Free 40 Things I Want to Tell You by Alice Kuipers

wild, a little free. I bit my lip. He stared at me for a second too long, then turned and walked away.
    GRIFFIN HAD TO STAY AFTER SCHOOL FOR A GROUP PROJECT MEETING, so I walked home alone, my mind spinning with the image of Pete staring at me, of the way I shuddered when Griffin kissed me and of the way everything in my classes was suddenly going so wrong.
    I arrived home and I could hear Mum’s voice spiking the cool air as I opened the front door.
    “What do you expect? What do you honestly expect? We can’t go on like this.”
    “It’s only one more loan.” That was my father. “It’s brilliant. Support this, darling.”
    “Will you stop? Please? I just can’t—”
    “I’m only doing it for you and Bird.”
    “For me? For us?”
    “Yes, who the bloody hell else?”
    She yelled, “The bank called. You tried to get a mortgage on our house.
My
house. You wanted to put it up as collateral for your stupid—”
    “Oh, it’s stupid now, is it?”
    “For God’s sake.”
    There was a pause, then Dad said, “You weren’t supposed to know.”
    “My house,” she yelled. “My inheritance from my mother. The only stable thing in our lives. I can’t live with this. With what you’ve done.”
    “We’ll be rich, darling. This is going to work. I can feel it. Support me.”
    “Support you? How much more can I support you? You’re never going to change,” she cried. “I can’t believe how much ofmy life I’ve wasted. Can’t you see how miserable I am? I don’t want—”
    I couldn’t listen anymore. I headed back out again.
    I WALKED FOR A LONG TIME, THINKING ABOUT GRIFFIN, ABOUT MUM and Dad, about Pete, about my life, about what I wanted, whatever that was. The streets were slick with winter night. I was starting to feel like night was sinking all the way through me, that’s the sort of mood I was in, when I realized I’d walked nearly all the way back to school. I was at the edge of the little lake in the park opposite the front entrance of the school gates when I heard voices. Three or four guys were laughing, and from the whoops and the shattering of glass, it sounded like they were throwing bottles at trees. Early to be drunk, I thought. And then I felt a little scared: I was all by myself. That’s when one of them noticed me as I stood there like an idiot.
    “All right, darlin’?” he yelled, walking toward me.
    My breath caught. It was Pete.
    At exactly that moment, he said, “It’s you. Good.”
    His mouth curled in that smile that made me sick. Sick. With. Wanting. Him.
    I looked at his lips and thought about the way he tasted. Smoky and hot.
    His friends—none of whom I recognized from school—yelled out that they were leaving, one of them snickering loudly. But I hardly noticed. Pete stepped closer. My heart beat faster, taking on a rhythm all its own. In the orange glow of astreetlight, I could see through the opening in his jacket how his muscles looked under his T-shirt. Hard. Taut.
    “Do you want a drink?” He handed me a bottle of beer, the cap already off. I took it wordlessly. “You okay?”
    A sigh escaped me.
    “Come and sit down. Tell me about it.”
    He came closer and my body—stupid body—felt like it was melting.
    He lightly placed a hand on my arm and guided me to a bench, where we sat. I could feel where his hand had touched me even after he’d taken it away.
    I blurted out, “It might not have been a big deal to you, but I hate what I’ve done to Griffin.”
    He leaned his elbows on his knees. I tipped the bottle to my mouth and tasted the warm beer. I liked that he’d just been drinking from the same bottle.
    He said, “I don’t want to make things difficult for you. I really don’t. And it seems like you’ve got a good thing going with Griffin. I can’t make any promises, right?”
    I tensed.
    He turned and put his hand up to my face. Every pore of my skin opened.
    “Hey, Amy.”
    “Don’t …”
    “Come here.”
    I shifted away. “Really, I