If I Tell by Janet Gurtler Page A

record and everything.”
    I frowned. Was it still true? Did he mean he was there to deal drugs? “Is Marnie your girlfriend or something?” My brain was putting words in my mouth. And spitting them out loud.
    I shuddered at a flash of her bedroom. Her bed. I closed my eyes, hating myself, and projected my disgust at Jackson. “She’s old. And she seems slutty. But I guess that appeals to a boy like you.”
    He grabbed at his heart. “Whoa. What’s that supposed to mean? A boy like me?”
    I stared out at the darkness in front of us. The liquor swirling through my blood made me an ass. Marnie had never done anything to me. Neither had he.
    “Nothing,” I said. “Sorry,” I mumbled as an afterthought. He didn’t deserve my anger. It wasn’t him I was mad at.
    He chuckled, though. “She’s not my type.”
    Yeah. True enough. I’d seen his type at the coffee shop. Blond. Giggly.
    “Anyhow,” he said. “You should talk. Nathan’s not your type.”
    “Nathan is not my boyfriend,” I clarified and blushed, wondering if Jackson knew I’d been in a bedroom with Nathan. I turned my head away and made a face at my reflection in the window. I couldn’t wait to get home to shower and scrape every smell and memory from my skin.
    “That right?” Jackson asked.
    His eyebrows shot up and I imagined his awful thoughts about me and wanted to cry with shame.
    “Did something happen?” he asked, his voice low. He sounded dangerous. “I mean, did Nathan do something…Is that why you left without your shoes?”
    I leaned my head against the seat. “No. It’s not what you think.”
    I’d set myself up by drinking so much and letting Nathan kiss me. I’d led him on. Given him the wrong idea. I’d acted like an irresponsible idiot.
    “You sure?”
    Jackson sounded as if it actually mattered. I turned my head and fixed my gaze on the blackness outside the passenger window. “Why would you even care?”
    I saw him glance at me in the reflection of my window and stared the other way, afraid he was making fun of me. “I thought we were kind of friends,” he said. “Work buddies and all. Why wouldn’t I care? You’re sweet.”
    I thought about what I’d done with Nathan. “I am not sweet,” I told him.
    “Uh. A little prickly sometimes, but I sense marshmallow underneath,” he said.
    “I don’t want to talk about this.”
    Jackson took me literally and stopped talking. We drove quietly for a while, and the stillness and dark soothed me. I almost felt like I was dreaming.
    “Your grandma going to kill you?” Jackson finally asked.
    “No. I mean, not since you saved my shoes and all. She doesn’t wait up for me.”
    He nodded. “She’s cool? About you going to parties?”
    “Like I said, I don’t usually drink, so she doesn’t mind.” I snorted softly. “I don’t have a lot of friends at school, so she’s happy I have a social life. She trusts me.”
    He stayed quiet.
    “I know how hard it can be,” he said, shattering the silence again. His voice was deep but almost gentle. “Growing up without your parents.”
    I rubbed my charm between my fingers and snuck a sideways glance at him. “What do you mean?”
    “Just that I get it. I mean, I heard. That you never knew your dad.”
    I bristled at the mention of the Sperminator. “Really? You want to talk about him? He’s not a dad. He’s some stupid asshole who supplied sperm. How do you even know about ‘my dad’?” Liquor brought words to the surface that I usually kept buried deep inside. Another reason to never drink again. I clenched my teeth hard to keep my mouth shut.
    “The same way you know things about me. My illustrious past. People talk. Anyhow, I understand more than you think. ”
    I sniffled. What did Jackson know about how it felt?
    “I never knew my dad,” he said softly. “But from what I heard, he was an asshole, so I’m okay with it, but still. It sucks. And you have the whole race thing to deal with too.”
    I