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summer would be enough time for her to figure him out. One summer. It was all she had.

Seven

    B Y THE END of the day, Anne realized Maggie hadn’t exaggerated about how tired she’d be. She stifled a yawn at the dinner table. “Maybe you’re overdoing the outdoors routine,” her father suggested anxiously. “Maybe you should take it easy, rest more.”
    Anne didn’t bother to argue with him. “What do you know about the outdoors? While the rest of us went on a trail ride, you sat in the cabin with your eyes glued to your computer screen.”
    “I’m doing a paper for a journal on medieval lifestyles. I have a deadline to meet,” he said. “I’m sure there’ll be another ride tomorrow.”
    “Will you make that one?”
    “Would you miss me if I skipped it?”
    Anne hugged him to answer.
    That night, when everyone settled around a largecampfire to hear a cowboy tell tall tales, Marti slipped in beside Anne. “Having fun?” she asked.
    “Yes, but I ache all over.”
    “That’s normal. After my first day on a horse, my buns were so sore, I could hardly stand.”
    Anne smiled. She didn’t say that she’d ridden often in Central Park on horses she rented. Of course, at the time, she’d ridden hunt seat on English-style saddles, which was different from the wider western saddle style, but the same part of her anatomy was involved. “I enjoyed the trail ride,” Anne said. “I wish you could have come along.”
    Marti picked up a stick and drew circles in the dirt. “Skip wants me to ride out somewhere with him and have a picnic.”
    “You don’t sound very enthusiastic. I’ve seen Skip—he’s cute.”
    “I don’t think I should.”
    “Why not?”
    “Actually, I think Skip’s cute, too, and he’s really nice to me. But if I really love Peter, then I shouldn’t be attracted to Skip, should I?”
    Anne watched Marti nibble nervously on her lower lip. “Why not? You’re not engaged to Peter, and you think he might date other girls this summer. Why shouldn’t you date Skip? Isn’t this one of the reasons you’re out here—to see if your relationship with Peter is the real thing? I mean, if he loves you, and you love him, then dating others shouldn’t make a difference in your feelings toward each other, should it?”
    Marti was looking at her, wide-eyed. “What you’re saying makes sense. I like Skip as a companion. I’dlike to get to have some fun. It’s nothing serious. Plain fun.” She perked up. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come along on the picnic?”
    “I’m certain Skip wants me as a chaperon!”
    “No, no, silly. His friend, Morgan, can come too.”
    “Oh, I don’t think—”
    “You could do worse than Morgan.” Marti batted her dark lashes as she pleaded with Anne. “As a favor for your
amiga
. That’s me. Your friend.
Por favor?”
    Anne giggled. It was hard to say no to Marti. Anne couldn’t deny that she was drawn to the idea of spending time with Morgan. She wanted so much to have a good time, but she felt as if she were trying to live two lives. One, as a regular sixteen-year-old. The other, as a sixteen-year-old stricken with HIV, who had nothing in front of her but a lingering death once full-blown AIDS hit. How could she make it with so much bottled up inside her? With no one to talk to? Is that what JWC had meant by saying,
“I hoped for a miracle, but most of all I hoped for someone to truly understand what I was going through.”
    “Are you okay?” Marti asked. “You checked out on me for a minute.”
    “Sorry. All this talk about romance made me hyperventilate,” she quipped, to hide what she couldn’t reveal. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control now.”
    Marti burst out laughing. “Anne, you’re so funny! I’ll bet you’re the life of the party at your school.”
    “That’s me—party girl.”
    “Then it’s settled,” Marti said. “I’ll tell Skip you’re coming on our picnic, and he’ll tell Morgan. We’regoing to have