THE GIRLS' LOCKER ROOM, at any given time, was my least favourite place in the world.

        I didn't know why, exactly, but something about being in a small, crowded, misty room with thirty female bodies just set me on edge. 

        It might have been the combination of bare, gleaming skin: a glimpse of a tan shoulder, the smooth edge of a backside. And there was just something―something―about a girl's ass that always made my heart pound.

       It wasn't like I was attracted to girls, but―

       "Are you listening to me?" Skylar said.

       "Not even close," I mumbled.

        My first period of the semester: gym. 

        I was really wishing I had chosen a wiser elective. Like poly-science or nutrition or family studies. Anything. Anything would have been better than this.

        "This is the first day of school," I told Skylar. "And it sucks so far."

        "It's not even eleven a.m. yet."

        "That's the biggest problem."

        "Oh, come on," Skylar teased, wringing the water out of her pink-and-purple strands of hair. "What do you have next? Chemistry? History? English?"

        "Math. We should have run away when we had the chance."

        Skylar stood just as the bell rang. The mist was clearing, the soft steamy tendrils swirling through the opened doors. Slowly, steadily, the stream of girls tugged on clothing and made their way into the corridor.

        I could finally breathe.

        It wasn't like I had anything to hide, but . . . 

        "Talia!" Skylar snapped her fingers in front of me. "You are so distracted. I forgot to ask―how did the fake proposal with Aaron go yesterday?"

        "He pretended to be a drug-dealing felon that knocked up my mom," I said. "It was so romantic."

         Skylar giggled. "I am totally going to steal him next time. That sounds better than Cody's stupid ideas."

         "We're definitely going to get into trouble for this one day."

         "Maybe we'll get chased by the police," Skylar said, brown eyes brightening. "And then my morning runs will actually be useful."

         "You run in the morning just so you'll be prepared to run from the police?"

         Skylar held the door open, waiting for me to follow her. We were the last ones out of the changeroom. "Of course I do! Why the fuck else would I put myself through that torture?"

         AARON AND I HAD  been best friends since sixth grade―the first of our self-proclaimed little group―and Skylar had come next. Her parents were rich hippie stoners, and I had loved her from the moment she strutted into Mrs. DeMarco's class and asked, "Edward or Jacob?"

        A few girls had immediately responded. A chorus of Edward's and Jacob's followed the question.

        I was probably the only one who didn't answer. 

        Why would I care about Edward or Jacob from Twilight?  If anything, I much preferred Rosalie Hale. She was a lot more fascinating than either. 

        Skylar's brown eyes had honed in on me.

        And, out of everyone she could have sat next to, she strolled to the seat next to mine. More confident than any sixth grader I had ever met before.

       "We're going to be best friends," she declared.

        I didn't even think to question it.

        Skylar reminded me of a hurricane, in the way that she took what she wanted. She never hesitated, never faltered. And she was always, always, willing to take something by force.

        Once, the four of us had decided to try beer for the first time.

        It was a matter of picking out of a straw.

        Who gets to dress up as the old lady? 

         When Skylar pulled out the shortest straw, there wasn't an ounce of indecision on her face. She swept her pink-and-purple hair over her shoulder and got to work on a full face of wrinkled makeup, complete with an elderly-looking outfit.

         By the time she was done, Skylar looked the part of an old crone.

         And she had proudly hobbled into the liquor store.

         From inside the car, Aaron and Cody and I had watched as she batted her lashes. Seducing the damn manager into giving her beer.

         It worked.

         But Skylar had always been like that. Fearless. 

         Even coming out, she had been unafraid. To announce to the world she was bisexual, she had hung up an enormous banner on the side of the school. Pink. Purple. Blue. I'm Coming Out by Diana Ross was playing through the gym speakers.

       And after six years of being best friends with her?

       That kind of confidence was contagious.

       My math teacher barked, "Decker." 

       It took a moment too long to realize that was my name.

       "Here?" I blurted out automatically.

       We were halfway through the class.

       A few people snickered. As popular as I was with Aaron and Cody and Skylar, I was always felt somehow lesser without them. As though they were the source behind my boldness, and without them I was just . . . me. 

       "I already took attendance," Mr. Cadigan said stiffly. "I asked you a question."

       But I had learned enough from Skylar over the years to not take shit from people. "Then why don't you repeat it if it's obvious I didn't hear?"

       Mr. Cadigan repeated the question.

       The problem was this: every single word that came out of his mouth sounded like a combination of hissing snake noises, lawnmower growls, and pregnant, moaning goats.

       I didn't understand a single thing.

       He might as well have been speaking gibberish.

       Right as I was about to probably tell him I had no idea, his eyes rolled back.

       Great, now he's making fun of me.

       But then he did something that confused me even more than algebra.

       He collapsed.

       "YOUR MATH TEACHER WAS  having a stroke?"

       "Yes," I wailed, burying my head in my arms on the cafeteria table. "I thought maybe the math equation sounded like gibberish because I didn't understand it, but he was actually having a stroke." 

        Skylar pulled up a chair next to the table. "You're an unlucky bitch, you know that?"

        "Come on, don't make her feel bad." Cody's grin was pure evil. "At least you never did have to answer the question?"

        "Man, you are such an asshole," Aaron said.

        I had to admit―as far as friends went, no matter what had happened, Aaron always defended me.

        Still, I threw a French fry at Cody.

        He ducked his head, his black curls sliding over his forehead, framing his dark blue eyes.

        In our group, there were four stereotypes.

        Aaron was the jock―captain of the football team, broad-shouldered, an all-around American smile.

        Skylar was the bitch. A princess with attitude. Nobody had the ability to hurt her, touch her, or break her heart.

        And Cody . . . he was definitely the heartbreaker. Blue eyes, black hair, a lean build, and a smile that could tempt a nun.

        "I can't fucking believe this."

        "What?"

        Aaron growled, "My stupid cousin is moving back to town."

        "Who?" Skylar asked.

        As for me, I wasn't sure where I fit in. Whether I was the stereotypical nerd or the rebel or the recluse. 

        But what did it matter, anyway?

        This was junior fucking year. 

         From pretending to be celebrities to crashing weddings to actually faking a wedding, it was time to bring it on. I was sixteen, I had three crazy friends, and there was nothing stopping us from doing whatever the hell we could think of.

       "Let's make a bucket list," I said suddenly, interrupting Aaron. "But instead of having random things we do before the school year ends, let's dare each other to complete one task before the month ends."

        Aaron started, "But my cousin, M―"

       "Bucket list!" Cody cheered, thumping the table with his fist. "Bucket list! Bucket list!"

       "Let's fucking do it," Skylar said, lighting up. 

        And Aaron, eyes lingering on me, said, "I'm in."

        This is what we came up with:

        1. SEPTEMBER: Kiss a stranger.

        2. OCTOBER: Scare the shit out of someone.

        3. NOVEMBER: Make a public statement.

        4. DECEMBER: Get an awesome fucking gift for Secret Santa.

        5. JANUARY: Find out a secret nobody knows yet.

        6. FEBRUARY: Play a never-ending game of tag.

        7. MARCH: Embarrass yourself in front of the whole school.

        8: APRIL: Win something.

        9. MAY: Make the best promposal ever.

       10. JUNE: End the year with a bang.

       "Done," I said, satisfied. I had just finished writing the word bang.

       "Let's make this our best school year yet," Skylar said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "What do you say?"

        "Fuck it," said Aaron.

        "Fuck this," said Cody.

        "Fuck that," I said.

        "And fuck me," Skylar finished.

        Our little mantra: Fuck it, this, that, and me. 

        "Now, if I have to stomach English with Mrs. O'Hara, I'll die a slow and painful death." Skylar jumped to her feet, full of bright, excitable energy. "And I'm craving ice cream."

        "Hell yeah. We're getting Baskin Robbins!"

        "By haters," Aaron said, "do you mean the school staff who have strictly forbid anyone from leaving the campus during lunch?"

        "Aaron, you are such a goody-two-shoes."

        "Hey, some people have a ten thousand dollar scholarship they can't afford to ditch for," I said. Aaron gave me a grateful smile, and I continued, "But that's not me, so I'm in."

        Aaron rolled his eyes. "You three are idiots."

       "Fully aware," Cody said, saluting. "And the guys and gals love it about me."

        Cody, in case I hadn't mentioned, was also a raging bisexual.

        Skylar dragged me and Cody towards the cafeteria doors, strands of purple hair swirling around her face, and I glanced back one last time at Aaron.

        For a moment, Aaron's words came back to me: My stupid cousin is moving back to town.

        I had no idea who he was talking about, then.

        And for seven more days, I would be completely oblivious to the girl that would ruin my life.

        Ignorance, it turned out, wasn't bliss.

        But it was a lot fucking easier than meeting Monroe Kingston for the second time.

        Skylar was skipping into the school parking lot, Cody was knocking his shoulder against mine, and the rain was beginning to fall―ruining the perfectly straightened hair I had spent an hour on.

        It was the first day of eleventh grade. 

       These four years will pass by so fast, they said. 

       Blink and all of it will be gone, they said.

        I didn't believe it. How could I?

        Every day felt like an eternity, but in the end, I just wish someone would have told me not to blink.

>>>

I hope you're ready for them to meet again...

From the moon and back,
Sarai