the party at the lake and this girl is doing something to me that I just don’t understand. So when I burst out laughing, it’s not a surprise that Keanna’s glare intensifies.
“The hell are you laughing about?” she says, throwing a fry at me.
I catch it against my T-shirt and then eat it. “You. I’m laughing at you.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Why?”
I shrug. “You’re so mean to me and I don’t know why.” I shake my head and try to stop smiling, but it doesn’t really work. “It’s actually kind of a turn on.”
This time she doesn’t throw a fry at me. She throws her fist, punching me right in the arm.
“Ow!” I say, leaning back into the bench seat and rubbing my arm.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. Did that actually hurt?”
I shake my head and grin. “No, but it’s nice to see you showing some kind of emotion other than animosity toward me.”
She rolls her eyes and grabs another one of my fries, this time taking a packet of ketchup to go with it.
“Sorry.” She places a careful line of ketchup along the length of the fry and then takes a bite out of it. “You don’t deserve my wrath. But unfortunately . . .” She takes another bite and it’s still adorable. “Everyone gets my wrath lately. That’s just the way the world is right now. So I can’t stop it so you might as well accept it.”
I see her gazing at a fry with crunchy ends so I reach out and grab it before she can. “Why do you have so much wrath to give?”
“I’m homeless for starters.”
She flinches right after she says it, and I seize the opportunity to get her to open up. “What else?”
Silence ticks on for a few seconds and I give up on trying to get her to open up to me. Then she lets out a soft breath and gazes out of the window. “Everything just sucks in my life right now. I feel like I’m having some kind of mid-life crisis but I’m only seventeen so what does that say for the rest of my life? Is it all downhill from here?”
“The hill can always change directions,” I say, trying to sound philosophical or something, but I’m sure it comes out like I’m some illiterate freak. “You have to stay positive.”
“Easy for some rich white guy to say,” she mumbles.
I want to object but, she’s kind of right and that makes me feel even more like a dick than I did earlier tonight. Now I’ve realized that I’m in danger of becoming a heartless prick like the one who left girls like Maria crying at parties, and on top of it all, I’m just some rich white guy to this girl.
“I’m not really rich,” I say. “I make like ten bucks an hour at my dad’s track. My parents are kind of rich, yeah, but not me. I have like zero assets. Besides, aren’t you white?”
“I’m Puerto Rican.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Well . . . half. That’s all Dawn will tell me about my dad.”
I smile. “My life isn’t perfect, you know.”
“You say that, but are you going home to a bed that’s yours tonight?”
I nod.
Keanna lists things off on her fingers. “Are you positive you’ll have that same room a week from now, or a year? Is there food in your fridge at all times? Do you have a phone and a car and a job? Will you inherit the family business after your parents die? Because your answers are all yes and that makes your life so much better than mine will ever be, Jett Adams.”
“Wow.” I stare at the dwindling pile of fries, no longer hungry after that lecture from this girl I barely know. And then it hits me. And I probably should have realized it the moment I saw her with the crease across her face like she’d been sleeping on something.
“Do you have a place to go tonight?” I ask, trying to sound casual and not judgey.
She hesitates and that’s all the answer I need. “I’ll drive you back to Park’s and you can stay there.”
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t go back. I already wrote a note saying I won’t bother them anymore.”
I lift
“The hell are you laughing about?” she says, throwing a fry at me.
I catch it against my T-shirt and then eat it. “You. I’m laughing at you.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Why?”
I shrug. “You’re so mean to me and I don’t know why.” I shake my head and try to stop smiling, but it doesn’t really work. “It’s actually kind of a turn on.”
This time she doesn’t throw a fry at me. She throws her fist, punching me right in the arm.
“Ow!” I say, leaning back into the bench seat and rubbing my arm.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. Did that actually hurt?”
I shake my head and grin. “No, but it’s nice to see you showing some kind of emotion other than animosity toward me.”
She rolls her eyes and grabs another one of my fries, this time taking a packet of ketchup to go with it.
“Sorry.” She places a careful line of ketchup along the length of the fry and then takes a bite out of it. “You don’t deserve my wrath. But unfortunately . . .” She takes another bite and it’s still adorable. “Everyone gets my wrath lately. That’s just the way the world is right now. So I can’t stop it so you might as well accept it.”
I see her gazing at a fry with crunchy ends so I reach out and grab it before she can. “Why do you have so much wrath to give?”
“I’m homeless for starters.”
She flinches right after she says it, and I seize the opportunity to get her to open up. “What else?”
Silence ticks on for a few seconds and I give up on trying to get her to open up to me. Then she lets out a soft breath and gazes out of the window. “Everything just sucks in my life right now. I feel like I’m having some kind of mid-life crisis but I’m only seventeen so what does that say for the rest of my life? Is it all downhill from here?”
“The hill can always change directions,” I say, trying to sound philosophical or something, but I’m sure it comes out like I’m some illiterate freak. “You have to stay positive.”
“Easy for some rich white guy to say,” she mumbles.
I want to object but, she’s kind of right and that makes me feel even more like a dick than I did earlier tonight. Now I’ve realized that I’m in danger of becoming a heartless prick like the one who left girls like Maria crying at parties, and on top of it all, I’m just some rich white guy to this girl.
“I’m not really rich,” I say. “I make like ten bucks an hour at my dad’s track. My parents are kind of rich, yeah, but not me. I have like zero assets. Besides, aren’t you white?”
“I’m Puerto Rican.” She looks up at the ceiling. “Well . . . half. That’s all Dawn will tell me about my dad.”
I smile. “My life isn’t perfect, you know.”
“You say that, but are you going home to a bed that’s yours tonight?”
I nod.
Keanna lists things off on her fingers. “Are you positive you’ll have that same room a week from now, or a year? Is there food in your fridge at all times? Do you have a phone and a car and a job? Will you inherit the family business after your parents die? Because your answers are all yes and that makes your life so much better than mine will ever be, Jett Adams.”
“Wow.” I stare at the dwindling pile of fries, no longer hungry after that lecture from this girl I barely know. And then it hits me. And I probably should have realized it the moment I saw her with the crease across her face like she’d been sleeping on something.
“Do you have a place to go tonight?” I ask, trying to sound casual and not judgey.
She hesitates and that’s all the answer I need. “I’ll drive you back to Park’s and you can stay there.”
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t go back. I already wrote a note saying I won’t bother them anymore.”
I lift
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