The Girl Who Lives In My Garage • Jenlisa

fifteen

The outfit I select for the party is one of my favorites—my newest dark-wash skinny jeans with a white crop top. Straightened hair and dramatic makeup complete the look.

Call me conceited, but I look good.

My parents go to bed around 10:00. Once Dad is snoring, I sneak into their room, thankful that the door is not in need of WD40 and also that the carpeted floors are sans squeaky boards. My heart races the closer I get to my parents' bed, or more importantly, the green glow of the clock on the nightstand.

With careful fingers, I feel around for the "alarm off" button. My worst fear is that I'll accidentally hit the "play" button to make the radio start blaring. If I can pull this off, they'll never be able to prove it was me. If I can't pull it off, I might end up in boarding school.

Finding what I hope and pray is the right button, I press it and watch as the "Alarm 1" light on the display disappears. My sigh of relief is too loud, but Dad keeps snoring and Mom doesn't stir. I turn off the second alarm and tiptoe out of the room, leaving my parents sound asleep. It's too easy, really. I should have tried this a long time ago.

In the garage, I turn on the light. "Lisa?"

"Jennie?"

My name sounds better on her lips than it does on anyone else's. When I reach the Trans Am, she's sitting with a suspiciously familiar flashlight and her copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower. She dog-ears the page she's on, puts the flashlight and book in her backpack, then shoves the backpack under the car. "Stealing our flashlight?" I ask.

"I like to call it 'borrowing.'" She stands and looks me over, head to toe. "You look incredible."

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself." She's wearing a different jacket and she inserted the front hem of the jacket in her denim pants, not the navy and gray North Face jacket or hooded sweatshirt I've seen her in before. This is a yellow oversize hoodie cardigan Balenciaga, and it looks really, really good on her. "New jacket?"

Her smile widens to reveal her blinding white teeth. "Bought it a couple of hours ago, actually."

I run a finger over the soft fabric on her chest and played on the string of her jacket.

"While we're liking things..." She leans in and presses her lips to mine. As my eyes fall shut, I melt into her. She kisses like it's the first and the last time we'll ever kiss. Always. She kisses her way down my neck to where the Petoskey stone rests against my skin. Lifting the stone, she blows a breath of cool air against the uncovered skin before pressing her lips there, too. Goose bumps spread over my skin. "Are you sure about this whole 'party' thing?" she asks, voice deep and soft.

It takes all of my effort not to say "no" and spend the rest of the night right here with her. After one last kiss, I force myself away and say, "Yes. It's going to be great. Let's go."

When we arrive at the end of the subdivision, Irene unnie's van is already waiting.

"Nice ride," Lisa observes.

"Oh, it gets better. Just wait until you're inside. Hey," I say, opening the door and crawling in, bypassing my usual seat for the one next to it. I knock hangers and clothes and for some reason, tennis balls on the ground so we can both sit.

"Hey, late girl," Rosé says.

"Like thirty seconds late," I argue. Lisa sits down and closes the sliding door behind her. "Chaeng, unnie, you remember Lisa?"

"Hey," Lisa says. "Nice to see both of you again."

Rosé spins so that she's facing her. "You, too." She's a bit too enthusiastic and winks at me. Dork.