Free Her and Me and You by Lauren Strasnick

something.”
    “So ask.”
    “Can you stop moving, please?” I tugged on her sleeve. “For like, two seconds?”
    “I’m late.”
    “For what?”
    “Piano.”
    “Adina.”
    “ What ?” She stopped. Her lips were pursed. “Quickly, okay? I have to go.”
    “Did you . . . ?” is how I started. I didn’t want to have to say it. “What are you telling people?”
    “About?” She feigned oblivion. “Can’t this wait?”
    “Not really.”
    “So? Spit it out.”
    What was she? Friend? Foe? “Did you tell people about that kiss?”
    Real quick: “No.”
    “You didn’t? Because people are saying you did.”
    Without pause: “I didn’t say shit.” Her cheeks were pink. “Clearly you said something. Or Fred.”
    “Why would I say something?”
    “Who knows? Maybe you’ve got some creepy crush on me and this is your way of expressing it.”
    I flinched. “Hey. I’m not a liar.”
    “Oh, and you think I am?” She smiled, and started off.
    “Adina,” I called, wringing my hands, ready to cry.
    “I’m late.” She flicked her wrist—one cruel little wave. “Gotta go.”

31.
    I lay on a towel in Grams’s backyard; grass below, sky up high . I felt fine there. Crisp breeze. Late-day light. My own meditative retreat.
    “You sleeping?”
    Or not. It was Fred. I sat up. “You’re here?”
    He kneeled down next to me. “Yeah, me.”
    I made room on the towel. “Did you hear the news?”
    “What news?”
    “About me and Adina?”
    He blinked.
    “You didn’t hear?”
    “What?”
    “We kissed last night. You remember. I kissed her. I told her I liked girls and that I really wanted to be with her, but, you know, Adina, she’s straight, so I got shut down.”I picked at a cuticle. “It’s all over school.”
    “Oh.”
    “ Oh? That’s all?” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He looked weak, which enraged me. “What’s wrong with you?” No response. I took a breath, then came out with this: “Why does she hate me so much?”
    “It’s not—she doesn’t hate you.”
    “Why would she lie? I don’t even care, you know? I don’t care if people think I’m something I’m not. I have two real friends here—or, okay, one friend, I guess. You .” I hooked my hands underneath my knees. “Or, I dunno, are you even my friend?”
    “Hey.” He touched my shoulder. “Of course I am.”
    “So?”
    He took a tiny breath, “This is about me,” he said, and picked a few blades of new grass. “She doesn’t like people.”
    “Yeah, you say that a lot.”
    “She gets jealous.”
    “Of what?”
    “Other girls.” He dug his nail into the dirt, tracing a deep, jagged line.
    “She’s your sister.”
    “Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “You think we’re weird.”
    “I just—I don’t get it. She controls your life.”
    “She doesn’t.”
    “She does . She doesn’t let you have friends.”
    He put his hand near my hand. “Yeah, well, you freak her out.”
    “Yeah? Why ?” I was livid. “I’m a mouse. I’m a field mouse and she’s a fucking piranha.”
    He laughed.
    “Don’t laugh.” I whacked his arm.
    He caught my hand and held it. “I’m sorry,” he said. His smile fell. “I like you. She knows I like you.” He laced his fingers through my fingers.
    “You like me?” I asked.
    Then I kissed him.
    I pressed my lips to his lips, moving as close to him as I could possibly get. I rubbed my fingers against his blazer lapel and pulled him closer by a belt loop with my free hand. He kissed back, touching my shoulders, my hair, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue against my tongue. Sliding his pointer finger lightly past my ear, curling it around and down the front of my neck and stopping at the dip in the V of my sweater.
    “Alex.” He pulled back.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked, breathless and a little dizzy.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, getting up on one knee.
    “For what?”
    “I should go.”
    “Wait, why?”
    He was standing now. I was still on the