Firsts by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn

Author:Laurie Elizabeth Flynn [Flynn, Laurie Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781466887329
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2016-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

Our yoga instructor tells us to “clear our heads.” He says this a number of times, along with “sweat out your negative thoughts” and his favorite slogan, “be in the moment.” When I look to my right, Kim has her eyes clenched shut and the stupidest expression on her face. I think she was going for serene but fell short and ended up somewhere near constipated.

I’ve got so much to clear from my head, but it’s going to take a lot more than a yoga class. Guilt and sadness and frustration. I hate the way I left Zach’s house, with a perfunctory hug and an awkward thank you. I hate that he let me leave.

Mostly I hate what I did last night, when I typed out a message I didn’t want to send.

Sure—my place at nine. See you then.

I sent it to Rafe Lawrence.

To Zach, I sent a message letting him know I was too sick to tutor him. I waited for him to send a rant back, to let me know that he was over it. But he didn’t. He sent back a sad face and offered to bring me soup, and I felt lower than I ever thought possible. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late. I had already committed to Rafe. Maybe it was the wrong choice, but it was my choice.

Rafe will be the last one.

I position myself in downward dog, breathing through the rush of blood to my head. I know who Rafe is from his visibility on the school theater scene. He isn’t somebody I would have pegged as a virgin, but sometimes it’s the ones you least expect who surprise you. Angela dragged me to see Milton High’s production of Grease last year because she is absolutely obsessed with the movie and complained afterward that Rafe was too “smarmy” to be a convincing Danny Zuko. I nodded my assent but secretly disagreed, thinking he was just smarmy enough.

“How about dinner tonight?” Kim says when we’re toweling off after class. I narrow my eyes at her. When I got back from spending the morning at Zach’s house, Kim wasn’t even home. I figured she would show at least an iota of parental concern after I failed to come home after the dance, but I was wrong. She didn’t even leave a note, but I did hear her stagger in at some wee hour of the morning, laughing and telling her male companion to shut up. I don’t want to have dinner with Kim tonight. Why should I care if she doesn’t?

“I have a date,” I say, stepping into my sweatpants. “He’s coming over at nine.”

I watch her face for any expression of shock, surprise, anger, anything, but she’s paying close attention to a hangnail instead.

“Well, dinner would be at five,” Kim says, sweeping her hair into a ponytail. “Plenty of time. Part of my new diet plan is not eating anything after seven o’clock.”

She rattles on about a new vegan restaurant she wants to try, even though she’s not a vegan.

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