Snow was beginning to stick to the asphalt in the school parking lot. My Jeep was already filmed over with frozen sleet. Mom said I was nuts to buy such a hunk of junk, and at the moment, shivering under the ripped canvas cover, I had to agree. But it'd been a blast all summer, four-wheeling the ridgeback.

My bones were brittle by the time I swerved into Children's Cottage. "Jennie, thank God." Judy Arndt rushed up to meet me at the door. "Could you watch Dinosaur Digs while I run this money to the bank before it closes?"

"Sure."

"You're a saint." She slipped out behind me, skittering down the icy wheelchair ramp.

Unzipping my hooded sweatshirt, I hustled up the hall toward the pre-K room, admiring the miniature marshmallow art on the walls as I went. "Miss Jennie! Miss Jennie!" a couple of kids shrieked when they saw me at the door.

"Hi, Courtney. Stef." They raced over and flung their arms around me. "Ooh, Steffi, I love your princess outfit." She beamed and twirled around for me. The other kids were trying on costumes from the make-believe trunk, or building with LEGOs, or bopping out at the karaoke centre.

There was another aide in the room, Mrs. Ruiz, Courtney's grandma, who volunteered a couple of days a week. We greeted each other with smiles as she divvied up Teddy Grahams for snack time. Courtney and Stef ran back to the mirror.

"Come and play with us, Miss Jennie," Kyle Jenered across the room. Everyone else looked busy, so I joined him and his brother, Kevin – the twin terrors.

This had to be the best job in the world. Yeah, it was minimum wage, and it was tough to put in even ten hours a week with my schedule, but I'd sacrifice swim team before giving this up. I loved little kids. They were so funny, so real. The way they'd crawl into your lap or hang off your neck. Sometimes they were pretty needy, like they weren't getting much affection at home. That was fine with me. I had plenty of love to spread around.

Courtney snuck up behind me and smashed sticky fingers over my eyes. "Guess who?" she said.

"Barney?"

"No."

"Scooby Doo?"

She giggled. "No."

"The Three Little Pigs?"

"It's me!"

I grabbled her and tickled her in my lap. I wanted a hundred kids, at least.

***Mom was hanging up the phone when I blew in the back door a little after six. "That was Bonnie Lee."

I grimaced. "Mom –"

"No excuses," she said. "Get in there tomorrow. She's gone to a lot of trouble sending away for those catalogs and applications. I went ahead and filled out the financial aid forms you left sitting on your dresser."

"Mother." Involuntarily, my fists clenched. I wish she'd stay out of my room. Better yet, out of my life. I drew a deep, calming breathe before kissing Ella in her baby seat. Mom nudged me away and lifted Ella up, adding, "You act like you don't even care."

"I care," I said, bristling again. Why didn't she go to college if she was so psyched about it?I yanked open the fridge and snitched a bowl of leftover chicken. Selected a bag of chips off the counter for dessert. Down in the crypt I punched on my CD player and changed into sweats, then dumped books and notebooks out on my bed. This sickening feeling of dread seeped up from my core. It's been festering for a while now. Why did I have to go to college? I loved school, but mostly for the social life. I couldn't imagine another four years poring over textbooks and writing reports and giving presentations and staging all-nighters.

Shoving the books aside, I rolled over and hugged my pillow. What was wrong with me? Ever since senior year started, I just couldn't get motivated. Couldn't get into it. Time seemed to have sped up and taken off without me. Or stopped altogether. This sense of inertia encased me in amber. Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person. An empty, spineless shape-shifter.

Mom's footsteps creaked upstairs in my old bedroom. A pang of guilt stabbed me in the gut. I knew why she was so obsessed with college. She would've gone if she could have, but she'd dropped out of high school when she got pregnant with me. She had to. Her parents kicked her out. She never talked much about those years. We lived in a shelter for a while, I think. Eventually Mom got into a program for unwed mothers and earned her GED. Attended trade school and worked as a paralegal.

I admired her, I really did. She'd been through a lot. She was strong and independent, much more so than me. One time, while she was pregnant with Ella, I went with her for an ultrasound and I remember sitting in the doctor's office, Mom leafing through a parenting magazine, both of us cooing over the cute baby clothes. She told me she'd regretted having me so young, that she would've been a better parent had she waited and planned. I tried to tell her she was a great mom, but I don't think she heard me. Or believed it. She said if she'd been older, more mature, she might've wanted me more.

I squeezed my eyes shut, banishing the memory, the implication. Ella was wanted. I wasn't.I should've been resentful of Ella, and maybe I was, at first. But Mom shared her with me. It was like we were raising Ella together. I loved that, the teamwork. And nobody could hold a grudge against a baby, especially a cutie patootie like Ella.

My cell rang, jolting me back to the present.

"Hi, Jen," Kai said. "You busy?"

"Extremely," I informed him. "Don't even think it. I need my sleep."

"Hmmm. I always sleep better afterwards."

"Yeah, well, you pretty much sleep through it."

"Hey!"

"Kidding." I said.

"Listen, about Friday night. It's off. My brother and his roommates were going up skiing the whole weekend and said we could use the apartment, but now one of them has to work." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." For some reason I felt relieved.

"They rescheduled for the weekend after, so we'll have the place to ourselves then. Meanwhile, I guess it's get down and dirty in dungeonland."

"Woo Bin's home for the rest of the month," I told him. "And Hwa's here this weekend."

Kai muttered a curse.

"You're just spoiled because of vacation."

"No shit," he replied. "I think I'm addicted. Addicted to you."

"They have medication for that."

He chuckled. "Hey, Echo Lake's opening Saturday. Want to go skating?"

"Yeah." I perked up. "I'll call Jisoo and Nayeon. We haven't all gone out since summer."

"Oh, all right," Kai said flatly.

"If you don't want me to –"

"No, it's fine. We just never seem to do anything alone anymore."

That wasn't true. He had me to himself all the time.

He added, "Have you thought anymore about," his voice lowered, "the big C?"

My jaw clenched. "I think I hear my mother nagging."

"Jen –"

"Kai, as soon as I know, you'll know. I promise."

And when will that be? I asked myself. The answer was obvious: As soon as I figured out where my mother's life ended and mine began.

***

The contacts had to go. Why I'd wanted them in the first place – oh, yeah. To accentuate my extraordinary beauty. Who was I kidding?

My hair was still damp as I pushed through the door of the girls' locker room. A blast of frigid air met me as Coach Chiang materialised in the doorway from the faculty parking lot. "Jennie," he called.

"Just the person I wanted to see."

I waited for him to catch up. "Would you swim the two-hundred med relay?" he asked. "Nancy broke her arm snowboarding over the weekend, and our first meet's Friday. I'd hate for the team to have to withdraw."

"Ouch." I winced for Nancy. Then for me. "Coach, you're seen my 'fly. Are you that desperate?"

"'Fraid so."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, but only for the glory of Busan high."

He punched my arm and disappeared into the boys' locker room. I sprinted up the stairs. She was already at her locker, her mega cup of coffee balanced on a box of donuts by her feet. She had earphones on and as she pulled a book off the shelf, she started rocking out. The way you do when no one's around.

It made me laugh.

Her eyes flew open and she smiled, did a one-eighty.

I mouthed, What are you listening to?, indicating the earphones. I dropped my duffel next to my locker.

Chaeyoung boogied across the hall and lifted one ear flap for me to listen. I had to lean in to hear and our faces accidentally touched. We both jerked away, as if we'd been shocked. She yanked off the earphones and clipped them onto my head.

I didn't recognise the song. I pressed my hands over my ears to drown out the white noise, while Chaeyoung stood with her CD player, nodding in time with the imagined beat. Great group – girl singers. The rhythm was contagious and made me want to dance. So I did. I spun my combination lock and swung open the door at the same time. When the song ended, I handed the earphones back to Chaeyoung.

"They're good," I said. "They sound kind of familiar. Who are they?"

"Dixie Chicks. Here, listen to this one." She popped the earphones back on me and slid in another CD with a homemade label. It was a different group, heavy metal. The kind of stuff Kai likes. I must've made a face because Chaeyoung stared laughing.I pulled down the earphones. "What?"

"That's my sister's band," she said. "Bad, aren't they?"

"Not that bad."

"Liar."

I handed her back the earphones and she returned to her locker. She called across the hall, "You want a donut? I've got plenty."

My gaze fell to the box on the floor. "Hot' N Tott Donuts," it read across the side. "No, thanks."

The warning bell rang and I hustled to gather my morning books together. A brief glance in my mirror caught Chaeyoung staring at me as she sipped her coffee. My stomach did that thing.

I slammed my locker and spun around, colliding with a mass of bodies. My armload of books went flying. The bodies were all jocks dressed in gym shorts, apparently heading out to the track. A couple of them stopped and apologised, helped retrieve my stuff. Chaeyoung, I noticed, just stood there and watched.

Dammit, I thought, this is your fault. Get your butt over here and help.

She must've read my expressing because she wandered across and said, "Any of you guys want a donut?"

Like vultures, they shoved the books at me and attached the donut box. I shot Chaeyoung a sneer and she laughed.

***So ji handed back our drawings. There was a sticky note on mine that said, "See me after class."

My pulse quickened. Was he going to make me drop? I should have. He could obviously tell I was just filling the hour.

It wasn't helping my anxiety level to see that Wendy had seated herself next to Chaeyoung again. Or had Chaeyoung saved the seat? Chaeyoung was showing Wendy her drawing and giggling.

They both were. So what? Why did that rag me? Winslow was chuckling and showing me his drawing, which looked like a two-year-old's. At the top of Winslow's paper So ji had written,

"Interesting minimalist interpretation." It wasn't like I was jealous or anything. Why would I be? Chaeyoung had a right to choose her own friends. I just wished she'd choose me.

Shut up, brain.

So ji launched into an explanation of all the various uses of pencils and charcoal and markers, then demonstrated the effects you could achieve with each. I tried to take notes, but wasn't exactly sure what to write down. He told us as soon as we bought our supplies to play around with them, get a feel.

I waited for the room to clear before approaching So ji. He glanced up from his desk, where he was checking off names with abandon on the attendance sheet. He smiled, blankly.

"You wanted to see me?" I showed him my drawing.

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot." He studied my page for a few seconds before looking back at me.

Cocking his head.

Oh, God, I thought. Don't get mad. Please don't get mad. I hate it when people get mad at me.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

My face fried. "I, uh, just needed one more elective before graduation and –"

"Shouldn't you be in advanced drawing?"

"Huh?"

Springing to his feet – giving me a heart attack – he hefted himself onto the desk and hugged one leg. "Come on," he said. "Who are you kidding?"

I gulped a lemon. "Apparently not you," I added quickly, "I don't know what you mean."

"This apple." He pointed to my drawing.

"Yeah?"

A smile streaked across his face. He jumped down, giving me more heart palpitations, then riffled through a portfolio on his desk, found what he was looking for, and cleared the desk. Next to my drawing, he laid out three or four others. "Notice anything?"

I skimmed the pictures. "Not really."

He frowned a little. "You can't see the difference?"

I could. I mean, mine was ... comprehensive. Along with everyone else I'd drawn the apple. Then it dawned on me. "Oh, you only wanted the apple?"

So ji threw back his head and laughed.

No fair. "I thought you wanted the stool and the desk and the easel behind it ..."

So ji slapped his forehead. "My God, She doesn't even know she's a genius."

My eyes fell. "Get real." Did he mean it? I compared my drawing to the others again. It was better. More realistic looking. I'd done some drawing on my own over the years, just fooling around, sketching animals and people. I never thought of myself as an artist.

So ji glanced at the name on my paper and said, "Jennie." He raised his bushy head. "You really should consider transferring to a higher class. Level II or III."

"Do I have to?"

"No, but I don't know how much you're going to get out of Drawing I. Besides the basics."

I thought about it. Not for long. "I'll stay. I need the basics. I'm sure I'll learn something," I reached for my drawing.

He snatched it off the desk. "Please," he said, clutching my paper to his chest. "May I keep this? As the first of your magnificent masterpieces?"

He was so weird. "Hey," I waved him off, "line your birdcage."

He gasped. "I shall treasure this always."

Nutcase, I decided as I scuttled out of there. Totally devoid of frontal matter.

***

Mom called me at lunchtime to remind me to stop by the career centre. Why didn't she just buy me a beeper, or one of those electronic devices convicts wear on their ankles? She also told me I had an envelope waiting at home. I could tell by her barely concealed excitement that she'd either opened it or knew what it contained. She disconnected before I could ask.

Mrs. Lee was in a meeting when I arrived at the career centre. Her door was ajar, and I heard the principal, Mr. Reynardi, snarl, "That kid's dangerous. I don't want him in this school. It you don't do it, Bonnie, I'm calling the cops." He charged out, almost bulldozing me down. "Excuse me," he mumbled.

I'm glad I wasn't the subject of that discussion.

"Jennie, there you are," Mrs. Lee bustled out of her office. She looked frazzled, as usual. "I have a box of goodies for you. Catalogs and applications, financial aid forms and resource books. Did you get your invite?"

"My what?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't say that."

I eyed the box on a folding chair near her door and heaved a sigh. More audible than it was meant to be.

Mrs. Lee furrowed her brow. "You okay? You look tired." She reached for my cheek.

I backed away and forced a smile. "I'm fine. I'll just take this stuff. Oh, do you have a catalog for Western State?"

"You're not thinking of going there?" She looked aghast.

"It's not for me. It's for Nayeon."

"Oh. Well." She walked past me to the door, where the catalogs for the state schools were stacked along the wall.

Accompanying me down the hall, Mrs. Lee launched into a lengthy discourse on all the academic scholarships and government grants I could qualify for. How my SATs and ACTs were high enough to get me into most institutions. An institution, I mused, sounded more exciting than college. We reached the main intersection and she added, "On top is the information on schools the offer pre-law programs."

"Pre-law? Who said I wanted to do that?"

"Oh." Mrs. Lee flinched at the sharpness of my voice. "I thought that was your goal, to attend law school. Your mom said –"

That's all I heard. Muttering a quick thanks I charged off toward my Jeep. To my own space, my own time.

"Jennie, wait up," someone called at my back.

I had the exit door scoped out and had to skid to a stop.

I glanced at my watch over the two-ton box. Shit, I was already ten minutes late for work, "Sure," I replied, exhaling my frustration.

"You're a terrible liar," she said. "You should work on that."

I sneered at her.

She shouldered her backpack. "What's that stuff?" She indicated the box.

"College crap. You want it?"

"Sure." I wasn't serious, but she relieved me of the box anyway. I might forget she had it. "Where are you going to college?" she asked as we walked together.

"I don't know. I don't know if I even want to go. Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure. Metro Urban, probably. I haven't thought mush about it, since I'm only a junior."

"You are?" That surprised my. She seemed so much older. More together.

The second wave of the blizzard that was forecast to sweep in never materialised, but an arctic wind was whipping up eddies of cafeteria debris around the parking lot. Chaeyoung, head bent, hurried with me to my Jeep.

"Since you're student body president, can you tell me why you don't have a lesbigay club at Southglenn?" She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.

"A what?" I yelled.

"Lesbigay," she yelled back.

"A who –" Oh. It registered. "I guess ... no one ever applied."

"Well, I want to," she said. "How do I do it?"

We reached the Jeep and Chaeyoung balanced the box on the door handle, anchoring her baseball cap on her head with her free hand.

"Get in," I said. "We can't talk out here." I unlocked the door and took the box. She climbed in and reached across the seat to unlock my door.

I circled around front and hefted the box into the back, then jumbed in and slammed the door.

"God, I hate the wind. I don't mind cold, but I hate wind."

"Yeah, me too." Chaeyoung scanned the interior, eyes stopping on Kai's camping gear behind my seat. "Is this yours or his?"

"The Jeep? It's mine," I said. "Well, it actually belongs to the bank, but I'm letting them extort money from me for nine or ten more years."

She smiled. "About an LBGT club?" Her eyes rose to meet mine from under the bill of her cap.

"Yeah." I shifted to face her. LBGT. "What's the T stand for?"

"Transgendered," she said. "Should probably add Q for Queer or Questioning. And I for Intersexed."