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going on. I feel bad about it but-"
    "But you'd rather drink poison than say sorry, huh?"
    Ray knew me too well. I pressed my lips together, embarrassed by how predictable I was.
    "Aw, Tash," he said, leaning over the table and squeezing my hand. "Who was it? Lena? She'll understand, she's used to dealing with you."
    "No," I said, a little tightly. "It wasn't Lena."
    Ray caught the tension in my voice and looked up, curious. "Who then? A boy?"
    "Yes, a boy."
    Normally that would have been Ray's cue to make fun of me or tease me about how strict I was with boys, but not that night. He knew we were all too fragile for joshing.
    "Invite him over. Bake him some cornbread and tell him you're sorry, Tash. I guarantee that'll fix it. And just tell him what's going on with you, if this is someone you like. You're so locked down all the time, it's not healthy. You've got to let yourself be easier with some of the people in your life, you know? Or one of these days, you're going to explode."
    Ray was right. And so the next day, at school, I left a note in Kaden Barlow's locker. It doesn't sound like much, I know, but it was huge for me. The note read:
    "Kaden - I'm sorry for being such a bitch yesterday. I had some bad news earlier in the day and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. To make it up to you I'm going to make you some of my family's famous cornbread - if you still feel like talking to me. - Natasha."
    As soon as I'd dropped it between the metal slats of Kaden's locker I started fretting over the details of the short note - even after I'd already spent almost two hours writing and rewriting those few brief lines. Should I have signed my first name like that, as 'Natasha'? Was it too formal somehow? Did it make me sound weird? Should I have used the word 'bitch?' My third-grade teacher told us once that boys didn't like girls who used curse words. As far as I could see it wasn't true but as soon as the note was out of my reach her words came back to me. Had I just ruined my chances? Well, it was too late to fix it now even if I had. I scurried off to class before Kaden could find me standing there pondering over minutiae like a freak.

Chapter 7: Kaden
    I was nervous - again, as I always seemed to be when Natasha Greeley was involved - before going to her house that evening. I tried on three different outfits before settling on a pair of jeans that had garnered a lot of compliments from various girls at school and a t-shirt that, while not exactly 'fitted,' was not exactly 'loose,' either. I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom laughing at my own behavior, barely believing that an invitation for some homemade cornbread was causing me such stress. Homemade cornbread, though. There was something so fucking wonderful about that - so innocent. Life was all parties and hook-ups at that age. I'd had so many blowjobs from random girls I couldn't have remembered them all if you asked. But a girl cooking for me? Home cooking? That had never happened. On the drive to Tasha's house, I wondered if we were the first generation in history to view baking for someone as somehow more intimate than giving them head.
    Tasha's house was in one of the working class neighborhoods. There was a lot of chain-link fencing and dried out lawns, but it was all well-kept. I pulled my Suburban up to the curb outside her house and looked inside. There she was, standing in what appeared to be the living room, talking to someone and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. Even from the street, I could tell it was her. There was something about the way she held her body, as if she wasn't exactly sure how attractive she was. I watched her for a few minutes, transfixed, and then realized that if I kept it up much longer it'd probably be really creepy. I locked the SUV and walked up the front steps to the door.
    "Kaden!" Tasha said, smiling at me as she opened the door and I found myself enveloped in the scent of baking to the point that I thought I might