All because Mackenna wrecked me.

He fucked my brains out and then he fucked with my heart and what was left of my brains, and I was too young to get over it. Now, after looking into those eyes I absolutely cannot stand, I would rather die than back out on a challenge from him. He doesn’t want to see me? Well then, I’m going to plant myself in front of him so that he has to. I’m going to make his life a living hell, like he did mine. And best of all? I’m getting paid for it. I think I might just be enjoying my first stroke of luck since . . . my birth date.

“Yes, Trillion, it went amazing!” Melanie cries excitedly into the phone, checking her nails to make sure they’re perfect. She calls her boyfriend Trillion sometimes, saying it’s because it was the highest number she could think of. I don’t get it, but she told me not to worry, because he does.

Whatever. Melanie’s just . . . Melanie.

Now she’s dropping her voice even more for him. “Yes, I thought of you . . . I need you more. I’ll tell Ulysses to step on it. No, it won’t be a risk if he steps on it. I need you.” She’s blushing like her boyfriend has just whispered something filthy he plans to do to her. She bites her lower lip like a young girl and cups the receiver and whispers something, then laughs and hangs up.

“You look like a simpering virgin, Melanie,” I say bitterly.

Her eyes twinkle, almost as if her guy just made love to her on the phone. “So what? He makes me feel shy when he describes in detail what he’s going to do to me.”

“Dude, you have his name on your fingers and hearts on your thumbs. Men like your man like challenges. Careful, or he’ll think you’re a sure thing and dump you.”

“I am a sure thing, and he’s my sure thing. We love each other, we’re getting married, you dodo.”

Fuck, I’ll be the only singleton of the three. Even our closest guy friend, Kyle, has a girlfriend now.

Fuck me standing and with my boots on. Ugh.

We fall quiet the rest of the way home. Melanie is now texting, maybe with her guy or maybe with Brooke. Melanie always keeps her up to date.

“Will you tell me how you two met?” she demands, looking up from her phone. I’ve been reluctant to talk about Mackenna for ages.

“Long time ago. In high school, before I switched schools and met you.”

“But you don’t think he was worth mentioning before yesterday? He broke your damn heart and he sings about it on the radio!”

I stare out the window, pulling up my walls tight around me.

“What happened?”

“Stupid girl attracted to bad boy, V card handed over, heart broken, end of story. I’m not even worried about him. Currently, I’m worried about what I’ll say to my mother. I’ll probably just say I have work, and I’ll talk to Susan to see if she’ll let me work from afar the next few weeks. I’ll tell Mother the truth once it’s all over.”

I’ll be lying, but who gives a shit. I’ve lied before. Like when I used to steal out in the middle of the night, my heart racing, to meet Mackenna.

“Let’s talk about the guy, shall we?”

“No, we shall not.”

“Then let’s talk about this—I can’t believe you’re going to be in a fucking movie!”

I snort. “It’s not a real movie. It’s like the Katy Perry and Justin Bieber ones, which is sort of lame.”

“It’s a movie, Pandora. Played in movie theaters. And I loved both Katy and Justin in them! You kept asking how could Brooke just leave town for a guy she loves? Now you’re leaving town for one you hate! That’s a karmic lesson for you. Stop judging people in love for what they do. You’re doing worse shit for someone you don’t even love,” she says with a smirk.

“Judge all you want. I got this big fat check, and what did you get? Not even a picture with them.”

“I have Greyson, duh! He’s all I want. And I finally discovered the name of your asshole ex. Kenna is the hottest of the three and you know it, dude. Tell me what happened. We’re supposed to be friends. Who do you even talk to about this shit? You get sick when you hold it in. You need to let it out.”

“I just let it all out, in the form of tomatoes.” I grin when I remember, and for a moment, I feel happy when Melanie laughs.

“Will that part be in the movie? Please say yes!” she begs, taking my shirt in her hands and shaking me.

I laugh. “I hope so,” I admit, jerking my shirt free. “Hell, I hope I can do it again at Madison Square, just before I kiss him. That’ll show him.”

“Just so he can take off his shirt. God!”

I hit her. “Mel! He wears wigs and grabs his cock when he’s dancing. He’s disgusting.”

“Dude, watching him work it up there got half the people around us pregnant, I swear!” She laughs, but I stare out the window and glare, my anger resurfacing as I remember what it felt like to stare into those odd, eerie silver eyes again.

It did not feel good at all.

It felt uncomfortable, messy, complicated, and definitely not nice.

I remember him squishing tomato into my scalp, and my stomach feels like a hot little pot, bubbling with toxicity.

“Pandora, you both looked a little too murderous with each other. Maybe you should talk to your therapist first? So she can give you some pointers on how to stay cool?”

My pride prickles. “I don’t need tips. I’ve got this. She’s been giving me tips for six years.”

“Fine. Just get back here in one piece and in time to get measured for your bridesmaid dress. Pan, it’s my wedding, so suck it, bitch.”

I groan, and she laughs and slaps my butt as I get out of the car. Mel is always excited. Always upbeat. She’s not like me. And I’m happy for her. I am. But I also hate that I feel mad because she’s so happy. Sometimes I feel like I can’t stand happy people.

I just don’t fucking understand them.

I head into the apartment, trying not to make noise. In case you haven’t guessed it by my name alone, my mother didn’t want me, and she never lets me forget it. The words “So you don’t make the same mistake I did” have been ingrained in my head since I got my first period, and I’ve never quite forgotten that the mistake was me.

I should probably live alone. But my cousin Magnolia saved my mother and me. She lost her mom, my mother’s sister, to leukemia, and came to us as a baby a few years after my dad’s death. She pulled both my mom and me from a deep sadness. If it weren’t for seeing her perceptive little gaze every morning, I’d be on drugs. Or booze. Or both. I don’t know why I’m drawn to drugs or booze or both, but when my dad died and Mackenna left, and my mom slapped me every time I cried and told me to get a grip, be strong . . . I just didn’t feel like life had a lot to offer at the time. Until little Magnolia came to us. My mom focused her efforts on her, and so did I.

I ease into the bathroom we share, turn on the shower, and pull free of my clothes. The water rushes over my head and I see his eyes, glittering silver and angry, and my stomach knots because I thought I’d feel better after hurting him. I felt that little rush at first, when we attacked him during his concert, but then I saw him, and all I know right now is that I don’t feel good.

After my shower, I can’t sleep, so I sit on the living room couch, listening to the patter of soft rain and the whoosh of wind outside. I tiptoe into Magnolia’s room and look at the way she’s twisted on the bed, all innocent, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow. She, like Melanie, really likes the pink streak in my hair.

“PanPan, read this for me,” she said only two nights ago.

She pulled out a princess story, and I cleared my throat and began reading. Magnolia remained quiet and in rapt attention, until I lowered the book. “Mag, look, I don’t think these books give you the right expectations of what a man is really like,” I said. She has no father figure, no brother, no male influence in her life, and it worries me. “You’ll fall in love with this prince and never find him.”

“Eww!” She jumped on the bed, yelling, “I don’t read these for the princes! I read them for the magic!”

“But soon you’ll be lured by a prince—”

“No prince! I want the dragon to eat the prince. Helena says that the boys with crowns in these stories don’t even like girls anymore. They like boys!”

Shit, I laughed my ass off at that.

And then I worried a little.

She has a friend with two dads, and fortunately, Magnolia’s completely not jealous of her friend’s bounty of fathers. “Why would anyone want two dads? I have none and am super all right—right, PanPan?”

She sounded confident when she asked, but I have such fond memories of my dad, I just don’t know. Still, I said she was right, because I didn’t have a dad anymore either. But is she truly all right?

As the sun rises, I write her a short note in case I leave before she wakes, then I go and get my electronic cigarettes from the nightstand. The key to quitting smoking is to always keep ’em fully charged. I’m on a two-month streak, and I’m not going to start smoking again because of a fucking asshole like Mackenna. I shove the e-cigarettes into my bag and, on impulse, go to the shoebox in my closet where I’ve hidden some old stuff. Prized among those things is a stupid rock he gave me. Why did I save it? I don’t know. It’s a real rock, not a bling rock. I tripped on it once, when he walked me home.