CHAPTER 4

A DESTINATION A LITTLE UP THE ROAD

Main street runs through the center of town, with the park on one side and a long series of storefronts- most of them shuttered- on the other. Walk down this road to the northwest corner of the park. Turn right, and walk one block north, into the poorer section of town. There on the first corner, you'll find a red brick building with a sign hanging on the second story: Sugar Tats. It was not such a bad name for a Tattoo parlor. A little tawdry, perhaps, but it was distinctive enough that you remembered it. Admittedly, the drawing of a naked woman with sugar cubes covering her nipples on the front window might have been a bit much.

If you kept going three blocks further, you'd reach the highway. Alongside the highway was a biker bar and – across the street – a cluster of auto repair shops. I was barely familiar with this area; I came this way only rarely, when Mom needed to visit the mechanic and I had to tag along for whatever reason. I know the biker bar was a constant source of work for the local police department- and presumably Sugar Tats, too, judging by the two motorcycles parked outside. Other than the bar, the area was not dangerous- not even after dark- but it had clearly seen better days. The streets were clean, but the residential houses were run-down and grimy, with small, shabby lawns. Sugar Tats itself had once been a family home with an attached garage. At some point back before I was born, someone had bought it, dug up the lawn, walk, and driveway, put down blacktop to make an ad-hoc parking lot, and converted the bottom floor into a business. I vaguely recalled it having been a barbershop at some point. I didn't know when it had changed to its current form.

I was here because, after spending half of Saturday on catch-up work, I was burned out and needed to get out of the house. So I gave Eve a call and asked if that offer to hang out was still open. It was. I tromped down the stairs, and told Mom I was going out to see a friend. She barely acknowledged me, engrossed in some reality show that was probably an excuse to sit awake staring at nothing without looking weird. I would have told Diane instead, but she had been called in to work to deal with a major crisis. Hopefully Mom would remember to tell her when she got home.

Mom wasn't getting better, I thought as I closed the front door behind me. All the more reason I had to get away for awhile.

Sugar Tats' second floor was apartment space, where Eve and her sister lived. Eve had told me to text when I got there and she'd let me up. But after three texts with no response and one call that went straight to voicemail, I realized I'd have to ask for her downstairs.

A bell rang as I pushed the glass door open. The inside of the shop was like the outside- a little rough around the edges, but respectable. A glass sales counter with a register sat in the back corner, and three tattoo chairs were positioned in a line across the far wall. The walls were covered with framed pieces of tattoo art, as well as some goth-style decorations. The place was crowded- two bikers, one with a thick beard and one balding- were getting ink done. In the first chair, the bearded biker was getting a fiery skull graphic on his arm. The tattooist was a redheaded woman with blue eyes and a tank-top that left her extensive body art on display. She seemed vaguely familiar, although I was sure I had never seen her before.

The balding biker was in the second chair, being attended to by a woman in goth makeup with a white streak in her shoulder-length black hair. She was dressed in a shoulderless top, shorts, and long boots with heels, which exposed some of her own ink. It also made it obvious that she had quite the figure, bulging pleasingly both in the seat and chest, and my gaze lingered on her a second longer than it should have.

Against the front window, a padded bench- presumably for waiting customers- was occupied by a man in a black tank top and pants with a brown ponytail and goatee. He had a tribal tattoo running the whole length of his left arm.

Five people in the room, not counting the skinny kid with virgin skin awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in the doorway. The five chatted amiably over the buzz of the tattoo needles.

"No, no, I'm telling you, Freddy is the scariest! Bar none! I mean, he kills you in your dreams, how can you defend against that?", the ponytailed guy said.

"Eh…," the goth girl replied, "first movie, yeah, he was scary. But after four or five movies, they just turned him into a joke."

"Well, okay, sure, but that's the 1990's. Dark age of horror film," ponytail retorted. "I mean, it's like people suddenly got afraid of getting scared. All the stuff got tame. Army of Darkness? Great film, but not scary in the least."

I tried to cut in. "Uhh, excuse me..."

The goth girl looked up with a bright smile. "Hi there, welcome to Sugar Tats! I'll be with you in a sec, I'm just finishing up here." She returned her attention to the cross she was inking on the hand of her customer, sparing only enough attention to continue the conversation. "Come on, there had to be something? Maybe that proto-Saw thing we saw? You remember, about the people trapped in a giant cube?"

"Eh, decent gore, but it's less horror than dark sci-fi. That's the thing. After 1990, there's no real traditional horror, it's all horror-comedies and sci-fi,"

"Maybe Leprechaun?", the balding biker suggested.

Ponytail scoffed. "Please. That series was a joke even before they shot him into space, and everything is lame in space."

"Hey, Alien was scary as hell!", balding opined.

"Yeah, but that's the problem," said goth. "Everything scary IN SPACE just ripped off Alien."

"Well, I don't know," balding said. "what about that… what was it, Hellraiser in space?"

"What, you mean the forth one?", ponytail said. "Eh… not as bad as its rep, but…,"

"No, no, I mean the one that was kinda Hellraiser, but not. It had… what's his name…? Uh, the guy who was Morpheus in The Matrix..."

"Event Horizon?" goth offered.

"Yeah, that's the one," balding said.

"Oh, yeah that is a good one!", ponytail said. "Alright, that's two good horror films set in space, I guess."

"What about the Alien sequels? Do they count?", asked bearded.

"Nah, the second one's more of a war movie," ponytail said.

"And the others? What are they?", said bearded.

"Shit," goth opined, before shutting off her tattoo gun. "Okay, all done," she told balding.

Balding inspected goth's work and nodded in approval. The two of them went to the counter to settle the bill. I listened without much interest while bearded and ponytail continued to discuss movies, arguing over whether 2001 counted as horror. The redhead more or less ignored them. She was intensely focused on her work, and for good reason. The design she was doing was not only intricate and detailed, but vibrant as well. She was obviously a master.

After a moment, the cash register rung, and balding headed for the door, promising to meet up with bearded at the bar when he was done. Before leaving, balding made an inscrutable gesture to ponytail, who nodded and followed him out. The goth girl waved me over and I went to the counter. "So again, welcome to Sugar Tats!," she said. "We ink anything, anywhere. Designs in the book," she gestured to a stuffed three-ring binder on the table, "or you can request a custom job, if you have the money. I'm going to have to see ID before we start, and if it's your first time…,"

"Uh, actually," I cut in. "I'm not here for a tattoo. I'm looking for Eve."

The buzz of a tattoo needle suddenly cut off. I turned and saw that for the first time since I'd come in, the redhead was looking up from her work. "What do you want with Eve?", she asked suspiciously. I looked her over, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. Red hair, blue eyes, multiple tattoos on her body… I almost smacked myself for not realizing sooner. "Oh, you must be Grace," I said. "I'm Aaron, I'm a friend of Eve's from school."

Grace leaned back in her chair, apparently surprised. "Odette, go get her," she said to the goth. To her customer, she asked, "could you give me a minute?" He nodded in reply. As the goth girl- Odette- walked out the front door, Grace laid her tattoo gun aside and walked over to me.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Aaron, but why are you here?"

I hadn't been expecting an interrogation. "Uhh… well, Eve said she gets bored on the weekends, and I was kinda bored today too, so she said I could come by and hang out if I wanted. Is, uh… is there a problem?"

Grace shook her head, as if suddenly realizing how weird her reaction was. "Oh, no, no! Forgive my suspicion, it's just unexpected. Eve doesn't talk much about school. I was actually worried that she wasn't making friends."

I struggled not to look off-guard. High-schoolers hide lots of things from their parents and guardians, and tend not to be happy when someone else spills the beans. "Well, it's true she's kind of a loner, but she's really fun once you get to know her. Nice to talk to. Really great artist."

"So she has friends? A peer group?"

"A couple friends, yeah." Between me and Kevin, it was true enough.

"Ah, that's a relief. What about her teachers, does she get along with them?"

"Haven't heard of any real issues. She's always at the top of French class."

"Hmm..." Grace said. She thought for a moment, then broached the subject gently. "What about… has she ever been in trouble over anything? Is she being bullied?"

Trouble? Occasionally, but not more than average. Bullied? Too often. Tyrone, Annie, possibly Roxy, random assholes who liked provoking her just because. But if Eve didn't tell Grace, she probably had a good reason. "Not that I know of," I said. "Like I said, she's kind of a loner."

Grace nodded. "Well, that's good to hear." Her voice became lower and more serious. "Listen, I… don't know what Eve has told you, but she's been through some serious stuff recently. I'm glad she has people her own age to lean on. Just… well… be gentle with her. I know she puts up a strong front, but..."

Grace was thankfully interrupted by the door swinging open before things could get too awkward. Eve walked in and spied me instantly. "Aaron, hi! Why didn't you text?"

"I did. You didn't answer."

Eve looked at me confusedly. "No, you didn't. I…,"

As if on cue, Eve's phone bleeped. She pulled it from her pocket. By the time she looked at it, it had bleeped two more times. She frowned. "Correction, it looks like I did get th..." The phone bleeped three times more. Eve frowned harder. "Twice, in fact."

Odette had followed her inside. "PCS: Pretty Crappy Service, amirite? So hey, Evie! I have to say I'm impressed. Finally bringing someone home, and he's a real cutie, too."

Eve pulled her hood close and grimaced. "It's not like that. Aaron's just here to hang out."

"Oh, sure, sure. Hanging out in your room, presumably alone, after sneaking him upstairs so we wouldn't know about it?"

"It wasn't like that," Eve retorted, "I just didn't want to interrupt you in the middle of work."

Odette laughed "A likely story. I'm not blind, Eve honey, and neither is your big sister. We saw how his face lit up when you walked in."

Grace glared at Odette. "Odie, don't embarrass my sister."

Odette scoffed. "Well, somebody has to, and you've been seriously derelict in your 'annoying big sis' duties." She turned to me. "Come on, kid, fess up..." she gestured at Eve vaguely. "You totally want to hit this, don't you?"

"Uhhhhhh…" I said, because what else can you say to a question like that?

Even with her hood up, I could tell Eve was blushing beet red. "Aaron is just a friend."

"Look at him, girl," Odette teased, "he's blushing just as red as you! You know he wants it!"

I did actually feel my cheeks burning a bit.

"Odie…!" Grace tried to cut in.

"Oh my God!" Eve exclaimed in a sudden, angry outburst. "Odette, do you ever stop! Aaron does not like me like that! We are just friends! Just because you have to jump on everything that moves doesn't mean the rest of us can't behave like normal people!"

Odette blinked. "Serious?"

"Yes, serious," Eve answered.

Odette broke into a large smile. "Can I have him, then?"

"ODETTE!", Grace snapped like the crack of a bullwhip. "Will you zip it for a minute! You're making my sister uncomfortable, and you're keeping me away from a paying customer!"

Odette frowned. "God, Grace, you're such a killjoy these days." Nevertheless, she stepped back and quieted down.

"I'm sorry about her, Eve," Grace said. "Please, introduce us."

Eve sighed. "Grace, Odette, random guy I don't know sitting in a tattoo chair, this is Aaron, a friend from school with whom I plan to hang out in my room having boring, G-rated fun. Aaron, this is Grace, my big sister and legal guardian, and Odette, her BFF because reasons."

"Uh, hi," I said, giving a weak wave. "Nice to meet you both."

"Can we go now?", Eve asked, whining a bit.

"Sure," Grace said. "Nice to meet you, Aaron. Oh! And Eve, I've got a customer coming in soon for some heavy back work, so you're on your own for dinner. Take some money out of my purse and get Chinese, I'll eat later."

"Sure, thanks. C'mon, Aaron."

I followed Eve to the door.

"And remember to close the curtains before things get too sexy!", Odette called. Eve flipped her off over her shoulder.

As we ducked through the door, I heard Odette say something to Grace too soft for me to hear- I think I caught the words "hot for each other"- followed by the distinctive thud and oof of someone being elbowed in the ribs.

"Sorry about Odette," Eve said once we were outside. "I don't know what's wrong with her, she's got sex on the brain 24/7."

"'Sokay," I said. "Everybody has embarrassing family friends."

"Ugh, she's more than embarassing, she's a goddamn molester." Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the garage door. The lock turned with a creaking groan. "She's always trying to get into bed with my sister, even though... Hey, Tucker!" This last was said to the ponytailed guy from earlier. He had just come into sight from some sort of alley or side yard around the corner of the building. The balding biker walked ahead of him, waving goodbye before heading to his motorcycle to leave.

"Take care, man," the ponytailed man said. Then, turning to Eve, he said, "what's up?"

"Chillin'. Aaron, this is Tucker. He's uhh… the shop's…" she gestured helplessly, trying to come up with the word.

"I bring in customers," Tucker said, smiling ear to ear.

"Oh," I said, not getting it. "Well, uh, nice to meet you."

"Look, uh, Tucker..." Eve said, lowering her voice, "Could I get some…?"

Tucker threw up his hands and shook his head. "Noooooo. No, no, no. You know what your sister told me."

"Oh, come on…," Eve whined. "I've got a friend here, I've got to show some hospitality, right?"

"Your problem, not mine," Tucker said. "Grace said no more freebies, and I can't afford to piss her off now that they're patrolling the park."

"Grace is a hypocrite, and you know it!"

Tucker shrugged. "Maybe, but she's sticking her neck out for me. So when she says no freebies for little sis, I pay heed."

"C'mon, just one little…?"

Tucker sighed. "Max one per week at standard price, and I know you don't have it."

Eve made a pouty face. "Fine."

"But hey," Tucker said, "if boyfriend here wants to cover you, that might be another story..."

"Uh… for what?", I asked.

"He's just… oh, forget it," Eve said. "Thanks for nothing, Tucker."

Tucker shrugged. "Nothing is free, and you get nothing for nothing," he said philosophically, and ambled back in to the shop. "Later, Evie."

"What was that about? Cover you for what?", I asked Eve.

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'll tell you inside."

She led me into the garage. Suburban garages were built to store cars and repurposed to store junk when the basement and attic were full, but this one was surprisingly clean. The center was bare. Some paint cans rested against one wall, and a motorcycle against the opposite. On the back wall there was a small window, looking out into what was presumably a backyard, and a ratty-looking couch. Some miscellaneous boxes sat on shelves over the couch, along with a large stereo system that you worried would bring the shelf down atop the couch. In the corner a wide staircase led up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. In another corner I noticed a bong.

Eve reached up to grab at a cord attached to the garage door- she was short and needed a small hop to reach it- and pulled the door closed. A twist of a lever locked the door. "I don't know how much you got out of that, but basically… Tucker sells marijuana."

"He's a drug dealer?"

"Just marijuana. He went to the same college as Grace and Odette. Tucker grew some plants in his dorm room so he could get invited to the good parties. He met Grace and Odette at one and the three of them hit it off- I think he probably fucked one of them, but they all deny it- and after they all left college, they kept in touch. He's got a garden somewhere in town and Grace lets him hang out around here and meet customers, so long as all the actual buying and selling happens elsewhere."

I frowned. "Isn't that kind of a big risk?"

Eve shrugged. "Not as much as you might think. If he does get busted, Grace can just play dumb. Besides, it's marijuana. Not like crack or meth or anything that gets people shot. In ten years you'll be able to buy it at a Walgreens."

I had to take her word for that. I didn't know anything about drugs; I'd always been taught to stay away, and I did.

"Anyway!" Eve clapped her hands. "Welcome to Chateau le Grace, let me give you the grand tour. This is the garage, our de facto foyer and living room when we have guests over. The stereo is technically Odette's, I think, but we all use it when we want to."

"Odette is a roommate, I take it?", I asked.

"She might as well be. She's got her own place, but she only goes there to sleep. And if it's a late night, she'll often just crash on the couch over there. The bike is Grace's," she added. "don't touch it, she's a little possessive."

I looked the motorcycle over. "Nice," I said, knowing nothing about motorcycles.

Eve snickered. "Well, it used to be, back when she bought it. Now it's a little broken down. After flunking out of college, Grace decided she wanted to be a biker chick, so she bought that with what was left of her college fund and spent a whole year riding from one side of the country to the next and back again. Sent me postcards from everywhere."

"Sounds pretty awesome," I said.

"It was awesome!", Eve said enthusiastically. "There's eight years between us, so she was always off running around and partying and having fun while I was stuck at home alone being ordered around by our parents. I looked up to her so much, she was so cool! Sometimes, when I was alone in the house, I would..." she stopped short.

"You would what?", I asked.

Eve pulled her hood close and waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing."

"No, what?"

"Nothing, nothing… It's stupid."

"Come on, I'm curious."

Eve shifted from one foot to another. "Promise not to laugh?"

"I promise."

"Well... it's kind of embarrassing, but… sometimes, when Mom and Dad were out and I was left all alone, I would go up to the attic, try on Grace's old clothes and pretend I was her."

I laughed.

"It's not funny!", Eve whined. She smacked me on the shoulder, but not hard. "It's embarrassing!"

Eve swung again. I threw up my arms defensively and sputtered to a stop. "Sorry, sorry! I couldn't stop myself! But hey, y'know, it's nothing wrong. I mean, I used to dress in my Dad's clothes when I was five and wanted to pretend I was grown up. My aunt said she stole Mom's clothes all the time in high school, it's just something ordinary sisters do."

Eve smiled and snickered a bit. "Ordinary sisters. Yeah. Anyway, Grace's road trip ended when she went broke. She came back home and… well, she was still cool, but there was a lot of drama. Our parents thought she'd squandered her education. She had to beg and plead to get them to fund tattoo school. And… well… somewhere between then and now she stopped being cool. Now she's just like our Mom. Busy all the time, and always yelling at me to not do this or that, when I know full well she did most of that stuff herself..." she trailed off, head hanging to the floor.

"Maybe she doesn't think it was worth it," I offered.

Eve looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean… from the sound of it, she had to struggle a lot to get where she is today. Maybe she doesn't want you to repeat her mistakes. My Dad used to say 'Saturday night isn't worth Sunday morning.'"

Eve started to say something, then decided better. "Yeah, well, whatever. I still miss the cool Grace. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the place." She started for the steps, and I followed at her invitation.

"Isn't it kind of weird to go through the garage to the second floor?", I asked.

"Well, there is an interior stairway, but it's old and rotten through. Apparently, Odette nearly fell through the steps once, and since then Grace has boarded up the top landing and used the bottom for a storage room." She paused to push the trapdoor open. "I thought it was weird at first, but now I like it. Kinda like living in a castle with secret passages and stuff."

"Why not get the stairs fixed?", I asked.

"Grace says it's too much trouble, it's an inconvenience, contractors would close the business down for who knows how long, yadda, yadda, yadda, but I think the truth is that she can't afford it."

"Money problems?", I asked, concerned.

"Not really," Eve said. I mounted the final step and stepped out onto the garage roof. She closed the trapdoor after me before continuing. "Grace only gets paid when she has customers, so there's occasionally a month where we come up short, and even on the better months we don't have a lot of luxuries. But we get by. Anyway, enough about Grace. I'm supposed to be showing you around."

And so she did. The roof of the garage was done up like a deck. A railing encircled the edge, a table and chairs sat off to one corner, and a few flowerpots were scattered about. A grill would not have been out of place. Against the wall a door opened in to the main room inside. It was small and a little rough, with paint flaking off the walls and creaking floorboards, but the space was used efficiently and creatively. It was roughly divided into four sub-rooms: to the right of the entrance a space was taken up by a basic but functional kitchen setup and a refrigerator. To the left a small table with two chairs served as a dining room. Next to it was a den area with a couch, bookcase, and a TV and DVD player on a stand. Finally, in the far corner, a trio of folding screens blocked off a small nook with a mattress on the floor and some shelves and a clothing rack behind it. A marvel of modern antimaterialist architecture: Everything you need, nothing you don't, all in one room. That mattress nook, according to Eve, was where Grace slept. Eve had a room of her own, beyond a closed brown door between kitchen and the bed-nook. I'd been in a girl's bedroom only once before that I remembered, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. Lots of pink, I suppose.

What I found had very little pink. Instead, there were two walls painted blue-gray, and two bare brick. None of them were undecorated. On the left wall, next to a door beyond which I could see a bathroom, hung a few sketches drawn in Eve's own hand. They were secured to the wall with strips of masking tape, as were the music posters on the wall next to the entrance. The left wall was dominated by a large black hanging blanket depicting- of all things- an internet meme involving rainbows. The far wall had a window that looked out over the backyard and a curtain rod from which hung blue curtains. Next to the window "Eve's Domain" had been painted on the wall in blue, graffiti-style letters. Furnishings were sparse. A dresser was against the far wall, next to a desk with a dusty, uncomfortable-looking chair. Schoolbooks were piled on the desk, beside an old laptop that was probably still good for homework and net surfing. A few anime figures sat on the dresser. In the opposite corner, next to the door, a pair of stacked mattresses with sheets and pillows served as a bed. Next to the foot of the bed was a small table with a TV on top, a game console to the side, and a small collection of games beneath it. Here and there a few objects were scattered on the floor for lack of shelf space elsewhere, including a pile of old sketchbooks next to the bed. Track lighting hung from the ceiling above the door. Tied to the lights on one end and the curtain rod over the window on another was a clothesline, from which hung several images from Eve's sketchbook on clothespins.

"Welcome to my abode," Eve said as we entered. Upon crossing the threshold, Eve took her hood down with a smoothness that could only have been muscle memory. Her ocean-blue hair hung long and straight, fading to blond tips just around her shoulders. It occurred to me that it was very rare to see her with her hair out. She practically lived in that hoodie, I imagine she changed out of it for gym, but I'd never seen it for myself- we had different periods. I wondered why the hood was such a constant. It seemed an awful waste for such a pretty girl to always be hiding herself away.

She must have noticed me staring, because she looked at me and said "What?"

"Did I tell you how much I like your hair?", I asked.

She snickered and brushed a stray lock out of her face. "Yes, in fact, you did."

"Shall I say it again?"

She crossed her arms with a wry a smile. "Aaron, I just told everybody we were just friends. You're not trying to make a liar out of me, are you?"

Would that be so bad?, I wondered. "So hey, this is a nice room!" I said, still taking it all in. "I'm surprised Grace didn't keep it for herself."

"Well, she said she wanted me to have a room of my own. Someplace I could have privacy. It's only for a while, anyway. As soon as I'm off to college, she'll be able to take it back." She sat down on the bed, which gave a small, merry bounce under her weight.

I took a seat on the floor next to the bed. "Where're you headed for college?", I asked.

"San Francisco. Art School. You?"

"State university." I told her the campus.

"Studying what?"

I shrugged, kind of helplessly. "Figure it out when I get there, I guess. Haven't had much time lately to think about the future. Besides, we're eighteen, who knows if we'll even be the same people in five years?"

Eve shrugged. "I suppose. But I know I'm going to be an artist. It's in my blood."

"Because of Grace?"

"More than just that. Our Mom ran a high-end bakery. She designed and made custom cakes for clients to mark special occasions. Have you ever seen a really extravagant dessert? They're sculptures of chocolate and fondant. And her grandfather was an architect who painted landscapes in his spare time. I think Grace has one of his paintings, still, but she can't find a place to hang it. And I draw."

"You also seem to have a knack for interior design," I said, gesturing around the room. "This is totally you."

Eve laughed and looked briefly away. "I dunno. I look around this room and it seems it always looks messy."

"An artist's room should be a little messy," I opined. "A little unrestrained spontaneity. It's better then my room, I'll tell you that. Most of my stuff is still in boxes for the move. Doesn't seem to be much point when I'll be out of here in a few months." A pause. Eve didn't seem to have anything to say to that, so I continued. "So, hey, what do you do around here for G-rated fun?"

Eve shrugged. "Draw, mostly. Or I read, study, play games, listen to music."

"What kind of music?"

She gestured at the wall over the bed, where band posters were hanging. I took a closer look and noticed they were all 90's bands; post-grunge and early alt-rock. I nodded approvingly. "Old school."

"Yeah, we're all rock fans in this house," Eve said. "Grace listens to punk and a bit of classic rock; Odette is totally into metal. Me, I'm the grunge girl. I like my music soft and moody. You?"

"Mostly alt-rock." I jigged a thumb at her posters. "The 90's stuff is good, but I like the more recent stuff. Stuff with a bit more energy and fun."

Eve frowned. "Eh, I dunno; After the turn of the millennium, it just all went downhill. Like, it's all just soulless guitar riffs, or emo crap. Nobody knows how to find the balance anymore."

I shrugged. "Well, you're not wrong in that there's plenty of crap, but there always has been. We remember the Nirvanas, but we forget about the Nicklebacks, the Good Charlottes… The Limp Bizkits." I said this last with a smile, knowing full well what any self-respecting rock fan's reaction would be.

Eve did not disappoint me. "Ugh!," She said, jamming her hands into her face. "Do not remind me of Limp Bizkit! Grace shredded their t-shirt ages ago and still hasn't recovered from the humiliation!"

I laughed. "But anyway, there is still good stuff, if you can find it."

"Like?"

"Well...", I thought for a minute. "Actually, hang on…", I took out my phone, set the volume to max and the app to shuffle, and put on The White Stripes.

"Oh, yeah! That is some good music!" Eve said, and was soon singing along with The Hardest Button to Button.

We sat there, listening to my phone, for quite some time, while talking about the state of rock music. Were a music journalist a fly on the wall, he would likely have been stinging both of us in a blind fury, but teenagers trying to sound knowledgeable about music they only sorta understand is a long and venerated tradition. My playlist bounced back and forth from big acts to some lesser-known bands and one-hit wonders. Most of it was stuff that you could nod along to- not good for headbanging, not too emo, not too depressing- I was ever in search of the musical middle ground which kept you calm but made you glad to be alive. It was good to share these things with Eve. I watched her sway slowly in her seat and sing along when she knew the words. Until the Black Eyed Peas came on and I lunged to hit stop.

Eve gave me a look that said there was no chance she didn't recognize the song.

"Uh, yeah," I said sheepishly. "Relic of my misspent youth. I should probably cull a few tracks from this list."

Eve gave me the look of a schoolteacher who was Very Disappointed In You, and held that look while she took out her own phone and played a few very distinctive bars of Britney Spears. Then she broke into a smile. "Everybody is allowed one guilty pleasure on their playlist."

We both laughed, then decided it was Eve's turn. Her selection was as she said; predominantly 90's, cool and mellow, a little melancholy, with the occasional sunnier track. It suited her, I thought. After a time, the playlist ended up with Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt". When the first notes came on, Eve went immediately silent in mid-sentence, and shushed me when I tried to ask what she had been saying, because "respect must be paid." When the song was over, Eve tapped her phone and all music stopped. No other song could follow it adequately. Besides, it had been more than an hour- closer to two, even- and sharing playlists was starting to wear a little thin.

"So, what else is there to do around here?", I asked.

Eve thought for a minute. "Well, we could put on a DVD or something in the other room, if you want."

I shrugged. Honestly, it sounded kind of lame, but I didn't want to go home yet. "I suppose. What you got?"

"Well, that's kind of the problem," Eve said. "I've seen everything in our collection, and there's nothing I feel like rewatching."

"Well… how about we go out and rent something, then?", I suggested.

Eve laughed. "Come on, Aaron, what is this, 1980? Video stores are extinct."

"True…," I said knowingly. "But I know a place you can still rent for a night..."

Eve gave me a curious look.

Before Netflix, before Blockbuster, before even the mom & pop video store that kept pornos in the back room, the OG of video rental was the local public library. Public funding and a mandate to preserve rather then profit meant it outlived all the rest. But while you can't beat the prices or the service, there was one big problem: the selection was not always the best. After half an hour of browsing the stainless steel shelves, we were no closer to finding anything we wanted to watch. Everything that one of us didn't reject out of hand, the other had seen. Nevertheless, we continued.

"Nightmare On Elm Street?", I suggested.

"Seen it," Eve said.

"How about the second one? Hardly anyone talks about that."

She scoffed. "There's a reason for that. Besides, I'm not really in the mood for horror."

"Maybe something funny, then? I saw Ace Ventura back there."

"Ugh, no. That film has not stood the test of time. Don't they have any anime?"

"They do, but they shelve everything by title, so it's all mixed in. Hey, here's one: Metropolis."

Eve considered. "That's a good one, but a sad ending. I'm not in the mood."

"Well, what are you in the mood for?"

"Something... frivolous, I guess. Fun and not too deep." She snapped her fingers. "Do they have Lucky Star?"

I checked. "No luck."

Eve clicked her tongue in annoyance and we both went back to browsing.

"You're big into anime, aren't you?", I asked, looking to make some conversation.

"Gee, what gave it away?", Eve replied sardonically.

"Well, let's see: the cat-ears, the blue hair, the drawings of ninjas, the figurines hanging out on your dresser… it's not exactly a secret."

Eve chuckled. "Well, it's fun. I used to watch Sailor Moon when I was a kid. Graduated to sneaking downstairs late nights to watch adult swim in junior high."

"I used to borrow anime VHSes from here when I was a kid, until Mom shut me down."

"Why'd she do that?"

"I tried to take out La Blue Girl when I was ten."

Eve turned to me with wide eyes. "And the librarians let you?!"

I snickered. "Well, no. See, Mom took classes here over the summer- some reading club or something- and I would tag along and hang out in the kids' section because she didn't like leaving me home alone. Taking out a movie was my compensation for behaving myself. So one day I see La Blue Girl sitting on the shelf, and I've heard of it from some friend that wasn't as supervised as me, so I think 'Holy shit!' And of course I've gotta take it out now, so I take it, and I go with Mom to the check-out desk. I'm so stupid, I think I can hold it under my arm and hide the cover and Mom won't know what's up, but of course the check-out clerk sees, and he does a double-take and he's like, 'Uhhhh… Ma'am, are you sure...' And then he shows it to Mom and she goes red in the face like her head's about to explode!"

Eve was laughing. I started laughing too.

"So…," I continued, "No more anime for me. Mom wouldn't even let me watch Toonami after that. The librarians weren't happy, either. Next week, they'd pulled all the anime tapes from the shelves. The tapes never came back, but when they started adding DVDs to the collection they got anime again. No more tentacle shows, though."

Our laughter steadily died down. When it did Eve returned to the shelves, but I just stood there, head down, lost in the brief nostalgia of the moment.

"Yeah, my Mom, she used to love to be out and about, doing stuff," I said. "Now, though… ever since Dad died, she just sits around the house. She almost never moves from the couch except to get food or use the bathroom. She sleeps, watches TV, sleeps again… just on and on. Like she's just wasting away, and there's nothing I can do about it."

I looked up to see Eve watching me with an empathic look. "I'm sorry, Aaron," she said.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but… everybody always says that, and it never makes anything better. All the sympathy in the world doesn't get my mother off that couch. Everyone's always like, 'Oh, she's grieving,' and yeah, but there's a time when you have to stop grieving and start living again! Yes, Dad's dead, and yes it sucks, but that's all in the past. You have to bury it along with him and move on to the future. Why am I the only one who understands that?"

Eve pursed her lips. After some hesitation, she spoke. "It's not so easy, Aaron. My parents and I… we had a difficult relationship. They never trusted me to make my own decisions, and criticized me whenever I wanted to live my own life. Sometimes it seemed that every day they were on my case about how I was ruining my life. But even still, there were good days. Birthday parties, and summer vacations. I remember when I joined the scouts when I was ten and Dad showed me how to start a campfire in the backyard, and then we stayed up late watching the stars and roasting marshmallows. I remember going on a ski trip when I was really young, and flying down the mountain three in a row, holding dad's right hand and mom's left, laughing. I remember I won first prize at an art show in junior high and they were so proud of me. And as much as I'd like to forget all the bad stuff..." she trailed off, lost.

"You were in the Girl Scouts?", I asked.

Eve looked at me with a face halfway between annoyance and incredulity. "Uh, hello? I'm trying to pour out my soul, here?"

"Never mind that, I want to know about this! I'm trying to imagine you in one of those green outfits, and It just doesn't make sense."

She stared at me for a second before turning aside with a smile and a shake of her head. "Asshole."

I laughed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I did hear what you were saying, and I appreciate it, but I shouldn't have thrown all that on you in the first place. It's my trouble, not yours. I have to deal with it myself."

"Aaron, you do remember that I said that if you ever needed to talk about it, I'd be there, right?"

"I know, but… I just don't like seeing you down. It's not a great look for you. You look better when you're happy."

Eve rolled her eyes. "There you go with that charmer act again."

"Yeah, I'm hopeless, aren't I?" I said. "I do appreciate it, though. Thanks, Eve. Sorry to cause trouble."

She waved her hand dismissively. "No trouble. What kind of a girl would I be if I let my friends wallow in misery alone?"

"Wallowing in misery together is better?", I asked doubtfully.

"They do say it loves company," Eve replied.

We went back to browsing the shelves. A moment passed in silence. "So, how many cookies did you sell?", I offered.

"Huh?" Eve said.

"In the Girl Scouts."

"Oh!" Eve smiled, "Uh, none. You're not wrong that the uniform didn't suit me. I was in the scouts for I think about four months. Reeeeeally wasn't my..." she stopped in mid-sentence, spying something on the top shelf. "Duuuuuude…," she said. "I know what we're getting!"

Before I could ask, Eve had her foot on the second shelf of the stack and was reaching up to the top.

"Whoa, hey!" I said. "Don't do that, if they see you..."

"I'm fine," Eve said curtly. Even with the extra height, she was too short to reach the DVD cases on the top shelf. She grabbed at them, but only succeeded in knocking them further back.

"Eve, seriously, that's not a good idea!", I said.

"I've got it, alright! I just need..." she grabbed at the cases and failed again. "Dammit!", she said. She put both feet up on the shelf to give herself a few extra inches.

"Eve, those shelves aren't all that..."

"I'm not a kid, Aaron! I've almost got..."

With a groan of straining metal, the shelf Eve was standing on dropped. It only fell a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to throw Eve off-balance. She flailed in the air, suspended in freefall for one terrifying fraction of a second. Before I could even think about it, I lunged to intercept her falling body. I caught her, but she fell with such force that I was nearly knocked off my feet. Eve managed to catch the shelf opposite to arrest her momentum, and I dropped into a half-crouch. Between us we managed to regain our balance.

All this happened in an instant, too fast for my brain to follow. When I caught up to the situation, I found myself holding Eve in an awkward position somewhere between a ballroom dip and a bridal carry. Her frame was small and light, and my arms did not strain from holding her. Her hood had fallen back, and our faces were very close together- close enough that I could feel her breath on my cheek, and smell the floral scent of shampoo from her hair. Her deep blue eyes were wide with surprise and confusion at her sudden fall, and I sensed more than felt or heard her heart beating fast. I must have had a similar 'what-the-hell-just-happened' expression on my face. We stayed in that pose, dumbstruck, for what seemed like a very long time, even though it was probably mere seconds.

"You okay?", I asked, trying to compose myself.

Her reply was a bit shaken. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks."

I helped her back to her feet. She immediately stepped away from me and put her hood back up. She pulled it very close, but I could still see she was flushed. I took stock of myself: uninjured, and I didn't think my hands had touched Eve anywhere less-than-gentlemanly. So, everything fine. Okay.

"Uh, you know, they have these things…," I retrieved a footstool from the other end of the shelf and returned. "What did you see up there?", I asked.

"Revolutionary Girl Utena." She pointed to the top shelf. "You know it?"

"By reputation only. It's by the guy who did Sailor Moon's third season. Fun series, but very much a product of the Evangelion era. So I hear, anyway."

"I've always wanted to see it. Get volumes one and two," Eve said, practically jumping up and down from delight.

I set down the stool. Standing on it, I could reach the top shelf easily. I found Utena and browsed through the discs. "They're missing volumes 1 and 4, it looks like. How about 2 and 3 instead?"

Eve groaned. "We can't start in the middle! Dammit!"

I shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, let's just go," Eve said. "Our food should be ready by now, we'll find something to watch back home."

"There's still other stuff..."

"Aaron, let's just go, alright. Before…," she trailed off.

"Before what?", I asked.

Eve hesitated before answering. When she did, it was in a harsh whisper midway between anger and embarrassment. "Before the librarian peeks in and sees how my stupid ass broke their shelves."

I snickered. "Well, when you put it that way…"

There was a Chinese place between Sugar Tats and the library. We had stopped in to order take-out on the way, and picked it up on the way back. Setting sun at our backs, we walked side-by-side down the sidewalk, carrying bags of egg rolls and lo mein while chatting about anime. Eve was quite the fangirl. She knew about the big titles that aired on cable TV, the smaller ones that were big on the internet, and even a few of the more obscure titles that never made it out of Japan. I wasn't as into it as her, but I could keep up. I told her about the time I had stayed up until 5AM on a Sunday morning watching a showing of Akira on cable TV that stretched out to 3 hours thanks to massive commercial breaks. I asked her about her all-time favorite. She mentioned a few, including Ghost in the Shell.

"The Major is badass," I said approvingly.

"She is badass!", Eve enthused. "Did you see near the end of the first season, where that big mech tears off her arm and she grabs a big ass anti-tank rifle with her good hand and just unloads one round after another into the mech, stone cold?"

"Hells yeah!", I said. "Or how about that flashback episode, where she..."

I was interrupted by the sound of loud hip-hop music. Eve and I turned around to see a black Jeep rolling up the block. Eve swore under her breath. "Come on," she told me, picking up her pace. "We'll take the next turn."

Unfortunately, we were in the middle of the block, and the Jeep caught up with us first. It was Tyrone's. He was behind the wheel, Chico in the back seat, and a familiar bleached-blond douche leaned out the front passenger window up to his waist. "Hey, hey! It's Little Blue Riding Hood. How's it going, girl?"

"Fuck off, Chad," Eve snarled.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that, just wanna talk..."

We both ignored him.

"Come on, girl. Where you headed?", Chad continued. "Hop in and we can take you for a ride, know what I mean?" he humped his crotch against the doorframe to make it obvious what he meant.

"Fuck off," Eve repeated.

"Hey, your boyfriend can come too. He can watch, we'll show him how it's done!" He laughed an ugly laugh. Chico shook his head from the back seat. Eve just ignored him. "Yo, serious, girl," Chad continued, "give your boy Tucker a message from me?"

"Tell him yourself," Eve said coldly.

"Girl, come on! He don't show at the park anymore, and you know your sister banned us from the shop!"

"Your problem, not mine."

"But I need a fix, girl! Tucker's the only guy who sells the good stuff!"

Tyrone grabbed Chad by the back of his pants and yanked him back inside. "Sit yo fool ass down and shut yo mouth, Chad! We out in the open!"

"Yeah, man," Chico added. "We've got enough stash for awhile. 'Sides, you're gonna lose your head if you keep sticking it out like that."

Chad clicked his tongue dismissively. "Man, forget both you guys! I need..."

The three started arguing amongst themselves. We reached the corner and took a tight turn as they stopped for a red light. When Chad saw us walking away, he leaned out the window again. "Alright, Blue, whatever you want. When you get the urgin', you know where we'll be!"

Eve flipped him off over her shoulder.

"Aw, quit playin', you know we got what you need! A little bud, a little forty, a little ten-inch..."

Eve whirled on him. "I'd rather drown in a forty than take it from you!"

Chad had a retort, but it was cut off by the music firing up again and Tyrone rolling up the window, causing Chad to pull back rather than get his face crushed. When the light turned green, the Jeep drove off. We kept walking.

"God, what a bunch of morons," Eve said.

"No argument here," I said. "Are they still giving you trouble at the park?"

Eve sighed. "I don't go there anymore. I can draw in my room, or up on the roof. The only reason I liked the park is the sound of the fountain, and you can't even hear it over their music every night."

"Ah, that's too bad," I said. We had come to Sugar Tats, and I took the bags while Eve fumbled with her keys in the garage door. "Y'know," I added, "If it's the water you like, the beach is just forty minutes drive."

"Nah. Beaches mean swimsuits, and I don't like swimsuits."

"Why?", I asked. "You'd look good in one."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure, Aaron."

"No, you would, really."

"No, I wouldn't, really. Look at me, I'm a fucking banana."

"I think you're cute," I said with a smile.

The lock on the door opened. Eve adjusted her hood briefly before crouching to roll the door open.

"Besides, bananas are good," I added. "I like bananas. Eat them with my cereal all the time."

"Uh-huh." Eve said it skeptically, but I saw that she was smiling.

Upstairs, I plopped the bags on the table and Eve started unloading them. "Plates and glasses in the cabinet over the sink, forks and knives under the microwave."

"You mind if I use the bathroom first?" I asked.

"Sure thing," Eve said. "Right through my room."

The bathroom had cheap fixtures, but was very clean. After using the toilet, I went to wash my hands, but the soap bottle on the sink was bone dry.

"Eve!" I called. "You're out of soap!"

"Look in the medicine cabinet!" she called back. I swung it open. In a sudden, panicked voice, Eve added, "Be careful, it…!"

Too late. The force of the cabinet door opening tipped the cabinet forward just far enough to make it vomit the entire contents of it's shelves into the sink basin. I jumped back, my hands in the air. The sink filled up with jars and bottles and boxes. A few clattered out onto the floor below.

Eve appeared at the door, hood down, with a grimace on her face. "Sorry!," she said. "I forgot to mention that it does that."

Luckily, nothing seemed to have spilled or broken. I helped her gather up some of the stuff on the floor. "How long has it been like that?", I asked.

"Grace says since she moved in," She walked up to the sink and gave the cabinet a quick lift and push to set it right. "There's screws loose on the back or something."

I brought the bottles over and started stacking them back on the shelves. "Has anybody tried to fix it?"

"It's not easy to get back there, and it's not a problem if you're just gentle with..."

Suddenly Eve's arm lashed out like a cobra striking and snatched something from the sink basin. She stuffed it quickly into her pocket, but not before I'd seen what it was: a translucent orange prescription bottle. I looked at her and saw worry verging on panic in her eyes. Her free hand clutched at her hood, as if on instinct. I held up a hand in a gesture of reassurance.. "It's alright," I said. "If you want to say, fine. If not, it's none of my business."

This seemed to calm her a bit. I took a look at the containers in my hands and the sink. Three women lived in this house, and a woman's medicine cabinet is a chest of occult alchemical reagents to a man's eyes. "I… have no idea where any of this goes," I admitted.

"Um… yeah," Eve said. "Why don't you leave that to me? You can wash your hands in the kitchen sink."

I did exactly that. Then we ate dinner in front of the couch, munching on steamed dumplings and fried rice while watching some lame but funny reality show about parking enforcement. Afterwards, Eve recommended we play some games. I agreed. I didn't want to leave just yet, even though it was starting to get late.

I followed her back into her room. She gestured at the collection of discs under the TV. While Eve rummaged in a pile of sketchbooks by her bed, I browsed through the game discs. Most of the games were a few years old, I think the most recent was still from last year. There were mostly action games, some rhythm games, a racer or two, and…

"Holy shit!", I said. "Is that..." I pulled a case out. It was. "The new Tekken!" 'New' was probably not the right word, but I had never played it, so it was new to me. Oh, we gotta play this! I used to be a huge fan of the series. You play much?"

"Well, I used to," Eve said. "Kinda got out of it, but I think I can still remember."

"Sweet! Let's go!" I turned on the console and TV, put the disc in, grabbed a controller, and sat down cross-legged before the TV. Eve came over and sat down next to me.

"Get ready for a beating," I said with a smirk. "I was The Man at Tekken."

Eve laughed and picked up the second controller as the title screen came up. "Show me what you've got."

Ten brutal defeats later, two thing were obvious to me: Eve knew this game very, very, well, and I wasn't as badass as I thought.

"Out of practice, huh?", I said doubtfully.

Eve gave me a shit-eating grin. "Welllllll… I might have been getting back into it recently." I could practically hear the wink emoji on the end of that line.

"Yeah, well, we ain't done yet, I'm just getting warmed up!"

And then she continued beating me bloody.

Eve surprised me; there's no law against girls being good at video games, not even an unwritten law, but it's something rare. Women are social creatures, much moreso than men. At school, they always congregated in groups, and I'd often seen them doing the same when out at play. Videogames, on the other hand, are largely a solitary hobby. There's multiplayer, sure, and MMOs, and some games are even played as sports, but the majority of one's gaming time is still spent alone in a room. Any woman could equal any man at any game if she practiced as much as him, but most would rather spend time talking, or texting, or socializing- their relationships are more important.

When you think about it, it made perfect sense that Eve would have the time. Actually, when I thought about it, all her hobbies were solitary hobbies. Drawing, anime, listening to music… all things done primarily alone. Not to mention the amount of studying she had to be doing to keep her grades as high as they were. Only a girl who barely ever talked to anybody, always sat alone at lunch, and was teased or ignored by her entire school… was that the price of having so much free time?

I looked at Eve, her eyes glued to the screen, mouth fixed in the bland smile of somebody completely absorbed in a game. Had it always been this way for her? Was this a new thing, since she moved into town, or did it extend back into her life before? Eve, always the lone wolf, always by herself, always veiled by a cat-eared hood. Draw inexorably to ways she could have fun while remaining alone. How many hours had she spent in a room like this, with no company except her distractions, to get so good at those distractions? More than that, why? Why did she avoid social contact so much? What was she afraid of?

And what made me different?

My train of thought was derailed by the game announcing another addition to Eve's dominating winning streak. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I had barely been paying attention.

"That last round wasn't so hot, Aaron," she said. "Had enough?"

I scoffed. "Yeah, right! I ain't ready to quit. One more!"

"You have to say, 'Please, ma'am, may I have another?'" she said with an evil smile.

"Yeah, keep trash-talking. I'll make you eat those words soon enough!"

We started another match.

"Eve?", I asked a few seconds in.

"Hmm?" she said, not turning from the game.

"I'm glad I could spend time with you today."

She turned to look at me, looking a little confused. I smiled warmly, and she dropped her eyes, smiled back bashfully… and in the process, took her eyes and her attention off the game long enough for me to catch her in a lethal combo. "K.O.!" the game announced. I threw my hands up in the air and cheered. Eve's jaw dropped. "No fair!", she yelled. She punched me in the shoulder, but not hard. "You cheater! What the hell?!"

"A win's a win. Ain't no rule says you can't distract your opponent!", I said.

"Yeah, well don't get cocky, newbie! There's three rounds in a match, and that was just number one."

"Which means I've got two chances to chalk up another and break your streak!"

I lost both.

After numerous more defeats, I finally dropped the controller and flopped back onto the floor, my legs in the air like a dead horse. "Ugh, enough. I give."

"Oh, really," Eve taunted. "I thought you were just warming up?"

I sat back up. "I've warmed up all the way to overheated. I give! I bow before your superior Tekken skills!"

"Yes! I am the Tekken master! The Woman who beat The Man! WOO!" Eve imitated the sound of a crowd cheering. I chuckled. Despite losing all but two out of I-lost-count-of-how-many matches, it had been fun. Even if I was walking away with a bruised ego.

The ad-hoc celebration was interrupted by my cell phone going off. I took it out and checked the caller. "It's my Aunt," I told Eve. I answered the phone. "Hi, Aunt Diane."

"Where are you, Aaron?!", she yelled over the phone.

"At a friends house." I said, defensively. "I told Mom I was going, she should have…"

"Do you know what time it is?!"

"Uh… the time…," I looked at Eve, who got out her phone and checked it.

"It's eleven o'clock!" Diane screamed at me. Eve turned her phone toward me with a grimace. 11:07, it said.

"Shit!" I said, getting to my feet. "I'm sorry, I must have lost track! Uh… could you come pick me up? I'm at… you know a place called Sugar Tats?"

Silence on the line.

"Aunt Diane?", I asked.

"Aaron," she said, in a forcibly restrained tone, "I'm not mad, but please tell me, what are you doing at eleven at night at a place called 'Sugar Tits'?"

"Tats! Not Tits! Sugar Tats!", I protested. Eve overheard and choked back a snickering laugh. "It's… ugh, never mind," I continued. "Look, pick me up at the northwest corner of the park, I'll explain everything, all right?"

Diane sighed. "Fine, fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"'Kay, see you then. Bye." I hung up. "Jesus, I really didn't know it was that late."

"Time flies," said Eve. She got to her feet and shook her legs to drive off the pins and needles that comes from sitting cross-legged for so long.

"When you're having fun, yeah," I replied.

Eve smiled. "Let me walk you out, the garage door takes a bit of a knack."

She led me down the stairs and out the garage door to the sidewalk. The street was mostly empty, but bright streetlamps and light shining out the windows of residences up and down the street kept it from being too ominous. The light at the shop downstairs was also still on; that back tat Grace was working on must have been a really badass one. As I walked out, Eve stood just inside the garage door. I turned to her. "Thanks for having me over today. I had a really great time."

"Thanks for coming. So did I."

"We should do it again sometime," I offered.

"Sure. Start training, we'll have a rematch after you've improved some."

"I'd like that." I stood there, smiling. It was time for me to wave and say goodbye, but I hesitated. There was a look in Eve's eyes, something tantalizing but unknown. A question? A wish, maybe? Perhaps…

With the swiftness of a pouncing fox, Eve crossed the small distance between us and kissed me on the cheek. It happened lightning-fast; by the time I had realized what had happened, she had already retreated back to the door. Her hand hovered in front of her face, but couldn't hide a smile at once giddy and mischievous. She waved. "Bye, Aaron," she said.

"See you at school," I replied.

Eve pulled the garage door closed, and the handle groaned into the locked position.

I touched the tiny wet spot on my cheek where Eve had kissed me. A kiss on the cheek is supposed to indicate failure- success is getting it on the lips- but it didn't feel like a failure. Not at all. I smiled, even though there wasn't anybody around to see it. I turned and walked down the block to the park, my steps light and energetic despite the fact that it was close to midnight.

All in all, it had been a good day.

The next morning, I woke up to find a text from Eve on my phone: "I had a great time today, and I hope we can do it again. But please forget about the kiss. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry."