everyone went; none of the teachers cared) she had to sneak out of the house like a criminal for a quick puff whenever she could squeeze one in. Her mom had the nose of a bloodhound. If she dared to light up in the house, she’d be caught. And her mom would have a shit fit, Better to come out here on the porch, like she was doing right now. It was just after midnight, her mom was asleep upstairs, and there was nothing in the whole
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
103
wide world but herself and the cigarette and the swing on which she sat and the tinkling wind chinies for mood music and the darkness all around.
The smoke as she drew it in steamed over her tongue, rolled down her throat, curled into her lungs. For a moment she held it there, the red tip of her cigarette glowing bright through the shadows, and then she let it out, practiced blowing it out her nose so that it made cool twin streams of smoke like a dragon exhaling.
Allison had taught her how to do that. Allison could blow smoke rings, fat round circles that floated through the air like ghostly Cheerios. Jessica had tried, but she hadn’t quite gotten the knack yet.
Damnit, she was old enough to smoke. She’d been smoking on the porch when that cop had stopped by. He’d seen her, she knew he had, and he’d been cool with it. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t told her mom either or she would have heard about it when they had their “little chat” before her mother went to bed. Instead he’d talked to her like one adult to another, said hi, asked her how she was feeling. Then he’d picked up a basketball and started shooting hoops and challenged her to a game-which she’d missed winning by two points. While they’d played, they’d talked like two ordinary people, not about dope or being in trouble but about normal things, like the weather and basketball and her friends.
Not like her mom talked to her: She was grounded. The police were watching her. She had to be careful. Please, please don’t do dope.
Holy hell. Her mom treated her like a baby. She just
104
KAREN ROBARDS
couldn’t let go. And the diabetes thing had made it worse. She hadn’t been able to so much as go to the bathroom without her mom in her face ever since they’d found out she had it.
Did you take your insulin? Did you test your blood? You know you shouldn’t eat that. You need to get more exercise. if you don’t take care qf yourse!f, you’re going to die.
Well, all right, her mom had never actually said that last thing. But she thought it, all the time-Jessica knew that she did.
The thought of dying scared her. She shouldn’t have to think about dying yet. She was young, a kid. Old people worried about dying. Not kids like her.
Once her friends found out about the diabetes, they treated her differently. Should you eat that, Jessica?Jessica can’t do that, she’s sick. Jessica, are you going to die?
It was always there, that dying thing. Once people knew, they all treated her like they thought she was going to die.
She just wanted to be treated like everybody else. She didn’t think Rusty knew about the diabetes. He didn’t act like he did. He treated her like she was perfectly normal, like he kind of liked her, even. Rusty was so hot. AN she had to do was think about him and her insides melted. He was tall, with a big, broadshouldered body and dark brown hair with kind of a reddish tint to it that accounted for his nickname, and real light blue eyes. He was a Junior, he had his driver’s license and his own car, and he was on the basketball team. Becca liked him too, and Allison kind of did. Maddie was friends with a girl he had broken up with
THE MIDNiGHF HoUk
10;
last vcu, she said you had n) havt, sex WiLh 11MI if yo Li wanted to be his girlfi-iend.
She WOUld have sex with Rusty anytime.
Her mother would die, though. Her mother thought she was a virgin. She wasn’t, not anymore. She’d had sex with Drew Kennedy in the tree house in Christy O’Connell’s
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR
103
wide world but herself and the cigarette and the swing on which she sat and the tinkling wind chinies for mood music and the darkness all around.
The smoke as she drew it in steamed over her tongue, rolled down her throat, curled into her lungs. For a moment she held it there, the red tip of her cigarette glowing bright through the shadows, and then she let it out, practiced blowing it out her nose so that it made cool twin streams of smoke like a dragon exhaling.
Allison had taught her how to do that. Allison could blow smoke rings, fat round circles that floated through the air like ghostly Cheerios. Jessica had tried, but she hadn’t quite gotten the knack yet.
Damnit, she was old enough to smoke. She’d been smoking on the porch when that cop had stopped by. He’d seen her, she knew he had, and he’d been cool with it. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t told her mom either or she would have heard about it when they had their “little chat” before her mother went to bed. Instead he’d talked to her like one adult to another, said hi, asked her how she was feeling. Then he’d picked up a basketball and started shooting hoops and challenged her to a game-which she’d missed winning by two points. While they’d played, they’d talked like two ordinary people, not about dope or being in trouble but about normal things, like the weather and basketball and her friends.
Not like her mom talked to her: She was grounded. The police were watching her. She had to be careful. Please, please don’t do dope.
Holy hell. Her mom treated her like a baby. She just
104
KAREN ROBARDS
couldn’t let go. And the diabetes thing had made it worse. She hadn’t been able to so much as go to the bathroom without her mom in her face ever since they’d found out she had it.
Did you take your insulin? Did you test your blood? You know you shouldn’t eat that. You need to get more exercise. if you don’t take care qf yourse!f, you’re going to die.
Well, all right, her mom had never actually said that last thing. But she thought it, all the time-Jessica knew that she did.
The thought of dying scared her. She shouldn’t have to think about dying yet. She was young, a kid. Old people worried about dying. Not kids like her.
Once her friends found out about the diabetes, they treated her differently. Should you eat that, Jessica?Jessica can’t do that, she’s sick. Jessica, are you going to die?
It was always there, that dying thing. Once people knew, they all treated her like they thought she was going to die.
She just wanted to be treated like everybody else. She didn’t think Rusty knew about the diabetes. He didn’t act like he did. He treated her like she was perfectly normal, like he kind of liked her, even. Rusty was so hot. AN she had to do was think about him and her insides melted. He was tall, with a big, broadshouldered body and dark brown hair with kind of a reddish tint to it that accounted for his nickname, and real light blue eyes. He was a Junior, he had his driver’s license and his own car, and he was on the basketball team. Becca liked him too, and Allison kind of did. Maddie was friends with a girl he had broken up with
THE MIDNiGHF HoUk
10;
last vcu, she said you had n) havt, sex WiLh 11MI if yo Li wanted to be his girlfi-iend.
She WOUld have sex with Rusty anytime.
Her mother would die, though. Her mother thought she was a virgin. She wasn’t, not anymore. She’d had sex with Drew Kennedy in the tree house in Christy O’Connell’s
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