Even though it is nice talking and joking with the guys on my team, I keep thinking about her. I haven't seen her since we first got here, and it's after nine.

"Anybody seen Cassie Willows?" I ask.

Ellison shrugs, but I watch as a couple of guys look at each other, then at the house. To be more specific, they look at the upstairs of the house.

"Naw, haven't seen her," came the weak reply.

"Well, we came together, but she disappeared."

One burly senior, Dave Ogburn, puts a brotherly arm across my shoulder. "Word of advice, French. Girls like her ain't worth your while."

"Okay," I say.

"No, man, you need to cut your losses."

I glance up at the second floor of the house. I'm guessing she's up there. I'm guessing she's with Boyd. But ten o'clock is approaching fast, and like Cinderella, I got to get my tail home. "I gotta hit the john," I say.

The house is packed. People are wall to wall. They are on the stairs, the furniture, every where. I squeeze between them, cut through clusters of people, and make my way upstairs. The line for the upstairs hall bathroom is trickling down the steps. As big as this house is, I'm going out on a limb and guess there is another bathroom up here somewhere. Coming around the corner, I see a door, probably leading into the master bedroom. This is something I normally wouldn't do. I try to stay out of parents' bedrooms, but I really have to pee.

The door is shut and the lights are off, so I test the knob. It turns, and I slip inside. Nobody sees me. The sliding glass doors are open and I can hear the deafening and distorted music coming through. I can hear something else, voices, a girl and a guy. She is giggling, "...and he just doesn't have a clue."

I hear him laugh that pompous, selfish laugh. "Thank God, he doesn't. I don't have a way to get you home." It's Boyd.

My heart sinks. They're talking about me. Not just talking about me, they're laughing at me. I've been such a fool. Even as I stood down there with the guys, I was thinking that maybe on the way home, things would work themselves out.

Then his voice changes. It goes deep and husky. "Come here, my sweet little jail bait."

The music stops, at least for me. I can hear nothing but the sounds of them as they stumble back into the room. Their limbs tangle in a drunken, passionate embrace. Neither of them see me as I stand pressed against the door. In the darkness I hear as he fumbles with his zipper and she moans.

I can't stand this. I have to get out. Throwing open the door I run down the hall. The last thing I hear as I take off is Cassie.

"Who was that?"

Boyd kicks at the door with his foot. "Who cares?"





I've never felt so stupid. Everybody told me to stay away from her. But I didn't listen. Everything she said to me was a lie. I stole my father's truck...for her. I broke a trust with him, for a girl who, I now know, wouldn't spit on me if I was on fire.

Fumbling for my keys, I run out the front door, and hurry to the truck. As I get close, I can see someone's long legs sticking off the back of it. I'm in no mood for this right now.

"Hey, get off my truck," I say, angrily slapping the passenger door with my open palm.

The legs shift but whoever is sitting there doesn't jump up like I they thought they would.

"Hey! I said get the hell off my truck." I stalk back there, ready to confront them.

But when I get back there, it's my father's eyes I'm staring into.

"Keys," he says. His voice is controlled, but I can see the lava behind his eyes.

"How'd you know-."

"Keys!" he shouts.

I hand them over.

"Get your lying ass in the cab."

White hot panic is gurgling in my throat. "Dad, can I explain?"

"No!"

He'll calm down, I tell myself. By the time we get to the house, he'll have calmed down. But even as I assure myself of this, I remember who my father is. I have always lived with the understanding that there is a line you don't cross with Dean French.

Now as I stand on the other side of the line, I know things have changed forever between he and I.