Crank Series: Crank Part 34

My cheeks burned. "No, we don't. But I really like you."

I needed to hear that. I like you, too. A lot "I went out with Brendan because I was flattered."

I dared to confess, "I never had a boyfriend until last summer."

That's hard to believe, Kristina.

Taking that totally wrong, I huffed, "Why?

Because I'm such a s.l.u.t?"

No. Because you're so beautiful.

Tell me about last summer.

By the time I finished, I still loved Adam. But I was falling for Chase.

So Why

was I so hot to return the phone message, waiting for me to come home?

Brendan: Give me a call. I want to see you again. This time I'll bring the refreshments.

"Refreshments?"

I'd perched on my pedestal for a whole week.

How fast could I make it down?

As I Considered My Answer

I noticed Adam's letter, sitting on the counter.

Dear Kristina, How's school? I hope I can make it through this year.

It's really tough, what with worrying about Mom, Ralph (can you believe she'd like a guy named Ralph?), and Lince. She's talking better now, and can get herself to the bathroom. I guess that's good.

I saw your dad the other day. It was kind of strange because he never even mentioned you. Of course, he was with a new woman. (Not bad, considering she's with your dad. Ha, ha.) Maybe he doesn't want her to think he's old enough to have a daughter your age.

Are you going out with anyone special? Half of me hopes so. The other half wants you to always be mine. There's a pretty cute girl at school, Giselle, giving me the eye. She looks a little like you, in fact.

I think I might ask her out.

Maybe you didn't want to hear that But you're my very best friend, the only one in the whole world I could tell that to. I want to hear everything about you, too. Kind of weird, huh?

So do you have a boyfriend? Is he a jock or what?

(Wink, wink.) How safe are these letters, anyway?

Does your mom read them? I wonder if Giselle parties. Doesn't everyone? Okay, maybe not.

Write soon. Love, Adam

Giselle?

He liked some girl named Giselle?

Did she speak French (or just give it)?

Maybe I didn't want to hear that?

Why did I read his letter anyway?

And what was up with Dad?

Why hadn't he called?

Was he a Daddy Judas?

Had he sold me out?

Should I call Brendan?

Set myself up?

Would I truly let him be first?

Was I ready to lose the big v?

Should I call Chase instead?

Ask him to score for me?

Would he do it if I asked?

Walk a slender wire for me?

Did I want to risk honor-roll status?

Chance further alienating my mom?

Had I lost my mind completely?

Did I really want to get high?

You Bet I Did

The monster shouted, Where have you been, my sweet Bree? Hurry back to me.

My blood pressure bloomed, my head pounded.

Need rose up, pumping violently through my veins. All I could think of, as I reached for the phone on my nightstand, were fat ivory lines, waiting to whisk me to a netherworld, far beyond my door.

Chase was "busy" Friday night. So I did a really intelligent thing.

Called Brendan for a date and asked him to make a buy. "Can you get me an eight ball?" I figured an eighth of an ounce would last awhile. It cost me $250, which I was saving to buy my first car. But hey, I probably wouldn't have my license for years. Illicit fun settled upon, I put on my most innocent face and went to gift my family with half-hearted company.

I Could Hardly Wait for Friday

Though the voice of my virginity nagged, the lure of the monster was stronger.

Besides, I could always say "no."

Couldn't I?

Pretending to be the perfect gentleman, Brendan arrived at my door, introduced himself politely.

We told my mom and Scott we were going to dinner and a drive-in double feature.

But food and movies were the last things on our minds.

Not that we necessarily had the same things on our minds. As we drove up the mountain, his hand crept up my leg.

I let it do exactly that as I watched for a safe spot to pull over. We drove back off the highway, deep into a grove of fresh-scented evergreens.

Carried a blanket back into the trees.

He pulled out a bindle, which looked a bit short, and a six-pack of beer. For the next twenty minutes, we snorted and drank, climbing to a very tall buzz.

We talked and joked and giggled.

And it all seemed just like it should.

Until it didn't anymore.

It Started with a Kiss

Crank-revved, pistons firing full bore, pa.s.sion firecrackered in tiny bursts from thigh to belly b.u.t.ton.

Oh, baby, I want you so bad "B-b-bad to the bone?" We laughed, but it wasn't a joke. Not for long.

My shirt tore open. "Wait."

I've waited for weeks.

Put up and shut up.

Kisses segued to bites. Bruises.

Pain rippled through my body.