One of these girls, Roxie Claymore, who was like five years older than me, claimed he was the best lay in the tri-city area. Even if she hadn't said it straight to me, that didn't mean I wasn't listening. Jake didn't know it, but I'd been saving myself for a reason. Someday, I vowed, Jake Bishop would be my first.
Lizzie took the key and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. "Remember," she said, "you promised to tell me everything." Her voice lowered. "And I meaneverything."
After a quick nod, I started climbing. Lizzie moved forward and gripped the base of the ladder, holding it steady as I climbed. When I reached the top, I peeked through the hazy glass. I saw the outlines of a single bathroom stall, along with one lone sink. I gave the glass a tentative push and peered down through the slim opening.
The tile floor was a long way down, but just underneath the window was a sturdy-looking metal cabinet. It wasn'tthatfar down. I wriggled forward until the upper half of my body was firmly inside the rest room.
I was halfway there.
Sure, my clothes might be getting grimy, but I'd worn black on purpose, just in case. Besides, lots of Jake's girls dressed in black, so he must really like it, right? I felt myself smile.
My smile faded when I noticed something else – urinals on the side wall. Oh crap. This was themen'srestroom? I felt myself swallow. Should I jump inside fast? Or leave while I still had the chance?
In front of me, the restroom door opened.
I heard the hum of music and rowdy voices. I tensed, holding myself motionless, half in the window, and half out. A moment later, the door opened wide. Someone walked through it and stopped short.
My heart skipped a beat, and my hands grew clammy.
It was Jake.
