Thirty Sunsets by Christine Hurley Deriso

tonight while she was at a restaurant. We would’ve had the place all to ourselves.”
    Pause.
    “Okay, that’s not a great idea,” Shelley says, suddenly wary.
    I narrow my eyes. “What? He just wanted to hang out.”
    “Take it slow, Forrest,” she says. “He may have had something other than popcorn in mind.”
    I tsk. “We just met. God. What do you take me for?”
    “A girl with a tragic dearth of experience in this area,” Shelley says slowly.
    “And you’re worldly all of a sudden?”
    “Worldlier than you , if you think that all the average guy wants to do is snuggle on the couch. Is that a word? ‘Worldlier’?”
    I’m feeling a little cornered all of a sudden. It was a big enough risk mentioning Scott in the first place without Shelley turning all schoolmarm on me.
    “Invite him to have dinner with your family,” she says.
    “And then maybe Dad can take us to a matinee?”
    “I’m serious, Forrest. Freaky things can happen on the beach.”
    “Oh, for crying out loud, I’m not twelve years old! Why did I even tell you this?”
    “Because you like him,” Shelley answers evenly. “You’ve hardly ever liked a guy enough to mention him to me, so if you’re mentioning him, it’s a big deal. And since you blew off Dating 101 while normal people were flirting with guys with braces at middle school dances, well … you’ve skipped a few steps and you need to take it slow. That’s all I’m saying.”
    I exhale through puffed-up cheeks. I shouldn’t have called. It was stupid to mention Scott (it was one friggin’ kiss, for crying out loud!) and I certainly can’t tell Shelley what’s going on with Brian, as much as I’m dying to, and since when did Shelley turn preachy? I really need to wrap this up.
    “I better get going,” I tell her.
    “Hey, is it true that Olivia is bulimic?”
    I roll my eyes. “Gotta go. I promised Dad a game of Scrabble.”
    “Now that’s more your speed,” she says, and though I know she’s being silly, the remark still stings.
    I’ll choose my speed from now on, thank you very much.

eighteen
    “Ya okay?”
    This is the first chance I’ve had to talk to Olivia alone since our shopping trip.
    “Yeah,” she says from her bottom bunk. “I think Brian overreacted.”
    “Right,” I say, staring at ceiling from my bed. “What’s the big deal about promising your baby to some nice couple from church?”
    She giggles. “That’s what I mean. She never even talked to the couple from church. Brian didn’t exactly get the facts straight.”
    I give a low whistle. “Mom’s gonna love you,” I say.
    Pause.
    “Not that it didn’t hurt,” Olivia concedes. “The fact that your mom thinks we would even consider giving our baby up for adoption … yeah, that hurt. But she’s had a lot to adjust to in the past few weeks.”
    “Whatever. People get pregnant every day, you know. It’s not like she’s dealing with an alien invasion. She’s so naive. Mom has been way too sheltered all her life.”
    Crickets are chirping outside our bedroom.
    “Your mom’s a lot tougher than you think she is,” Olivia says.
    I pause, then ask, “What do you mean?”
    “Nothing,” she says quickly. “I’m just … getting the impression that your mom is a lot stronger than she seems.”
    I knit my fingers together. “Today when I overheard Mom and Dad fighting … ”
    “Yeah?”
    “Mom was telling Dad he didn’t get a vote about the baby.”
    Silence.
    “What do you think she meant by that?” I ask.
    More silence.
    “And Dad said he didn’t appreciate being treated like an outsider,” I continue, not sure myself why I can’t quite shake these words from my head. “An outsider.”
    Olivia says nothing.
    “You know something I don’t,” I say, and even as I utter the words, I feel a strange sense of clarity. I’m just not sure what I’m clear about.
    “What do you know?” I ask her, leaning up on an elbow.
    “Nothing,” Olivia murmurs