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fun.”
    “But would Maddie like that?”
    “Are you actually asking me if she'd like it? Is Mr. Insatiable going soft?”
    “Fuck off.” I laugh. “I don't get this dating thing and you know it. Help me out here.”
    “Are you dating her to get in her pants, Bray?” She asks the question so fast I double-take.
    Yes. “No. Why would you ask that?”
    “Maybe I'm having a hard time believing you actually like her and want more than sex.”
    That's because you're right. “I like her, Meggy. She's beautiful and smart and funny-”
    “And you sound like a robot.”
    “I'm trying here.”
    “You've always been trying, Bray. So what are you gonna do?”
    I sigh. “Bowling, walk on the beach, then if she wants we can head back here for the party.”
    “Sounds good. Bye now.” She hangs up, the call clicking off in my ear. I sometimes wonder if I'd kill her if she wasn't like my little sister.
    I dial up the bowling alley and ask for a lane for two on Friday night. The girl at the other end of the phone giggles when I give her my name, and I exhale slowly. Sometimes - and I'd never tell anyone this - the fawning girls gets a little old. I book the alley and hang up pronto.
    I chuck my cell down, shut the laptop, and lean my head back against the wall. Date two? Sorted.
     

Chapter Nine - Maddie
     
    I stare at my phone in disbelief. I left Brooklyn six weeks ago and now, only now, has my brother, Pearce, remembered me. This text message is the first time we've spoken since I came to Berkeley. Well, the first time he's spoken. I sent a text message when I got here to let him know I was safe, and then that was it. Until today.
    I look again at my phone. I don't know why I expected any different from him. He would only get in contact if and when he wanted something. And like usual, it's money. I don't want to know what he wants it for, but judging by the fact he's asked for eight hundred dollars, I'd say its rent. All because his arrogant, selfish ass can't hold down a job long enough to support our suicidal father.
    I rub my forehead and try to block out the memories, telling Pearce I'll call up the bank and wire the money to Dad's account. Not that it makes a difference. Pearce will use it on what he wants anyway, thinking of Dad second.
    A wave of guilt crashes into me for leaving Dad, but I remind myself it's what he wanted, what she would have wanted for me. Pearce has always been too self-absorbed to make something of his life. I got the brains, and that's why she saved the money for me to access when I turned eighteen.
    My college fund, she called it one day. Said she'd been saving since she knew I was coming, that she wanted me to have a good life. She'd been saving for Pearce too, but he bought a car and god knows what else. She'd be ashamed if she could see him now. She'd be so mad.
    I squeeze my eyes shut, banishing those thoughts from my mind. Three years and the wound is still too fresh, too raw. The pain still trickles out the way blood trickles from a paper cut, but it's bearable. It's just a part of my life. Another part that I should have left behind when I left Brooklyn. But, like all good tragedies do, it's followed me.
    I decide to skip out on going to the library for my free period, instead choosing to work from the safe bubble of my dorm. Plus, going to the library means bumping into Braden.
    The Californian equivalent of my brother.
    My thoughts fall to our 'date' tomorrow night. He must want in my pants really badly if he's still waiting. Usually he'll hang for half an hour - if you show your interest, good. If not, he's onto the next. Yep, you can't deny he doesn't mess around when it comes to his sex life. In fact, a part of me almost respects him for going after what he wants.
    A part the size of my baby toe. The rest of me still thinks he's a pig.
    I wonder what Mom would think if she knew I was doing this challenge. As an independent, strong woman, she'd probably be a little proud that I'm