Ferocity Summer by Alissa Grosso

not the time to tell her. Worse still, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share it with her.
    â€œYou mean, what?” Willow asked, annoyed. She pulled her arm from mine and had her car door open.
    â€œDon’t get out!” I said. This time she rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “That car,” I said, pointing at the Lincoln. “It looks like a cop car.”
    â€œYou’re crazy.”
    â€œWillow, think. You ever seen a car like that parked here before?”
    She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move either. She studied the black vehicle as it shone in the summer sun.
    â€œIt doesn’t look right,” she said.
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to say.”
    She looked longingly at Pointless Pursuits, then back at the car.
    â€œIt’s probably nothing.”
    â€œIs that a chance you want to take?”
    â€œI’ll say I’m just here to look into getting a tattoo.” She opened the door all the way and stepped out.
    â€œWillow, come on. This isn’t a good idea.”
    I was desperate. All I had to do was play my trump card. All I had to do was tell her everything. But I couldn’t do it. Willow stood there, hesitating. I willed myself to tell her the whole story—why I knew the car, what Christian wanted me to do, Randy’s dresser drawer, and everything Bill had told me—but my lips wouldn’t move. My tongue was frozen.
    â€œThe trial,” I finally managed to say, and it was enough. Willow sank back down to her seat and slowly pulled the door closed after her. There were tears streaming down her face.
    â€œI don’t know what to do,” Willow said.
    â€œWe need to leave.”
    She complied, starting the car, pulling trancelike back onto the road, heading back home. The tears kept falling.
    â€œI don’t know what to do,” she said again.
    â€œYou’ll be fine.”
    â€œI’m not fine. I’m not fine at all.” I knew she was right, but I didn’t agree with her. “I would understand if you hated me and didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” she said. “I’m such a fuck-up.”
    â€œShut up,” I said. “You come from a fucked-up family, maybe, but you’re still my friend, you idiot.”
    Willow giggled, and it almost felt like everything was going to be just fine.

July
    O n a languid afternoon, Willow and I lay on her heavily fertilized back lawn absorbing mutagenic chemicals through our pores and wallowing in our angst.
    Happiness had begun to feel like an impossible goal. I felt sick of everything. I wanted a new life. It was impossible to not dwell on all of my mistakes, to live my bad decisions over and over again in my head while trying unsuccessfully to undo them.
    â€œWhy the hell are you so mopey?” Willow asked.
    â€œWhy? Because the girl I have a crush on is only interested in guys,” I said.
    â€œI’m flattered.”
    â€œI’m talking about Andrea.”
    â€œNo shit, Sherlock. Didn’t I warn you you’d get nowhere with her?”
    â€œI’m a dreamer, all right?”
    â€œ Sure. Hell, we’re all dreamers. How can you not be when you’re stuck here in some shitty podunk town in the middle of summer with absolutely nothing to do? We should be out there in the world having fun. Instead, we’re sitting here in my backyard counting blades of grass.”
    â€œAll I was counting were my sorrows, and the number of guys Andrea has chosen to mess around with instead of directing some of that attention in my direction.”
    â€œFuck, girl, you’ll spend the whole summer counting,” Willow said. “I think you better let it go now.”
    â€œLife sucks.”
    â€œLife is a magnificent adventure and we’re wasting it.” Willow sat up. “You know what I think? I think it’s time we took a little journey.”
    â€œTo where?