Free Like It Never Happened by Emily Adrian

food served in the mess hall, and our performance of Seussical the Musical. Abruptly, she turned in her seat with an “Oh!”
    â€œWhat?” I asked, without lifting my head from the window.
    â€œI ran into Hadley Clarke’s mother at Whole Foods!” Like it was big news.
    I barely knew Hadley Clarke, even though she had played small parts in both The Crucible and The Seagull. Outside of theater, Hadley belonged to a group of girls who wore vintage clothes and called each other doll . Unfortunately, our mothers had attended birthing classes together in the previous century and still maintained the belief that Hadley and I shared some kind of bond.
    â€œIs Hadley the one with the inappropriate T-shirt?” asked my father.
    â€œThat’s Tess,” I said. For the record, the T-shirt said I ♥ MY VAGINA . Tess wore it constantly, on the grounds that it was a feminist thing.
    My father went, “Hmmm.”
    Mom continued, “You know Tess. Her family took Rebecca to the beach last summer, before the girls had their little falling-out.”
    My father looked amused. “What did you fall out about?”
    â€œAsk Mom,” I said. “She seems to know everything.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. Perhaps a boy?” Mom theorized.
    I flopped back against my seat and groaned. It had been over a year, but discussing the beach trip never appealed to me. “So what happened with Hadley Clarke’s mother?” I asked, just to change the subject.
    â€œOh!” Mom switched back to her gossipy voice. “Well, according to Diane, Hadley thinks she has a shot at getting the lead this year.”
    â€œWhy would she think that?” I asked.
    â€œWell, why wouldn’t she? She’s got all that blond hair, and such pale skin. She’s perfect for it.”
    â€œPerfect for what?” I practically spat.
    â€œBlanche DuBois from A Streetcar Named Desire ?” prodded my mother. “They announced the fall play in the school newsletter.”
    My mother had a habit of burying the lede. It provided her with some sick pleasure.
    I commenced freaking out while she chuckled to herself. I didn’t even know anything about A Streetcar Named Desire —except that it was another nonmusical, and something you might study in English class, just like all the plays Mr. McFadden chose.
    â€œYou don’t think your director might want to give the part to a fresh face?” asked Mom.
    â€œNo,” I said firmly. Although apparently the lead required blond hair. Maybe I could dye mine. Not playing Blanche was obviously not an option.
    Sighing, Mom resumed fussing with the controls. Dad reached across the center console to lightly rest his hand on her thigh—and even though it was a completely perverse train of thought, I flashed back to the bus. For the last hour of the ride, Charlie had held me with his thumb pressed against the underside of my left breast.
    For a second, I forgot all about the play and focused on the memory of that pressure.
    Eventually I realized my father was staring at me in the mirror. “What?” I asked. I had been thinking about sex. Wondering if Charlie and I would be having it.
    â€œWe’re happy you’re home,” he repeated. “The house felt too quiet without you.”

CHAPTER 12

    T he summer before , when Tess had found out I was a virgin—despite our whole school’s belief in my sexual prowess—she had at first been shocked and then determined to get rid of it. Like my virginity had been a rash, or a parking ticket—something simply cured or dismissed. I had only needed to appeal to the right person.
    Her parents had invited me to spend a week at their house in Seaside, and Tess had sworn it was the perfect opportunity. I had made the mistake of questioning her logic: Why leave the city—which was theoretically swarming with beddable boys—for a town with a population of six