop. When he looked up again, his face was empty, the intensity from moments earlier gone and replaced by something vaguely amused and noticeably distant. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to say something that would bring the life back to his face—as much as his comments had stung, there was something so blunt and understanding about them that I wondered what else he thought about me. The fact that he was analyzing me at all signified something. But it was clear from his expression that I’d dead-ended this avenue of conversation with my reaction, and we were back to the starting line—perfect strangers, waitress and customer, boy and girl. Excellent work, Chaz. “It’s okay,” I said finally.
“I’m going to wait to order, if that’s okay with you.” He opened his book to a dog-eared page.
“Take your time.” As I walked numbly back toward the kitchen, my mom stopped me. She was obviously going to try to coordinate a nice, civil conversation between Hunter and me. Or worse, she was going to try to force me to sit with them, invite me to join them on the little family lunch happening at Matt’s. “Chastity,” she said, holding her napkin to her mouth to cover up any beef remnants that might be in her teeth. She nodded at me, then said, “You should tuck in your shirt. You look a mess.” Or that.
I walked on. The afternoon was shaping up to be a real winner.
Things didn’t get much better as the day went on. It was clear I’d completely eliminated any hope for anything beyond servitude with Sebastian—he didn’t order anything more than a root beer and left before the dinner rush. Hunter—in a very uncharacteristic, Vic-like move—leered at me from his seat next to my dad and texted me to tell me I looked hot. He was clearly stung by my arrival on the back of Vic’s snowmobile that afternoon, and it had whipped him into a competitive frenzy.
Hunter’s efforts didn’t help portray him as any sexier, but it didn’t totally ruin his chances. At least he was making an effort to try to be more interesting. Truth be told I was looking forward to the holiday party that weekend. Because my only other options for action of any kind appeared to be as follows:
1) Hold out hope for a performance from Danny Idol
2) Order up a sample of Wolf’s French fry
3) Issue a catfight throw-down versus Tina Zander for the highly desirable Vic Burrows
4) Pretend I had a chance in hell with Sexy Sebastian from North Carolina (who thought I was a closed-off bitch)
Looking at my menu of choices, it appeared that Hunter was easily the best option Milton had to offer.