I knew how to shoot a gun, for crying out loud. I knew how tokill.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Of course I can walk you home.”
“You guys sure?” Molly asked, slipping a tiny black purse onto her shoulder. “I can give you a ride, Laura. I don’t—"
“I wannawalk,” she replied quickly through gritted teeth.
Ricky smirked. “They need the exercise.” He sidled up to me and jabbed his elbow into my ribs. “Tongueexercise.”
I groaned and shoved him away, even though I was hoping she would kiss me. I wasn’t expecting it. I wouldn’t try for it myself. But if she made the first move, if sheasked, I would go along. Gladly.
Ricky and Molly left in their separate cars. Laura flashed me a pair of knowing eyes when they both turned in the same direction despite their houses being on opposite sides of town.
“Ten bucks says they’re gonna go make out somewhere,” I muttered, leading the way down the sidewalk.
Laura snickered. “Makeout? More like makelove.”
She said it teasingly, tauntingly, and I furrowed my brow.
“What?” I asked, forcing a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah,” she replied, sounding unamused, like this was old news. “Molly wouldn’t shut up about it a couple of months ago. But honestly, I don’t know howgood Ricky can be when … I mean, no offense, I know he’s your best friend …”
“Yeah,” I said absentmindedly. “I know what you’re saying.”
Actually, I had no idea what she was saying. I had no idea what the hell she could possibly mean. I couldn’t begin to understand when I was struggling to comprehend that Ricky, my best friend, had had sex and not told me.
But you haven’t been here. When would he have said anything?
The thought was harsh, depressing, and sobering. I had been gone for three months. Threemonths. That was long enough for Ricky’s virginity to fly out the window, for my sister to get a boyfriend, for Dad to become a decent father to everyone but me.
Who the hell knew what else had happened over the weeks I was gone?
“So, um,” Laura said quietly, her head hanging as we casually walked in the direction of her house, “do you like it?”
“Do I like what?” I asked, my voice gruff with the pain of being left out.
“Being in the Army.”
I cleared my throat and shrugged. “It’s all right. I mean, I don’t hate it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No, I’m asking if youlikeit.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I like it.”
“Have you made any friends?”
I laughed. “You sound like my mom.” But … no, she didn’t, did she? My mom had never asked if I made friends at school. My mom had never cared. “Yeah,” I said, feeling so defeated and sad all of a sudden. I couldn’t stand it. “I have a few friends.”
“Tell me about them.”
So, I sucked in the Massachusetts air, noticing how different it felt in my lungs, and began.
I told her about Greg and his girlfriend, Christy, and how he believed they were soulmates despite being so young. I told her about his infectious laughter, how he often lost the ability to breathe and wheezed until everyone was laughing with him as he grabbed his inhaler.
“He’s a great guy, really nice,” I told her, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk. “But, shit, his fartsstink.”
She giggled, but the sound was almost sad, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. To brush it off—the feeling of wanting to hug her and tell her to not be sad at all—I moved on to talk about Matt and Justin.
