Free Tilt by Ellen Hopkins Page B

sweltering August
asphalt. The first was a photo of a man—
Mom’s father, despite his ridiculous
declaration. What kind of wimp-ass guy
claims he’s only slept with one woman—
the one he married after pumping enough
sperm into some other girl to get her pregnant?
That girl, in this case, is my grandmother,
Sarah Hill. Leon Driscoll’s second gift
was her name. This discovery should
feel like a victory. Instead, something
very close to shame has dug a hollow
in my gut. To the west, obsidian thunder-
heads claw over the mountain. Ozone
crackles and perfumes the air. It’s going to
storm something awful before the afternoon
is over. I am almost to the park entrance
when a pickup zips by, close enough to slip-
stream my bike. And he has the nerve
to honk as if it’s my fault he almost hit
me. Mom’s right. This road is dangerous.
And so is my mood. I flip the idiot off.
Like, already a mile or so away, he can
see me. Like he would care if he did.
I turn into the park, pedal over under
a stand of cottonwoods, sit in the grass
beneath them, cooling off in the lush
greenness. Dylan! I’ll see him soon.
I close my eyes, waiting. Kind of
dozing. Smelling barbecue and . . .
suntan lotion. Hey, Mikayla. Tyler.
His voice brings me upright. Damn.
Whatever he’s been doing to work
out, he should keep doing it.
He’s shirtless. And he is hot.
“Hey, Ty. What are you doing here?”

He Holds Up His Longboard
Skating. But it’s getting kinda hot
and I was just thinking about
taking a dip. Want to join me?
He half licks his lips and I wonder
if that means something besides
they’re feeling a little chapped.
“Nah. Dylan’s on his way. I told
him I’d meet him right here.”
I expect him to go dive into the lake.
Instead, he sits beside me, close
enough so I can smell his haze of
sweat, clinging sun-roasted skin.
I lie back in the grass again, and
he follows me, sighing at the cool.
“Sorry about you and Em,” I say.
“I never thought you’d break up.”
He turns onto his side, leans up
slightly over me. Like they say, shit
happens. Anyway, you can’t keep
someone who doesn’t want to stay.

I Consider That
Disagree. I’d fight to keep Dylan.
But I probably shouldn’t say so.
“I guess not. So, how are you
and Caitlin doing?” I suspect
his answer before he tells me,
There is no me and Caitlin.
I’m flying solo for now. How
about you and Dylan? Last time
I saw him he was griping about
you being so unavailable.
I sit up. “Really? When did you
see him?” Ty sits up, too, looks me
in the eye. A couple of nights
ago, at Kristy Lopez’s party.
Kristy Lopez is Dylan’s old girl-
friend. And wait just one damn
second. “Dylan went to a party
without me?” No way. He wouldn’t.
That was my very first question
when I saw him—where’s Mikki?
He said you were on house arrest.
Again. And that he wasn’t going
to sit at home alone anymore,
waiting for your tight-ass parents
to let you off restriction while
the summer kept ticking away.
Of course, he was pretty buzzed
by then. All worked up, really.
Of course he was. I can’t believe
he’d go out without me. That’s bad.
What’s really bad is partying
at Kristy’s. That is unforgivable.

I’m Not Really the Jealous Type
But right this second, the evil
buzz inside my brain is a hive
of tiny green-eyed monsters
hissing Kristy, Kristy, Kristy.
Stop it, Mikayla. Dylan would
never cheat on you. Not with
Kristy, or anyone else. But
why did he go to that party?
Tyler must have noticed how
my face flushed, even though
I’m solidly in the shade. Sorry.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.
“No. It’s okay. Dylan should
have told me, is all.” Why hadn’t
he? The answer is ridiculously
obvious. He didn’t want me to know.
Which makes me wonder what
else he’s hiding. Before I can consider
it more, the guy in question squeals
into a parking space right in front of us.

Dylan

Uh, Question
What the fuck is Tyler doing
here, sitting so close to Mikki?
A big ol’