Zen and Xander Undone by Amy Kathleen Ryan

because I feel too sad to talk. Even when she isn’t here, Xander dominates his thoughts. Usually I like how she draws the attention to herself because I hate being noticed. But tonight, wearing this dress, with my arms around Adam, I want to be the one who glows.
    â€œDo you think it would help if I talked to her?” Adam says.
    â€œOh, come on,” I say, annoyance laced through my voice. I feel like the answer to this question is so obvious that he probably already knows it. And that makes me wonder why he’s brought up Xander at all. Just to have something to talk to me about, because she’s the one thing we have in common? Or is he trying to distance himself from me? Or is it that he can’t stop thinking about her, even now?
    â€œI mean, the other day with the train . . .” he stutters.
    â€œWhen she flashed the engineer?”
    â€œYeah. That was . . .”
    â€œYou liked it. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
    That shuts him up. He readjusts his hands on my back.
    â€œIt’s not that I liked it. It’s just . . .” His shoulders stiffen under my arms, and I glance at his face to see that it’s gone blank, as though all his muscles have tightened. “Zen, I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt.” He pulls away to look at me, his mouth tight. He’s scared. “I think she
wants
to get hurt, Zen.”
    We sway slowly under the prism of lights while I think about what he’s said.
    Xander has always been careless. When we were kids she used to rollerblade down the biggest hill in our town, screaming the whole way. I’d go down it too, but I’d put on the brakes every so often. Not Xander. She pointed her toes straight downhill and coasted as fast as she could go. When Mom got on her case about it, she’d pout, muttering that it’s too hard to have any fun if you’re scared all the time. I always secretly agreed with her. But now it doesn’t really seem like Xander’s having that much fun.
    I glance at Adam, and I see he’s watching me, his eyes troubled. Suddenly he’s Widdle Adam from across the street again, and I’m Zen Vogel with the skinny legs and the innocent face. What he’s said makes me worry even more, because now that the idea has entered my mind, I think he might be right.

Xander’s Bar
    W E LEAVE THE PROM kind of early, trailing out with some kids who are headed to an after party in a hotel room somewhere. One of the girls, a senior, screams out her car window, “Premarital sex!” and laughs maniacally.
    Adam shakes his head; I roll my eyes, but I feel strangely empty. Prom night is when lots of girls lose their virginity, and I know that’s not going to happen tonight, and definitely never with Adam. I didn’t come to the prom hoping to have sex with anyone, but for the first time, I wonder why I’m the only teenage girl in America who isn’t chasing after boys. Maybe Xander’s right. Maybe something is wrong with me. Mom always said it’s just that I’m too cerebral, but I can’t help wondering if I really
am
frigid like Xander says.
    Adam drives in silence to the bar where Xander and Margot are supposed to be. I don’t really want tonight to be about Xander, but when I told Adam about her fake ID he got really worried and insisted on checking out the place. “I just want to make sure she’s safe,” he said.
    She. No thought for Margot.
    I study his profile, the way he’s peering into the dark street as he drives, licking his lips, his brow tense. Everything about him seems strained. I wonder if I were at a bar, would he come looking for me? Would he be this worried?
    â€œThat must be the place,” he says, and slows down to park.
    The bar shares a parking lot with a liquor store and a check-cashing place. Across the road is a strip joint.
    â€œThis street reminds me of every Tarantino movie