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followed, snapped by accusations and finger pointing as the group tried to figure out whose parents snitched. Chip hoisted himself onto the lip of the stage. Jennifer expected John to let go of her hands. His face shadowed with something she’d not seen since they were much younger, when one day she chose to play with a new girl in the neighborhood over him.
    When he finally let go, she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her empty hands and watched him move across the stage to Chip.
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    Six
    There was no way to get out of it. Now Alex was following her home, his loud, fire engine-red truck with its diesel engine chugging behind her bright yellow VW like a roaring dragon after a baby duck.
    As awkward went this moment, the next few moments, or however long they’d be at it, would rate as her most memorable. Jennifer really didn’t have any idea what to expect, having only kissed on stage that once.
    Her parent’s kissed everywhere, in the car, at the mall, in restaurants. She’d seen kids kiss at school, in the hall, before class, on the grass at lunch. Just where did Alex intend to give her these kissing lessons?
    She took her time parking in the driveway, even though she knew very well how to park the car. She powdered her chin and nose, looked at her scared eyes in her compact and then glanced in her rear-view mirror.
    Alex’s big red truck sat idling in the street, its parking lights two dim embers of sin.
    She swallowed.
    She couldn’t stay in the car all night. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought ahead. How would she explain to her parents the red truck parked out front with windows that just might get steamy?
    She got out of the car clutching her backpack to her chest like a shield. Alex was halfway up the driveway,
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    his muscular form striding casually, confidently. Jennifer thought she must look like a nerdy third-string player readying to be tackled.
    They stood facing each other in the unseasonably bitter cold air of the spring night.
    “So.” Alex shrugged, smiled. “How about we get in my truck? It’s warm.”
    Biting her lip, Jennifer nodded. “Okay. Sure.” Then she looked over her shoulder at her house, lights glowing from random windows. Her mother would come out, suspicious of any car she didn’t recognize, and Alex Jesperson’s red truck had not been a regular in the neighborhood.
    “Just let me take my stuff inside,” she told him.
    The house was warm and smelled of garlic and Italian sauce. The warmth didn’t take away the chill that lying caused her. She dropped her backpack in a chair in the front room. “Mom?”
    “In here.”
    Jennifer followed the sound of her mother’s voice and found her family around the kitchen table with two steaming pizzas, half devoured, in the center. Four liters of root beer were nearly empty. Her brother Parker had one liter possessively tucked in the crook of his arm. His right hand held a floppy triangle of pepperoni pizza at his eager mouth. He grunted. Little Amber reached for her liter bottle with two greasy hands. She stopped when she saw Jennifer, her red-smeared lips breaking into a smile.
    “Jefer!”
    “Hey.” The greeting warmed Jennifer. A sudden sadness came over her, like she was about to give something of her innocence away. She took Amber’s k

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    pizza-greased face in both of her hands and squeezed, willing the sadness inside to leave. It was only a kiss, she reminded herself. And she was doing this for a reason, to be able to deliver a believable kiss on stage.
    “You going to eat?” her dad asked.
    “Nah.” Jennifer quickly headed back to the front door. Her stomach was in jumbles and she didn’t want to have garlic-breath. “I’ve got to do some studying. I’ll be back. Oh.” She stopped, tried to appear casual. “We’ll be studying out front.”
    “In this