Reckless Hearts by Sean Olin Page B

did you expect,” Nina went on. “You think guys just decide they want to be friends with you? That’s not how guys think.” She’d worked up a sweat despite the cool night air and she wiped her brow with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “They all want the same thing. Especially the ones who pretend not to.”
    â€œGod,” said Elena. Then she thought about the vision of the world her sister had just described. It was so cynical. It made her angry. “No,” she said. “You know what? Maybe the dirtbags you pal around with think that way. Maybe Matty and his narco friends—”
    â€œMatty’s not no narco.”
    Elena couldn’t tolerate the idea of her sister draggingJake down into the mud where she lived. Not tonight. Tonight had been bad enough already. She said it again. “Matty and his narco friends. Maybe they think like that, but Jake doesn’t. Jake’s got class.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Elena.” Nina kept on smiling that secret smile, like she knew better and nothing Elena would say was going to change it.
    â€œWill you stop it?”
    â€œStop what?” There it went again.
    â€œStop smiling!”
    â€œI’m not smiling.”
    But Nina was. She wouldn’t stop. And as long as she was smiling in that way, Elena knew, she was implying she thought Elena was naïve.
    â€œJust . . . ,” Elena said. “You know what? Screw you.”
    She stalked off, knowing her sister wouldn’t be able to keep up.
    She heard her sister call after her, “Elena, wait for me. I might need your help getting back,” but she didn’t care. Or she did care, but she couldn’t stand being in Nina’s presence any longer.
    Elena picked up her pace.
    The houses in their neighborhood all looked the same, Spanish-style stucco bungalows. The only way to differentiate them was by the varying colors they’d been painted. Elena knew that they were almost halfway around the block because they were coming up onthe crazy glossy purple house directly catty-corner from their backyard. It would be a long walk for Nina.
    Now the guilt set in. She couldn’t leave her sister behind. Propping herself on a fire hydrant, Elena stopped and waited.
    She longed to call Jake. To ask him if Nina’s suspicions were true. But what would she say? Anyway, it was absurd. Jake wasn’t in love with her. He’d seen her belch. He’d heard her fart. He’d laughed with her as she worked out why she felt so bored and unfulfilled by Ricky Thomas and Brandon Stram, the two boys she’d dated briefly during freshman and sophomore year. They’d talked about what a relief it was not to have to try and impress each other—not to have to deal with the other person trying and failing to impress you—how they could actually be themselves with each other.
    No way would he betray her by falling in love with her.

11
ELECTRA AND THE EMO BOY
    A bright, warm day. The sun is out, not a cloud in the sky. The palm trees sway in the breeze—look out, there’s a coconut falling, plop, onto the sand. The waves come in and the waves go out with the rhythmic murmuring of peace everlasting. Children splash in the shallow water along the shore. A sailboat floats past in the lazy, hazy distance.
    But Jaybird’s not smiling. Jaybird frowns. Jaybird winces. Jaybird stares straight ahead and strums his guitar. Tall and emaciated, he hunches in a T-shirt two sizes too small and jeans that hang off his sharp hips. He clutches the guitar like it’s his last hope on earth and a sad, sad song floats from the strings. When he opens his mouth to sing, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, up and down.
    Here comes Electra, dressed for fun in the sun. Her eyes are rimmed with black in stark Egyptian lines, like always. Her blue-black hair is as spiky as ever. But the yellow-and-red polka-dot bikini she wears today, and the bamboo