The Beginning of After - By Jennifer Castle Page 0,30

direction of the driveway. I watched him cross paths with Joe, who looked at David, registered where he was coming from, and searched me out in the half-light. In seconds he was running over to me.

“What was David Kaufman doing here?” asked Joe, breathless. “Did he talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

I opened my mouth to recap it, to report it to Joe in order to make it all real, but instead a noise came out like a sob. Loud, a short barking burst.

“Oh my God,” said Joe, and he scrambled onto the lounge chair with me, his hand on my back. “What happened? What’s the matter?”

I turned my head to answer him and wow, his face was so much closer than I thought. There wasn’t enough room between us for words.

So I kissed him. I had practiced on my pillow dozens of times, and I was so used to that pillow that I didn’t even expect Joe to kiss back. But he did, his lips warm and larger than I imagined they’d be. Hesitant at first, a little confused, but then confident and well-trained. He put his hand on the side of my head, his palm moist against my ear, his fingers crunching against hairspray. I stepped out of us for a second, in my head, to get a wide-angle shot of how it looked from a few feet away, wondering if it matched what I’d seen in movies and on TV.

Joe pulled back after a little while, glancing around to see who might be watching.

“Why are you stopping?” I asked, also looking around.

Joe turned back to me and smiled. “I have no idea.” Now he put both hands on my face, one on either side, and drew me closer. His turn at kiss initiation was softer than mine, gentle, as if we had all the time in the world.

Fooling around with Joe lasted minutes, but I couldn’t tell you how many. I had crawled into a place inside myself, hearing only my own thoughts and what Meg called “mixing tuna” noises. Do I open my eyes? What if I open them and his are open too? I should open my eyes.

Happy, nervous, angry, excited. Neurons exploding in fireworks.

I was laughing and then, I was crying. It started when I was still lip-locked with Joe, and it took him a few moments to pull away and see why my shoulders were heaving up and down.

“Laurel?” he asked.

I wanted to look up and smile, wipe away my tears, then wink at him for some damage control. But I couldn’t. I was just staring at his hand on my knee, and I was wailing.

“Oh my God . . . ,” said Joe, standing up. Backing away.

I put my face in my hands and let the top half of me fall toward the lounge chair, a violent crumple. Noises were coming out of me that I didn’t think I was capable of. Noises like I was being physically attacked, afraid for my life, a girl in an alley at midnight.

The pressure of my hands against my eyelids was making me see starbursts, yellow and red, but I was seeing David’s face too.

A freaking corsage. You’re an orphan.

I heard Joe’s feet move away, scuffling against the patio. “Hang on, I’m going to get Meg,” he said.

I looked up to watch him go, running. Running from me, because I’d totally freaked him out. Three minutes ago we were playing Tongue Twister, and now he was fleeing for his life. I should have been wearing a label on the back of my dress that said CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE. OPEN WITH CARE.

“No!” I yelled, an answer to nothing. “No!”

I stood up, grabbed the lounge chair, and flung it across the patio. It was lighter than I thought it would be.

Now I had an audience. Whoever had been standing around, sneaking peeks at Joe and me, was signed on for the full performance.

I picked up the other lounge chair and threw it into the pool. It landed with a big splash and slowly started to sink. Things got very quiet, and I think someone even turned off the music inside the house. With no place to sit anymore, I moved to the lawn and lay down on my side, my right arm over my face, my left hand pulling chunks of grass out of the ground. The wailing came back, rushing out of my body.

Before too long, Meg was kneeling in front of me. “Laurel? It’s me.