I stopped at the mirror in her entryway, staring at the reflection of my neck. “Damn it, Nikki. You gave me another hickey.”
Nikki and Angel pressed in close to study the reddish-purple mark Nikki’s shoe had left on my neck. Our heads looked interesting together with my black hair, Angel’s brunette locks, and Nikki’s red mane.
Nikki scowled. “If you had stood still, my foot wouldn’t have slipped.”
I glared at her, rubbing the mark. “You try not moving with your fat ass standing on my shoulders.”
Angel wrapped an arm around our necks, clamping a hand over each of our mouths before we could start arguing for the fifteenth time that day. “I swear, if you two don’t cut it out, I’m going to murder you in your sleep tonight. Be nice.”
Nikki must have licked Angel’s palm because Angel yanked her hand back, wiping it down her side. “Ew! That’s disgusting, Nikki!”
She laughed. “You liked it. That’s the most action you’ve had in months. Dibs on the shower!”
Angel and I watched her leave to stake her claim on the bathroom, and Angel shook her head. “I hate it when she’s right.”
“Luckily, it doesn’t happen often.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, we stared at the remains of the demolished pepperoni pizza and ignored Nikki while she tried to convince us it was a great idea to go blond for the start of school.
“Come on, guys! Show a little backbone. Blondes have more fun! And I want to have hella fun my senior year.”
“Not a chance,” Angel said. “My mom would kill me.”
“Your mom’s not here,” Nikki grumbled. She instantly smacked a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening when she realized what she’d said. “Oh geez, Ang, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it like that.”
Angel’s mom had been gone for seven months that tour. A Marine deployed to Iraq, she’d spent more of Angel’s teen years overseas than at home, though they e-mailed and talked on the Internet as often as they could.
Angel grimaced and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her father appeared in the living room doorway and eyed the pizza box on the coffee table. It was a graveyard of crusts.
“You didn’t leave me any,” he accused. “Are you sure you’re girls? I swear, you eat like dudes.”
“First come, first served,” Nikki said, and added, “Where’s your sweater, Mr. Rogers?”
With a name like his, Mr. Rogers had long ago grown accustomed to the jokes. “It’s with my slippers. I only bring it out for neighbors.”
Angel’s father doted on her. He even made time for us when we hung out at her house, and he never missed out on the opportunity to cheer her on, no matter how small the achievement. It amazed me how well they got along, and sometimes I wished we could switch families, even though Angel would get the short end of the stick.
Mr. Rogers dropped between us onto the couch, throwing an arm around an embarrassed Angel. “What are we talking about? Boys or other girls?”
Angel elbowed him in the gut. “Parents who don’t mind their own business.”
Nikki’s mobile rang with a dirty song that raised Mr. Rogers’s eyebrows. She checked the caller ID and squealed. “It’s Josh. Don’t wait up.”
We watched her go out the sliding glass door to the backyard, answering the phone in a breathy voice as she went.
“Josh?” Mr. Rogers asked.
“Don’t ask,” Angel muttered.
Her dad focused on me. “Um, Quinn, I hate to tell you this, but you have something on your neck.”
I slapped a hand over the mark and shot a venomous look toward the backyard.
“Nikki again, huh?” he asked without missing a beat, used to our cheerleading injuries. “When’s Carey due back?”
I blushed. “Next month,” I said, at the same time Angel said, “Dad! We are NOT discussing boys with you. Out!”
She stood and pulled him to his feet, pushing him out of the room. He protested the entire way, but the huge grin on his face said he was messing with her. I hid a smile when Angel collapsed back beside me on the couch.
“Shut up, Q,” she said, smacking my arm.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
Angel scowled. “He’s lonely. It’s hard on him when Mom is gone this long.”
I held out my palms. “I get it. You don’t have to explain that to me. Besides, I love your dad. I want him to adopt me.”
With a sigh, Angel pulled her legs up under her. “I’m not sure how you do it, Q. I can’t imagine waiting around for some guy to come home. Wondering if he’ll come home.”
I shrugged. “Carey’s not ‘some guy.’ That makes it easier. But yeah, I think it’s going to be worse when he deploys. I know it will. Look at my mom.”
Angel looked surprised. We didn’t talk about my mom often. “You don’t think you’d cheat like she did?”
“No! Geez, Ang!”
She didn’t look sorry. “It happens. You know it happens.”
Something about her seemed off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Your dad didn’t . . . ?”
Her eyes widened. “No! We both miss my mom a lot. I told you he’s lonely.” Then she added, “Besides, if he ever did, I’d never forgive him. I think cheating on someone who’s risking their life for our country is pretty much the lowest of the low. I could never respect someone who did that.”
Nikki and Angel pressed in close to study the reddish-purple mark Nikki’s shoe had left on my neck. Our heads looked interesting together with my black hair, Angel’s brunette locks, and Nikki’s red mane.
Nikki scowled. “If you had stood still, my foot wouldn’t have slipped.”
I glared at her, rubbing the mark. “You try not moving with your fat ass standing on my shoulders.”
Angel wrapped an arm around our necks, clamping a hand over each of our mouths before we could start arguing for the fifteenth time that day. “I swear, if you two don’t cut it out, I’m going to murder you in your sleep tonight. Be nice.”
Nikki must have licked Angel’s palm because Angel yanked her hand back, wiping it down her side. “Ew! That’s disgusting, Nikki!”
She laughed. “You liked it. That’s the most action you’ve had in months. Dibs on the shower!”
Angel and I watched her leave to stake her claim on the bathroom, and Angel shook her head. “I hate it when she’s right.”
“Luckily, it doesn’t happen often.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, we stared at the remains of the demolished pepperoni pizza and ignored Nikki while she tried to convince us it was a great idea to go blond for the start of school.
“Come on, guys! Show a little backbone. Blondes have more fun! And I want to have hella fun my senior year.”
“Not a chance,” Angel said. “My mom would kill me.”
“Your mom’s not here,” Nikki grumbled. She instantly smacked a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening when she realized what she’d said. “Oh geez, Ang, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it like that.”
Angel’s mom had been gone for seven months that tour. A Marine deployed to Iraq, she’d spent more of Angel’s teen years overseas than at home, though they e-mailed and talked on the Internet as often as they could.
Angel grimaced and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her father appeared in the living room doorway and eyed the pizza box on the coffee table. It was a graveyard of crusts.
“You didn’t leave me any,” he accused. “Are you sure you’re girls? I swear, you eat like dudes.”
“First come, first served,” Nikki said, and added, “Where’s your sweater, Mr. Rogers?”
With a name like his, Mr. Rogers had long ago grown accustomed to the jokes. “It’s with my slippers. I only bring it out for neighbors.”
Angel’s father doted on her. He even made time for us when we hung out at her house, and he never missed out on the opportunity to cheer her on, no matter how small the achievement. It amazed me how well they got along, and sometimes I wished we could switch families, even though Angel would get the short end of the stick.
Mr. Rogers dropped between us onto the couch, throwing an arm around an embarrassed Angel. “What are we talking about? Boys or other girls?”
Angel elbowed him in the gut. “Parents who don’t mind their own business.”
Nikki’s mobile rang with a dirty song that raised Mr. Rogers’s eyebrows. She checked the caller ID and squealed. “It’s Josh. Don’t wait up.”
We watched her go out the sliding glass door to the backyard, answering the phone in a breathy voice as she went.
“Josh?” Mr. Rogers asked.
“Don’t ask,” Angel muttered.
Her dad focused on me. “Um, Quinn, I hate to tell you this, but you have something on your neck.”
I slapped a hand over the mark and shot a venomous look toward the backyard.
“Nikki again, huh?” he asked without missing a beat, used to our cheerleading injuries. “When’s Carey due back?”
I blushed. “Next month,” I said, at the same time Angel said, “Dad! We are NOT discussing boys with you. Out!”
She stood and pulled him to his feet, pushing him out of the room. He protested the entire way, but the huge grin on his face said he was messing with her. I hid a smile when Angel collapsed back beside me on the couch.
“Shut up, Q,” she said, smacking my arm.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
Angel scowled. “He’s lonely. It’s hard on him when Mom is gone this long.”
I held out my palms. “I get it. You don’t have to explain that to me. Besides, I love your dad. I want him to adopt me.”
With a sigh, Angel pulled her legs up under her. “I’m not sure how you do it, Q. I can’t imagine waiting around for some guy to come home. Wondering if he’ll come home.”
I shrugged. “Carey’s not ‘some guy.’ That makes it easier. But yeah, I think it’s going to be worse when he deploys. I know it will. Look at my mom.”
Angel looked surprised. We didn’t talk about my mom often. “You don’t think you’d cheat like she did?”
“No! Geez, Ang!”
She didn’t look sorry. “It happens. You know it happens.”
Something about her seemed off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Your dad didn’t . . . ?”
Her eyes widened. “No! We both miss my mom a lot. I told you he’s lonely.” Then she added, “Besides, if he ever did, I’d never forgive him. I think cheating on someone who’s risking their life for our country is pretty much the lowest of the low. I could never respect someone who did that.”
