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restlessly, itching to get out of bed. “She’s kind of intense, a little critical, but hard-working. She’s smart.” Rachael’s intelligence is the first thing I think of when someone asks me about her. There’s nothing she can’t learn. She used to tutor me in subjects I had a hard time with. She’s the kind of girl who would read up on history before visiting a museum and probably know more than the tour guide once she got there.
    “Is she hot?”
    “She’s beautiful, yeah.”
    “Blond hair?”
    “Black. About Ash’s height, I guess.” I finally look over. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
    He shrugs, dropping his gaze, plucking some lint from the borrowed shirt. “Trying to imagine it.”
    “Imagine…?”
    “She’s this phantom person in my head. I’m trying to picture you with her.”
    Might as well give him warning. “You can meet her. She’s coming out for Christmas.”
    Chance rolls away from me, yanking the covers up to his chin. “That ought to be…interesting.”
    I feel like I’ve missed some vital part of this conversation. But that’s Chance—always more aware of what’s being said and not being said. I almost apologize to him again and bite my tongue. Better to let it go. Give him some time to get over whatever it is that’s bothering him. So I settle beside him, the TV flickering quietly, the stars shining from the ceiling, and nothing but an inch of space separating Chance’s body from mine.

December

Ashlin
    Mom hardly believes me when I tell her I got a job.
    “Why would you do that?” she asks on the phone, completely bewildered. “I’ve been putting money in your account. Your father isn’t blowing it on booze, is he? I swear to God, if he is…”
    I roll my eyes, contemplating the merits of hanging up on her. It’s like this every time we talk. She hates that I’m out here. Can’t seem to accept that Dad does the best he can with us. He always has. I think she’s waiting for Dad to mess up with me because he did with her and Hunter’s mom.
    “Dad doesn’t drink, Mom. And I doubt he realizes you give me money.”
    “ Oh, great! So he thinks I’m some deadbeat parent not taking care of my girl—”
    “Breakfast is ready, and Hunt is waiting for me. Love you. Bye.” She’s still going on when I hang up the phone.
    I’m offended she doesn’t think I’m capable of holding down work. It isn’t like I’ve never tried before—just never needed to. Hunter has had a bunch of part-time jobs over the years, but he and his mom aren’t as well off as me and mine. Dad always sent child-support, but if anyone has spent anyone’s money on booze, it’s probably Carol’s boyfriend, Bob.
    Hunter is waiting for me downstairs. I started at the bookstore the first week of December, and Hunt landed a job a few blocks away stocking shelves at a grocery store, so it’s convenient for us to ride together.
    Chance wasn’t happy about this. He made a lot of faces at the idea of us having so much of our free time monopolized, even though we pointed out the extra cash would let us take more trips farther from town, which we’ve already explored from top to bottom. He wasn’t at all pacified—not until he realized he could hang around the bookstore all day and read while I worked the counter.
    Sometimes, he comes up to ask me and the other girls questions—”Where can I find self-help books on male pregnancy?” “Where do you keep the dirty magazines?” “I’m looking for a copy of the bible. Where’s your nonfiction area?”—just to see how far he can push my coworkers. Thank God they got used to him quickly.
    Dad, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled we took the initiative and are doing something productive with our time. Even if this year was meant to be our “time off” before settling on colleges, I know he thinks it’s wasted lying around the house all day. Which is why he beams at me when I come downstairs, already done with his own