rock by Anyta Sunday Page B

forehead against the top of her head to let her know I love her anyway.
    “I don’t know how to stop.”
    She starts to cry. Small wracking sobs that jerk her body.
    “Hey, hey,” I say, desperately trying to think of calming words. “It’s not too late to make a change.”
    “B—but I can’t. I’m a big bitch and I can’t help it.”
    “You’re not a big bitch.”
    Annie giggles, which soon turns into hysterical laughter. Her eyes are shut tightly, her nose squishes as laughter peels back her smiling lips, and tears stain her red cheeks.
    I clutch my stone and Annie’s laughter echoes in my hand. I know I’ll feel it every time I touch the stone in the future.
    Annie’s laughter finally fades and she tilts her head at me. “I’m going to stop being a bitch. I don’t want to screw up any more of my relationships.”
    “Any more ?” I sense a story here.
    She laughs again but it’s a pained one. “Boyfriend dumped me. Said I was too passive-aggressive and bitchy. I wish I hadn’t lost my virginity to him. Oh well. Better now than at university next year, I guess.”
    “Sorry. That sucks.” This chat is quickly moving into awkward territory.
    She doesn’t seem to feel the weirdness because she keeps going. “Here’s a tip for when you get a girlfriend: don’t dump her two days after taking her flower. Don’t take it in the first place.”
    I’m quiet. Too quiet, apparently. Annie sits up suddenly and I have to fight to maintain focus on my Cheshire stone.
    “Cooper?”
    I pick myself up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    She doesn’t take the bait. “Cooper—”
    “Dinner’s ready, right?”
    She lifts a hand and I pull her up. She tightens her grip when I’m about to let go. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here if you need advice or someone to talk to.”
    I force a grin. “Look at that. You’re changing already.” With an arm around her, I walk us back to the campsite.
     
    * * *
     
    After Dad’s lame attempt at spooking us with ghost stories, we retire to our tents. At Dad’s request, we pitched them with enough distance to quarantine Lila’s snoring. This is a joke between them but out here in the bush it’s taken seriously. I think Dad better watch his back.
    In our corner of the campsite, Jace unzips our tent and holds the flap open for me. I bend over and drop to my knees inside the stuffy tent. Our sleeping bags are already unrolled so I set the torch to lamp mode and place it at the end of the tent, between our two sleeping mats.
    Jace hooks his fingers under the hem of his T-shirt and peels it off. His chest is lightly tanned and tapers gently to his hips. He pulls at the few hairs he sports and grins at me. I jerk my attention to my bag and pull out a sleeping shirt. I’ll wear the boxers that I changed into earlier.
    “You got any noteworthy hair yet?” he asks.
    Other than my crotch, I’m smooth. “Nah,” I say and duck out of my shirt.
    “It’ll get there. Your voice has broken already.”
    “Is talking about puberty a fun conversation for you?”
    He laughs and I shove on my sleeping shirt.
    “We’re friends, remember,” he says. “We can talk about any shit we like.” My back’s to him but I know he’s waggling his eyebrows. “The more uncomfortable, the better.”
    I have a feeling I’ll need my stone tonight, so I take it out and climb into my sleeping bag.
    Wriggling onto my side, I slide my hand with the stone under the pillow. Jace is yanking at the zipper on his sleeping bag. Finally it gives and he draws it up halfway and lays on his side, facing me in his threadbare blue T-shirt.
    “You start then,” I say. “With the uncomfortable shit. What about past or present girlfriends?” I hold my breath as soon as I’ve asked. Why do I care?
    I don’t.
    Well, in a friend way I do.
    “What makes you think I’ve had any?”
    “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I ask.
    He blinks and it’s hard to tell in the crappy