Shannon Klare - Last Chance Summer

Youre coming, right? You have to come. Why am I even asking this question? Youre totally coming.

You know I cant, I said, repeating myself for the third time.

Ahead, taillights on a double-parked Prius flashed to life. Nikki slowed beside the drivers side, her brown eyes assessing me behind oversized sunglasses.

You could, she said, ignoring me for the millionth time. Youre just too scared.

My hand wrapped around the blistering passenger-side handle, my feet unmoving. My parents would have a full-on meltdown, I said, opening the door. I cant. Final answer.

I slid into the passenger seat, suffocated by thick Louisiana heat. The minute Nikki turned the key in the ignition, I reached for the temperature knob. The lowest setting blew hot through the vents, shifting colder as she reversed from the spot.

Everyone will be there, she said after a pause, joining a row of cars exiting the mall. Dont be the girl who doesnt go.

Im still grounded, I said, scowling. Today was an exception.

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, her face tilting my way. Then sneak out.

Not on my worst day was sneaking out an option. She would know that, had she paid attention the last three months.

I shook my head.

Why are you trying to ruin my night? she groaned.

Why are you being such an inconsiderate friend? I shifted toward her, the leather seat burning the back of my legs. Its easy for you to sit over there and judge me, but youve never experienced this level of grounding. Stop for point-five seconds and put yourself in my shoes.

Im trying, she said, turning onto a side road. But Im having major friendship withdrawals. Do you realize my only wing-woman is Brooke? She doesnt even use makeup primer. Beauty sin numero uno.

She isnt that bad.

She isnt you, Nikki said. She turned the air conditioner from low to mid-seventies, frowning, stewing quietly in the drivers seat. How much longer do you have, anyway? Is it until the end of the month, or end of the school year?

End of the month, I said.

The two-story mall disappeared behind us, our all-day shopping trip my first nonschool outside interaction in weeks. Confined to the Reynoldss fortress of solitude, my long-term house arrest left me clinging to legitimate social interaction like it was essential to survive. The sooner the grounding ended, the quicker I could go back to my normal life with a less-complainy version of Nikki.

That will take forever, she said after a minute. I cant suffer that long.

You arent the one suffering. Im the one getting an endless string of texts from half the junior class. Everyone wants to know where Im at and why Im not coming. Like they dont know, I said.

Then skip your all-night painting sesh and get back into the scene, Nikki said. You havent been around since Thanksgiving, Alex. I know youre trying to follow the rules or whatever, but this grounding is going to ruin your rep.

Again, it isnt my choice, I said, grabbing a nude lip-gloss from my bag.

Nikkis laser focus and unbending willpower may have gotten her what she wanted 90 percent of the time, but no one could match my stubbornness.

It could be, she said.

But its not.

Her lips spread into a thin line as her manicured nails reached for the radio. Fine. Be a party pooper.

Fine. I will.

I swiped the gloss across my lips and tossed it back into the bag, glancing at my phone as it lit up inside.

Mitch: Where are you?

I cant handle you too, I groaned.

Mitch Watson could go to hell in a handbasket. The sooner, the better.

Handle who? Nikki said, swerving far enough to the left to earn a blast of a horn.

I nudged her, my eyes darting to the road. Could you stay in your lane for literally five seconds? I said.

Metaphorically or literally? she said, grinning. She motioned to the phone, shades of mischief crossing her freckled face. Based on your attitude, it has to be Mitch. Is he still blowing up your phone?

Has been since yesterday, I said. Youd think hed eventually get the point. As far as Im concerned, he can go back to LSU and leave me alone.

Thats my girl! Nikki said, nudging me from across the console. Boy didnt know what he had. Youre better off without him.

Truth, I said, more to myself than Nikki. Any boy who takes more than three months to realize he messed up doesnt deserve me. Its time to move on to someone better. Smarter.

Better-looking and preferably the captain of a sports team, she added.

My phone lit again; another text from my only ghost of boyfriends past. Mitch was my own personal Jeff Probst, eagerly waiting to snuff out my torch. One inch and hed kill the light. Not today, Satan. Not today.

So, back to the actual topic, she said. Im starting a petition for your freedom. You need your life back and I need you. Your parents can either jump on the fun train or get run over by it.

I wish it was that easy.

Nikki continued along the interstate, entering and exiting parishes until Crightons massive metal sign welcomed us home. The town, consisting of no more than 2,500 people, died with the loss of steam engines. Its former glory boiled down to one severely dwindled ghost town and one mediocre McDonalds.

She pulled off the interstate and onto Crightons cobblestoned main street. Cracked brick buildings held 75 percent of the towns businesses. My moms salon sat at end of the street, her Equinox gleaming pewter beneath the sun.

What if you told them you were sleeping over at my house? Nikki said, eyeing the SUV. We could sneak out after my grandma goes to bed, drive to the party, and no one has to know. As long as were in before the sun comes up, it will be like it never happened.

Im not scamming your grandma, I said, sighing. Shes literally the nicest old lady in town. I would feel morally wrong.

Its not like she would know. She goes to bed at a quarter after six and rarely wakes up before sunrise. Well be back before she knows were gone.

Ive messed up more than enough to know no plan is foolproof, I said, shaking my head.

Okay, but at the risk of sounding judgmental, where was that moral guide when Mitch was the one asking you to go have some fun?

I paused, my jaw slightly ajar. Thats not fair, I said.

Im sorry, Nikki said. Im not trying to be harsh. Im just trying to save you from senior year hell. You do remember what it was like to be socially isolated, right? We were miserable. I cant do that again.

I gnawed on my lip, the truth a cruel reminder of what was at stake. Of course I remembered. Being the sheriffs daughter branded me with a stigma from the start. I was too wholesome. Too dangerous to include. No one wanted to risk getting caught at a party. No one wanted to risk me ratting them out.

Until Mitch.

A few minutes later, Nikki stopped at the curb outside my house. The brick-and-limestone exterior contrasted dark wood accents, dark shutters, and espresso-colored porch rails. The manicured lawns, freshly mowed by my dad, left it a picture of perfection. From the outside, my family seemed like a put-together piece of art. In reality, our relationships were as raw as the exposed drywall and paint swatches left from remodeling.