Perfectly Good White Boy by Carrie Mesrobian

Author:Carrie Mesrobian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

“Whose house is this?” I asked as Neecie got in the car. Though I knew exactly whose house it was. Been down the long windy drive toward the lakefront to a couple of parties here. Tristan Reichmeier’s house on Prairie Lake. The gate was open, and there were a bunch of cars parked there, in the driveway and in the muddy snow.

Neecie didn’t say anything. She just put a stick of gum in her mouth and rolled on her lip gloss.

“Neecie?” I touched her arm, made sure she saw my face when I asked again.

“Can you just drive?” She shook my arm off her.

“Can you just answer the question?”

“It’s Tristan’s, okay. Which I know you know. Will you just drive?”

She glanced toward the door of the house, where a light had just gone on.

“What,” I said. “Did you guys have a fight?”

“No.”

Then the door whipped open and there was Tristan. No coat, but with his shoes on, and it looked like he might come out. Until he saw me. Then, beside him, stood Ivy Heller. Her hair was blue again. Then Neecie said, “Will you fucking drive already?”

I pulled the car out of park. But not before Tristan and me had a nice long stare-down. I’ll admit it; I enjoyed him looking uncertain about whether to come and mess with me.

Getting back on the county road from the lake involved paying attention, so Neecie was lucky I didn’t ask her anything for a while. Then I asked where she wanted to go.

“Just to my house, if that’s okay.”

“So, are you all right? I mean, is Ivy . . . was he having a party?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey. Are you all right? Did he hit you or something?”

She laughed that fakey laugh again. “No, of course not. God. It’s just . . .” She turned toward me. “Do you really want to hear all this crap? Because it’s totally fucked up. I mean, I could go on for a million years about it, probably. I don’t want to depress you.”

“Why didn’t Ivy come with you? I thought she hated Tristan.”

Neecie pressed her hands to her eyes. I thought she was crying. I hoped she wasn’t. I didn’t know what to do when girls cried. My mom cried so much before my dad left. My favorite part about him leaving was that my mom’s crying was reduced by like 95 percent.

“I didn’t know he was having people over,” she said. “He just texted like normal. Said to be ready, whatever. He picked me up at home, even. I didn’t even ask him about anything. It’s usually like we don’t have a lot of time. Like, someone’s coming home. Or he has to be somewhere. Or I have to be somewhere. So it’s kind of like, walk in, strip down, do it, leave.”

I tried to keep my face normal. But I hated Tristan Reichmeier even more now.

“But sometimes, he doesn’t have anything going on afterward,” Neecie went on. “Like, he’ll want to hang out. Watch a movie or something.

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