Tilt (10 page)

my pretty ass. I might not have said

anything

about the bleeding or the chokehold

welts around my neck—I wept over

his promise to kill my sister if I told—

but

a blood test for mono turned up

something we couldn’t ignore. Stu

passed on his HIV to his completely

queer,

but up-until-then-virgin step-nephew,

me. And I didn’t ask for it. Not at all.

Harley

I Didn’t Ask

To come from a split family.

Especially not one where the two

halves are so totally pushed apart.

I’m pretty sure Mom doesn’t

think I should love my dad.

But she’s the one who left him.

Just because she stopped

loving him, does that mean

I should, too? Okay, I do kind

of remember all the fights

they had. I was in first grade

when Mom decided she’d had

enough. And then there were

a lot of years where he hardly

ever even called to say hello.

He totally missed my birthday

a couple of times, and yeah,

that made me cry. So I sort of get

why Mom is irritated with him

wanting to step back into my life

like none of that ever happened.

She wants to protect me from

getting hurt again and I’m cool

with that. What I really can’t take,

though, is having her come

storming in and embarrass me

in front of Chad. Of any boy,

really, but especially him

because he’s, like, the only

guy even close to my age who

has ever paid me the thinnest

sliver of attention. Mom says

I’m too young to worry about

being one of the few geeky girls

left in my class who have never

been kissed. But I so do not agree.

I’d Say

It’s because I’m too fat—I pretty

much resemble a pot-bellied piglet—

but that can’t be it. Bri looks great

in skinny jeans, and guys always

check her out. But so far none

of them have kissed her, not even

at boy-girl parties because whenever

we play Truth or Dare she always

chooses truth. I always choose dare,

but the wildest thing anyone has

dared me to do to a boy was to lick

his big toe. Everyone else was making

out like crazy, though. Bri and I sat

there watching, half-fascinated, half-

grossed-out that people could tongue-jab

so obviously in public. I don’t know

what it makes me, but I really want

to try it. And I really want guys to

stare at me the way they stare at Bri.

So even though I’m mad at Mom

for pretty much yelling at me in

front of Chad, I need her help.

“How do I lose weight, Mom?”

She could shed a few pounds, too,

but I don’t say that, and I’m pretty

sure she doesn’t think so.
Fewer

calories, more exercise.
Too basic

to work, right? I look into the skinny

visor mirror. I think what I need

are laxatives or diet pills, but I’m very

sure she won’t go for that. Exercise?

“Would you help me? Please?”

She chances taking her eyes off

the highway to give me a concerned

look.
Of course. But why are you

worried about it, all of a sudden?

I can’t tell her it’s about wanting

Chad to like me, but I can admit,

“I want to wear skinny jeans, like

Brianna does. They’re the style.”

Which Somehow Launches Us

Into a whole conversation about

Chad, anyway. It’s like she knew.

I try not to mention too much

about Dad and Cassie, because

I can see how just saying their names

and talking about Dad moving back

to Reno makes her feel bad. I mostly

think it’s awesome because when

I go visit Dad, Chad will be there,

too. And he’s just so cute and he’s

really nice. And he doesn’t have

a girlfriend. I didn’t ask him, of course.

Cassie told me. I thought I was going

to hate her, but she’s pretty sweet.

I don’t mention that, either. “I’m on

a diet as of today. Can we stop at the store

and get healthy food? ’Cause you buy

too much junk food, and you know me.

I can’t say no to chips and soda.

And I really think we ought to go

organic because I read something

about how additives can cause you

to gain weight. . . .” I glance over

at Mom, who’s nodding her head,

but I’m not really sure she’s listening.

I love Mom, but I swear sometimes

she lives on another planet, or maybe

a comet—all ice and gas and deserted

except for her and me. Doesn’t she get

lonely? I mean, I can’t always be there

for her. “Hey, Mom?” I wait for the words

to slice through the silence. “Don’t you ever

get lonely? For a boyfriend, I mean.” After

a long second or two, she responds,

Harley, honey, for the most part men

are more trouble than they’re worth.

Lame

Not only cliché, but it can’t be

the truth, or why would every

girl in the world (okay, except

for lesbians) work so hard

to attract guys? There must be

something
to all the hype.

“But what about sex? Don’t

you like it? Are you . . .”

What’s the word I’m looking

for? The one that means cold?

Oh, yeah. “Are you frigid?”

Ha. That got her attention!

She kind of sputters.
Wha-wha?

Did your father tell you that?

Because I am most definitely

not
frigid, missy! I like sex

just fine, only not with some

selfish prick who is all about

pleasing himself and not worried

at all about satisfying his partner!

Way TMI!

“Whoa! Wait a second, Mom.

Dad never said anything like that.

He doesn’t really talk about you.

I was just wondering. And I’m sort

of worried about you. Pretty much

all you do is work.” Her shoulders

slump and she sighs.
That’s not

exactly true. I go out once in a while.

And I do lots of stuff with you.