Free Crush Control by Jennifer Jabaley

you?” he asked as he negotiated his way through the window like this was completely normal behavior.
    â€œUm, I do have a front door.”
    Max looked at me like I was clueless. “It’s almost 10 p.m.”
    â€œSo.”
    â€œSo doesn’t your mom . . .”
    â€œNo,” I said, taken aback for a minute because Max should know that my mom wouldn’t care. I never had curfews—our lifestyle didn’t roll that way.
    â€œOh,” he said, and his face told me that obviously Minnie’s mom did care. I shook the image of him crawling through her window from my mind.
    Max pulled the screen down behind him then sat on my bed, taking in my newly decorated room.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, following his eyes.
    â€œIt’s more . . . pink than I would have thought.”
    I looked at the rose-colored bedspread and the framed pictures of pink and purple irises.
    â€œYou just don’t seem like a pink kind of girl.”
    I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. Did he not think of me as a girl , just a buddy? Or was it that, of course I’m a girl, just not the frilly variety? But before I could press for details he interrupted my thoughts.
    â€œI waited by your locker for twenty minutes. I was late to teach karate and the six-year-olds were restless. I tried to call you and text you like a billion times and you never answered. Then I had drum lessons and dinner and all day I was worried that you were like, stuck at school or worse, took the bus and had to ride with all the underclassmen.”
    â€œI walked.” I sat back on my bed. “No big deal.”
    â€œWalked? It’s like a hundred degrees.” His face contorted. “Why?”
    â€œWell, I don’t know, we hadn’t nailed down any plans and I thought maybe you’d be driving Minnie.” I tried not to sound so juvenile. So hurt. So transparent.
    â€œWhen have we ever nailed down plans ? I’ve talked to you every day for the last seventeen years and suddenly we have to nail down plans ?”
    â€œWell, I didn’t know,” I said sounding defensive. “I mean, your car’s not exactly huge, and with all the crap in the backseat—what if Minnie needed a ride?”
    â€œMinnie has a car,” he said, the edges of his lips curling into the beginning of a smile. “Are you jealous, Willow Grey?”
    â€œWhat? No!” I sprang up off the bed as if standing made me more believable. “Like you’re going to boot a seventeen-year friendship ? Please!” I faked confidence. “I wasn’t jealous —just, you know, surprised. Why didn’t you tell me you were dating her?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve talked to you about Minnie.”
    â€œYeah, but anytime you talked about her it never sounded like you were a couple. You always made her sound like a little bit of a ditz.”
    He smiled. “She is a little bit of a ditz. Reminds me of when we used to watch I Love Lucy reruns with your mom, remember that? Minnie’s kind of dingbatty sometimes. Naive.” You could tell by the way he talked he thought it was cute. Endearing. My heart plummeted. Because if ever there was a word that didn’t describe me, it was ditz . I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t enticing, intriguing, sexy, or sultry but I did have a decent amount of brains, and I was not flaky or ditzy or dingbatty at all. I liked to be in control of situations as best I could. That’s how Mom convinced the stage manager to let me be her assistant at such a young age. I was responsible. Dependable. If Max thought ditzy was cute, well, what future could we have?
    â€œWhat kind of name is Minnie, anyway?” I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental. After all, my name was Willow, and that wasn’t exactly normal.
    â€œShe’s named after her grandmother!” he said protectively. “Minta—it’s Greek. Her parents own that