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sitting on the bench.”
    “But, Mark, it’s your senior year. Don’t you want to stick with it, finish it out?”
    “I don’t have time for it.”
    “That’s because you’re working too many hours at the theater.”
    “I need the money. Bill and I want to take another surfing trip.” He grinned. “Costa Rica.”
    “That’ll be fun,” I said, wondering why I was so disappointed. “Expensive.” I got up, pulled out the potatoes.
    “That’s why I’m saving up,” he said, coming over to me at the sink. “I’m thinking about getting a second job, maybe as a mechanic.”
    “A second job. Wow.”
    “What’s wrong, Annie?” he asked, tucking my hair behind my ear and looking into my face.
    “I don’t know. It’s the basketball. I wish you wouldn’t quit.” I realized I was disappointed he could give up something he loved so easily. I couldn’t give up writing that easily.
    He leaned against the counter as I washed the potatoes. “I didn’t know that basketball was that important to you.”
    “It’s just that … I liked that you liked it so much. You’re so happy when you’re on the court. You like … glow or something.”
    He grinned. “I glow?”
    I laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist. I liked the way we fit together. He squeezed me tight, lifting me up off the floor.
    “Whooaa,” I said. When he set me back down, I looked up at him and we kissed. His lips felt warm. I cuddled in closer.
    “You know, Annie,” he said in my ear, “people sometimes still end up together.”
    I leaned back to look at him. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, people sometimes fall in love in high school and get married after.”
    “And love each other forever?” I asked.
    He answered with a lingering kiss.
    Part of me really wanted this.

CHAPTER 6

    O n Saturday, Mom dropped me off early at Lea’s. She wanted time to get ready for her date with Donald. Mom never used to wear makeup, but she was wearing blush and mascara now. At least her hair was still long and straight, the way she’d worn it for years.
    Mom didn’t really ignore trends like Lea did; she just wasn’t aware of them. She didn’t read popular magazines and didn’t understand my obsession with TV. I liked her easy style, with its leftover hippie vibe. It made me see how she and Dad fit together at one time. I hoped she wasn’t changing.
    Donald was divorced with older kids he rarely saw. He was quiet, but he laughed at subtle humor, which I liked about him.
    The thing is, though, he didn’t seem anything like my mom. She was quiet, like him. But she was different, special. She had a quirky perceptiveness.
    I looked over at her. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.” She glanced at me. “Why?”
    “You’re quiet. And you’re drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.” Her fingers were long and thin and always capable and busy.
    “Oh,” she said, stopping. “Sorry.”
    “I’m just wondering what you’re thinking about.”
    She hesitated. “You, actually.”
    “Oh,” I said, looking out the window. “Sorry I asked.”
    “Annie.”
    “I really don’t want to know anything I’ve done wrong.”
    “I was thinking about next year.”
    I twisted my long hair into a bun, then let it go. Why had I asked? I should have known better.
    “Annie?”
    “What, Mom?”
    “I know you don’t want to talk about this.”
    I looked out the window. Here it comes.
    “But we need to, honey. You need to figure out what we’re doing next year.”
    We’re doing? How was it we? “It’s only November.”
    “Well, have you at least thought about your plans?” she asked.
    “Sure I have.”
    “Do you know if you want to apply somewhere?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “So you want to stay in Clear Lake and work?” she asked.
    That didn’t sound right to me either, so I shook my head, not having any answers. She was quiet then as we drove over the brown swampy creeks to the west of the lake, but I knew she was