life. And then Amy announced that she was going to do another stupid thing, something almost as bad as quitting school: she was going to break up with the one boy who really cared about her.
Zach didn’t know—or wouldn’t let himself know—that Amy was sleeping with other people. When she told him she was busy, he accepted it. Maybe because she still asked him to come over at least two nights a week. Often, she would ask for his help with something like a leaky faucet in the apartment or the battery of her car, and then she would make him dinner and let him spend the night. Kyra could hear them laughing and moaning. Her face would turn bright red; she usually fell asleep with her pillow smashed over her ears. When she woke up in the morning, she got dressed and left the apartment as quickly as possible, so she wouldn’t run into him in the hall. She didn’t want to see his skin warm and pink from sleeping in her sister’s bed, his hair tousled from her sister’s touch. But she wasn’t aware that she liked him that way. She hadn’t let herself consider the possibility, because she was so convinced that Zach was the only thing standing between Amy and utter chaos.
“I know you’re going to be mad at me,” Amy said. She sat down at Kyra’s table and took a big gulp of Kyra’s soda. The band was on a break. She seemed too hyper, as she always did at her gigs, but she claimed it was simply the excitement of performance. “You think he’s good for me, and I know you’re right. But I’m not ready for this. I’m going to have to tell him I just think of him as a friend.”
Kyra was stunned into speechlessness, but Amy quickly changed the topic to Kyra’s finals, which Amy claimed she was sure Kyra had aced. “You’re the star of the math department, Miss 4.0. You can say what you want about me”—she smiled a half smile—“though I wish you wouldn’t . . . but you are an unqualified success.” She grabbed Kyra’s hand. Her fingers were so warm, even though she was wearing a low-cut tank top and a skirt that barely covered her thighs. Her blond hair was longer now, with a blunt cut that made the ends look very sharp. Sharp enough, Kyra thought, to give someone a paper cut, except of course it would have to be called a “hair cut,” which made no sense.
Kyra never considered herself the star of the math department, yet it was true that she’d already taken an upper-level proof class and done well. She and Amy had started math together, in the same section of the same course, their first semester at UMKC. Kyra had gotten a perfect grade, while Amy had ended up with a C in that class and Bs or Cs in all her others, though she’d worked much harder than Kyra. That was the beginning of the end, as Amy stopped trying only a month or two later. She started saying things like “I’m not very smart” and “I’m not the type to be in college.” After all her plans, she let UMKC go with as little thought as she gave to selling back her books at the end of the semester. Unfortunately, she was following their mother here, too, though their mother had hung on for three years, while Amy decided to leave after only one.
“I’m not going to say anything bad about you,” Kyra said slowly, “but I think you’re making a huge mistake. He’s really smart and sensitive and—oh, cripes.” It was dark in the bar, but Kyra recognized Zach coming toward them with the big smile he reserved only for Amy. When he smiled like that, Kyra thought the whole world seemed better.
“Hey, babe,” he said, and sat down next to Amy. He leaned over to give her a kiss, but she turned her face so he was forced to kiss her cheek. It was the first time she’d done this, so he had to be confused. Amy must have sensed that and thought the best thing would be to tell him right then. Or maybe she just wanted to get it over with. Whatever her reason, Kyra felt terrible that he had to hear this in a crowded bar, with Amy