Because I'm Disposable by Rosie Somers Page A

couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, I followed the braiding of the ties at the collar of his hood.
    “How did you know?”
    He chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. “You look about as high as I’ve ever seen anyone.” He reached out and pulled my backpack from my shoulder, then tossed it through the open truck window. Gentle fingers landed at my elbow and urged me around the truck, where he opened the passenger door. As soon as I was settled in the seat, he shut the door and jogged around to his side.
    “You were with Mona Fleming, right?” Link asked as he climbed in and started the engine. We started a slow crawl out of the lot.
    “Yeah.”
    “And you skipped class?”
    Part of me wanted to rage against his disapproving-parent tone, but part of me knew exactly why he was disappointed. I was a little disappointed in myself. But mostly, I was apathetic about everything. Maybe being stoned was mellowing me out. Or maybe I wouldn’t have cared even if I wasn’t. I didn’t answer him—I didn’t need to.
    “Why?” He didn’t sound so much disapproving as curious. He wasn’t berating me; he genuinely wanted to understand why I would skip class to get high.
    I watched the road ahead of us to avoid having to look at him. “I didn’t know we were getting high when I left campus. Leaving seemed so much easier than sitting through Miss Callahan’s monotone Calc lessons.”
    Link snorted. “Yeah, she could make a roller coaster sound boring.” We rode in silence for a few blocks. Then, “What’ve you got going on tonight?”
    Until recently, my Mondays after school were reserved for basketball practice and my evenings set aside for straightening up the house, making dinner, and doing homework. But I wasn’t on the team anymore, and missing most of my classes today left me with no idea what the assignments were. We didn’t eat together as a family anymore—more often than not, I had cereal or ramen for dinner now. And I hadn’t lifted a finger to clean since Dad bit it. “Not a whole lot.”
    “Wanna go downtown with me? We could see that new movie, Dread House. Maybe grab something to eat.” Was he asking me on a date?
    “Uh, sure. That sounds like fun.” Except that I wasn’t into horror movies.
    He steered onto our road and parked along the curb in front of his house. “Cool, I’ll check movie times and text you.” And he was out of the vehicle.
    I followed suit, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and trying to effect a casual air as I made a beeline for my house. “See ya later.”
    As I shut my front door behind me, I caught a glimpse of Link still standing next to his truck watching me.

 
    Chapter Twelve
    “Cal, you’re pacing like a caged lion. Chill out.” Corrine was stretched out across her bed, swinging her feet in the air and thumbing through one of those girly magazines she loved so much.
    I reached the window, turned, and retraced my steps across the room for what must have been the tenth time. My fingers unconsciously found the mid-thigh he m of my skirt and tugged. I still wasn’t used to wearing anything other than loose-fitting shorts and jeans.
    “Quit messing with your clothes. You look hot.”
    I knew she wouldn’t lie to me, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe that I was hot. I smoothed sweaty palms down my white T-shirt and surveyed myself in the mirror. I looked like a catholic schoolgirl’s colorblind sister in a small, white tee and a black and white plaid skirt. Other than my combat boots, Corrine had dressed me. “Are you sure? Maybe I should go with the red dress.” I motioned toward the strapless, nylon number laid out across my bed.
    Corrine shook her head emphatically. “Not if you insist on wearing those.” She pointed at my feet and grimaced. I shrugged. I wasn’t so much attached to the boots as I was set against wearing a pair of Corrine’s heels. This date was going to be awkward enough without spending every minute of it trying