If I Was Your Girl

“You’re spinning,” Virginia said, always able to read my thoughts perfectly, even from the other end of the phone. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. Just take your time, get to know him, figure out what his deal is. I bet it’s nothing. And if it is something, you’ll either bail, or you’ll deal. Right?”


“Right,” I agreed finally, sitting up from the bleachers and gathering my things. I would call Dad and ask for a ride and pretend nothing bad had happened. I would keep going on with my life and keep seeing Grant, and I would take things day by day. What was my big rush anyway? I knew I should want to take things slow—I should be afraid of getting close to Grant, because growing closer meant knowing things about each other, and there was so much about me that I didn’t want him to know, that he could never know. But somehow, just thinking about his broad, easy grin and the way his black eyes seemed to flash in the sunlight made me feel like the only thing that mattered was being around him.

“Listen, babe, I gotta jet,” Virginia said. I could hear her car starting in the background, the familiar sound of V-103 blaring on her stereo. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks for listening,” I said as I began the walk down the bleachers toward the parking lot. I was starting to feel better already. “I think I’m going to be just fine.”





11

The sky was slate-gray and pregnant with the threat of another in a week of thunderstorms. A cool, moist wind rushed past Grant and me as we sat in the bed of his friend Rodney’s pickup truck. I put my whipping, stinging hair in a ponytail and felt my cheeks warm when I noticed him staring at me. The truck passed over a fallen branch, bouncing both of us a few inches into the air. I clutched the raised wheel well for dear life. Grant laughed softly and smiled, then held his hands up as I kicked playfully at him.

“It’s not funny!” I said, starting to smile despite myself. “Riding in the back of a truck is really dangerous!”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “Muddin’s a blast, and I want you to meet the guys.”

“If they’re anything like Parker, I hope you won’t mind me staying in the truck.”

“They can be a little rough around the edges,” he said, looking up the road and rubbing his neck, “but Parker’s kind of a special case. You don’t need to worry about him though.” He turned back to me and smiled. “Really, it’s less about you meeting them and more about me getting to show you off.”

“Anyway!” I took my turn to look away. “Why didn’t you pick me up? Isn’t ‘muddin’’ more fun if you have your own car?”

“So you admit it sounds like fun?” he said.

“It sounds kind of dumb,” I said, shrugging apologetically.

“Well, sure it does,” Grant said. “But that’s what makes it fun. It’s an excuse to hang out with your buddies and act like an idiot in the woods and get messy.” I gave him a doubtful look. He patted his backpack. “Don’t worry, though. I got picnic stuff in here. We’ll make our own fun if you get bored.”

“Thanks,” I said as the truck turned off the highway onto a mud-and-gravel track into the woods. The canopy blotted out the already-weak sunlight and drizzled water on us for a few more minutes until the faint purr of engines could be heard; then we burst into a clearing. The grass was torn and rutted with dozens of wildly curving tire tracks as mud-caked trucks careened back and forth with no real purpose besides the motion itself. A small crowd of equally mud-caked figures congregated around a campfire and a convoy of small red coolers. I recognized some of the faces from school, including Parker’s. Grant hopped down once the truck came to a stop a ways off from the crowd.

“Here you go,” Rodney said as he stepped down from the cab and tossed Grant his keys. “I’m gonna grab a beer first.”

“Thanks,” Grant said, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked down at me with a confused expression. “Whatcha waiting for?”

“We’re going already? I was hoping for some time to digest my breakfast first.”

Grant laughed. “Just one go-round, at least?” he said, lolling out the window like a defeated rag doll. “Come on, you gotta! And anyway I brought lotsa sandwiches, so if you yak we can fill you right back up.”

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