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"Very subtle, Dad," I said. I knew this would provoke him. I wanted to provoke him. For the past 168 hours he’d been either grunting at me or ignoring me altogether, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

"What does that mean?"

"You were obviously referring to my race," I said.

And we were off.

"That wasn’t a race. It was the furthest thing from a race I’ve seen out of you all year." The words came pouring out, as though he’d been sitting there all morning, waiting for me to wake up. "You beat three of those girls during dual meets this year. How could you lose to them? I never thought you wouldn’t qualify for the sectionals."

"I had a bad day."

"That’s all you can say?" he said. "You had a bad day?"

My mom finally looked up. "Dar, take it easy on her. She had a bad day."

"Back when I was playing ball, there was no such thing as a bad day, Helen. I worked through my pain. I gutted it out," he was really getting on a roll. "I wouldn’t be so upset if she had been outclassed by superior runners. I don’t know what was wrong with her. I know she’s a girl, but she’s got to get tough."

And that’s when I lost it.

"STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT EVEN HERE! I AM SO SICK OF BOTH OF YOU! JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!"

I sprinted out the back door before they could react. I hung out at the playground about a half-mile away from my house, hoping that there’d be a bunch of rugrats running around and doing cute kid-like things. Yet even though it was a gorgeous day, I was the only one there.

When I came home a few hours later, my parents went ballistic. They had put up with my outbursts in the past because they knew I was upset about Hope. But they could tolerate my tongue no longer. They revoked my phone and computer privileges for two weeks, which completely and royally sucks because keeping in touch with Hope is the only thing that prevents me from completely losing it. And I told them that. So, being the totally unfair, tyrannical assholes that they are, they added another week. I didn’t want to go for a month, so I grunted that I understood and went upstairs to my bedroom.

How I spent the rest of my day is just too depressing to write about. But maybe I’ll write about it another day. When I’m extraordinarily happy. After Paul Parlipiano has pledged his undying love. Or when Hope has moved back to Pineville. Or I’ve gotten a perfect score on my SATs and can go to any college in the country, particularly those far, far away from here. When I’m so bursting with joy that I simply can’t believe that pathetic girl crying at the kiddie park and me are the same person. A day when writing about today doesn’t make me ache.

Until then, I’d rather just forget it.

the seventeenth

I spent the rest of the weekend and all day Monday in bed. I told my parents I’d been feeling flu-ey for awhile and they were happy to let me stay home because my illness provided them with a reasonable excuse for last week’s bad race and my even worse mood.

Point being—I hadn’t talked to anyone since the prom.

I was at my locker before homeroom this morning when Scotty came up to me. This wasn’t weird, mostly because he’s been coming up to me before homeroom to say hi since the invite. What was weird was the look on his face.

"You look beat," I said. "Don’t tell me you’re still recovering from the prom?"

"Yeah. Sorta."

Right then, three baseball players came over and pummeled him.

"Stud!"

"Home run!"

"You better score this easily in today’s game!"

Scotty laughed weakly, threw a few punches, and they went away.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Why haven’t you called me back? I wanted to tell you …"

"I’m grounded. Tell me what?"

Scotty motioned for me to come closer and create the illusion of privacy in the middle of the packed hallway. He looked scared. Then he said the words that just about knocked me over.

"Kelsey and I had sex after the prom."

"WHAT?!"

"We did it."

I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t believe it. I know we had joked about it and everything, but I didn’t