A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Josie - FOR THE RECORD

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  JIGSAW

  FIRST (REAL) DATE : PART ONE

  FIRST (REAL) DATE : PART TWO

  FIRST (REAL) DATE:PART THREE

  FALLING

  HOME

  BOOSTER SHOT

  THE DEEP END

  PUSHING MYLUCK

  NO-MAN’S-LAND

  ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

  HOT WATER

  THE PLUNGE

  TWO WORDS

  WHITE-HOT

  FAVORITE THINGS

  SLAMMED

  IN AND OUT

  TESTING THE WATERS

  ROCKING THE BOAT

  COLD FRONT

  SUNK

  MISERABLE

  OFF

  KIM AND CAROLINE

  NEXT TIME

  FOREVER

  THE PLAN

  BEWARE

  CHECK IT OUT

  HIGHER EDUCATION

  Nicolette - POWER PLAY

  I LOVE

  OF COURSE,

  GOOD ENOUGH

  HEY

  BURGER AND SHAKE

  FINE

  NICOLETTE

  AFTER PRACTICE

  RED LIGHT

  GREEN LIGHT

  THE CLOSET

  WE HAD

  POWER OUTAGE

  THE LONG WAY HOME

  FAVOR

  SECOND THOUGHTS

  PIZZA AND BEER

  CLOSE ENCOUNTER

  NEW FRIENDS

  NEW ENEMIES

  ALL BETTER

  AVIVA

  FADE TO BLUE

  DOG

  NO MORE TEARS

  FOREVER

  LIGHTBULB

  LONELY

  BEING HEARD

  Aviva - CRISS-CROSS

  STILL

  HIPPIE BY-PRODUCT

  PARTY

  MONDAY MORNING

  SIGNALS

  ALONG WEEK

  Nicolette - FOREVER

  Aviva - PRINCESS FAMILIAR

  MY DAD

  THE KISS

  A SHORT WEEK

  POOL PARTY

  TENSION

  YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND

  GROSS

  GLITCH?

  MONDAY

  COURTYARD

  SURPRISE

  NATURAL WOMAN

  I DON’T THINK

  READY OR NOT

  FOREVER

  555-3142

  DRIVE-BY

  THE NEXT DAY

  LUNCH

  LAST WORDS

  THE TALK

  THE MESSENGER

  JOSIE

  I CAN’T BELIEVE

  WE THREE

  MATERIAL GIRL

  GIRLFRIENDS

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  HAVE YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS BEEN BURNED BY A BAD BOY?

  Copyright Page

  For Alan, the best boy a girl could ever love

  Josie

  FOR THE RECORD

  I’m not stuck up.

  I’m confident.

  There’s a big difference.

  If I was stuck up

  I’d be one of those

  “Oh look at me, I’m so pretty”

  girls

  instead of just appreciating the fact that

  my cinnamon skin looks good year-round

  and I can hop in the shower after soccer or lacrosse,

  throw on a clean sweatshirt,

  sweep on some mascara,

  let my hair loose from its pony,

  and give any girl

  a serious run for her money.

  And while I totally deserve my spot in Honors English

  I’m happy to take my proper place

  in Algebra I, suffering alongside the rest of the

  mediocre math heads.

  So,

  as far as high school boys go,

  I’m not so floundering in self-esteem issues

  that I need

  someone’s arm to hang on or

  someone’s jersey number to cheer for

  to be a legitimate person,

  like some people I know.

  Man, to listen to Kim and Caroline

  chatter away all summer

  you’d think we’ve been waiting our whole pathetic lives

  just to graduate middle school

  and get to Point Beach High

  so we could date high school boys.

  As if high school boys

  hold some kind of magical key

  to who we

  all

  really

  are.

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  All that stuff I just said is absolutely

  swear-to-God true,

  but the rest of the truth

  the whole truth

  is

  lately

  I don’t have as tight a grip

  on my confidence

  as usual.

  I mean, this is high school.

  Sure, I was pretty popular in middle school,

  but you never know

  how these things are going to

  turn out.

  What if

  what Kim and Caroline call

  my natural look

  is considered totally lame in high school?

  What if

  wanting to read

  during lunch

  makes me a

  total geek?

  What if

  I don’t

  fit in

  at

  all?

  JIGSAW

  It’s funny how one night can change

  the way you look at certain things.

  I mean, I believe 100 percent

  that high school boys don’t hold any magical key

  or anything

  but that’s not the same as saying they’re all bad.

  Some of them aren’t so bad.

  Like, maybe,

  this

  one.

  I saw him across the gym before he saw me.

  He was scoping things out at the Fall Fling,

  looking for that one lucky freshman

  to win the prize

  of dancing

  with the studly senior.

  I think he picked me

  because I looked

  right at him

  as if I couldn’t

  care less.

  I couldn’t care

  more.

  My heart was pounding,

  palms sweaty.

  Hit me like a surprise party you cross-your-heart

  had no idea

  anyone was throwing you.

  Now, I have never understood all that

  he’s-my-other-half

  soul mate stuff

  or when people sometimes talk about

  having an empty space inside

  or that they’re missing pieces or something.

  But then

  he walked over

  and fit himself

  right into my puzzle.

  FIRST (REAL) DATE: PART ONE

  I think Mom is a little bit worried

  the first guy I’m dating

  is a senior.

  She should know me

  better than that.

  I never do

  anything

  I don’t want to do.

  That’s not going to change.

  I mean, when everyone thought

  it was so cool

  to sit on the seawall

  and puff through a pack of Marlboro Lights,

  I h
ad a blast sitting there laughing,

  telling them how truly stupid and

  uncool

  they really were, actually,

  coughing and sputtering and wanting to puke,

  yeah, real sexy,

  dopes.

  Give me some credit.

  I never do

  anything

  I don’t want to do.

  Period.

  He picks me up in his brand-new

  Mazda Miata.

  I hate to admit it,

  but he kind of cracked my

  cool-as-a-cucumber exterior

  I tried to pull off

  at the dance

  (even though I’m hoping

  he didn’t notice I talked way too fast)

  but now

  all he’s talking about

  is how many horsepowers his stupid car has

  and the torque

  and how he almost picked cherry red

  but he’s so stoked that they had this

  sweet ocean color

  come in at the last minute

  and I’m starting to think

  maybe

  I made

  a

  big

  mistake,

  but I just smile and nod,

  like the idiotic bobblehead

  planted

  in the middle of his dashboard,

  pretending

  this is the most

  interesting conversation ever.

  Man, I hope he doesn’t keep this up too long.

  We pull in to Smiles.

  The parking lot is

  alive,

  too many radio stations

  blaring

  kids making out in cars

  sitting on hoods

  eating hot dogs

  high-fiving

  smoking various things

  drinking various things

  talking too loud

  about

  nothing.

  Real fun.

  Inside

  the scene isn’t all that different,

  except

  it’s another kind of dark

  punctuated

  by the bright lights

  of too many pulsing

  video games

  jammed up

  against each other.

  We walk over to a big bunch of seniors

  by the batting cages

  he drapes his arm around me

  real possessive,

  which should have immediately brought out my

  I-can-take-care-of-myself attitude,

  but instead stirs this

  way-foreign tingly

  “Oh my God, he really likes me” rush.

  (Lame! Did I just actually think that?)

  “Dude!”

  “Who’s the babe? Fresh meat?” one of the jocks says,

  right in front of my face.

  “Get it? Freshmen, fresh meat?”

  He’s laughing hysterically,

  like this is the most hilarious thing

  anyone

  has ever

  heard.

  “Yeah, got it.

  Guys, this is Josie.”

  A round of Hi’s, How’s It Goin’s, and What’s Up’s

  are tossed in my general direction.

  “Hi.”

  I never thought this scene

  would interest me

  but actually,

  I feel really,

  I don’t know,

  included, I guess,

  with his arm wrapped around me

  pulling me into a group—

  and not just any group:

  the coolest, most popular group of seniors,

  even though the guys are fairly juvenile.

  “Hey, we’re all heading over to Lindsey’s in a while,”

  one of the boys says.

  “Time to party!”

  “Okay. We’ll hit that, too. All right, Jos?”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Although I’m not at all sure

  because my Mom would

  freak

  if she knew I was going to a

  senior party.

  FIRST (REAL) DATE: PART TWO

  We hang out at Smiles for a while,

  eat some truly nasty pizza,

  then head over to Lindsey’s.

  On the drive over

  he rests his hand on my thigh,

  “Are you having a good time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, I’m glad. I want you to have fun.”

  His hand

  is still

  on my

  thigh.

  He’s going on and on about something,

  his car again, I think,

  but I can’t concentrate

  with his fingers moving back and forth like that

  and even though he’s acting real

  innocent,

  like he’s got no goal or anything,

  the heat from his fingers is

  searing through to my skin

  like one of those iron-on transfers.

  I could almost bet

  when I look later

  his handprint

  will have been permanently

  imprinted

  on my leg.

  Then he raises the stakes.

  He moves his hand onto mine

  picks it up

  and puts it on

  his thigh.

  He takes his eyes off the road

  for a second

  looks at me

  and smiles.

  Like the big bad wolf.

  If I was in a comic strip,

  there’d be a bubble coming out of my head

  with the word “Gulp” in it.

  FIRST (REAL) DATE: PART THREE

  We did not have parties

  like this

  in middle school.

  Kids are doing, I’m not even sure what,

  in rooms that aren’t

  really part of the party.

  Lindsey lives in Morningside

  along the shoreline

  where the seawall is made of giant slabs

  of granite and quartz.

  Some are slippery smooth and catch the moonligh

  Some are rough with little crags and crevices

  perfect for

  wedging

  the toe or heel of a sneaker in to keep from slipping

  down the wall.

  I spot couples

  sprawled out in different spots

  on the huge quilt made of stone.

  Her parents must be

  way out of town.

  “Cool party, huh?” he says.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Apparently, I wasn’t convincing.

  “Relax, Josie, people are just having fun.

  You’re a big girl now,” he says.

  “Gee, thanks for telling me,

  otherwise I wouldn’t have known,” I say.

  (Who the hell does this guy think he is?!)

  “Oh, don’t be that way. I’m sorry.

  I didn’t mean anything by it. Dance?”

  We move onto the dance floor,

  if you can call a living room with all the furniture

  pushed up against one wall

  and plastic cups tipping stale beer

  all over the place

  a dance floor.

  With every step

  my shoes stick a little to the

  spilled drinks coating the wood like slightly used tape.

  A lot of boys don’t dance,

  they’re too cool.

  Not this one.

  He’s way too interested in getting his body

  up against mine.

  As he pulls me into him,

  full contact,

  I feel like my brain’s going to explode

  from all the fighting going on inside it.

  I mean, this is the kind of guy


  Caroline would fall for,

  not me.

  I’d be the one to point out to her later

  that this was the exact moment

  she should have gotten the message

  and walked.

  But instead

  I smile

  wrap my arms around his neck

  and sink into his chest.

  Damn.

  Why does he have to

  smell

  so . . . so . . .

  Yum.

  Now we’re basically just hugging to the music,

  as opposed to actual dancing

  and as he starts kissing me

  I realize

  I better get home

  before things get out of hand

  on our first (real) date.

  FALLING

  This boy is slick.

  For a few weeks now I’ve felt like part of me

  is watching

  a really stupid “teen” movie

  thinking,

  I can’t believe he actually said that!

  while the other part of me is

  totally soaking it up.

  Like when he told me I was so gorgeous

  I could wear a burlap sack

  and still be better looking than

  any other girl in my class.

  I hate to admit this,

  but I think my actual response was to giggle and blush.

  Or when he was waiting for me

  at the main entrance one morning

  and kissed me for five minutes

  in front of the entire school.

  I can’t help it.

  There’s just something about him.

  Like the way he seems so super confident

  about sex,

  always saying how good he wants to make me feel

  and how his older brother (who’s in college)

  told him all about how to make a girl really happy

  in bed,

  and when was I going to let him show me.

  So of course I’m wondering what he means by that,

  it’s a turn-on because he’s got me really curious,

  but really nervous at the same time,

  and I keep hearing that expression in my head

  “like a moth to a flame”

  and wondering if that’s what it means

  as I feel myself

  totally

  out-of-control

  falling

  for

  him.