Tonight the Streets Are Ours

“Why not?” Lindsey said. “I can take care of myself.”


“Oh, please.” The words were out before Arden had even considered them. But even if she had thought it through, she would have said the same thing—surely Lindsey must know that she was completely unfit to take care of herself. Surely this could not come as news to her. The joint in her hand, the physical proof of her failed promise, was just driving home this truth that they both already knew.

But Lindsey acted like this was all some big surprise. “What do you mean, ‘oh, please’?” she demanded, standing up. “What makes you think I can’t stay here by myself?”

“Because, what if something happens?”

“Something … like what?” Lindsey threw her arms out. “Like I talk to some nice people and make some friends and have a beer?”

“Lindsey, you’re embarrassing yourself. Stop making this into a whole big deal, and just come with me.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Lindsey said.

Arden’s eyes widened.

“You always act like you know what’s best for me. I’m sick of it. I told you I don’t want to go. So how about you stop making this into a whole big deal and just let me do what I want.”

“Oh, because things always go so well for you when you just do what you want?” Arden retorted.

“Sure,” Lindsey said. “Things go fine.”

“Right, I bet it does feel that way to you, because you just do whatever you want and you don’t think about the consequences. Because I get all the consequences, Lindsey.”

Arden was on a roll now. All of this had built up inside of her, because what she was getting from Lindsey now was basically the same thing she’d gotten from Chris twelve hours prior, and it was the same thing she got all the time, from everyone—people who didn’t even realize how much she did for them, who didn’t even appreciate how much they needed her. She was sick of it.

So even though Arden had planned never to say this to Lindsey, she found herself demanding, “Do you know what happened that time they found your pot in my locker?”

“Yes, of course! You got suspended and—”

“And it’s going on my permanent record,” Arden interrupted. “It’s going on the transcript they send to colleges. Not just that I was suspended once, but that I have a known history of drug use. My entire future will be different because of your dumb decision.”

Lindsey was silent as Arden’s words sunk in. She slowly sank back onto the couch. One of the guys sitting with her gave a long, low whistle.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Lindsey said at last.

“Because I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to feel bad. So why couldn’t you just return the favor? You claim you love me, and oh, that’s so sweet, Lindsey, but I don’t think you have any idea what it actually means. Love means sometimes sacrificing the things you want in order to make someone else happy. It means being there for someone, even when maybe you don’t feel like it, because they need you.” Arden’s eyes felt hot as she added, “No wonder no girl wants to kiss you. You don’t know the first thing about love.”

She heard Peter suck in his breath.

“That’s a low blow,” Lindsey said, her voice catching in her throat. “That’s really, despicably low, Arden. And as for the pot, you did not need to take the blame for that. Are you insane? I never asked you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t ask,” Arden agreed, “but you let me do it.”

“When you found out it was going to go on your transcript, you could have just told them the truth,” Lindsey argued. “Let me take the blame. I would have been fine.”