the condoms? Banana. Penis. Same difference, right? And you are so not going to gross him out.”
“Even if I manage to figure it all out—how to get the condom on him—they, like, can break, or just not work, or whatever. I could go on the pill, but I don’t see how I can do that without talking to my mom, and she’d totally freak.” Scar stares straight ahead. This conversation is best had with our heads parallel. No eye contact.
“Is Adam pushing it? Have you talked to him about it?” I ask.
“Not really. I mean, I know he totally would—do it, I mean, not talk about it. Though I guess he’d do that too.”
“Why not wait and see how it goes? He’s probably a virgin too. And if your mom sees you guys hanging around all the time, maybe she’ll bring it up.”
“You have met my mother, right?”
“I don’t know. You don’t have to figure it all out now.”
“You don’t think I should do it?” she asks. It’s strange seeing her this way. So vulnerable, in doubt. In love. I think about what my mom would say, since I imagine us being close enough to talk about this kind of stuff if she were still alive. Most likely, we wouldn’t have been, though. Something happens when you turn sixteen, I think. Your parents become less your allies, more your biggest obstacles. I’m the only teenager I know who would want nothing more than to be grounded by my mother. The opposite of a punishment.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. You should do what you feel comfortable with.”
“Cop-out answer, Jess.” I laugh, elbow her ribs. It occurs to me that what Scar needs right now is a friend like Scar: someone to break it down and tell it like it is.
“Honestly, and I know this is funny coming from me, but you’re overthinking it. Relax. Do what you want to do when you want to do it. If you’re ready, go forth and prosper. If you’re not yet, that’s totally okay too. It feels like this huge deal now, but maybe it’s not.” I sound wise and sure, words I’ve never before applied to myself, especially in this context. “You just need to figure out whether you’re scared because it’s your first time—I mean, the first time is supposed to be a little scary, right?—or because you aren’t ready. There’s really no right answer here.”
“You sound like me,” Scar says, and finally turns her head. There are tears in her eyes, which makes me sad, because she should be happy. She’s getting what she always wanted, to love and to be loved, even if it’s not exactly how she pictured it all.
“I learned from the best,” I say, and smile. Then, in unison, without talking about it, like the old Scar and J, we open our car doors, stride into the 7-Eleven. And just as we used to, long before everything got so complicated, we head straight to the back, to the always-reliable Slurpee machine.
Dri: Did Liam ask you out?
Me: No!
Wait, is that a lie? If he’s SN and we’re going to meet, does that count? And assuming Caleb has his facts straight and I’m the reason for the demise of Gem and Liam—I can’t bring myself to call them Gemiam—do I have an obligation to tell Dri?
“Don’t tell her!” Scar says, reading my mind at the same time as she reads my texts over my shoulder. We’re back in the basement, and beautiful vampire men are saving helpless teenage girls from other, murderous vampires on television. We’re eating popcorn. I couldn’t be happier. “Seriously, it will just hurt her feelings. And it’s not a lie. Liam hasn’t asked you out.”
Dri: I think he will. He likes you.
Me: I’m not interested.
Dri: What if he’s SN?
Me: He’s not SN.
Dri: But what if he is?
Me: Dri!
“She wants you to say you won’t go out with him. You can’t say that. If he’s SN, you need to give him a chance. You just do,” Scar says, her confidence back. This is the best friend I recognize: the one who tells the truth, no sugarcoating. “And if she’s really your friend, she’ll understand that.”
“She is my friend, but we’re new. It’s different. We haven’t built up trust, you know?”
“Still.”
“Liam is not SN.”
“Whatever. He totally is.” I smile at Scar, because it’s funny how she talks about my friends from Wood Valley like they’re characters from a TV show, like she’s betting on the next plot