Collateral by Ellen Hopkins Page A

of his
    pack, stashed it beneath a pillow.
    I wasn’t exactly sure why then, but
    later, when my bed seemed terribly
    big and lonely, Cole’s shirt, still smelling
    of him, brought comfort. And when
    he finally had to say good-bye, a river
    of emotions—sadness, joy, regret,
    hope—permeated our last kiss.
    I couldn’t make it last long enough.
    When he turned away, he left me breathless.

A RIVER
    Threads the desert
    landscape, splinters
    desolation,
    an artery of life
    blood,
    silver-blue. And carried
    in its tepid flow,
    a promise of one
    more tomorrow,
    each apricot dawning
    soaked
    with hope for the young.
    History is an unkind teacher.
    The elders are wise
    and well beyond
    dreams
    of glory, riches,
    or gentle death. Enough,
    in a war-tattered land,
    that thirst does not
    ravage
    the throat. Enough
    that, bellies taut
    with the valley’s slender
    abundance,
    children sleep through
    the night.
    Cole Gleason

Present
I’VE NEVER CONSIDERED MYSELF
    A romantic. Probably because
    no evidence of anything even
    remotely resembling romance
    existed in the house I grew up in.
    Maybe, if I think way, way back
    to my pre-kindergarten days,
    I might catch a glimpse of Mom
    and Dad kissing. But holding hands,
    or whispering sweet nothings?
    Nope. Not even a vague memory
    of such things. I’d see them for
    what they were on TV or in movies—
    fiction. In high school, boyfriends
    were more about status than happily
    ever after. Relationships came.
    Relationships went, and not only
    for me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like
    the idea of falling in love. But I settled
    for fleeting passion. And then I met
    Cole. And Darian met Spencer, and
    their overriding love for each other
    was contagious. The difference being,
    mine and Cole’s has grown. Matured,
    even. Theirs seems destined to wither.

I CAN’T BRING MYSELF
    To say it has already folded up
    into itself, passed away. But if
    Darian really believes she’s in love
    with someone else, she can’t still
    love Spencer, too. Can she? I curl
    my legs under me, watch her refill
    our drinks. Glad I’m staying over.
    I’m fuzzy-headed and an artificial
    warmth snakes through my body.
    I wait for her to hand me the glass
    before asking, “Who is it, Dar? Tell
    me about him.” She sits on the far
    end of the small loveseat, close
    enough so I can see her eyes. His
    name is Kenny, and I met him at
    a support group for military
    spouses. Not the one here on base.
    Too close to home pasture and all.
    I nod, feeling like an idiot, or at
    the very least, a semistranger.
    â€œSo, his wife’s in the military?”
    Her turn to nod. Air Force. Intel.
    I guess Tara loves it. It “fulfills her,”
    she told Kenny. Sad, for her family.

HER FAMILY?
    What is Darian thinking?
    â€œYou mean, they’ve got kids?”
    Yep. Well, one. She’s fifteen.
    Wait. Fifteen? That makes
    her mother at least, what?
    Thirty-five? “How old is Kenny?”
    Don’t freak, okay? Forty-two.
    Seriously? What the hell?
    A Daddy fetish, or what? “Dar . . .”
    I know, I know. He’s old enough
    to be my father. He’s also smart
    and sweet and stable . . .
    â€œStable? I hate to point this out,
    but he’s sleeping around on his
    wife.” Which brings me straight
    back to Dad, and Darian gets it.
    He’s nothing like your dad, Ash.
    I mean, it’s not like your mom
    was traveling the world, gathering
    intelligence for the U.S. of A.
    Not like she left you behind for
    your father to take care of while
    she was off playing spy. It was
    Tara’s choice to leave, not Kenny’s.
    Please don’t judge him. Or me.

NOT MY PLACE
    To judge. Not my place to worry,
    really, except infidelity rarely turns
    out well, and last time I looked,
    Darian was still my best friend.
    â€œI’d just hate to see you get hurt.”
    Hurt? A little fucking late to worry
    about that now! Her