Tricks by Ellen Hopkins Page A

know the way I've circumvented her question means I'm still a virgin. Technically, anyway.
    *
    It's the "technically" part that
    has now piqued her interest.
    Okay, then. How far have you
    gone? I want every single detail.
    *
    Ah, what the hell? "We almost
    did last week. In fact, we were just about naked...." I tell her the story about not quite getting
    *
    busted, right there on my living
    room couch. "You've never seen
    two people get dressed so fast.
    I didn't even have time to put on
    *
    my bra. Good thing Daddy dropped his keys. Gave me time to hide it under the cushion. Things had to look pretty suspicious, though."
    *
    Paige giggles. Oh, yeah. Messy
    hair and smeared makeup.
    Been there, done that. But what about yesterday? Did you...?
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    "Nah. Everything but. Wrong
    time of the month and all." Now
    that was a big slice of truth. I don't
    usually talk about my periods.
    *
    But Paige wants even more.
    Did you, like, use your mouth?
    Her eyes light up. Is she waiting for a (ha!) blow-by-blow description?
    *
    Why? Need instructions? 'Cause
    out can get tips on the Web, you know."
    I am something of an expert there, because I checked 'em out myself.
    *
    She laughs. Nah. That's okay.
    I think I've got it figured out.
    Just wondering if you have.
    Anyway, it's not rocket science.
    *
    Now I have to laugh. "Except the part
    where it goes off like a rocket."
    We both bust up, and now she knows
    I've got it figured out too.
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    Capitola Mall
    Isn't huge, but it's big enough.
    And, it being Sunday, it's pretty
    crowded. I don't mind crowds.
    People watching is a fun pastime.
    *
    Paige cruises the parking lot slowly, waiting for someone to vacate a spot close to an entrance. "There's
    probably room in the garage."
    *
    Probably. But you never know
    what kind of weirdo might be
    lurking in a parking garage.
    Mom says it's safer out here.
    *
    Is there more than one kind of weirdo? Okay, I can't let
    that one slip past. "How many
    kinds of weirdos are there?"
    *
    She doesn't laugh. Lots. And the worst are the ones you
    don't suspect. They're the ones
    you invite inside your front door.
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    Inside the Mall
    I can't help but go on a weirdo
    watch. Paige is right. Potential
    freaks loiter everywhere, and they come in all shapes, sizes,
    *
    genders, and ages. "Hey, Paige.
    Check that out." I point to a boy, maybe six, staring, drop-jawed, through the window of Victoria's
    *
    Secret. "Future weirdo, for sure."
    We crack up, but when we're well down the aisle I glance back over my shoulder. He's still there.
    *
    Paige doesn't notice, could
    care less anyway. Let's go to the Gap. I need some jeans.
    Her focus shift is immediate, intense.
    *
    Mind on her goal, she picks up her pace. So much for people
    watching. Faces, bodies, and packages
    blur. Motion sickness threatens.
    *
    Finally, Gap in sight, she slows a little. Enough for me to notice a really cute guy sitting outside the door, waiting for someone,
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    at least that's my guess. As we
    approach, he notices us, too, and the smile he gives me could melt an entire iceberg in two seconds flat.
    *
    Weirdo? Maybe. I mean, he's at least
    ten years older than me, and he's def
    taken an interest. Do weirdos come
    this hot? My guess is no, but I'm not
    *
    here to pick up a guy (yeah, Lucas, remember him?), especially one who could be my--what? Big brother?
    Wow, it might be cool to have a big
    *
    brother hot enough to be a rock star.
    No, wait. All my friends would want
    me to introduce them. Then they
    wouldn't be my friends any more,
    *
    because they'd be doing it with my
    brother. Scratch all that. Don't want a hot brother, or any brother at all.
    Don't even want my sister, and why
    *
    the heck am I thinking all this, anyway, just because some pervert
    guy sitting outside the Gap might or might not have checked me out?
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    Warped
    But who's warped, him or me?
    Okay, I'm pretty sure I know the answer. Pretty sure I've gone from appreciating some nice-looking
    *
    (hot) older guy to