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Not the same thing, but who knows that when they’re nineteen?
    Okay, maybe some people, but not Vivi. She was too busy being blinded by his glow.
    John Tyler was sweet. Old fashioned. He liked holding hands and cuddling. He wanted to wait and she wanted to not wait.
    Exhibit A (also known as Melissa Jane Tyler) proves that John eventually caved, and caved, and caved.
    And caved.
    John liked caving when there was a gallon of beer involved.
    So, John was drunk and she was sober enough to realize somewhere along the way his dick shed the condom.
    The doctor said, “No,” to emergency contraception. Didn’t consider college girls having accidents a bona fide emergency. Said, “Come back if you miss your period.”
    Four weeks later, the same doctor said, “You’ve got three choices . . .”
    Not one of them involved the doctor paying for the cost of raising a child, or stepping into a time machine so he could scribble UNDO on that prescription pad.
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    E leni said : “I will kill you.”
    No one abuses the power of an empty threat like Eleni Pappas.

7
    Melissa
    O kay , so Melissa’s not totally naïve. She’s seen gay porn on the Internet and she knows what men do together. She can totally deal with it. That kiss is the problem. Even if she keeps her eyes open, that kiss is seared onto her corneas.
    And . . .
    Josh Cartwright was right.
    Which totally sucks.
    Dad’s really gay, and everyone at school knows it. Yesterday, Josh brushed past her and whispered, “Your dad sucks balls,” with a big smirk on his stupid face. Tonya told him to screw himself, but guys do that all the time anyway, so it was a wasted opportunity to really zing Josh.
    Afterward, she hid in the library. It's not that Melissa doesn’t appreciate Tonya standing up for her, but it would be so much better if no one knew; she could pretend things were totally normal.
    “You okay there, Honey?”
    Is Mom high? No, she’s not okay. She’s not even in the same dictionary as okay.
    They’re on their way to Grams’ and Grampy’s house for dinner. Mom is smiling, but it makes her look crazy, not happy. Grams is going to know Mom has lost it. Grams can sniff out insanity from a mile away. Uncle Chris says crazy people know their own kind.
    Fine,” she says.
    Melissa sounds empty, like a missing person. Looks crazy (lots of that going around) sitting there wrapped around her backpack, staring at the great suburban nothing on the other side of the glass. Her fingernails are biting into her palms. Yeah, it hurts, but in a good way. Her hand is the only part of her that feels alive.
    “Don't worry about the dragon. Let me handle her.”
    Mom thinks she’s worried about Grams? Not even. She shrugs. Says, “Fine, whatever,” and Mom goes back to smiling at the road.
    Grams and Grampy live in the same house they’ve always lived in, from before Mom and Uncle Chris were even born. Years ago, Dad tried to sell them another one, and Grams told him the bones of her enemies were buried under this house. Dad was like, “Oooookay . . .” He quit asking in case it was true.
    Too cold now, but in spring and summer her grandparents sit outside on the covered porch, drinking doll-sized cups of muddy coffee, while they watch the neighbors and mind everyone else's business. Melissa has seen the world from their porch, and mostly it consists of old people hunched over walkers, or kids her age practically making out in the street. Grams always yells, “Just you wait, I'm going to tell your mother she raised a whore!” And Grampy always says, “Eleni, let them be young, eh? Remember when we used to be young?” And then Grams says, “I am still young, but in an old woman’s body.”
    The front door flies open before the car stops. Grams is there with a smile for Melissa and a mouthful of “I told you so” for Mom.
    “Don’t even say it,” Mom says.
    Grams gives her a dark look. “Too late, I already said it. And I will say it again, soon.” She turns