The Ice Age by Kirsten Reed

gotten rid of Neil yet. He’d left his page intact with name, phone number, and allocated shifts. But he had scratched the word ‘prick’ across it, in his sprawling retarded script.
    When I got home I dialed Neil. I thought it might be nice to get at least a couple of people together, to make an occasion of it, as me and Stephanie decided we would. I thought he might like to be included, now that we’d taken our relationship to the next level.
    A husky voiced man answered, I assumed to be his dad. He bellowed through the house for Neil, who eventually answered.
    â€˜Yeah?’
    I said, ‘Hey.’
    And he said, ‘Hey…Who is this?’
    When he heard it was me he said, ‘Oh, hey’ again.
    â€˜It’s my birthday,’ I blurted.
    He said, ‘Oh, well, happy—Have a good one.’
    â€˜Thanks, if you want to come over me and Stephanie are—’
    He cut me off. ‘No thanks.’
    I said, ‘Uh, OK.’ And then, ‘Why not?’
    He started rambling a bit here. He said a few things, and then, ‘Look just forget it, all right? Just…’
    I asked him what I was supposed to be forgetting.
    â€˜You’re not my girlfriend , all right,’ he spat. ‘Just leave me alone.’
    This surprised me, and I was still thinking of something to say to make us behave a little nicer to each other when he hung up.
    I went up to my room, lay down on my bed, and thought a while. It’s always sad when people are jerks to you. But mostly I was sad that I hadn’t located Baby Gunther after all. I had to go back to Plan A. I needed to find Gunther, or find a way to make him come back for me. I’d tried Vampire Prodigy Telepathy Mind Control. He didn’t seem to get those messages.
    I fantasized about being in some horrific accident, which would compel him to come back and sit by my hospital bed, filled with remorse. Maybe he would stroke my hand. Goodness knows he would fix those eyes on me.
    Stephanie came home in kind of a state. I hoped it was just birthday excitement, but it was tinged with something else, a touch of the old raw Stephanie. And she had a bottle of Jim Beam in a brown paper bag.
    She said, ‘You know what?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Gunther used to smoke with you, didn’t he?’
    â€˜Yep.’
    â€˜And you handled yourself OK, didn’t you?’
    I said, ‘Yep. Calmed me right down.’
    â€˜Well, I think we should have a drink. It’s my house and I make the rules…Eighteen. God I was shitfaced when I turned eighteen! What do ya say to a birthday toast?’
    I said, ‘Sure.’
    We went into the kitchen and sorted ourselves out with ice and Diet Coke. Then we sat back down on the lounge, with ample supplies of cola and bourbon within easy reach on the coffee table.
    Steph raised her glass so high her arm was straight above her head. ‘To birthdays,’ she said. Then she added, ‘To your birthday,’ and patted me on the knee.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I said, and clinked her glass way up there.
    We had a few under our belts, and Steph was talking about stuff I had to do. Rites-of-passage sort of stuff. She’d been on the subject for a while, and I’d been pretty tight-lipped. But the drunker I got, the harder it was to withhold information; it became a crushing burden. The next time Steph came around to the subject of virginity I said, ‘Steph, it’s already happened.’
    She said, ‘What?’
    I went, ‘Yeah, the other night.’ And added perkily, ‘Someone just up and stuck it in.’
    Steph yelled, ‘I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend!’
    I said, ‘Turns out I don’t.’
    We talked a little while about Neil, and I explained his similarities to Gunther.
    She said, ‘But those are only skin deep.’
    â€˜But he reminds me of him a lot.’
    â€˜Yes, but only physically. Gunther would