The Fallen by Celia Thomson Page A

honesdy. Her bus was coming; he was going in the opposite direction.
    â€œOh, cool. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
    She waited. He seemed to be looking anxiously for the bus. “Can I see you again?” Chloe finally asked, a little annoyed that
she
had to be the one to bring it up. Hadn’t she bought him a monkey, after all?
    â€œOh—yeah—of course. If you want.” He looked down at her, unsure.
    â€œOf course I do! Didn’t I just say this was, like, the best date ever?” The bus stopped and opened its doors. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Chloe asked, the first real flirty thing she had said all evening.
    He leaned over and kissed her delicately on the cheek.
    â€œGood night, Chloe,” he said softly, and turned around and walked away.
    Chloe climbed into the bus, feeling her cheek with her fingers, wondering if this was as close to a normal guy her age as she was ever going to date.
    As soon as she was sure he wasn’t looking, at the last moment she dove off. There were
other
ways to get home. She took off her jacket, tied it around her waist—and ran.
    This time she concentrated on more and more outrageous leaps, sometimes running along a line of parked cars, bouncing from roof to roof. When she turned off the street and started running through tiny parks, fences proved no issue: she vaulted over short ones and leapt as high as she could onto chain-link ones, throwing herself over the top and jumping all the way to the ground, sometimes as far as twelve feet.
    A pit bull strained on its leash in the courtyard of one run-down condo complex; a beautifully groomed old yellow Lab barked at her, nipping at her legs as she streaked by. Even Mrs. Languedoc’s nasty little shih tzu howled like a wolf at her when Chloe finally ran up her own driveway.
    â€œKimmy, what’s wrong with you?” Chloe heard her neighbor scold the dog.
    Chloe wandered over to the cheap picket fence. This time she was breathing heavily, and her lower stomach was cramping—Chloe wondered how badly she would pay for this exercise session tomorrow. She stuck her hand between the plastic slats to let the dog nose her.They had never been particularly good friends in the past, but Chloe had occasionally thrown it raw hot dogs, trying to get it to shut up when Mrs. Languedoc was away.
    Kimmy growled, backed away to a safe distance, and began barking again.
    â€œWhatever.” Chloe shrugged and went inside.
    â€œHow was your study session?” her mother called from the table, where she was paying bills on her laptop.
    It took Chloe a moment to remember exacdy what lie she had told.
    â€œLousy. We got
nothing
done.” She threw her jacket into the closet with disgust. “I just don’t see why Lisa keeps inviting Keira along. All she wants to do is gossip and bitch.”
    â€œWell, if you need help”—Chloe’s mom looked over at her and smiled—”I was great at trig.”
    Of course. You were freaking great at everything.
    â€œThanks.” Chloe gave her a weak smile and went upstairs to the bathroom.
    Blood.
    On her boy panties, in the front part of the cotton crotch. Bright red. Her ten-dollar
nice
boy panties.
    Her first thought was that she had ripped her hymen during one of the gigantic leaps off fences she had taken, legs spread wide.
    Then as she felt more wetness on the inside of her leg, she realized what it was.
    Holy shit.
She finally got her period.
    â€œAbout time,” she muttered, and started rooting through the bathroom cabinet. That must have been what set the dogs off. They must have smelled the blood on her. She finally found a box of tampons—another thing that, if she didn’t like her mother’s brand, she would have to start paying for herself.
    I have to call Amy,
she thought. Chloe smiled.
    And then she got a cramp.

Nine
    â€œHey—Where Were you last night?” Amy demanded. Once again,