Last Chance Summer - Shannon Klare Page 0,2

new knife to the gut.

I took a seat on my bed, staring at little white lights scattered in a canopy above me. For all his faults, Mitch loved me when no one else could see me as anything but the sheriff’s daughter. He was my confidant in too many situations. My best friend. And, despite the blow he dealt to my heart, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care. I always would.

My heart cinched in my chest. Oxygen burned my lungs, while tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t cried in months. He wasn’t worth crying over anymore.

“Damn it,” I said, blinking them back.

I heaved in a long breath and dragged myself off the bed, shaking my head as I crossed the room. In the vanity mirror, a put-together mess watched me cross the room. Her blue eyes, barely blemished porcelain skin, and curled blond hair were an image. They weren’t reality. No one really knew me. Except Nikki.

I stopped in front of the vanity, placing my palms flush against the wood. Lying to her grandma was wrong on so many levels, but I hadn’t been at a party in months. The longer I stayed out of the scene, the more irrelevant I became. Despite arguing with her, Nikki’s words were fact. Going to this party was more of a had to than anything. I had to go. End of story.

I headed for my bed, grabbing the phone from the comforter. My mom’s text stream was third on the list. I hit her name with my thumb, typing at rapid speed.

Me: Will you ask dad if I can spend the night at Nikki’s?

I hit send, my heart beating out of my chest as three little dots blinked across the screen.

Mom: You’re still grounded.

“Mom,” I groaned, typing a response. She was smart not to trust me. Half the time I couldn’t trust myself.

I sat on the chair at my vanity, forearms resting against my knees.

Me: And I haven’t asked to stay over at Nikki’s since November.

Mom: Your dad is the one you need to ask. Not me.

Me: We both know dad will say no. Please mom.:(

“This was a stupid idea,” I said, shaking my head. Getting her to agree to a day out with Nikki was a gift. No way she’d agree to this too.

Mom: I love you, but no.

And there it was: rejection.

I sat the phone on the vanity, scowling at my reflection. I had sacrificed too much to get to this point. Letting my popularity slip away would be stupid. With or without permission, I was going to that party.

* * *

A quarter past nine, I snuck through my window on the top floor. My shoes slid across roof tiles, the moonless night giving me little light to work with.

Two blocks away, Nikki’s car sat beneath the glow of a streetlamp. I landed on the grass a few minutes later, clutching a pair of sandals as I sprinted toward her car.

My hand rapped against the car’s window, loud in the quiet of the night. She immediately hit the unlock button, stowing her phone beneath the radio as I slid inside.

“Two things,” she said, holding up a pair of fingers. “First, I love your shirt. Second, you’re late.”

“I know. I know,” I breathed, clicking my seat belt. “But you try sneaking out when your parents check on you every ten minutes. I swear it’s like I’m living in the Big Brother house.”

“Where’s Julie Chen when you need her?” Nikki said, putting the car in drive.

“So, how did you manage to get out?” she asked, pulling a Styrofoam cup from the cup holder. “Back door? Window?”

“I snuck out the window and almost broke myself in the process,” I said, slipping into my sandals. “I swear that rainstorm was sent to kill me.”

“Well, roofs are wet when it rains,” Nikki said after a minute. “Maybe you should’ve tried the door.”

“Next time I’ll remember that,” I said.

I glanced at the thick row of trees outside my neighborhood. The lakeside views were gorgeous, but hidden behind too many cypress trees. At night, mosquitoes swarmed the shorelines. Baker’s Swamp would be worse.

“Oh! I did remember bug spray,” I said, digging in my purse for the bottle of Off!

“Bug spray is good, but I have something better,” Nikki said, handing me the cup. “Five sips of that and you won’t even notice the bugs.”

I took a sip. Vodka burned its way down my throat, making me gag. “Geez, Nikki. Would you like some fruit juice with your vodka?”