10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,19

innocently. “It’s okay that I invited him here, right?”

“Yes, of course,” her mom said, looking and sounding completely dazed, like she was one of those cartoon characters with birds flying around their heads in a slow circle. “That… that’s fine. What’s his name?”

“Samir Jha,” Pinky said. “Oh, and did I tell you? He’s planning to go to Harvard next year.” She grabbed her cereal and poured it into her bowl, whistling again.

* * *

Pinky walked outside after finishing her breakfast. For the first time in a long time, she felt… not exactly happy, but smug. Like she finally had the upper hand.

She kicked a pinecone out of the way as she headed out of the backyard, down a small path, and into the forest that bordered their property on the west side. Why couldn’t her mom just have believed her about the barn? And okay, she had a point that Pinky hadn’t really given them a reason to believe her… but at least she could’ve been more conciliatory! If she had sincerely apologized to Pinky, maybe said something along the lines of, I don’t know how I ever doubted you, my darling girl, Pinky would’ve totally forgiven her dramatic outburst the night before.

The sun beat down on her shoulders through gaps in the trees. It was hotter than usual in Ellingsworth this time of year, and Pinky was glad she was dressed in a tank top and shorts. She looked around at the forest, at the spruces and the horse chestnuts and the oak trees that had all sprung up out of the ground, unfettered by human meddling.

Pinky stopped walking for a moment and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of sun-warmed bark and pine needles and grass. A songbird chirped questioningly at her from a branch above. Pinky smiled; she loved this place. In spite of all the drama of the past two days, this felt like home. When she was here, she knew everything was going to be okay. It was peaceful. Nothing could go wrong.

Someone grabbed her by the shoulder.

Pinky let out a scream that could make mighty mountains cower and swung around, her hands out in a karate pose she saw in a Batgirl movie once.

“Just me,” Dolly said, her eyes wide. Her hair was in two braids, which made her look innocent and sweet. Pinky was pretty sure she herself had never looked that innocent and sweet, probably not even on the day she was born. “Sorry.”

Pinky let her hands drop. “You’re lucky I didn’t chop you in half.”

“Yeah.” Dolly smoothed down her dragonfly-print sundress. “Hey, I came out here to find you and… apologize.”

“Oh yeah?” Pinky began walking again, and Dolly stepped in beside her. She ran her hand along the trunks of the trees they passed, but every sense was attuned to Dolly.

“I know my mom must’ve told you, but uh, it was me. I was the reason the barn caught on fire. I’m sorry for that—I know we both loved that barn—and I’m also sorry that your mom blamed you. And I’m sorry for being reckless.”

Pinky raised an eyebrow and looked at her cousin. “That’s a lot of apologizing.”

Dolly shrugged. Her shoulders were already turning pink from the sun. “Well, that was a lot of unthinking irresponsibility. I should never have done that.”

“Wait.” Pinky stopped, frowning. “So you just went into the barn and set it on fire?” Was her flawless cousin some kind of closet arsonist who’d totally fooled everyone?

“No, of course not.” Dolly bent down and picked up a skinny stick. Twirling it in her hands, she said, after a pause, “I didn’t tell my parents this part, but I… I was in there with a boy. We lit the lanterns and I guess one of them got knocked over when we left. I thought we’d put all of them out, but maybe there was still a small flame or something—”

“Whoa, whoa. Go back to the boy part,” Pinky said. What?? Dolly with a boy? Being all out of control and stuff? “Who was it?”

Dolly’s cheeks stained a bright red. “Um…” She poked the stick into her thigh gently. “Cash Miller.” And then she began walking again.

Pinky stood there astounded, watching Dolly walk away, her bright-pink Vans crunching on the stiff pine needles. Then, rushing to catch up, she said, “Are you kidding? You were in the barn hooking up with Cash Miller? That douche canoe from across the lake?”

Dolly winced. “I know. It was awful. He brought beer,