The First Last Boy

By: Sonya Weiss

Chapter One

TANA



Three nights ago I’d asked my best friend, Ryan Collins, to have sex with me. The request blew up in my face and I didn’t even have being drunk to use as an excuse for asking him. I closed my laptop and rolled over onto my back, staring at the brown ringed water spot on the bedroom ceiling. Eighteen years old and still a virgin. There were half a dozen boys I could hook up with before heading off to my freshman year at Bayside College in Illinois, but I wanted my first time to be with someone I trusted, someone who made my heart beat faster just by being near him.

Grabbing my phone, I texted him. Hey, wanna hang?

Montana, no.

Usually Ryan called me Tana, the shortened version of my name. The one he’s used since the day we met. He only used Montana when he was pissed off. Like he’d been ever since I’d asked him, like I’d suggested he let me rip out his nipple piercing or something. He’d recoiled and shut me out the second I’d mentioned sex.

Whatever, I texted back, trying to convince myself I just wanted company and not specifically his. I had to get a grip and stop lying to myself, stop ignoring how Ryan affected me.

It was Friday night and since my friends went to a concert I couldn’t afford, I didn’t have anything to do. Ignoring the incoming text, I rolled off the bed to see if Mom made it home yet. If she hadn’t, it was up to me to fix something for supper so Creature, my eight-year-old brother, Mark, wouldn’t starve. We called him that because ever since he’d seen the Harry Potter movies, he’d wanted to be called Creature after Kreacher in the movies. He’d walked around for weeks after seeing them muttering insults like the house elf.

Mom wasn’t home. I didn’t mind cooking or helping out when I wasn’t working my shift as a waitress at the Blue Seagull. Mom had busted her ass for us since the divorce. My father bailed three years ago when Creature was five and I was fifteen. No big loss. We were better off without his drama. He showed up hit and miss and only stayed long enough to stir up reality show type shit.

“Hey, Creature! You want some pizza?” I yelled down the hallway when none of the options at hand in the ancient, rattling refrigerator looked appealing.

He flung open his bedroom door and poked his head out, blinking, readjusting to the real world from his virtual one. “Real pizza, not the kind you make?” he asked with a mixture of suspicion and hope.

So I’m not known for my culinary skills. “Yeah, real pizza.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the change I had left. “Let me get my purse and I’ll see for sure if I have enough.”

He followed me back to my room and did a dive landing onto my bed, narrowly missing my laptop while he made explosive noises. “Where’s Ryan? He always comes over on Friday.”

“I dunno, and careful with my laptop.” I picked up my purse and dug through my wallet for the leftover tip money. “There’s enough.”

“Yay!” He leaned over the bed and plopped the computer onto the crappy carpet I thought was left over from the seventies. He bounced up to his knees, then his feet and started jumping on the bed. “Hurry up and order it before Mom comes home and does this.” He pulled his eyebrows into a frown. “You need vegetables, young man.”

I laughed at the imitation and picked up my phone, ignoring a second text message. I knew Ryan wanted to explain the reasons why sex with me was such a god-awful bad idea but I was too humiliated to deal with it. I dialed the number of the pizza place at the strip mall a few miles away and ordered a pepperoni with extra cheese.

“Mom’s gonna complain.”

“Sit,” I said after I hung up. With my hands on his shoulders, I scowled into his face. “About Mom...don’t tell her. Problem solved.”

“She might not notice anyway. She’s always working,” he said. He swung his bare feet back and forth. “Who’s gonna take care of me when you leave for college?”

My heart twisted at the worry reminder. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’d wondered the same thing. “There’s no...c’mon...what is it?”

“Bridge to cross yet.” He jumped off the bed. “Wanna play one of my games? I’ll let you win.”

I followed him into his room that smelled like wet socks, half-eaten Cheetos, and sweaty little boy. I wrinkled my nose. “How can you stand this? It’s almost toxic in here. You should clean.”

“You’re not Mom.” He slumped his shoulders and dragged his voice out in another weary imitation of hers. “Look at this room, son. How can you find anything? It looks like the city dump. One day, you’ll get lost in here and I’ll have to call search and rescue.”

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