Lost Sheep

6

I had never more enjoyed and hated having a secret. (Yes, Willow and I were together. We had decided it was ridiculous not to be. "We're young," she had said, and then I'd started singing. "Tonight...we are young..."and she laughed and kissed me in the middle of the school.

"Max, you're so nostalgic," she said, giggling.

"Things were better back then," I said, and she crinkled her eyebrows.

"Were they?"

I couldn't answer that for sure, but, secretly, I wanted nothing more than to be a teen in my parents' generation. I couldn't explain it, but does there always have to be explanations for the ridiculous things we desire?

She'd sighed, and ran her fingers alone my cheekbone, but her touch whispered along my skin. I like you even if you dream about the past (which is not even your past), and you're kind of short (although not Jesse-short) and you're only a sophomore. I want you more than some hunky junior on the sexual fast-track who parties all night, because you're sweet, and we can take it slow.

" Trick or treat."

"Which do you want, a trick or a treat?" I said, surprised about how easily the flirty banter came. We'd only been dating for three weeks. I'd never been like this with girls before. Maybe because it meant nothing?

She pouted, but I looked past her at the chunks of hair poking out from underneath her headscarf, made of the same sheer material as her strapless top and full, bell-shaped skirt, until I couldn't stay away anymore.

"A treat would be nice."

"Okay, but you have to close your eyes." She parted her lips expectantly for mine, then shrieked when she tasted the chocolate melting on her tongue.

"Max!" She yanked the pointed end of my devil tail.

"You weren't specific enough, Willow Tree," I called, and scooped my textbooks into my arms, leaving her laughing through a mouthful of Hershey's candy.

"Who's the girl?" Landon, hair slicked back and lounging on Jesse's couch, looked exactly like the 50s' character he aimed to represent: Grease's Danny Zuko. He rolled his eyes every time some adult at the party broke into song, but I think he was happy.

I glanced around nervously for my parents and said,

"What girl?"

Landon rolled his eyes.

" ' What girl', he says. ' What girl', like he doesn't know. You were dancing this close to her at that dance." He took out his phone and fiddled with it for a few seconds. A picture of Willow and I laughing - our shoulders pressed together - filled the screen. He flipped to another one of her dancing by herself, light streaming down and illuminating those legs.

"She's hot. Incredibly hot. So, what was this, a pity date?"

"Landon!" 'Dite wore brown rubber cat ears on top of her head, and a slinky brown silk bodysuit (she and Bree were both cats) and somehow she looked sexy, adorable, and ridiculous, but my mind - and my hormones - shot back to the dance, and I blushed.

"She was so pretty and nice," she said to me, "and she really likes Dad."

"That she does," I whispered to myself, and laughed a little.

Landon drummed his fingers half-heartedly to the dance music playing in the background, and 'Dite's head swiveled to watch the dance floor, but then her lips popped open and she shrieked. Bree had her hands on the stellar abs of a very now male teen starlet, with her head tipped back as his hands moved on her hips.