The street outside was eerily quiet and Angela suddenly felt disorientated despite having found her way to Jordan's house with no problems the night before. She glanced left and right, the streets seemed to have altered their course overnight and there were trees where before there had been none. Her legs felt unsteady and she was slightly dizzy with hunger.

"Angela,"

Jordan emerged from the gloom fastening his shirt as he approached her. Angela refused to meet his gaze; instead she pulled up the collar of her shirt as if it would conceal her from him. Apparently it didn't work.

"I was stupid,"

She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms as if expectant that more grovelling was to come. But there was nothing else. With a shake of the head Angela turned away.

"Wait, what do you want me to say?" Jordan followed her, barefoot, a little way down the street.

When she knew he was within range of hearing her Angela finally made some sort of response, though she didn't stop walking and refused to turn around to face him, "how could I have even thought this was a good idea? I'm so stupid. I can't believe I actually had sex with you,"

"Will you wait a minute?"

Angela stopped and allowed Jordan to catch up. She felt sick, she felt as though she didn't want to be anywhere near him, the thought of him touching her.

"At least let me walk you home,"

"I'm going back to Rayanne's,"

"I could walk you there,"

"I don't want you to walk me. How can you even be like this now?"

"Like what? It was you, you-," Jordan stammered, "you ask all these questions,"

Angela glanced up at the early morning sky in exasperation, "oh right, I ask questions. Oh dear God how terrible. I just want to know who you are, you never talk to me about yourself,"

He hesitated as if knowing the words he was about to speak were going to be taken out of context by an irate Angela, "maybe I don't want to,"

She frowned, frustrated and hurt, "don't follow me Jordan,"

Like he ever would, like he would ever go out of his way to do anything but hurt me.

By the time Jordan had decided he would follow her she was almost at the church at the end of the street, the church where Jordan himself had been christened in happier times. The occasional small stone on the sidewalk sent a shock of pain through the sole of his foot as he jogged, as best he could, after the now shrinking figure in the near distance. But he was glad of the pain, glad of the reminder that this was actually happening and not just a bad dream. Only minutes ago he had been watching her sleep, torn between waking her to see her smile, and leaving her to watch a little longer. His mind hadn't quite caught up with this sudden turn of events; he hadn't had the time to adapt to this new situation, as if he was ever sufficiently adjusted to any situation.

As a child he had spent a lot of time on his own. He had never liked school and took every opportunity to bunk off, preferring to sit alone on the riverbank and practice skimming stones across its surface. He was happy in his own company but as a result he missed the valuable foundations of social behaviour learnt by the young. As he grew up he discovered people were drawn to him nonetheless, mistaking his social inadequacy for something far cooler, like rebellion.

Knowing no other way of showing her how he felt, when he eventually caught up with Angela, Jordan caught hold of her arm, which had been swinging wildly in time with her determined walk. He pulled her toward him, though she grimaced and tried to pull away, and he kissed her.

With a palm firmly to his chest Angela sent Jordan stumbling backwards, hissing in pain when his bare foot met a jagged piece of plastic on the ground. His eyesight was blurry with tears, whether from the pain in his foot or the look on Angela's face, he didn't know.

"Angela,"

"What are you afraid of?" she shot back, "are you afraid I'll laugh at you?"

"What?"

"Do you really think this is some sort of a game to me? You think having sex with you was just something I did and now I just move along. Did it even mean anything to you?"

It had meant the world to him.

"Well what about you? You're not exactly Mrs Open-talker. I mean you and your parents don't get on too good right? You don't talk to me about them. I come to your house the night of the crash and your mom's all dolled up like a cheap hooker to meet up with some guy she knew at school. I mean that's not exactly normal but you never talk about your parents. So why should I?"

Angela stared at him, struck half dumb by his outburst, "how can you say those things?"

The hurt and confusion in her face set off a pounding in Jordan's head, "I'm sorry,"

"I have only ever been honest with you. I just want to know who Jordan Catalano is. I thought if we-, but I guess I was just being naïve wasn't I? So don't worry, at least you can add me now to Cynthia Hargrove and whoever else it is you've slept with,"

She turned away, and this time Jordan did not follow her.

--

"What happened? Did he hurt you?"

Rayanne followed Angela through to her room desperate to discover why her friend had arrived back at a ridiculously early hour of the morning with tear stained cheeks and missing a tank top and socks.

Angela flopped down on to Rayanne's bed, pulled a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. Rayanne knelt down next to her on the floor and watched the silent tears slip from her friend's closed eyes despite her obvious efforts to stop them.

Rayanne felt awkward, like she had no right to try and help Angela considering they weren't that close right now, and considering that it had to do with Jordan. It all seemed more than a little messed up and confusing. The fact that Rayanne had emptied half a bottle of whiskey after Sharon left the night before wasn't helping matters.

"So," she began finally, still not certain it was the right course to take to confront Angela, "did you and Jordan like-,"

Angela made no response.

"Do you want me to go away?" Rayanne asked at length. She was about to stand when finally Angela spoke.

"How do you get over it?"

Rayanne slowly sunk back down to her knees "get over what?"

Angela opened her eyes, "being with someone like that,"

"What, you mean like sex? You and Jordan had sex?"

Angela seemed not to have heard the question, or perhaps chose not to answer it directly, "being that close to a person and then just walking away?"

Rayanne shrugged, "I dunno," but she realised Angela needed more of an answer than that at this moment, "I guess I don't look at it like that. It's not about the person, it doesn't matter who they are or what they mean to me. It's just about the moment,"

"Was it like that with Jordan?"

Alarm bells began to ring in Rayanne's mind. She had to tread carefully, but at the same time she knew Angela could read her as clearly as she could any book, she would pick up on any attempt to sugar the pill.

"No," she said slowly, "I guess with Jordan I felt something." Her gaze darted around the room; everywhere but directed at Angela, "I dunno, I needed him,"

"Why him?"

Rayanne let out a long sigh and then answered in barely a whisper, "because he was yours,"

Angela closed her eyes and clutched the pillow tighter to her. Rayanne carefully pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed over her friend, who gratefully gathered it around her shoulders.

"So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight? Or would you rather talk to Sharon?"

As much as I trusted Sharon for some reason the only person I wanted to talk to was Rayanne.

"We had sex,"

Rayanne waited to see if there would be anymore of an explanation but that seemed to be it. "What, and you didn't like it? It's okay not to like it your first time,"

"I liked it,"

Rayanne hadn't prepared for that answer. "Oh,"

"I thought if I did it I'd feel closer to him, like he would start being honest with me,"

"About what?"

"About everything. I mean I don't even know his father's name,"

"His father's name is Ed," Rayanne replied flippantly. She noted how Angela seemed to grimace, "I mean-, but I only know that because Tino told me,"

"When I got that letter Rayanne, I thought that was it," Angela's eyes seemed to well with tears again, "I thought he was ready to be open with me, to finally tell me how he felt, but he didn't write it. Even now, even after-," she sighed, "everything. He's not capable of it,"

"Of what?" Angela's musings were slightly too philosophical for Rayanne to keep up.

"Opening his heart,"

"That's just Jordan,"

Angela smiled wearily, "that's exactly what Sharon said,"

--

In school Angela felt uncomfortable. She imagined everyone could tell what she had done the night before, like it would show some how. As she walked down the corridor to her locker she thought she heard her name whispered among a group of girls, and she could have sworn she caught two guys making rude gestures in her direction. She remembered back to the last time she had felt like this, when the rumours had been flying about her and Jordan. It seemed so long ago now, when she would have done anything for the rumours to be true. Now it felt different, her face felt hot like when she was a kid trying to hide the fact she'd done wrong from her mother. To her surprise she was relieved to find Brian waiting near her locker. As she approached he pretended to search for something in his bag.

"Erm, I can't find my copy of the results from biology," he began, "I think I lent them to you last week,"

Angela reached into her locker and pulled out the piece of paper, handing it to him with barely a glance.

"Thanks," he noticed her sullen expression, "is everything okay?"

Angela reached in and took out the books she needed.

"My mom is still reeling from you calling the other week. She's like obsessed with you now or something, she keeps asking me to ask you over. I mean not that I have any reason to ask you over so that's just ridiculous. It's just this fixation she has. I think it's a midlife crisis personally,"

"Do you want to go see a movie this weekend?" she suddenly turned to him.

The books slipped in his arms and Brian had to quickly catch a science textbook that threatened to fall to the floor.

"I mean you asked yesterday,"

"Oh yeah, right," Brian was surprised still to be standing upright.

"So seven thirty Saturday?"

"Yeah,"

Angela responded with a slight nod before she disappeared into the crowds leaving Brian dumbfounded, confused and slightly uncertain as to what actually just happened.

Angela found Sharon waiting for her just around the corner.

"So,"

Angela smiled, "so,"

Sharon grinned, "are you going tell me or do I have to guess?"

"Can you guess?" Angela asked seriously, glancing down at herself in case there was some sort of sign that she had actually had sex.

Sharon realised the answer was the affirmative. She shook her head and noted a look of relief flash across her friend's face.

"So how was it?"

"How was it? You make it sound like a book or a plate of spaghetti,"

Sharon was insistent, "well?"

Angela hesitated, "Yeah it was-," she smiled.

Sharon giggled, "I knew it. So what was he like?"

"Sharon," Angela flushed bright pink.

"What? You're my friend, we're supposed to discuss these things, it's like a rite of passage or something,"

"No,"

"Come on Angela,"

"No," she laughed.

"At least tell me," she pulled Angela to the side of the corridor, "was he, like, passionate?"

"Shut up!" Angela giggled and began nibbling the top of her nail checking the corridor in case anyone might be eavesdropping.

"Please, I'm like totally starved of girl talk like this, none of my other friends have done it yet,"

It was then that it sank in. I had crossed the line; I was no longer a virgin.

"Come on Angela," Sharon was holding one of her hands now and shaking it up and down in frustration.

"It was nice,"

"Nice?"

Angela gave in once again to the giggles, "okay it was more than nice,"

Sharon grinned, "yay, I knew it would be," she catches sight of one of her classmates moving toward their classroom, "I'd better go, you have to tell me more later okay." With one final excited grin, Sharon dashed across the corridor after her classmate leaving Angela gripping her exercise books as if somehow she could transfer the tension in her body to them.

--

I felt like a fugitive in my own home. I did everything possible to avoid my mother; there was just no way she wouldn't notice something about me had changed.

Angela pushed the bathroom door slightly ajar to check if the landing was clear. Believing she had made sufficiently sure she stepped out.

"So you are still living here,"

Angela slowly turned. Patty had appeared from Danielle's room carrying a pile of laundry.

"I was beginning to wonder,"

Angela's mouth fell open as if to offer an explanation. Unfortunately her mind hadn't quite sprung into action as quickly as her face and she was still pulling together some sort of response. "I had a lot of homework,"

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine,"

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Oh God, parental telepathy. It's a conspiracy.

Angela tried, and failed, to look blasé, "no,"

Patty tried, and failed, to look convinced, "okay,

Angela watched her mother disappear down the stairs. Secretly she wished she could talk to her, but the idea of actually telling Patty about her and Jordan having sex was like some kind of hellish nightmare.

Angela retreated back into her room and closed the door. Her mind felt as though it was splitting in two, she couldn't help but think back to the night she had spent with Jordan and how perfect it had been before it got ruined. It was the first time she had actually allowed herself to dwell on it; how wonderful Jordan had been, how gentle and understanding, how much they laughed and teased and lay in silence. She thought about how safe she had felt with his arms around her, surrounded by his warmth. But then she thought about how quickly it had turned to something less than perfect, how he had so quickly become like a stranger afterwards and how she wished he would just be honest with her and show her everything there was to see of Jordan Catalano.

--

It was late when Jordan pulled up outside the Chases', later than he had reckoned on, but it took him longer than expected to get his father's old car running again. As the engine silenced it suddenly struck him that he hadn't actually thought about what he would say to Angela when she appeared in the doorway. As the back door opened Jordan took a deep breath, fully prepared for the door to be slammed immediately in his face. Such was his anxiety that almost as soon as the first wedge of light appeared around the door he began his hastily prepared explanation.

"Angela, I know it's late and I'm like the last person you wanna-,"

Jordan was silenced by the appearance of Graham in the doorway.

"Oh,"

Graham looked almost as puzzled and uncomfortable as Jordan.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Jordan dithered, "no … do you?"

"It's late,"

"Right." Jordan automatically felt uncomfortable in Graham's presence – and not just because he'd had sex with his daughter only a few days ago. Never having had a particularly good relationship with his own father, Jordan didn't really know how the whole father/child relationship worked, let alone the father/daughter angle. "Is Angela in?"

"Yes, she's in bed, same as every other sensible person at this time of night,"

"Yeah, sorry,"

Jordan went to turn away, breathing a frosty breath into the night air.

"Wait," Graham sighed, unable to justify allowing the young man to disappear into the night without at least offering him something to eat first, "you hungry?"

The pair sat either side of the kitchen table eating some reheated pasta. Jordan hadn't had a decent meal in a while, he wasn't much of a cook and he hadn't been managing his budget too well lately meaning he couldn't afford many of the things he liked best.

"Stuff never tastes like this when I reheat it, just tastes like--nothin'"

Graham twisted some more spaghetti on to his fork, "you cook much?"

"Not really. I got a book, like a recipe book, but I-, it didn't make much sense,"

"You just gotta take it one step at a time,"

Graham looked over at the young man struggling to get a particularly pesky strand of spaghetti to stay on his fork. Immediately after the accident Graham had been unsure how to act or what to do. He wanted to protect his daughter and part of him was angry with Jordan for endangering Angela, but part of him felt for Jordan too. When there was no sign of Jordan's own father for so long Graham had begun to feel protective of him, he thought he could identify what it was about this young man that had his daughter so enraptured. Angela had always been drawn to wounded creatures.

"So how are things, with you and Angela?"

Instead of making eye contact Graham posed his question whilst seeming to concentrate extremely hard on his spaghetti so as not to make it seem too much of a big deal.

Jordan gripped his fork a little tighter as he was forced to wrestle once again with the issue of Angela, "it's great,"

Graham looked up, not wanting to frighten the kid but not willing to accept a blatant lie either, "you know my daughter's barely left her room for three days? Now you come around here at two in the morning, you tell me everything's just great." With no reply forthcoming Graham shifted up a gear, "unless of course you came here so late for other reason, like you were planning on sleeping with Angela. In which case I'll give you a three minute head start, what with your leg and all, before I-,"

"It's not like that," Jordan interjected, "I came to apologise. I said some things and Angela got upset,"

"What things?"

"More like some stuff I didn't say,"

Graham frowned "okay, something she needs to know?"

"She wants to know. It's like she's on some kind of mission or something, she just won't be satisfied, it's never enough for her,"

"You've lost me,"

"There's stuff okay, stuff about my family that she wants me to talk about and I just-, I'm not ready,"

Graham watched the young man fidget awkwardly in his seat, "I know Angela can be--persistent. But when it comes to secrets, telling the people you care about is a lot easier than struggling to keep it from them." As he spoke, his own words seemed to ring true to Graham himself.

"I don't want anything to change between us,"

"What you want it to stay like this? Angela in her room and you sneaking around in the early hours?"

"I guess not," Jordan had more or less given up on the pasta by now, instead he just prodded at various strands of the spaghetti with his fork. Jordan looked up to Graham, he was the sort of father he wished he could have had; one that actually gave a damn about what happened to his kids and acted like a real human being occasionally. "Were you awake just now?"

The quick turnaround in the conversation took Graham by surprise and as a result he stuttered, tellingly, as he began his explanation, "no. Well-, well yeah I was up. Reading, I was reading before bed,"

"Do you always read wearing your shoes?"

Graham was hoping he hadn't noticed.

"No," he laughed a little, "I was going to take the garbage out,"

Then again, perhaps every father has his secrets.