her briefcase closed.
“Obviously you’re not fine,” he tries. “And I’m sorry if I’ve been preoccupied lately with—”
“With Scrabble!” my mom shouts. “Preoccupied with playing board games with strangers on the other side of the world.”
I roll my eyes. I really don’t have the patience for this.
“You forgot your anniversary!” I yell, causing both my parents to stop and stare at me openmouthed. “That’s why she’s pissed!” I push my bag farther up my shoulder and storm through the garage door. “Sheesh! Grow up, you two!”
Good Golly, Miss Molly
It’s raining. Again. Of course. It’s always raining. My life is one big rain cloud that I can’t ever escape. I consider running back inside the house to grab my umbrella but then I think, Screw it. What does it even matter?
I slam the car door closed, rev the engine, and back out of the garage, tires screeching and squealing on the slick pavement.
When I pull into Owen’s driveway a few minutes later, he comes running out from the cover of his front porch where he’s been waiting for me.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s really chucking it down out there,” I grumble as soon as he opens the car door. “Get in.”
Owen scowls and drops into the front seat. “Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the universe today.”
I slam the shifter into reverse. “You can say that again.”
As I speed down his street, Owen starts searching for something in my car. Finally, when he can’t find it, he asks, “Where’s your phone? Someone needs her ‘Psych Me Up Buttercup’ playlist stat.”
“I threw it against the mirror this morning and it broke.”
Owen sits in stunned silence for a moment. “What happened to you?” His voice takes on a cautious tone, as if I’m a serial killer and he’s just now noticing after seven years of friendship. “Did you and the rock star break up or something?”
“Nope. Not yet.”
I turn left onto the main road without even pausing to check for oncoming traffic. Owen braces against the window as a car swerves around us, laying on the horn.
“Are you crazy?”
I ignore him and step on the accelerator until I’ve caught up to the car that honked at us. I pull up beside him, matching his speed, and press down on my horn until the driver looks over at me. Then I flip him the middle finger.
Owen grabs my hand and yanks it back down. “Do you want to lose your license? Or get shot?”
“Relax. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m invincible.”
“Invincible?” he echoes dubiously.
“Yup. I’m done playing by the rules. I’m done being the goody-goody sugar-and-spice girl that everyone can rely on. Do you know why I’ve always played by the rules?”
“No,” Owen says uneasily. “But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“Because I’ve always been terrified of consequences. If I fail a test, I won’t get into a good college. If I ditch class, I’ll get detention. If I say the wrong thing, or act the wrong way, or fail to be the cool, no-drama, easy-breezy, cucumber girl that Tristan wants, he’ll break up with me. But you know what? I was wrong. All this time. I’ve been worried about consequences my whole freaking life, when in reality there are no consequences. None. Nothing I do matters. So why should I bother following the rules?”
Owen looks terrified. I eye the fateful red light up ahead at the intersection of Providence Boulevard and Avenue de Liberation. It’s just starting to turn yellow and I’m still a good two hundred yards away.
“Uh, Ellie. That’s a yellow light. Aaaand now it’s a red light.”
I floor the accelerator.
Owen grips the door handle. “Ellie!”
As we race through the intersection, I let go of the steering wheel and yank up on the bottom of my hoodie, giving the cameras a nice clear shot of my bra. “Eat your heart out!” I shout.
Flash! Flash! Flash!
I feel like a Victoria’s Secret runway model.
With slightly less cleavage.
When I lower my sweatshirt and return my hands to the wheel, I notice Owen is staring openmouthed at me.
But not at my face.
At my …
“What are you looking at?” I ask. My tone is not accusatory. It’s amused.
He quickly averts his eyes, turning the color of a fire truck. “Uh … nothing.”
I let out a cackle. “You act like you’ve never seen boobs before.”
His face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I’ve … um … just never seen … you know, your boobs before.”
“Wait,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity, “whose boobs have