What We Knew Read Online Free Page B

trudged on. I hate sun. It gives me a headache. And Lisa was wearing too much concealer. It made her hard to look at. I told her her face looked orange.
    “You’re in a mood today,” she said. “You’re being weird. Bitchy weird. What’s wrong?”
    The hiss of air brakes made me jump. The Route 5 on its way to the mall. The driver waved. I waved back. Marty. He’s one of the good ones. He’s always been nice to my mom, not like some of the other guys who gave her a hard time after she got promoted to supervisor. My dad used to work for the bus company, too, as the head of maintenance, until he had his meltdown. The last I heard, he was working as a night security guard in some office building downtown.
    “Are we going to Trent’s tonight?” I asked.
    “Yeah, I guess. Gabe’s off at four.”
    “Did you tell him you lost your necklace?”
    We sidestepped a broken bottle and hurried past the sleazy bar with the blackened windows. I hate the blocks between Brandywine and Sumner. It’s this pocket of sadness in the middle of our neighborhood. My mom said it’s spreading from downtown, that it used to be different. Now even the stores are depressing: payday loans and pit bull breeding and rent-to-own furniture. A couple of girls on bikes went by. Katie waved, but they ignored her. When we reached Pinewood, we crossed the street out of habit. It had been a long time since we’d been this aware of the woods. I shivered despite the heat. The three of us kept our eyes on the sidewalk. No one said anything. Lisa and I were kids again, holding our breath to pass a cemetery. And then a horn honked, breaking the spell. Rachel in her fumy hatchback.
    “Where you headed?” she asked.
    Lisa pointed to the sign for Hillhurst Park and said, “Pool.”
    “You and Trent patch things up?” I asked. Not that I cared. I just wanted Lisa to squirm.
    Rachel lowered her stereo. “Yeah, we’re fine. It was nothing.”
    “See?” I said, nudging Lisa with my elbow. “I told you it wasn’t serious.”
    Lisa whacked me with her bag, and I wheeled on her. “Bug,” she said flatly. “Got it.”
    “I’ll catch you tonight at Trent’s,” Rachel said.
    “Yeah,” I said, rubbing my arm. “See you later.”
    Lisa smiled uneasily. “Later.”
    All three of us clutched our ears as Rachel peeled away from the curb. Two months and she still hadn’t mastered stick shift. Katie lowered her hands to her hips and threw us a suspicious squint.
    “Why are you guys fighting?” she asked.
    “We’re not fighting,” I said.
    Shrugging, she snapped her gum and marched on.
    Lisa’s breath on my neck made me shudder. “It was a mistake,” she hissed. “Wait till you slip up, Kolcun.”
    My mom calls the pool at Hillhurst the Polio Pit—whatever that means. It’s not like a real pool, with diving boards and slides and ladders for getting in and out. It’s more like a pond with a concrete bottom. Chlorinated or not, it’s kind of scuzzy and today it was crawling with kids. Lisa and I claimed a spot in the grass, away from the mothers with their screechy voices. Katie whipped off her cover-up immediately. I hate feeling like everyone’s watching you undress, even if they’re not. Lisa held up a towel to hide me while I stripped, then slathered her sister with triple-digit SPF. I’m all about the tanning butter. I like my ghostly skin, but I also like how I look after a week at the pool, especially my legs.
    We watched Katie splash around for a while and then dug through our bags for our phones. Lisa cursed. She’d left hers charging on her desk. I stuck one of my buds in her ear as a peace offering, but she plucked it out and handed it back. It was going to be one of those days, the kind where the two of us are completely out of sync. It’s better to ignore each other. I put on the playlist Adam made me and stretched out on a towel, closing my eyes. The first song was all tribal drums and jangly guitars. I fell asleep before it