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cigarette when I first stepped into the night. That is my last impression of Jeff Nichols—the side of his rugged face in die orange flare of a wooden match.
    He wasn't particularly handsome. He had none of the warmth and humor in his face that his older brother had had. His bone structure was not well defined, and he didn't have to narrow his eyes for you to feel he might be angry. Still, you had to look at him. He had magnetism, buried deep, perhaps, and probably rusty, but pulling hard. He was unlike most of my friends—he didn't give a damn what anyone thought of him.

    We'd only talked a few times at school, although we shared a couple of classes.

    Sometimes it seemed to me that he purposely avoided me.

    "I hope I'm not disturbing you?" I asked.

    He glanced over, waved out his match, and took a drag on his cigarette. "No."

    I went and stood with my hands resting on the smooth sanded railing, six feet from Jeff.
    The view of the ocean at night was nothing—all flat, black, and depressing. It depressed me then, that's for sure. Or maybe it was the faint sounds of splashing and giggling I could hear coming from the far side of the complex.

    Jeff seemed kind of down, too. I wondered if he was remembering Peter. He wasn't saying anything, and I felt I had to speak.

    "It's a nice night," I remarked. It was essentially warm, with layers of cool, damp air drifting up to the balcony—not unusual for that close to the sea.

    "It's all right."

    "Am I bothering you?"

    He shrugged. "I'll probably be going home soon."

    "Before Beth gets back?"

    "Maybe."

    "Jeff?"

    "What?"

    "Nothing. I just wanted to, you know ... say something."

    That was clever. What I wanted to say was that he shouldn't be with a girl who would put specimen jars in with her crystal collection and that I missed his brother, too. Jeff had idolized Peter, the way Peter could stand on die mound and make another team's hitters jittery just by the way he chewed his bubble gum. Peter had been funny but cool, without having to act it.

    "I wish I'd brought my suit," I said. When he didn't respond, I added, "I wish Dan had told me we'd be swimming."

    "Maybe he forgot."

    I may have imagined it, but his reply seemed to contain a note of sarcasm.

    "You two don't know each other very well, do you?" I asked.

    "No."

    "That's too bad."

    He peered over at me. Neither the lights in the kitchen nor those in Beth's bedroom were on. I couldn't see his eyes; nevertheless, I shifted uneasily. "For whom?" he asked.

    "For the two of you. I mean— What do you mean?"

    Jeff looked back toward the ocean, took another drag off his cigarette. "Never mind, Shari."

    I moved a step closer to him. "You don't like Dan, do you?"

    "Why ask?"

    "Come on, Jeff."

    "Dan, he's OK." He shrugged again. "If you like assholes."

    I did not appreciate the remark. Yet I think it disturbed me mainly because it reflected on me as Daniel's girlfriend.

    "'re the asshole," I said, deciding that any sympathy I might have felt for him had been misdirected.

    "I suppose."

    "What's your problem?"

    "I don't have any problems."

    "You've got an asshole for a girlfriend."

    It was not a particularly nice thing for a sweet little girl like me to say, I admit.

    I half expected him to throw down his cigarette and walk away. Yet his upper lip curled into a slow smile beneath the glow of his cigarette. "She's not that bad.

    She's too good for him."

    "For who?"

    He shook his head, and now he turned to leave. "Nothing."

    I hate it when people start to tell me something that I will hate and stop right in the middle. That's my only excuse for saying what I did next. It was cruel.

    "You know, Jeff, you're such a shallow jerk compared to your brother."

    He stopped suddenly, and I wished I could have reached out and retrieved my words.
    Like in the car with Dan on the way to the party, I only had to look at the back of his neck to feel the bad vibes. He turned slowly, though, casually raising his