I am unchanged in the morning when I wake and look at myself in the mirror. I am the same Shannon as yesterday morning, unaltered on the outside. Inside, I don't know. Should I feel like someone new? I look at myself and know I am no longer a virgin, but I don't feel any different. Just as I don't look any different. But I don't feel regret and I don't feel like a part of me died. That is something, right?

I tell Lindsey. I have to tell someone. I might as well tell the one person who approves.

"Are you serious?" Lindsey whispers at the start of first period European history. We've moved to the back of the room and scooted our desks into a far corner.

"Yes, I'm serious," I reply.

Lindsey looks shocked. She didn't think I'd go through with it. "How was it?" she asks.

I hesitate. "Oh, well...it was okay," I answer, honestly. "It seemed kind of...long. I mean, it took a long time. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't quite what I expected either."

"I think it gets better," Lindsey says.

"I hope so. How long do you think it takes? To enjoy it?"

"I don't know."

I tap my pen against my front teeth, thinking. I'll simply have to keep doing it. I'm a quick learner. I want to please Wes. I want him to enjoy making love to me. I want him to keep loving me.

"I should buy him a gift," I tell Lindsey. "Want to come to Bellair's with me?"

"Um...let me see," Lindsey replies, reaching into her bag and pulling out a Stoneybrook U. daily planner. She flips through its pages until she finds today, the fourteenth. "Yeah, I'm free. But I'll have to call my grandparents." Lindsey rolls her eyes. "They've been so ridiculous lately. Well, you know how they are. They're making all these dumb new rules. Like, I can't go out on dates during the week. Ross has to come over and hang out at the house. Like I'm some middle schooler. And on the weekends, we can only go on dates during the day. The persecution, it never ends."

"Um...so, maybe they won't let you come to Bellair's?"

"No, George and Sadie trust me with you. They just don't trust me with myself."

"Ladies in the back, pay attention please!" Ms. Allen calls to us, interrupting our conversation. She begins collecting our research papers. I take mine out of my binder. It's the paper I wrote on Catherine the Great. I didn't make the changes Ms. Allen requested. I meant to do it yesterday. But then Elizabeth came over...So, I printed out another copy of the first draft. I hand the paper to Lindsey and hope for the best.

When I walk into fourth period microbiology, I remember that I forgot to do the homework. There wasn't enough time this morning. I woke early and barely finished my World lit and Italian homework. I've never missed an assignment in microbiology. I have the highest average - 107. Kristy has 106.5. She'll pull ahead of me now.

Kristy and Sally are already seated when I slide into my chair. I lean over and whisper, "I forgot to answer the review questions. Can I please copy?" I've never, ever copied. I once failed a test on purpose, but I've never copied.

Sally shakes her head and folds her hands, primly, on her binder. "Maybe you'll be a little nicer to me from now on," she replies, snottily.

I ignore her and focus on Kristy. "Please?" I plead.

Kristy sighs and slides her paper toward me. "Oh, all right. Just this once. Be sure to reword everything."

"Thanks," I tell her and begin messily scribbling out the answers.

"I told you, you're taking too many honors classes," Kristy says.

"I'm fine."

Sally leans over. "I'm concerned about her, too, Kat."

"Oh, shut up," Kristy and I say in unison.

There are no complications in Italian. Except Sally White spends the entire period singing Barbra Streisand songs and talking at Meg in some made-up language Sally claims is Hebrew. It sounds like gibberish to me. Ten minutes before the bell rings, Meg raises her hand and asks to be assigned a new seat. Sally waves farewell and thanks Meg for leaving the promised land.

Abby and I skip lunch and hide out in the library. We don't have anything due in geology, but there's a quiz tomorrow. Metamorphic rocks. Abby can't even tell the difference between marble and quartzite. Her eyes glaze over at the term "parent rock". I may be a tad behind, temporarily, but at least I've read the chapter.

Normally, I adore school, but I can't wait for the day to end. All my thoughts rest on Wes. I struggle to concentrate during study period. I'm sure to complete my microbiology homework first. I don't have much calculus. I breeze through that by the time the final bell rings. Now all I have to worry about is Italian and the geology quiz. But I still have to sit through an hour long French club meeting, switched at the last minute from tomorrow to today. We're planning a trip to Québec over spring break. I should be paying attention to Madame DuBarry and taking notes, but instead I spend most of the meeting glancing at my watch and thinking of what to buy Wes.

When the meeting is finally over, I'm the first person out the door. I still have to stop at the Stoneybrook Public Library to make copies for my analysis paper in World literature. Then I call Maria from a pay phone to make sure she plans to eat a decent dinner. She assures me, but her assurances don't count for much. It's after four-thirty when I finally pull up outside Lindsey's house. I press the doorbell and wait for Lindsey to answer.

"Hi," I greet her, when she opens the door.

"Hey," Lindsey replies, hesitantly. There's an odd expression on her face. Sort of worried and guilty.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Then Sally White appears behind her.

"What are you doing here?" I demand.

"Homework," Sally answers, dully.

I shoot Lindsey a killer look and step into the hallway. Isn't she over this fixation with Sally White? When will she learn?

"We're doing an economics project," Lindsey explains, twisting her braid around her wrist. "Old Mr. Holton assigned us as partners."

"We're married," says Sally.

"We're married to Kristy, too. There's an odd number in the class."

Oh, Kristy must be thrilled.

Lindsey picks up her binder from the couch and shows me a piece of blue paper. "We have to set up a household budget. Plus, we have to find a house or an apartment. We actually have to tour them and everything! And we have to investigate insurance plans and bank accounts. We had to draw jobs, too. Kristy's a flight attendant. I'm a librarian."

"I'm a plumber," says Sally.

"Mr. Holton calls the project Something You Can Really Use."

"I'm calling it Screw U for short," Sally adds.

"That's really not a correct acronym," I tell her.

"It's close enough."

Lindsey takes back the paper and slips it into the binder. "We're going apartment hunting at the end of the week," she informs me.

"We hope to find a building manager who accepts our alternative lifestyle."

Lindsey giggles.

I frown. This is just what Lindsey needs - excessive amounts of exposure to Sally White. "Is Kristy here?" I ask.

Lindsey shakes her head. "Her stepdad already picked her up," she answers, then crosses the living room to the telephone. "I just have to call George and tell him where I'll be. Then we can go." Lindsey picks up the telephone and dials.

I eye Sally, who's leaning against the wall, blowing a large pink bubble with her gum. "You aren't coming with us, you know," I tell her, firmly. "We'll drop you off at your house."

Sally pops the bubble and snaps the gum. She sighs, heavily, like I've just unloaded the weight of the world on her slim shoulders. "Oh, Starshine," she says. "That's so inconvenient. You know I'll come anyway. But I'll have to search out our driver and have him take me downtown. Then I'll have scour Bellair's for you. It'll waste so much time. Just take me with you and be done with it."

Take her with us to buy Wes' gift? Never! The last person in the world I want to know about Wes - after Kristy - is Sally White. "You aren't coming with us," I say, sternly. "We aren't doing anything of any interest anyway. We're just, um, buying a birthday gift for my dad."

Sally regards me, coolly. "Not your boyfriend?"

"You told her?" I roar at Lindsey, who's just hung up the phone.

"No. But you just did," Sally smirks.

"I promised I wouldn't tell," Lindsey says, irritably.

My chest and face grow hot. "Sorry," I reply.

Sally laughs. "So, Starshine has a boyfriend. A - " Sally cocks an eyebrow, "secret boyfriend?" She laughs again. "Don't worry, I won't tell. As long as you take me with you."

"Fine," I snap. "You can come, but you're not allowed to speak."

We take Lindsey's car, which is parked on the driveway. Sally and I have a brief skirmish over who gets to sit in the front seat. I win. Annoyingly enough, I think Sally lets me win. I scowl as I latch my seatbelt. This is fantastic. Not only must I spend the evening in the company of vile Sally White, now she has something to hold over my head. Of course, I could just deny having a secret boyfriend. Who would everyone believe - me or Sally? Me. I think. Maybe.

"I have to be home by seven," Lindsey informs me, backing down the driveway.

Sally leans forward, stretching her arms across our headrests. She isn't wearing her seatbelt. "You have a seven o' clock curfew?" she asks. "Is that when the old people go to bed?"

In profile, I see Lindsey make her lemon face. "It's not a curfew! That's when they'll be home. They like me to eat dinner with them."

"Cute."

I turn around. "Sit back and put on your seatbelt. If we wreck, Lindsey's not going to be responsible for you flying through the windshield."

Sally smirks and sits back, latching the seatbelt.

Bellair's isn't crowded, which isn't surprising for a Tuesday evening. In a couple weeks though, when Thanksgiving passes, it will be a zoo. I pause when we walk through the front entrance. I haven't decided what to give Wes. When I dated Mick, I always gave him tapes and sweets. That's what he liked. But that's not special enough for Wes. For someone who loves me.

"What should I get him?" I ask Lindsey. "What do you buy a guy?"

Lindsey shrugs. "Sadie always buys George clothes. What did your mom buy your dad for his last birthday?"

Nothing. But I won't admit that. Instead, I turn to Sally, "Clothes?" I say because she has to be worth something.

Sally looks absolutely disgusted. "Clothes?" she repeats. "You want to buy him clothes?"

I scowl and turn back to Lindsey. "Let's look at cologne," I suggest and link arms with her, pulling her away from Sally.

Sally follows, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she snaps her gum loudly and continuously. I think she does it simply to irk me. Lindsey and I browse the cologne counter, undisturbed, while Sally tries on hats two counters away. For being so insistent about coming, she certainly isn't too concerned with the reason we came. A lot of help she is.

"I like this one," Lindsey tells me, holding out her arm. We've rolled up the sleeves of our blouses and sprayed at least ten different colognes along each. There are paper cards available, but cologne smells different on skin. I think so anyway.

I sniff Lindsey's arm. I shake my head. "No. That's what my dad wears," I tell her. I'd prefer death over kissing Wes' neck and thinking of my father.

Lindsey holds out her other arm. "How about this?"

I sniff. "Oh! I like that!" I sniff again. "Yes. This is the one," I tell her, nodding. I wave over the salesgirl.

While the girl's ringing the order, Sally wanders back over. She's wearing a peacock blue beret with an oversized ostrich feather attached to it. She looks ridiculous.

"I'm buying this," she tells us.

"Whatever for?" I ask.

"I intend to wear it."

She's so weird.

I grab Sally's wrist and spray it with the cologne. "This is what I'm buying my...my boyfriend," I say. Not that her opinion matters. At all.

Sally sniffs her wrist. "Nice," she says. "But don't you think he'd rather have the hat?"

Ignoring her, I turn back to the salesgirl and begin writing the check. Sally leaves, wandering back to wherever she found that hideous hat. She returns just as Lindsey and I are walking away from the colognes, a Bellair's bag hanging on my arm. Sally's still wearing the hat. She shows us the receipt, like we need proof she bought it.

"It looks dumb with your uniform," I tell her.

"It might look dumb no matter what," Lindsey says.

I almost faint from shock. Lindsey dare criticize Sally White to her face?

Sally shrugs, not bothered, and adjusts the hat.

"I need to go upstairs to the lingerie department," I announce. I decided last night as I drove home from Wes', if I'm going to be in a sexual relationship, I should have appropriate lingerie. Nothing trashy. Just alluring.

"What the hell kind of birthday gift are you giving this guy?" Sally asks as we step onto the escalator.

"It isn't his birthday," I inform her, testily. "And I need a new bra. FYI."

Sally puckers her lips. "FYI," she repeats and laughs.

I'm counting on Sally wandering off again when we reach the lingerie department, but she sticks close to Lindsey and I. She keeps taking ghastly, scant lingerie off the racks and insisting she's found exactly what I'm looking for. Lindsey is much more helpful. We pick out a lacy seafoam-green bra and a rose-colored satin bra, both with matching panties. Then we move to the nightgowns. While Lindsey and I browse the tasteful gowns, Sally puts on a black lace bustier over her uniform. It's too bad Kristy hates her. Sally is definitely the lube up the nose type.

"I like this one," I tell Lindsey, holding up a short silk gown. It's spaghetti-strapped with a lilac-colored skirt and a white, almost sheer bodice with tiny purple flowers. Wes seems to like me best in purple. I think this would please him.

"Oh, I think so," Lindsey agrees.

Sally moves closer, still wearing the bustier. "Okay," she says. "Let's stop pretending for a minute that you're buying that for your own personal enjoyment. That," she points to the nightgown, "is not for a high school boy. Who the hell are you dating?"

"None of your business."

Sally shrugs and starts unhooking the bustier. "Fine. I'll ask Kat."

I glare at her. "Fine. He's not in high school. He's older. And that's all I'm telling you."

"I hope your parents' insurance covers the penicillin shot."

I glance around, making sure no one overheard. The department is deserted. Sally has no tact. I lower my voice. "I don't need a penicillin shot! I am in a caring, committed relationship. He loves me. It's not some cheap tryst on the Italian Riviera!" I spin around and march off toward the sales counter.

We're silent on the escalator. I clutch my purchases to my chest, stewing within myself. I wonder what Sally and Lindsey discussed while I was paying. They never joined me at the counter. I saw them talking. But whatever it was, with Sally White, I doubt it had any substance.

When I pull into my driveway twenty minutes later, Dad's car is in the garage. Mom's still gone. Her flight doesn't get in until late. There's a sinking in my stomach as I enter the house. I don't know what to say to my father. I don't know what he'll say to me. We so rarely say anything that it seems a mistake for us to have anything to possibly discuss. I wonder if Elizabeth got to him. She and Kristy are so much alike. Elizabeth may spy at our house through the windows, too.

Dad and Maria are in the kitchen, eating chinese take-out. I scowl at Maria. She knows she's not supposed to have take-out two nights in a row. Maria ignores the look and crams an egg roll into her mouth.

"Hey there, Shanny," Dad greets me, jovially. Like nothing has happened between Friday and today.

"Hello," I reply, icily, and begin scooping fried rice onto a plate. "When did you get home?"

"Around two," Dad answers, twirling chow mien around his fork. He lifts the fork to his mouth and takes a bite. "Elizabeth Brewer called about an hour ago," he says when he's swallowed.

I knock over the fried rice.

"I took care of everything," Dad says. He winks. Then he laughs.

It doesn't settle my nerves. I am not reassured. Shouldn't he care? At least a little? I wipe the spilled rice into a napkin and toss it into the trash can. And there's still Mom. I'm not in the clear. And worse yet, there's Elizabeth herself.

"Your phone's been ringing like crazy," Maria informs me through a mouthful of sesame chicken.

"Chew your food," I scold.

Maria closes her mouth and swallows. "It's been driving me nuts!" she cries.

I take my plate and go upstairs. I'd rather eat alone in my room anyway. I can't keep a healthy appetite while looking at Dad. I toss my messenger bag onto the bed and peel off my school sweater. I press the play button on the answering machine and listen while eating my dinner. I have seven new messages. All from Wes. No one's ever left me seven messages in a row before. Certainly never seven that are practically the exact same message. Hello? Shannon? Are you there? Where are you? Call me. Call me as soon as you get home.

I wonder if that's weird. But no one ever worries about where I am or what I'm doing. It's sweet. I think.

I hurry to finish my dinner. I barely taste it. Then I dial Wes' number.

"Hi Wes," I greet him when he answers.

"Shannon! Where have you been? I thought your last class ended at three."

"I went to the library," I reply. "You know how I am with the library. Always there. Then I went shopping. I bought you something."

"Really? Can I have it now?"

I glance at the clock on the wall. It's nearly seven.

"Do you have a lot of studying to do?" Wes asks when I hesitate. He sounds disappointed.

"No, no," I say. I finished almost everything during study period. My Italian homework can wait until the morning. And Abby and I can study for the geology quiz during lunch again. I want to be with Wes. I don't want to disappoint him. "I'll be over in fifteen minutes," I tell him.

"Great! I'll be waiting."

We hang up and I quickly change out of my uniform. Then I slide the cologne into my messenger bag, along with the nightgown, folded neatly in its bag. Maybe I'll need it. Maybe I won't. It depends on what Wes wants.