Page 128 (1/2)

“Zach,” she whispered, wanting hiht now But it was too late to call his house, and he wouldn’t be at a party like this

Plunging her hands deep in her pockets, she tried to look cool, like she fit in, as she strolled past one group of kids after another, looking for anyone to talk to

Finally she reached the edge of the river and stood there, watching the swirling current The anger she’d felt earlier slipped away, and without its heat, she felt cold All around her, kids were laughing and talking and having a good time, but no one had spoken to her at all It was as if she were a ghost, invisible and separate

She heard a quiet, warbling laugh and it sounded fairl and boy walked past her Lina’s eyes irl’s—Cara Milston There was atirades—they’d been best friends, but now they orlds apart Usually they didn’t even irl

Lina felt a sudden pang of loss for the girl she’d once been She wondered what it would have been like if she hadn’t changed friends in the eighth grade, if she hadn’t started s down by the river before school, if she’d never taken that first burning sip of whiskey when she was fourteen

She wanted it all back noanted Cara back A best girlfriend to talk to

Cara gave Lina a quick, jerking smile and walked past her

Lina sighed heavily and sank slowly to her knees along the riverbank She felt the cold,her to the bone, but she didn’t care

She couldn’t re about her life was a joke No one was ever around when it really mattered Even now, in the middle of the best school party of the year, she was alone Forgotten

Suddenly she wished things were different She didn’t want to be mad at her mother, didn’t want to have the te She wanted to be able to sit doith her mom and dad and tell them she loved them

But she’d felt excluded when they ca to them like an adult, s

he’d thrown a tantrum and run away

The dreairl’s nighttime wish All she wanted noas to love him and be loved in return—loved for who she was And that el for who he was

He wasn’t Francis and never would be Francis had loved Lina in his quiet, gentle way; Angel’s ould be different He was like her—loud and reactionary and hot-teel would be unlike what she’d wanted … but had she really knohat she wanted?

“No,” she whispered into the night She hadn’t known until now, this very minute She wanted them to be a faht, a fas and apologies