Tilt (25 page)

“Sorry about you and Em,” I say.

“I never thought you’d break up.”

He turns onto his side, leans up

slightly over me.
Like they say, shit

happens. Anyway, you can’t keep

someone who doesn’t want to stay.

I Consider That

Disagree. I’d fight to keep Dylan.

But I probably shouldn’t say so.

“I guess not. So, how are you

and Caitlin doing?” I suspect

his answer before he tells me,

There is no me and Caitlin.

I’m flying solo for now. How

about you and Dylan? Last time

I saw him he was griping about

you being so unavailable.

I sit up. “Really? When did you

see him?” Ty sits up, too, looks me

in the eye.
A couple of nights

ago, at Kristy Lopez’s party.

Kristy Lopez is Dylan’s old girl-

friend. And wait just one damn

second. “Dylan went to a party

without me?” No way. He wouldn’t.

That was my very first question

when I saw him—where’s Mikki?

He said you were on house arrest.

Again. And that he wasn’t going

to sit at home alone anymore,

waiting for your tight-ass parents

to let you off restriction while

the summer kept ticking away.

Of course, he was pretty buzzed

by then. All worked up, really.

Of course he was. I can’t believe

he’d go out without me. That’s bad.

What’s really bad is partying

at Kristy’s. That is unforgivable.

I’m Not Really the Jealous Type

But right this second, the evil

buzz inside my brain is a hive

of tiny green-eyed monsters

hissing
Kristy, Kristy, Kristy.

Stop it, Mikayla. Dylan would

never cheat on you. Not with

Kristy, or anyone else. But

why did he go to that party?

Tyler must have noticed how

my face flushed, even though

I’m solidly in the shade.
Sorry.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.

“No. It’s okay. Dylan should

have told me, is all.” Why hadn’t

he? The answer is ridiculously

obvious. He didn’t want me to know.

Which makes me wonder what

else he’s hiding. Before I can consider

it more, the guy in question squeals

into a parking space right in front of us.

Dylan

Uh, Question

What the fuck is Tyler doing

here, sitting so close to Mikki?

A big ol’ switchblade of

jealousy

takes a stab at me. He doesn’t

think I see the way he looks

at her, but I don’t miss a thing,

and

there is always a blink of longing

in his eyes, friend of mine or no.

Then again, it’s possible

guilt

is at play here. The other night,

Kristy flirted mercilessly and I

didn’t exactly chase her away. What

could

that mean? Nothing. That’s what.

One glimpse of my Mik, and

I know my heart could never

be linked

with anyone’s but hers. But now I see

the look on her face. What did he tell

her? How much does she know?

Shane

Distraction

Is not what I need right now.

Alex is letting me drive his car.

I need to practice parallel parking.

Once I get this down, all I have

to do is talk Dad into going to the

DMV with me. “All” I have to do.

“Stop talking to me for a minute,

okay? You’re distracting me, and—”

Bump!
The back tire finds the curb.

Alex laughs.
Sorry. Try again,

and cut the wheel a little harder.

Then I want to hear about the concert.

I pull forward and even with

the Prius parked in front of

the space I’m aiming for. And just

as I start to turn the steering wheel,

Alex says,
By the way. Have I told

you that little scar on your lip is hot?

“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll

never get this right. Do I have

to make you get out of the car?”

Ooh. Survive one little fight,

and now you’re a tough guy?

Cool. I kind of like tough guys.

That cracks me up completely.

But somehow I manage to slide

in next to the curb, pretty much

spot on. “Let me try a couple

more times. In silence, okay?”

I kind of get the hang of it before

putting the Honda in drive and

aiming it toward the freeway.

I want to practice merging, too.

And once I do, Alex reminds me,

Now can I hear about Bob Dylan?

He’s kinda getting up there, isn’t he?

So Is His Audience

At least, some of them. “The concert

was pretty great, really. More for

entertainment value than the music.

There were, like, hundreds of old hippies. . . .”

Including my gram and gramps, but he

already knows that. “I mean, like, guys

with long, gray hair and beards, smoking

weed. It was weird.” I’m pretty sure Gramps

took a hit or two off a blunt going

around, although he tried to hide it

from Harley and me. I don’t share that,

either. “And then Dylan comes onstage,

and his voice is all scratchy and everything.

This one obnoxious drunk dude sitting in

front of me kept yelling, ‘That’s not Bob