Free Like It Never Happened by Emily Adrian Page A

thousand? My options would be reduced by one hundred times. Tess had rolled her eyes.
    â€œThe point is for the guy to be a stranger,” she said. “You’ll never have to see him again.”
    â€œAnd that’s a good thing?” I asked.
    Tess nodded sagely. “Trust me, you won’t want to see him again.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause it’s going to be a disaster.”
    That made sense. When I thought realistically about having sex with a person, I couldn’t imagine it being anything short of disastrous. Maybe if my first attempt was with a stranger, I would be better prepared to do it with a boy I actually liked. The first time would be like a dress rehearsal, only without any costumes.
    But the coast was having a cold summer and Seaside was pretty dead. Toward the end of the week, when Tess had almost lost hope, we finally located some boys. Their names were Jason and Connor and they were loitering outside the sweet shop. They both had mouths full of saltwater taffy—Jason’s with green apple, Connor’s with tutti-frutti.
    I thought you could probably tell a lot about a boy based on his preferred flavor of taffy. Tess stepped closer to Jason.
    The four of us wandered down the main drag of Seaside, lined with dingy arcades and ice-cream parlors and stuff that was allegedly exciting to people a hundred years ago. Peering through the window of the Thingamajigs Store was kind of like looking at old pictures of your parents—when your mom keeps insisting wooden clogs and red paisley dresses were the style, and you can’t help but suspect she was kidding herself, even then.
    The sun was high and the sky cloudless, but the wind kept biting at my neck. Outside of a clothing store, Connor felt up a mannequin. It was modeling a hoodie that said I’VE GOT SEASIDE SWAGGER . Jason hooted his approval so loudly the shopkeeper came outside to yell at us. The boys sprinted down the street, laughing like they had gotten away with something.
    Riding the bumper cars was Tess’s idea. She lifted her eyebrows as she made the suggestion, like bumper cars were common foreplay. We each gave four dollars to the boy at the gate. He was actually kind of cute, the gatekeeper. He had floppy hair and a mole like Marilyn Monroe’s. I smiled at him as he helped me into a lime-green car.
    We had the track to ourselves, because it was cold and hardly even fun. At first we just drifted around, Tess and I giggling self-consciously and the boys ramming into each other like goats. With a strange look on his face, Jason—who was supposed to like Tess best—crashed his car into mine as hard as he could. Then he looked at me expectantly, like how I reacted to the attack meant everything about what kind of girl I was. And I tried to be the right kind, by laughing and returning the crash with equal force.
    â€œOhhh,” said Jason, in a this-means-war kind of way. His tone attracted Connor, and soon they were both slamming against me to a sound track of Tess’s giggles. I attempted to maneuver my car away from theirs, inspiring them to back me into a corner. They took turns rear-ending me, shouting “We win!” and “Game over!” and other things boys take so seriously.
    I could hear Tess getting annoyed. Nobody was paying any attention to her. “Come on, guys,” she whined. “This is dumb.”
    It was in fact dumb, so I said, “Knock it off,” and they did.
    Bumper cars weren’t so sexy after all.
    On the sidewalk I reminded Tess we had to be back at the house for dinner. I was actually excited for dinner; we were having bouillabaisse.
    Tess leaned close to Jason to whisper something in his ear, and whatever it was caused his eyebrows to leap and his lips to twist mischievously.
    â€œWhat did you tell him?” I looked over my shoulder at the boys retreating, their heads ducked low.
    â€œTo meet us on the beach tonight,”