Wes pushes me onto the bed. The sheets are cold against my skin. Wes climbs on top of me, still dressed, and kisses my neck. I pull his shirt free of his pants and fumble with the buttons. Wes' hands move to his belt. I hear his zipper slide down. I close my eyes, as his lips return to my neck, then travel along my collarbone, and down to my breasts. I inhale, sharply. Dear Lord. I can hardly believe what I'm about to do.

Wes' kisses stop. "I have to get something," he says and rolls off of me. I half-sit up and watch him run to the bathroom, half-hopping as he attempts to pull off his socks. Socks discarded, he returns in only a pair of dark gray boxer briefs. He's holding the box of condoms. He shows them to me when he gets back on the bed. "I'm allergic to latex," he explains. "Is lambskin okay?"

"I don't care what you use," I reply, almost impatiently. I lean back on my elbows, watching him. "Lay on top of me," I command, although it comes out pleading. I sound pitiful.

But Wes obeys, climbing back on top of me. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close, his weight pinning me down. I feel safe. Protected. I press my lips to his neck.

"Should I turn out the lights?" Wes asks, softly.

"No. I want to see how much you love me," I reply, then whisper in his ear, "I love you, Wes. I'm going to prove how much I love you."

Wes doesn't answer right away. His hand caresses my left breast, but drops suddenly. "I can't do this," Wes says, pushing up off of me.

"What's wrong?"

"You're upset," Wes says, moving to the other side of the bed. "This isn't right."

I sit up and cover my breasts. "Why are you rejecting me?" I demand.

"I'm not rejecting you!"

"Then why won't you make love to me? That's why we're here! That's why you rented this hotel room! I'm ready. I want you to make love to me. Right now. You said you love me!"

"I do! That's why I can't do this. You're upset about your father. I don't...I don't think you're thinking rationally and I won't take advantage of that," Wes says. He reaches out and touches my shoulder. "I don't want our first time to be like this."

I push his hand away. "This is because I'm a virgin," I snap, sliding off the bed, still holding my hands over my breasts. "I'm not a child. Don't tell me what I want and don't want." I pick my nightgown up from the ground and pull it over my head. "My father has nothing to do with us. Why are you backing out? You're supposed to love me!"

"Whether or not I love you has nothing to do with it, Shannon. You are obviously not all right because you're acting like a lunatic!"

A lunatic! A lunatic! I'll show him a lunatic. I grab a vase of pink peonies from the table and hurl them at his head. I miss and the vase shatters against the wall. Wes looks stunned. I turn and storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. On the other side of the door, the telephone rings. Certainly the front desk. Certainly the other guests have complained. I don't listen to what Wes tells them. Instead, I lean forward on the counter, staring down into the sink. Tears fight behind my eyes, but I hold them back. I fight harder. I breathe deeply. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Wes is right. I'm acting like a lunatic. I'm acting like a child. I need to regain control. I never should have lost it. This isn't like me. I never show too much. I snap my nightgown closed. Tonight was supposed to be special. Wes is supposed to love me. All I want is to be loved.

When I come out of the bathroom, Wes is sitting on the bed, dressed, putting on his shoes. He's leaving. He's leaving me.

"I'm sorry, Wes," I tell him, quietly. "I'm so sorry. Please don't go. Please don't leave me."

Wes doesn't look up. "I'm going out for coffee. You need some time to calm down."

"I'm calm," I insist. "I'm so sorry. I'll pay for the vase, of course."

Wes stands up, finally looking at me. "Don't worry about the vase. I'll give you some time to yourself. We'll talk when I get back. I'll bring you something, uh, decaffeinated." Wes opens the door. He leaves me.

I stand in the room, alone, abandoned. I wrap my arms around myself and stare for a very long time at my reflection in the mirror. Then I hang up my coat. And hang up my dress. I straighten the rumpled comforter and sheets. Wes has already thrown the peonies and the broken ceramic in the wastebasket. There's nothing else for me to do. I'm not sure what Wes expects. I won't be a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor when he returns. I sit down in an armchair, tuck my legs underneath me, and wait.

Wes returns twenty minutes later. I'm still sitting in the armchair. I haven't moved, not even an inch.

Wes hands me a paper cup. "It's peppermint tea. The girl said it would help you sleep."

I take the cup. "Thank you, Wes," I say. I sip the tea. It's strong.

Wes perches on the edge of the bed. He's holding a huge cup of coffee. He drinks way too much coffee. Now isn't the time to point that out though. "Are you all right now?" Wes asks a bit cautiously.

I was all right before he left. But I don't point that out either. "Yes," I tell him. "I feel much better. I am sorry about earlier, Wes. I shouldn't have acted like that. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course," Wes says. "You were upset. I never should have...let things progress so far. I was being selfish. Do you want to talk? About what happened with your dad? That must have been a shock."

I shake my head. I'm not wasting any more thoughts or anger on my father. He doesn't deserve anything from me, not even rage. I set down my tea and rise from the armchair, crossing to Wes. I wrap my arms around his waist, lift on my toes to kiss him softly on the mouth. I'm not used to kissing him in bare feet. "Thank you for forgiving me," I say. "Do you want to try again?"

Wes hesitates. "Uh...I don't think so. I still wouldn't feel right."

I drop my arms and step back, brushing some hair from my face. "Maybe in the morning then," I reply, masking the hurt in my voice. Is there something wrong with me? He wanted me an hour ago. I saw it in his eyes. I felt his erection.

"Maybe," Wes says with enough hesitation that I know he doesn't mean it. "Or maybe...we'll wait until we get back to Stoneybrook."

I walk around to my side of the bed and shrug. "There's nothing special about Stoneybrook," I tell him, sliding underneath the comforter.

"Being with you will be special enough."

I roll over onto my side and don't answer. I listen to Wes change out of his clothes, then he goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth. A couple minutes later, the lights go out and Wes climbs into bed with me. He moves close, sliding an arm over me, lightly brushing my breasts with his hand. Then his hand settles against my stomach. It's not long before he's asleep. I don't sleep at all.

Wes and I don't talk much in the morning. We don't talk much on the drive back to Stoneybrook either. Wes turns the radio up to fill the silence while I stare out the window, watching as we zoom passed buildings and trees and other cars. Wes doesn't sing to me. He isn't cold or rude, but he isn't his usual self either. He doesn't smile or touch my leg. I've ruined everything. This is what comes from showing too much, revealing too much of what I bury deep inside. I dropped my guard for an instant and it all came pouring out.

When Wes pulls into my driveway, I check the neighborhood, discreetly. I know Mom is in Chicago and Tiffany is at work. Dad's probably with his hooker. Maria's not around. Yesterday, Mr. Papadakis mentioned miniature golfing at the indoor course in Mercer. I only have to worry about Abby and Kristy. Their yards are deserted.

Wes takes my suitcase from the trunk as I retrieve my garment bag from the backseat. We don't say anything as we walk up the drive. I turn my key in the lock and lead Wes into the foyer, flicking on the light as I enter. It seems much longer than twenty-four hours ago that I left here, nervous and excited about not returning a virgin. And here I am, the same Shannon, only slightly more damaged.

"Would you like me to carry this up to your room?" Wes asks, still holding my suitcase.

I shake my head. "No, that's okay. It isn't very heavy," I reply.

Wes sets the suitcase at the foot of the stairs. "All right then. I guess I should go." He leans in and kisses me lightly. "I'll call you later."

I nod, wondering if he will.

I watch him drive away from the dining room window. As soon as he disappears down McLelland, my phone rings upstairs. I don't want to talk to anyone. But nevertheless, I rush up the stairs, two at a time, and answer.

"Who was that man?" Kristy demands when I pick up.

Cold dread washes over me. Kristy's been watching me from her window again. "Were you spying on me?" I ask.

"No! I'm at my desk doing homework. I told you before, I can see your house from here. Who was that?"

I pause, thinking quickly. "That was Allie's older brother," I lie. Allie is a junior in my European history class. "He picked us up at the train station. He dropped me off last."

"Why did he go inside?"

"He was thirsty."

"Where was Allie?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

Kristy pauses. "No. Sorry. What are you doing now? Come over."

Is she serious? "I just walked in the door, Kristy," I reply, exasperated. She knows that. She was watching me. "I've had a horrible weekend. I want to take a nap." I want to curl up and die.

Kristy is undeterred. "You can nap later. I have so much to tell you! I have a ton of new ideas for the Smart and Sober club. I've been outlining them all morning. Guess what? Stacey McGill almost killed Cokie Mason last night!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Come over and I'll tell you!"

I sigh. Very heavily so Kristy hears. Not that it will matter to her. Maybe this is what I need. I can throw myself into working on Kristy's ideas and then I won't think about Wes and I. I can forget, push everything aside. "All right. I'll be over in a few minutes," I tell Kristy.

Kristy's waiting at the front door when I reach her house. I notice Charlie's car parked in the driveway. Kristy never said anything about him coming home this weekend.

"What's Charlie doing here?" I ask Kristy.

"I told you, Stacey almost killed Cokie. Charlie drove Rick into town this morning."

"I thought you were joking."

Kristy shakes her head as we start up the stairs. "Nope," she replies. "Stacey threw some wild party while her mom was out of town. Cokie drank too much. Alcohol poisoning. I don't know all the details. Mary Anne called this morning, but I couldn't understand everything she said. She was pretty mad about something. Then her dad yelled at her to get off the phone. I called Claudia, but she had a hangover and couldn't talk." Kristy glances back at me and sighs. "I don't know what's become of the BSC. I thought Mary Anne and Stacey at least had some sense, even if Claudia, Mal, Jessi, and Dawn are complete disasters. I guess it's just you and me, Shannon, the only normal ones left."

I bite my lip as I sit down on Kristy's bed. I wouldn't exactly call Kristy normal and as for me...I can't even ponder what Kristy would say about Wes and I. "So, is Cokie okay?" I ask.

Kristy shuts the door and shrugs. "I don't know. I guess she's in a coma. Charlie stayed at the hospital awhile with Rick, who's really upset. And I guess her parents are hysterical. Of course." Kristy shrugs again. "She'll be okay, I think," Kristy assures me. She picks up a stack of folders and papers from her desk and carries them to me. "But some good can come of this. Maybe now kids will take us seriously. I've been putting together a new presentation on alcohol poisoning. I'm going to call the SHS principal tomorrow to discuss our presenting there."

"This is good, Kristy," I tell her, flipping through her notes. This is just what I need to take my mind off Wes. I grab a pen from the night table and add my own notes alongside Kristy's.

Kristy throws herself onto the bed with a highlighter and photocopied magazine article. "Why was your weekend so terrible?" she asks me.

"I don't want to discuss it," I reply, shortly. I cross out one of Kristy's sentences and rewrite it. "Have you spoken to Lindsey or Meg?" I ask. Friday night, after the date from hell, I called Kristy and told her everything. She was appropriately horrified. She had quite a few choice words to say about Price and Meg.

"I'm not even bothering with Meg Jardin. She's always calling her mother a cow, well, she should look in the mirror," Kristy answers, testily. "And Lindsey won't come to the telephone. I spoke to her grandmother yesterday. Lindsey's really upset about Meg," Kristy says, running her highlighter across the page. She pauses. "Dr. Dupree asked if I'd stuck any more feminine products up my nose lately."

I laugh. It's strange laughing after all the awful feelings that have consumed me.

Kristy throws the highlighter at me, then laughs. "Abby thinks we should go in every week and see what we can get up our noses before Mrs. Bernstein throws us out."

"Did you tell Abby about Friday night?" I ask. Kristy and I debated about whether to tell her. We weren't sure how much what Price said would upset her. We decided she'd find out sooner or later from someone.

Kristy stops laughing. "Yeah. She's really mad. Mostly at Meg. I mean, we already knew Price Irving was subhuman, but Meg's supposed to be our friend."

I nod. "People are disappointing," I say.

"Yeah."

Kristy and I work for another hour, concentrating solely on our presentation. I don't feel like discussing Meg anymore or Price or Lindsey. It's too depressing on top of everything else wrong in my life. I should be able to count on my friends. I guess Kristy feels the same way.

"I should probably go now," I tell Kristy, checking my watch. I need to pick up Tiffany from Washington Mall, plus I have a ton of homework that's been neglected this weekend. At least that's something to bury myself in.

Kristy closes her book. "Oh. Okay. Thanks for coming over," she says, standing up and walking me into the hallway.

"Sure. It was a nice distraction," I reply and before she asks questions, continue on, "Where's Charlie? I'd like to say hi to him."

Kristy rolls her eyes. "I think he's in the game room with Janet."

I raise my eyebrows. "Janet's here?"

"Isn't she always here?" Kristy replies, exasperated, although I've not seen Janet around for a while. "She came over whining about Sam to Mom and Watson. I guess he hasn't been coming home after work and refuses to tell her where he goes. Not that I blame him. If Janet were my wife, I'd hide from her, too! And I don't know what she expects Mom and Watson to do." Kristy rolls her eyes again.

Despite my currently conflicted feelings toward Janet, I can't help saying, "Really, Kristy, she's not that bad."

Kristy gives me a disgusted look, then turns and begins walking toward the game room. As we approach, I hear laughter and the clicking of a puck against the sides of the air hockey table. The Thomas-Brewers' game room is amazing. They have an air hockey table and a ping-pong table, plus two pinball machines, a foosball table, and an old Pac-Man arcade game. There's also a real soda vending machine. I think this room is part of the reason Maria is so fond of David Michael.

Janet looks up when we enter the room and Charlie scores a point on her. "That isn't fair!" she exclaims.

Charlie throws his arms in the air and cheers for himself. "Sorry, Janet. I can't help it if Kristy's ugly mug is so distracting."

"Oh, hahaha, Charles," Kristy replies.

"Hey, Charlie," I say from the doorway. "Hi, Janet," I add a bit hesitantly.

Janet stares at me. I hate when she does that. Her eyes are creepy. "Can I speak to you, Shannon?" she asks. She slides the puck to Charlie and tosses her mallet to Kristy. "Here, you can finish my game."

"Just what I want, to finish a losing game," Kristy replies, sassily.

I take a step back into the hall. "I really don't have time, Janet," I tell her. And I really don't need anyone making me feel worse about myself than I already do.

Janet doesn't listen. Instead, she literally shoves me into the bathroom across the hall. She shuts the door behind us. "Okay," she says, leaning back against the door, blocking me in. "I know you weren't in New York with a study group."

Kristy has such a big mouth. "I'm glad the entire Thomas-Brewer family knows my every move of every day," I snap. I am not in the mood for a lecture.

Janet folds her arms and gives me a piercing stare. "You are insane," she tells me. "You have completely lost every ounce of common sense and good reason that God gave you. Running off to New York for a sex romp with a twenty-six year old man?"

"It wasn't a sex romp. We were celebrating our one month anniversary. And, it's none of your business, Janet Thomas, but we didn't even have sex. There were...complications."

"Well! At least you had enough sense to not go through with that."

I glower at her. Who does Janet think she is? She isn't my mother. She isn't my sister. She isn't even my friend. She's a teenage mother stuck in a miserable marriage to a budding pervert. And she may be fooling around with her brother-in-law. And she thinks she can lecture me? "As if I wasn't humiliated enough, Janet," I say, icily, standing as tall as possible, hands on my hips, "Wes rejected me." Then I push Janet, hard, out of my way before I start to cry.

I run down the stairs without saying goodbye to Kristy. I stop running when I'm out of the house. I won't cause a spectacle in my neighborhood. Instead, I walk very briskly across the street to my house. No one is home. Of course. I race up the stairs to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. Who am I keeping out? No one wants to come in. I sit down on the bed with the phone in my lap. I need to pick up Tiffany. I'm going to be late. I lift the receiver and dial.

"It's Shannon," I say when Wes answers.

"Hi, Shannon," Wes replies.

There's an awkward silence. I want to ask him if he still loves me. I want to ask him if I've ruined everything.

"I've been thinking a lot, Wes, and I'd like to talk about last night. About my father." Isn't that what he wants? For me to let it out and assure him I'm not crazy? If that's what he needs, if that's what it takes to keep him, I can pretend to still have any sort of emotion to spare for my father. "Can I see you? Tomorrow?"

"Of course. I'm glad you want to talk about it. You need to. Last night, you were a little...uh...scary."

I cringe. "I know."

Somehow, I manage not to ask him if he still loves me.

Wes and I hang up and I finally leave to pick up Tiffany. It's a thirty minute drive to Stamford. I spend the drive reciting Italian translations in my head, so that I don't worry about Wes and whether he will ever truly want me again. I'm ten minutes late, but Tiffany's even later. She strolls out five minutes after I arrive, very casual, eating a corn dog.

"I brought you one," she says, climbing into the car. She tosses the corn dog onto my lap. "Enjoy."

"Hello to you, too."

"Hello."

I set my corn dog in the cup holder and pull away from the curb.

"So..." Tiffany begins, breezily, leaning back in her seat. "What were you really doing in New York this weekend?"

I keep my eyes focused on the road. "Studying."

Tiffany chuckles.

The drive home seems a lot longer than thirty minutes. All the lights are on at the house when we pull into the garage. Maria never listens when I lecture her about conserving energy. She's in the living room with Astrid when Tiffany and I come in. I'd forgotten about Astrid. Maria's eating olives out of a jar, but I don't say anything. Instead, I go straight up to my room and shut the door. The light is blinking on my answering machine, alerting me that I have one new message. I push the play button, then cross to the closet to choose an outfit for tomorrow night.

Anna Stevenson's voice fills the room. "Hello? Shannon? Where have you been all weekend? Listen...I've been thinking...a lot...about what you've said. And I've been talking to Adelaide...look...so...I've decided...I'm coming home next weekend. I'm going to talk to my mom. As long as I hate her, she might as well know why...don't tell Abby anything. She has enough problems now...I want you to be with me though...um...I'll see you this weekend..." There's a long silence, then the message clicks off.