Free A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl by Tanya Lee Stone

FIRST (REAL) DATE: PART ONE
    I think Mom is a little bit worried
the first guy I’m dating
is a senior.
    She should know me
better than that.
I never do
anything
I don’t want to do.
That’s not going to change.
    I mean, when everyone thought
it was so cool
to sit on the seawall
and puff through a pack of Marlboro Lights,
    I had a blast sitting there laughing,
telling them how truly stupid and
uncool
they really were, actually,
coughing and sputtering and wanting to puke,
yeah,
real
sexy,
dopes.
Give me some credit.
I never do
anything
I don’t want to do.
Period.
    He picks me up in his brand-new
Mazda Miata.
    I hate to admit it,
but he kind of cracked my
cool-as-a-cucumber exterior
I tried to pull off
at the dance
(even though I’m hoping
he didn’t notice I talked way too fast)
    but now
all
he’s
talking about
is how many horsepowers his stupid car has
and the torque
    and how he almost picked cherry red
but he’s so stoked that they had this
sweet ocean color
come in at the last minute
and I’m starting to think
maybe
I made
a
big
mistake,
but I just smile and nod,
like the idiotic bobblehead
planted
in the middle of his dashboard,
pretending
this is the most
interesting conversation ever.
    Man, I hope he doesn’t keep this up too long.
    We pull in to Smiles.
The parking lot is
alive,
too many radio stations
blaring
kids making out in cars
sitting on hoods
eating hot dogs
high-fiving
smoking various things
drinking various things
talking too loud
about
nothing.
    Real
fun.
    Inside
the scene isn’t all that different,
except
it’s another kind of dark
punctuated
by the bright lights
of too many pulsing
video games
jammed up
against each other.
    We walk over to a big bunch of seniors
by the batting cages
he drapes his arm around me
real possessive,
which should have immediately brought out my
I-can-take-care-of-myself attitude,
but instead stirs this
way-foreign tingly
“Oh my God, he really likes me” rush.
(Lame! Did I just actually think that?)
    â€œDude!”
    â€œWho’s the babe? Fresh
meat
?” one of the jocks says,
right in front of my face.
    â€œGet it? Fresh
men
, fresh
meat
?”
He’s laughing hysterically,
like this is the most hilarious thing
anyone
has ever
heard.
    â€œYeah, got it.
Guys, this is Josie.”
    A round of Hi’s, How’s It Goin’s, and What’s Up’s
are tossed in my general direction.
    â€œHi.”
I never thought this scene
would interest me
but actually,
I feel really,
I don’t know,
included, I guess,
with his arm wrapped around me
pulling me into a group—
and not just any group:
the coolest, most popular group of
seniors,

even though the guys are fairly juvenile.
    â€œHey, we’re all heading over to Lindsey’s in a while,”
one of the boys says.
“Time to party!”
    â€œOkay. We’ll hit that, too. All right, Jos?”
“Okay. Sure.”
    Although I’m not at
all
sure
because my Mom would
freak
if she knew I was going to a
senior party.

FIRST (REAL) DATE: PART TWO
    We hang out at Smiles for a while,
eat some truly nasty pizza,
then head over to Lindsey’s.
    On the drive over
he rests his hand on my thigh,
“Are you having a good time?”
    â€œYes.”
“Good, I’m glad. I want you to have fun.”
    His hand
is still
on my
thigh.
    He’s going on and on about something,
his car again, I think,
but I can’t concentrate
with his fingers moving back and forth like that
and even though he’s acting real
innocent,
like he’s got no
goal
or anything,
the heat from his fingers is
searing through to my skin
like one of those iron-on transfers.
I could almost bet
when I look later
his handprint
will have been permanently
imprinted
on my leg.
    Then he raises the stakes.
He moves his hand onto mine
picks it up
and puts it on
his
thigh.
    He takes his eyes off the road
for a second
looks at me
and smiles.
Like the big bad