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  Gabe does the same with his shorts. He takes his shirt off too. Gabe glances over at Jay with that smile in his eyes.

  I wade into the water. The August nights have begun to cool off. I raise my arms in response to the chill.

  “Jesus,” says Jay. Then he seems to change his mind. “Okay” he says, pulling his shorts and T-shirt off. “But,” he says to me, “Gabe and I have our shirts off, so you have to take your shirt off too.”

  They are both staring at my nearly wet T-shirt. I don’t want to take it off. I’ve just started to grow. Will they tease me because I’m starting breasts? Will they tease me because they’re not bigger? I pull the shirt away from my body. “No way,” I say.

  “Come on,” says Jay, who is standing along the water’s edge facing me. “You were the one who suggested we do this. If you’re not going to take your shirt off, then take your underpants off.”

  I look at Gabe. I rescued him when Jay asked what we were doing. Surely he will rescue me.

  Gabe is smiling at Jay. “Take off yours,” he says to him. Neither boy is coming into the water.

  “Why should I take mine off? I have one piece of clothing on. You have one piece of clothing on. She should have one piece of clothing on too.” His voice is serious. Direct.

  I want this conversation to end. I think about leaving, but I think that perhaps Jay will leave first, and then Gabe and I will be left to our own adventure. I want Jay to leave. I debate taking something off. My underwear? I’m in the water now. They probably can’t see me. But even below my waist I am caught in the middle. I am no longer a girl, but nowhere near a woman. Will they make fun of me because I’ve begun to grow hair? Will they ridicule me because I have so few? What am I supposed to look like now, anyway?

  “You want to see something? I’ll show you my bum.” It’s the only thing I have to offer.

  “Oh, big deal,” says Jay. “Everyone has an ass. See?” He pulls his underwear down in back and shows me his.

  Gabe laughs like this is the funniest thing he has seen in a long time.

  “Look, even Gabe has an ass,” says Jay.

  Right on cue Gabe lowers his underwear and shows me. He waves his back end around.

  Things have turned sillier. I flip around and moon the boys. But when I look back, I see that Gabe and Jay have not been looking at me. They have been looking at each other. I hurry out of the water, to get my shorts and go home.

  “Where are you going, Jocelyn?” Jay yells. He moves toward me. “Come on. Stay and play.”

  I soften for a moment. Is he being serious? “What do you want to play?” I ask.

  Jay laughs as if this is the funniest thing he’s heard. “How about you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Jay looks at Gabe.

  “Come on, Joss,” says Gabe. “Give him a peek.”

  “Give him a peek yourself,” I say I see a look of anger or excitement come over Gabe’s face—I’m not sure which—but it scares me. I turn and walk quickly down the path.

  Without words, Gabe and Jay are racing toward me. I run, but I don’t stand a chance. Gabe throws me down. I land facedown in the dirt and pine needles. My legs are scratched by low brush. Gabe rolls me over and sits on my stomach the way he has a hundred times before, only this time he pulls up my shirt. I try to pull it down, but he pins my hands. Jay pulls at my shirt. Then he pulls my pants down around my ankles. I hear words and laughing. Gabe slides off my stomach, but his knees still hold me down. I feel fingers, at first only poking, then pinching and probing. They rub against me, but I am no longer on the bank of Kiddy Brook. I am far away.

  Finally, they stop.

  Gabe says, “Hey, get up. Get up, Jocelyn!”

  “Leave her,” says Jay. “She’s a whore.”

  I don’t dare get up for a long time after Gabe and Jay leave. I’m afraid that they are hiding along the trail, that they’ll jump out of the woods and trap me again. It would be Gabe’s way of showing me just what foolish rubbish I am.

  I pull down my T-shirt and look for my underpants and shorts. The panties are ripped, so I slip my shorts on without them. Afraid that my mother will see my underpants back home and ask me what happened, I bury them deep in the mud.

  How could I explain that I had thought it would be okay to take my clothes off in front of boys? My mother would tell me, as she always does, that I had gotten exactly what I deserved. And I had. It takes a long time to dig a hole deep enough so that no one will ever find this trace of me again.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Dora, a counselor my mother works with, asks me to babysit her four-year-old son, Stone. He and I create many adventures for his bionic man action figure, but they all can be summed up this way: Six Million Dollar Man captures and pulverizes Creepy Bad Guy.

  Then we play three games of Chutes and Ladders, read two stories, eat one more bowl of Quisp cereal, and I put him to bed. He calls me back four times before going to sleep.

  I call Theresa, raid the kitchen cupboard (which means eating a whole bag of chocolate chips), and watch a scary movie on TV. I try to stay awake through the news, but I’m never successful. When I wake at 1:30 a.m., Dora is still not home.

  The news and late-night shows are over. Now there is church. A minister stands in front of enormous bouquets of flowers, wearing a microphone and talking about forgiveness. He suggests that we try putting ourselves in the shoes of another.

  I think about that. I think about Benny, who I miss like crazy at this hour, and wonder if I have really tried to see things from his point of view. Maybe I haven’t been a very good friend lately. I mean, he’s been taught that sex before marriage is a sin. Have I tried to understand this? What would I do if my mother were really sick, maybe dying? Could I continue to do things that I know she wouldn’t approve of?

  Meeting Mrs. Desanctis for the first time was so hard. I mean, it’s nerve-racking meeting your boyfriend’s mother on any day, but Benny had told me how sick she was, and I’ve never known how to act around bedridden people.

  I remember that I borrowed Mom’s car to visit Benny, which already made the day a big deal. I never borrow the car. I hate getting the third degree, so I usually opt for my bike instead. But this one time I didn’t want to arrive at the Desanctises’ all hot and sweaty. I read somewhere that a person’s first impression sticks, and I wanted to make a good one.

  I arrived just as Mr. Desanctis was leaving to play golf. He hoisted his clubs into the trunk of his car and said, “So, you’re Jocelyn.”

  I held out my hand like I’d seen boys do in movies. “Hi, Mr. Desanctis,” I said.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said. His smile told me that not only did he like me, but Benny did too. I felt stronger going into the house.

  Mrs. Desanctis was smaller than I anticipated. Not just thin, that I did expect, but petite. She was sitting up in her bed, dressed in black polyester pants and a baggy T-shirt, trying to do a crossword puzzle. Behind her hung a crucifix.

  “What’s a four-letter word for ‘boring’?”

  “Dull?” said Benny, throwing himself on the only chair in the room and patting a knee for me to rest on.

  “Get up, Benjamin, and let Jocelyn sit down. Begins with an ‘f,’” said his mother.

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “Well, at least come sit on the bed with me.”

  “Funk?” asked Benny.

  “Flat?” I asked, sitting on the very end.

  “I know,” shouted Benny. “Fred!”

  “Benny!” Mrs. Desanctis laughed. Fred is Benny’s father’s name.

  Mrs. Desanctis threw the crossword puzzle down. “Life,” she said.

  “Now, Ma,” said Benny, getting up and moving over to his mother. “Your life isn’t boring. Your hair, maybe, but certainly not your life. Not when you have me.” He snuggled up to her like an eager puppy.

  “How do you put up with this guy, Jocelyn?” asked Mrs. D.

  I smiled.

  �
��I’m just so sick of these four walls.”

  “Would you like to go somewhere?” I asked. I knew that Benny had been left with the truck, but I had the car. I could take us all out.

  Mrs. D. and Benny looked at each other as if I’d suggested something criminal.

  “Your father would kill us.”

  “So he’d lecture us for a while. ‘What would you have done if your mother needed immediate medical care?’ It might be worth it.”

  “That land of talk worries me, Benjamin.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma. I only take risks with your life, not mine.”

  I drove us all to the brand-new Mall of New Hampshire in Manchester. Mrs. D. was like a child who had been let loose at Disney World for the first time. She listened to Benny’s favorite records with earphones. “How can you understand the words, Benny?” she said.

  “You’re right, Ma. ‘Mares eat oats and does eat oats’ is so much easier to comprehend.”

  She bought us french fries and ice-cream sundaes at the food court. Then, before leaving, we wandered into a department store that had wigs for sale. Mrs. D. tried on a long-haired wig.

  “Barbra Streisand!” said Benny.

  I had to laugh.

  She tried on a wig that was blond and another that was silver. When she took the silver wig off, Benny leaned over his mother’s shoulders and said, “Perfect.”

  Mrs. Desanctis looked up at her wigless reflection in the mirror.

  “I like this one best,” said Benny.

  Suddenly, I feel terrible. Clearly, all I’ve thought about is me and what I need. I decide right then and there to do something differently tomorrow. I’ll show Benny that I can be a real friend.

  During my lunch break I ride my bike over to Mason Florist. They have flowers arranged in baskets and vases shaped as wheelbarrows or baby shoes. The arrangements make me nervous. I guess they remind me of my grandmother’s funeral and the bouquets that filled every room of our tiny house.

  Fortunately, I see the cut flowers in a refrigerator behind the counter. I remember Benny telling me in May that his mother was grumpy because the tulips take so much longer to come out here in New Hampshire than in New Jersey. She was partial to tulips, he said. I purchase a bunch of yellow tulips tied up with a pretty blue ribbon.

  When I get back to the Grill, I ask Linda if I can keep the flowers in the walk-in, and she agrees. “Just tuck them out of the way, so Joe doesn’t see them. You don’t need an interrogation from him.”

  I can’t believe how nervous I am when I ride over to Benny’s after work. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve only talked to Mrs. Desanctis a few times or if it’s because I don’t know how Benny will react to my just showing up. I hope he’ll be pleased.

  I park my bike on the lawn and knock on the door to the little Cape Cod. I hear Benny telling his terrier, Roadkill, to pipe down. And then I hear him say in an upbeat voice, “I’ll be right there!”

  When he opens the door, however, his face registers confusion.

  “Hi, Benny,” I say quickly. “I came—I remembered that your mom likes tulips and thought these might cheer her up.”

  “Are your friends here, Benny?” It’s Mrs. Desanctis calling from the room that used to be a den but is now her bedroom.

  “It’s Jocelyn, Mom.” He nods his head in the direction of her room—his way of inviting me in.

  “Look what she brought you,” he says. His voice is loud, boisterous.

  I worry for a moment that Benny is trying too hard. It occurs to me for the first time that his mother might not want me here. Perhaps she has begun to side with Father Warren, feeling that Benny shouldn’t see so much of me. Maybe she asked Father Warren to talk to Benny.

  “Jocelyn, how wonderful!” says Mrs. Desanctis, pulling herself up. She’s tucked in bed with magazines and newspapers all around her. Her hair is thinner now and loosely pulled back away from her face. “I’ve been asking Benny when I was going to see you again.” She looks warmly at her son.

  Phew. Mrs. Desanctis still likes me. My stomach muscles relax a little. I smile.

  But Benny seems anything but relaxed. He keeps looking at his watch and then smiling at his mother or me in this dopey, distracted way. It isn’t long before I get why.

  “Hey Ben, you ready?” I recognize the voice of Tom Eldridge.

  “Just a sec, Tom.”

  “I told some guys that I’d play a pickup game this afternoon,” Benny says.

  I can’t tell if he’s torn or if he’s a little irritated that I’m upsetting his plans. I’m hoping to put him at ease, to tell him that I understand how awkward I’ve made everything in the past few weeks. That I’ll be understanding. I won’t be so selfish.

  Benny looks at me and then looks at his mother. Maybe it’s permission to leave he’s seeking. Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to say the right things around his mother when he’s gone.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “I want to tell your mother about life at the Grill these days.”

  Benny smiles and says, “Okay. See ya.” He kisses his mother on the cheek and says, “You two behave.” Then he pulls my hair as he leaves.

  I know that I did exactly what I set out to do. I was a better friend. So how come it feels so bad?

  THIRTY-TWO

  I have not told my mother—or anyone else, for that matter—what happened with Gabe and Jay in the woods. Instead, I keep to myself during the day. It is amazing, if you work at it, how many hours you can go in a day without someone talking to you. I work at this.

  At night I crawl into my bed and ask angels to surround me. I picture them flying into my room—all shapes and colors and sizes. I imagine having real conversations with some while the others look on and smile.

  I keep the light on for as long as I can. When my eyes get heavy, I give myself a pep talk: Jocelyn, these are the best hours of the day. You now have eight more hours that are yours and no one else’s. No one will tease you or make mean remarks. No one can hurt you.

  It usually gives me a sense of comfort—eight hours is a long time. A long time before I have to worry that my secret will be told.

  THIRTY-THREE

  There is no search party this morning. No dogs, no men in hiking gear. The deafening helicopters that still buzzed over Weaver Falls yesterday have gone home.

  Today the Grill is a hangout for kids who knew Gabe in any remote way. They have been brought closer by this trial. They don’t want to let go of the heightened feelings that come with a crisis. They don’t want to give up the chance that someone from a different side of the lunchroom will speak to them now. So the jocks and cheerleaders tentatively talk to geeks from the Latin club, who have somehow struck up a conversation with the greasers, who put their orders in through me.

  I have not met Benny’s eyes since he walked into Joe’s. Even though I enjoyed talking with his mother, I still feel hurt that he could choose friends over making things right with me. He’s sitting with them now, laughing at inane jokes and flirting with some girls who are on their way to hike the mountain.

  I’m definitely feeling a little second-class today. Why is it that I’m the only one working? Granted, lots of these kids have jobs that will begin later in the day’like lifeguarding at the town pool or the evening shift at the A & P. But for once I’d like to sit down and have someone take my order.

  “Didn’t I play with you and Gabe when I was little?” a kid says to me while I refill his coffee cup. He’s an artist, a kid who loves to draw silly animal characters. They’re good. He’s sitting with a whole group of kids that I hardly know. Not popular, but not fringe, either.

  “I remember that day,” I say, feeling my face heat up. And I do. His mother brought him over to Mrs. Cavanaugh’s when Gabe and I were there.

  “You stole my hat.”

  Oh, my God, I think. I did. Gabe wasn’t happy about this kid hanging out with us, so we sort of ganged up on him. Took a lot of his things. Hid them. “Sorry about that,” I say.
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  “Well, I guess I can forgive you,” he says, smiling. He has awesome teeth.

  I look over at Benny, who happens to be staring at me.

  “I’m Steve,” he says, pulling me back.

  “Jocelyn,” I say.

  “Hey, Jocelyn,” says a boy at Benny’s table. “Are we going to get our toast?”

  When I feel like it, I think.

  Steve and his friends get up and start digging in their pockets for money. “Maybe we can play together again sometime,” Steve says.

  “What would we play?” I expect him to say, Doctor, in which case I will not know whether he likes me and is flirting with me or suspects I’m an easy lay.

  “I play a mean game of Monopoly,” he says.

  My breath catches.

  “Joss,” Benny says from behind me.

  I look down to see if I need to give Steve change.

  “Bye, Joss,” says Benny as he heads out the door.

  I hardly mind that he’s gone.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  We always go to the regional high school basketball tournament with Gabe’s family. This year Weaver Falls High is in the finals. Matthew is playing. Timmy and Mary are going with friends. Gabe meets his mother as she gets out of her car. He’s in his sneakers, sliding around in the slush. He doesn’t see me emptying the trash next to our shed.

  “Can I bring a friend tonight?”

  “Jocelyn will be there,” I hear Margo say as she gathers groceries from the car.

  I slide farther behind the shed and hold my breath while waiting to hear Gabe’s answer.

  “All right,” Margo says. “Call Jay. We can pick him up on the way.”

  Jay? I guess a look said everything. I’m not surprised. Gabe has not talked to me since that day last summer at Kiddy Brook. He doesn’t act mad at me—it’s not like I told or anything—I’ve simply ceased to exist. In school he avoids looking at me. Once when our French teacher suggested we work together, Gabe asked to be excused to use the bathroom. He never returned, and Mademoiselle Widely never noticed. The weird thing is: I wasn’t relieved. I was disappointed. How is it that you can still miss someone who treats you like “shit on his shoe,” as my mother would say?