Thirty Sunsets by Christine Hurley Deriso Page A

unconvincingly.
    I inch myself to a sitting position. “You do. You know something I don’t.” Our ceiling fan oscillates lazily overhead. “What do you know?”
    When Olivia doesn’t reply, I lean over my bunk and face her in the moonlight. “If you knew something, would you tell me?”
    She swallows and averts her eyes. “Of course,” she finally says, then locks eyes with me again. “I’m the BFF who took you bikini shopping, remember? Hey, you’ve got to wear that pink bikini tomorrow. It’s supposed to be sunny all day.”
    I gaze at her for a moment, then plop back onto my bed. “I saw him today.”
    Olivia’s mattress squeaks as she shifts in her bed. “The guy you took the walk with a few nights ago?”
    “Yeah … ” I finger a lock of hair. “We kinda … made out on the beach. Just for a couple of minutes.”
    God. I am twelve.
    “Is it the first time you’ve kissed a guy?” Olivia asks.
    “Of course not,” I say, stunning myself by lying so effortlessly.
    Olivia stands up and faces me. “I thought you said he blew you off when he was with his friends.”
    I nod quickly. “I know it was totally jerky, but he did kinda explain it. He said he was … ”
    “I don’t care what he said,” Olivia says disdainfully. “That’s not okay, Forrest.”
    I shake my head. “No, really, it was just … it was just a misunderstanding. Then he spent the rest of the week painting his aunt’s bathroom—he’s staying at her beach house this summer—and … ”
    “And you were making out?” Olivia prods.
    “Just kissing.”
    “How old is he?” Olivia persists.
    I’m embarrassed that I don’t know, so here comes lie number two: “Seventeen.”
    Olivia runs a hand through her hair. “He sounds like a player, Forrest.”
    “He’s actually very sweet,” I say with an edge in my voice.
    “No,” Olivia says. “New guy. Tomorrow we find you a new guy.”
    I sit up abruptly, my legs dangling over the bed. “You sound like Shelley,” I say. “What is it with you two? You find it totally inconceivable that a cute guy could be interested in me?”
    Olivia’s eyes widen. “No. No! I’m the one who told you how cute you are, how guys are always talking about how beautiful you are—”
    “But not beautiful enough for any of them to ask me out,” I say.
    Olivia studies my eyes. “Did this guy ask you out?”
    “Uh, duh ,” I say indignantly. “He asked me over to his aunt’s house.”
    She nods, processing the information. “Like, for dinner with them?”
    I huff. “Yeah. Something like that.”
    “ Something like that?”
    “God!” I punch my pillow. “Do I need a permission slip to have a conversation with a guy?”
    “You didn’t say anything about a conversation.”
    “Right,” I snap. “He just walked up to me and started kissing me. And I’m such a pathetic sap that I was just like, ‘Oooohh, sure, I’m a total loser who’ll take whatever crumbs you toss my way.’ Is that what you think of me?”
    “I’m just trying to watch out for you … ”
    “Well, who asked you?”
    She purses her lips and stares at the ground. “No one.”
    I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to snap. Thanks for your concern. Really. But none of this is a big deal. He’s a guy, that’s all. I just wish people would give me a little more credit … or would think I’m entitled to a little attention.” I swallow hard.
    “That’s not what I meant,” Olivia whispers.
    I nod. “Yeah. I know. Maybe we should just get some sleep.”
    But she lingers in her spot, still looking at me.
    “We both need a good night’s sleep,” I say.
    She pauses a moment more, then says, “Okay.”
    I turn to my side and stare at the wall. Maybe I will wear that pink bikini tomorrow.
    I come home from school, walk into the den, let my backpack fall from my shoulders, and settle into the recliner as I turn on the TV. Then I grab my chemistry book and reach to the right to turn on the lamp so I can