My Sister's Bones by Cathi Hanauer

Author:Cathi Hanauer [Hanauer, Cathi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-56985-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-09-16T00:00:00+00:00

chapter six

Slowly, painfully, over the weeks, it’s becoming clear to me that Vinnie isn’t the guy of my dreams—or if he is, then the girl I’m dreaming about with him isn’t me. She looks like me, and she dresses and talks like I do, but she feels like an imposter somehow. Now, sitting in the back of the school bus with his big arm sandwiching my neck, I try once more to figure out why this is—and what to do about it. The thought makes me feel so bad sometimes that my eyes start to burn.

The front of the bus is full of wrestlers—silent somber wrestlers riding home in snowy dark after being slammed by a team they beat easily last year. The team that beat them is a good one, but that doesn’t help much; it’s the second-to-last meet of the season, and every wrestler except Vinnie and the 108-pounder were pinned.

Vinnie, for his part, pinned in the second period, and if he’s sad for the team, he’s also happy for himself I can tell, just like I can tell he’s happy the coach let me ride to and from the meet with the team —one of only four girls on the bus, and the other three are team managers. They’re sitting up front with the rest of the guys. Vinnie and I are far in the back of the bus, rows from anyone, our thighs touching. At the window, I watch the snow fall and listen to the big bus wheels swish along the wet Jersey highway, rolling us closer to West Berry with each turn.

Vinnie squeezes me closer and plants a kiss on my cheek. “You smell nice,” he says, burying his nose in my hair. “What is that, anyway?”

I shrug. “Baby powder. Or Herbal Essence cream rinse. That’s all I have on.”

“Maybe it’s just you, then. I think it’s just you.”

I shrug again, nervously. Vinnie, I know, wants his hand down my pants, and I’ve said no one too many times already. It’s time to shit or get off the pot, as Tiffany would say—to put out or get out. I don’t want to do either. I don’t want to hurt him, and I can’t stand the thought of him hating me. I look out the window into the night, not really seeing it there.

Vinnie pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he whispers. “You’re killing me.”

I inch away just a millimeter, wondering what’s wrong with me. Vinnie DiNardio, pride of West Berry High, drool object for freshmen girls in the hallway. Sweeter to me than my own father. What more can I ask?

He feels me pull away, and—for the thousandth time—cuts me some slack; he lets his hand fall gently to my thigh, then leans back and closes his eyes. He’s wearing just a clean white T-shirt and his wrestling warm-up pants; I’ve got on his jacket as usual. His biceps push at his sleeves. His hair is freshly washed, combed nicely back.

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