Page 59 of Kissing is the Easy Part

Up ahead, Lindsey leans against a wall, kicking at the gravel with her foot. Now that she has a boyfriend, she only talks to me when she needs a favor.

“Can you give me a lift home?” she asks in a small voice. Her eyes are red rimmed. She keeps her lips tight all the way to the parking lot, gets in the car, and fastens her seat belt without a word.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Her chest rises and falls a few times. “You have to promise not to say anything to Mom and Dad.”

A car honks outside, and my grip tightens on the wheel. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.” Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but—

“No, it’s worse.” She lets out a sharp sigh. “He dumped me.”

“Oh.”

“Because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

I do not require specifics to grasp the situation. The way they behaved together—it was inevitable that he would eventually push for more. I should’ve said something sooner. But Lindsey isn’t a kid anymore, and I figured she’d tell me if something was wrong.

Guess I was wrong about that too.

Before I can launch into how she dodged a bullet, Lindsey’s face crumples. “Now he’s telling everyone we did it and I was terrible at it. I’m not even sure how a girl can be bad at sex!”

As usual, her tears freeze my brain on the spot. This is how she got the bigger bedroom, by the way.

But beneath the sibling reflex to make light of it, something darker coils inside me. For some reason Flora comes to mind. Sitting on her bed, twisting her fingers as she told me about Zach Powell and how he broadcasted the whole thing like it was his to tell. Seems like you just can’t win—whether you say yes or no, someone can still take your story and make you feel disposable.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“We had so many plans. My birthday, everything. He won’t be celebrating with me now. I feel so betrayed.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”Right. Because that worked out so well for me with Flora.

“He denied saying anything. There’s nothing I can do.” She sniffles, turning her head to the window. “You know how rumors are. I can’t prove he started it.”

He’ll get away with it. But he’s not my concern, not really. I only care what happens to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want Mom and Dad to know?” They created her, after all. They shouldn’t be allowed to sit out a crisis.

“No! I already know what they’ll say. They’ll tell me to focus on school.Like you.” She finds the energy to roll her eyes at me.

A long pause stretches between us. If only I could turn into Flora for five minutes. She’d find some effortless, borderline-miraculous way to cheer Lindsey up. A couple of students ride by on bicycles, and Lindsey straightens in her seat. She turns on the radio, and we listen in silence.

She pulls her lips into a reluctant smile. “Hey, you know I’m only telling you this so you can beat him up, right?”

“Yup. Just tell me where. Face or gut?”

She rolls her eyes, but her grin lingers. “Yeah, right. Forget it. I’m fine.”

Lindsey handling this with composure somehow makes it even more unbearable. The only thing worse than a bratty Lindsey is a nonbratty version. It’s like losing my little sister in real time. I grit my teeth at the way she shrinks into the passenger seat and tries to pretend this doesn’t hurt as much as it clearly does.

“Seriously, what can I do for you?”

She wipes her nose. “Nothing. I want to forget about it and move on.”

“I’m here if you need me,” I say, the words sounding foreign in my mouth.

“Uh-huh. Thanks.”

“Do you want a hug?”