Page 3

Chapter 2

Kitty

“She is so pathetic. I heard she sucked him off but she was so bad at it, he made her stop.”

My stomach dropped as two other voices laughed. I was in the bathroom before third period. No matter who they were talking about, it wasn’t good.

“He pushed her off him like she was diseased. It was hilarious.”

“She follows him around like a lost puppy. He only hangs out with her because he has to, anyway. If Frank weren’t his best friend, he’d have no reason to be around her,” another voice added.

My mind flicked through the roster of boys at our school. The only Frank was my brother.

Me. They were talking about me . And Guy. I’d never blown anyone, or offered, much less my brother’s best friend. Guy kissed me in a smelly storage closet at the ice rink and Shane and Brooklynn caught us. It must have been Brooklynn with the diseased comment. I was mortified.

On that fateful day of the closet kiss, Guy and I couldn’t exactly fight in the car on the way home, because Frankie was there. While I was waiting for him to come unlock the car, I got a barrage of texts from Guy.

GUY-GUY FRENCHIE

I’m sorry Kitty

So so sorry

Can we talk later?

I didn’t respond to anything he sent me, tears blurring my view of the winter-brown mountains surrounding the rink. I was humiliated. Guy had humiliated me. One of my best friends. My buddy. Not only was it my first kiss from him, it was my first kiss from anyone . I could have forgiven it being in a stinky storage closet if it hadn’t ended in him shoving me away, in front of other people.

I didn’t respond to his texts. I didn’t want to hear his excuses. No matter what he did next, I’d still be the pathetic slut that cornered him, and he’d still be Guy Stelle.

The rest of my freshman year was hellish. The names that went around were ever-so-clever, either Slutty Kitty, Hockey Ho, or Pussy-Kitty.

Guy and I never spoke about it directly again. I’m not sure how much he knew about my reputation after the closet kiss. Part of me wanted to ask him to date me, so I could at least have something to show for the accusations. But I was too afraid to ask. And I knew, in no uncertain terms, that he feared what Frank would do if we did. We couldn’t break up our little friendship trio. The real miracle is that Frank never heard about the kiss from anyone else, or if he did, he never said anything.

To Guy’s credit, he worked overtime to regain our friendship. The day we were due to work on my math homework next, he showed up right on time with a bag of M&Ms.

“Hey, Kitty Cat.” He stood in my bedroom doorway, extending the twelve-ounce bag of candy my way. “Ready to math it up?”

I studied him for a long while before patting the floor next to me, where he always sat when we worked on my homework. Our meeting was stilted at first, like we didn’t quite know how to be around each other. But before long, we were cracking jokes again, and he asked me to come over that weekend and watch one of our favorite shows together. It was an olive branch. Even though he’d hurt me, perhaps in ways he couldn’t even know, he wanted to make it up to me. I missed being his friend, and it was harder to be mad at him than I thought it might be. So I took the proverbial olive branch.

Guy stayed for dinner that night, as he always did after tutoring me. When we got up to go help Mom set the table, he stopped me. He held my shoulders and watched me for a moment, but not like he did before he kissed me. His eyes held a more tragic kind of longing. Then he pecked a kiss on my cheek and pulled me into his arms. He held me tight, and I hugged him back.

“You’re my best friend, Kitty Cat,” he whispered.

“I thought Frankie was,” I snorted.

“He is. But you are, too. And I can’t lose you.” His voice was serious, a rarity for him. I noted the muscle-over-bone feeling of his ribcage under my hands as he squeezed me one more time before letting me go.

The matter seemed effectively resolved.