Free The Firefly Effect by Allie Gail Page A

pardon me. Do you prefer Felony?”
    She huffs a dry laugh. “Not particularly!”
    “End of an era, huh?” I can't help but grin.
    “Why did you stop wearing your glasses?”
    And she's off again, flitting to another subject like a hummingbird with ADD.
    “I got contacts.”
    “Can you see without them?”
    “I can see, yeah, but everything’s really fuzzy.”
    “I thought the glasses looked nice.” Without waiting for a response, she wanders off down the aisle to grab a case of soda. I get the feeling she drinks a lot of that stuff.
    Interesting. Melanie Lane just paid me a compliment. I’m thinking I should probably get my ears checked. Could be my hearing is as bad as my eyesight.
    We’re done with the shopping and are searching for a checkout line that isn’t stretched all the way to Louisiana when I decide I may as well snag what I need while I’m here. I mean, why shouldn’t I? I don't have to justify myself to her, after all.
    “Uh...here.” I hand her my debit card and she takes it with a questioning look. “I just remembered something else I need. Be right back.”
    Before she can protest, I take off in the direction of the pharmacy. I know she's probably going to be pissed when she sees what I bring back, but I'd rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them.
    I plan on needing every single damn one of them.
    Feeling optimistic, I get the economy pack. Who knows how long this storm will last?
    She's still waiting in line when I return. There are three people ahead of us and the woman at the register is bitching to the cashier because one of her items rang up as $2.99 when it was supposed to be $2.89. A lousy dime? For crying out loud – we're going to be here forever.
    I drop the condoms into the cart and nonchalantly reach for a magazine from a rack nearby, thumbing through it so I don't have to look at Melanie. Still, I can see her out of the corner of one eye. Her eyes fall on the box and for a minute I think she's about to wallop me again, the way she did after junior prom.
    I have to admit – that one I deserved.
    Instead she mutters something underneath her breath. It sounds like you gotta be kidding me.
    I glance up innocently. “What?”
    Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes and turns her back to me so I can't see her expression. But a moment later she raises one hand and presses it to her mouth.
    I can't be sure, but I think she's laughing.
     

    Junior prom
     
    I fidget with the black bow tie that strangles my throat like a noose.
    We’ve been here forty-five minutes and already I’m wishing I hadn’t agreed to come. I probably wouldn’t have, but Brianna Lawson cornered me at school and what could I say? Besides, at the time I thought it might be fun.
    I’m not having fun.
    Brianna’s a nice enough girl, not to mention pretty hot, but over the course of the evening I’ve decided that I won’t be going out with her again. As a matter of fact, I can hardly wait to get this night over with. I’ve never met anyone so damned agreeable in my life. She’s like a Stepford date. No matter what I say she automatically conforms to my point of view, regardless of what it is. It’s like she doesn’t have any opinions of her own, or maybe she’s just trying too hard to impress me.
    I’m not impressed.
    We sit at a table drinking punch while watching the crowd bounce around to Shut Up and Dance. Slow dances I can handle, but I am not about to go out there and make a fool of myself flailing about like that. So to kill time, I test the Stepford theory by asking Brianna what kind of music she likes to listen to. True to the pattern so far, she deflects the verdict back to me.
    “Oh, you know,” she waffles with a vacant smile. “Pretty much anything. How about you? What’s your favorite song?”
    “Rob Zombie’s Pussy Liquor .” Smiling back, I wait to see how she reacts. Honestly I just threw that one out there to be obnoxious. I have her pegged as the