“I'm fine.My father's an arse, and my mum is dying and-oh my God,I'm so pissed." St. Clair looked at me again. His eyes were glassy like black marbles. "Pissed.Pissed.Pissed.""We know you're pissed at your dad," I said. "It's okay. You're right, he's a jerk." I mean what was I supposed to say? He just found out his mother has cancer."Pissed is British for 'drunk,'" Mer said."Oh," I said. "Well. You're definitely that, too."Meanwhile,The Couple was fighting. "Where have you been?" Rashmi asked. "You said you'd be home three hours ago!"Josh rolled his eyes. "Out.We've been out. Someone had to help him-""And you call that helping? He's completely wasted. Catatonic. And you! God,you smell like car exhaust and armpits-""He couldn't drink alone.""You were supposed to be watching out for him! What if something happened?""Beer. Liquor. Thatsswhat happened. Don't be such a prude,Rash.”

“Anna?""Yeah?"He pauses. "Never mind.""What?""Nothing."But his tone is definitely not nothing. I turn to him, and his eyes are closed. His skin is pale and tired. "What?" I ask again,sitting up. St. Clair opens his eyes, noticing I've moved. He struggles,trying to sit up, too, and I help him. When I pull away, he clutches my hand to stop me."I like you," he says.My body is rigid."And I don't mean as a friend."It feels like I'm swallowing my tongue. "Uh. Um. What about-?" I pull my hand away from his. The weight of her name hangs heavy and unspoken."It's not right.It hasn't been right, not since I met you." His eyes close again,and his body sways.He's drunk. He's just drunk.Calm down,Anna. He's drunk, and he's going through a crisis. There is NO WAY he knows what he's talking about right now. So what do I do? Oh my God, what am I supposed to do?"Do you like me?" St. Clair asks. And he looks at me with those big brown eyes-which,okay,are a bit red from the drinking and maybe from some crying-and my heart breaks.Yes,St. Clair.I like you.But I can't say it out loud, because he's my friend. And friends don't let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day.Then again...it's St. Clair. Beautiful, perfect,wonderful-And great.That's just great.He threw up on me.”

“Kevin", his father began, "I've been thinking about it – I guess I was kind of carried away. It's just that I've waited so long for my old school to make it to the Regionals... I suppose I was living it vicariously through you. Keith says you're not going to fail, after all. Is that right?""Looks like I'll make it. I know it's hard to believe...""Yes, it is. I was hoping you could get a football scholarship, you know. Something to waive the entrance requirements, because I don't know what college would take you-""Yeah. Thanks a lot Dad," Kevin said sarcastically. He already knew what his father thought of him and didn't need to be reminded yet again."Oh, come on. You know perfectly well that you're too stupid to-""That's not what my boyfriend says. Oh, by the way, Dad – I'm a faggot. Did I mention that?""... Kevin – get your stuff, and get out.""Gladly.”

“And this must be Avery?""Oh, God, no," Cam said. "This is Candy, Mom."His mother's eyes widened and a bit of color infused her cheeks. "Uh, I'm...""I'm Avery," I said, shooting Cam a look. "You had it right."She spun around, smacking Cam across the arm. Hard, too. "Cameron! Oh my God. I thought..." She smacked him again and he laughed. "You're terrible.”

“Querida, it's alright," he said. "No one has hurt me in years.""Hey, you're supposed to be my brother," I said, trying to joke. "Brother's don't hold their sisters' hands or call them querida."Seb smiled, his hazel eyes starting to dance. "Yes, they do," he said. "This happens all the time.""Well I guess things are different in Mexico then," I said. "Because in America, no way. And I'm an American.""But you're in Mexico now," he pointed out."Right. And you're saying here, boys holds hands with their sisters and call them sweetheart.""Oh yes. We're very friendly, we Mexicans.”

“What the hell are you tryng to do?"She gave him an innocent stare. "Why, have a conversation. I suppose you're out of practice."He glared,narrow-eyed, then turned away. "I'm going for a walk," he muttered."Lovely." Gennie slipped her arm through his. "I'll go with you.""I didn't ask you," Grant said flatly, stopping again."Oh." Gennie batted her eyes. "You're trying to charm me by being rude again. It's so difficult to resist.”