“That coral goes great with your skin tone.”

  Jenelle startles, as if she’d just been caught shoplifting, and drops the lipstick to the floor like it’s on fire.

  She turns to see a pretty, youngish brunette standing beside her. The woman is wearing an oversized blue vest, a name tag that says TRACY pinned on one side, and a warm, friendly smile.

  “Oh, sorry…I wasn’t…I mean, I was just…”

  “It’s okay,” Tracy says, bending down to pick up the lipstick tube that has since rolled in her direction. “I didn’t mean to scare you or nothin’. I just thought that color would look nice on you.” Tracy’s smile gets even bigger.

  “Really?”

  “Were you lookin’ for something in particular, or just browsing?”

  “Neither, to tell you the truth. I’m only supposed to be picking up prescriptions. I’m not allowed to stay too long. Or buy anything else.”

  Tracy nods. “Gosh, I wish I had that kinda discipline. Me? I’m practically addicted to buying makeup I don’t need. You should see my bathroom. It’s so cluttered, sometimes I can’t even find my toothbrush.”

  Tracy laughs—so Jenelle does, too.

  “I’m Tracy, by the way,” she says, extending her hand. Jenelle eyes her nails—painted canary yellow, bedazzled with shiny little baubles—as they shake.

  “I’m Jenelle. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I think I’ve seen you in here before. You live in town?”

  “A little bit outside it. We’re up on Hospital Road.”

  “But you didn’t grow up around here, did you?”

  Suddenly self-conscious, Jenelle shakes her head.

  “Aw, I didn’t mean it like that,” Tracy says. “There were, like, a hundred kids in my high school class. And you and me look about the same age. I didn’t remember you, so for a second I thought I was losing it. What a relief!”

  Tracy chuckles again, so Jenelle follows suit.

  “Um, you probably have to get back to work,” Jenelle says. “And I promised my mom and dad I wouldn’t—”

  “Sure. I don’t mean to keep you. But hey, maybe we could hang out sometime?”

  Flooded with excitement and surprise, Jenelle just stares blankly at Tracy—for what feels to her like hours. It’s closer to a couple of seconds.

  “Try to control your excitement now,” Tracy jokes.

  “No, sorry!” Jenelle finally blurts out. “I’d love to!”

  Bobbing her head, Tracy takes out a small pad and pen from one of the pockets of her vest. She scribbles something down, rips off the page, thrusts it at Jenelle.

  “Here’s my cell. My shift ends at four, most days. Call me anytime after.”

  Jenelle takes the slip of paper and marvels at it, as if it were a winning lottery ticket.

  “Cool. Thanks. I can’t wait to—”

  “Jenelle.”

  Jenelle turns to see Buddy standing by the pharmacy entrance. His arms are crossed tightly in disapproval.

  “We’ve been waitin’ for ten whole minutes. Just what do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Nothing, Daddy,” Jenelle mutters. “Coming.”

  She gives Tracy an apologetic shrug, then follows her father out of the store.

  Chapter 4

  Like a puppy waiting excitedly for her owner to arrive, Jenelle Potter has been anxiously huddled in front of her living room window for the past half hour.

  Her new friend Tracy Greenwell should be there any minute.

  This is the first time the two women will be socializing together. They’ve made plans to spend the afternoon at a nearby mall, which is about a forty-minute drive over the North Carolina border. To say Jenelle has been a nervous wreck all morning would be an understatement. She could barely eat breakfast or fall asleep last night.

  Soon Jenelle sees a beat-up white Camry turn off Hospital Road and pull into the driveway. Tracy, behind the wheel, toots the horn and waves. If Jenelle had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now. She bursts out of the front door to greet her.

  “Hey, Tracy!” she calls. “Can ya gimme two secs to finish gettin’ ready?”

  “No sweat, girl! Do your thing!”

  Jenelle hurries back into the house and ducks into her parents’ empty bedroom. She gives herself a final look, head to toe, in their full-length mirror, something her own room doesn’t have. She adjusts her glasses. Straightens the hem of her sweater.

  Takes a deep breath.

  Exiting the house, Jenelle sees Tracy standing beside Buddy’s lush purple petunia bushes, chatting with her parents. As she approaches, Jenelle can make out the tail end of the conversation—or rather, the interrogation.

  “You’re tellin’ me,” says Buddy, subtly adjusting the pistol and knife strapped to his hip, “that you’re takin’ my little girl across state lines?”

  Tracy, unfazed, answers with a grin, “I guess technically that’s true, sir. But I also plan on bringin’ her back.”

  “Ever been in trouble with the law?” Barbara asks. “Arrested? Anything like that?”

  “A couple parking tickets over the years, but I’ve paid off that debt to society. Literally.”

  “What about a number we can reach you at?” says Buddy. “Jenelle don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Really? That’s crazy. I don’t know anybody this day and age under fifty who can survive without one. Heck, my eight-year-old cousin just got his first—”

  “You got a number or not?”

  “Daddy, relax,” says Jenelle, finally reaching the group. “I left a note on the kitchen counter. It’s got Tracy’s cell, the name and address of the mall we’re going to, and when we’ll be back: six o’clock.”

  “And my blood type’s B positive,” Tracy quips. “Anything else?”

  Neither of Jenelle’s parents smiles, let alone laughs. Instead, Buddy takes off his Marine baseball cap and blots his perspiring, receding hairline. He and Barbara share a look.

  “All right,” he says. “You have our blessing. Anything happens, you give us a call right away. And if y’all ain’t back on time…let’s just say, we’re gonna have a big problem. Understand?”

  “You got it, Mr. Potter.”

  “Good. Now be careful out there.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Jenelle says. “We will. Bye!” She gives both her parents a quick kiss, then she and Tracy head to the car.

  “You girls have fun!” Barbara calls as Tracy starts the engine and drives away.

  “Yeesh!” Tracy exclaims once she’s turned onto the main road and picked up speed. “I thought I was meeting your parents, not your parole officers!”

  “Sorry about that.” Jenelle looks away, embarrassed. “I told you, they always like to ask my friends a whole lotta questions before they let me hang out with them.”

  “‘Let you?’ Jenelle…you’re almost thirty years old,” Tracy says, delicately.

  “I know. So?”

  “Never mind. Excited to let loose and get wild?”

  “Yeah! I’ve never been to the Boone Mall before. I looked online, and they’ve got a sandwich shop and an ice cream parlor and…”

  Jenelle trails off. She notices that Tracy has turned north on Cold Springs Road, toward the Virginia state border, instead of south, toward North Carolina.

  “Uh, Tracy? I think you’re goin’ the wrong way.”

  But Tracy just laughs.

  “You’re not serious, are you? You didn’t really think we were going to a mall?”

  Jenelle feels her cheeks start to burn. “We’re not?”

  “You ever been to J.T.’s? They got, like, a million different beers there. And great music. A bunch of people I know are gonna be there.”

  “But…I told my parents…”

  “Look, if you don’t wanna come, that’s fine. I can turn around, drop you off.”

  Jenelle feels stuck at a momentous crossroads. She considers her options. How disappointed Tracy might be if she backed out now. How furious her parents will be if they ever find out she lied to them.

  At last Jenelle swallows her fear and proclaims, “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Atta girl,” says Tracy as she merges onto the highway.

  Chapter 5

  Jenelle has drunk beer before, but only some basic American lagers that her father keeps stocked in the fridge. Standing in front of this vast array of strange, multicolored taps—all brands and types she’s never heard of—she feels overwhelmed.

  “Do you know what you’re having?” asks Tracy, flagging down the bartender.

  “Um, maybe. What’s an…‘eye-pah’?”

  Tracy looks at Jenelle for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

  “Really? You’ve never had an IPA before? Try one, maybe you’ll like it!”

  After Tracy pays for their round, Jenelle follows her to a large window booth at the front of this noisy, bustling bar. A few other twenty- and thirtysomethings are already sitting there. They look up as the pair approaches.

  “Hey, y’all!” Tracy calls out. “Everybody, this is Jenelle. Jenelle, this is Maggie and Jim and Becky and Lance and Ryan.”

  Everyone offers friendly greetings as Jenelle and Tracy sit down.

  “Hello,” Jenelle mumbles, and gives the group an awkward mini wave.

  “Is she a friend of yours from work?” asks one of the guys, whose name Jenelle has already forgotten.

  “Nope, but would you believe that’s where we met?” Tracy holds up her pint in Jenelle’s direction. “And I’m real glad we did. Cheers.”

  Jenelle clinks glasses. She takes a sip of her beverage.

  And nearly spits it out in disgust.

  “Whoa, you okay?” asks Tracy.

  Wiping her lips, stifling a cough, and desperately avoiding eye contact with everyone around her, Jenelle answers, “Uh-huh. Totally fine.”

  The group slips into casual conversation. About work, about sports, about their dating lives, about their plans for the summer ahead. Jenelle tries to interject now and then, but she can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. She mostly just listens, while forcing herself to take tiny sips of her bitter, undrinkable beer. She’s barely made a dent in it when the others order a second round, then a third.

  Finally one of the other women asks her, “So, Jenelle, what do you do?”

  Jenelle gulps. Feeling the sudden heat of the spotlight.

  “Um…nothing.”

  The group seems to be waiting for her to say more. But what? Jenelle wonders.

  “I mean, nothing yet. I, uh…I’m from Pennsylvania. I just moved here.”

  After an uncomfortable silence, everyone politely nods and returns to their previous conversation. Jenelle slinks down in her seat.

  She checks the time. It’s almost five o’clock. If she’s going to make it home by six, she and Tracy will have to hit the road in the next fifteen minutes or so. But Tracy seems in no rush to leave. She’s thoroughly enjoying herself, and just ordered another beer. Even if she did want to head out, is she in any state to drive?

  Jenelle feels her pulse start to pick up. She’s way out of her depth right now. Almost on the brink of a panic attack. What should she do? Tear her new friend—her only friend—away from a good time? Risk the wrath of her parents? Or call them to come pick her up, beg their forgiveness, and maybe risk less of it?

  Jenelle decides that this last option is the least terrible. She gathers up her purse and starts to slowly slide out of the booth.

  Then she hears something outside. A low rumbling, fast approaching.

  Jenelle looks out the window and sees a jet-black Ford Mustang come to a screeching stop in front of the bar.

  Out of the muscle car steps a tall, slender, rakishly handsome man in his early thirties, with dusty-brown hair and lively blue-green eyes.

  The sight of him quite literally takes Jenelle’s breath away.

  But it makes Tracy and the others just smirk.

  “Hey, look, everybody,” Tracy says, loud enough for the man to hear as he enters the bar. “Casanova decided to grace us all with his presence.”

  The man laughs and bounds over to their booth.

  “Ah, you’re just jealous. The only woman in Mountain City who’ll never get a date with me.”

  Tracy playfully swats the man and mimes throwing up. The others all laugh.

  “…five, six, seven, plus me,” the man says, counting everyone around the table. “That makes eight shots of whiskey. Be right back.”

  As he heads to the bar, Jenelle whispers to Tracy, as nonchalantly as she can, “Who is that guy?”

  “Ugh. My brother. Word to the wise, Jen? Whatever you do, don’t you dare fall for his charms. Unless you’re looking to get your heart shattered into a million pieces.”

  Moments later, the man returns with a tray of shot glasses sloshing with amber liquid. He passes them out. Nervously, Jenelle accepts one.

  “Now let’s get this party started!”

  The man thrusts his glass into the air. Everyone at the booth does, too, then downs their shot in one gulp. Jenelle sneaks a sniff of the liquor first, nearly gags from the smell alone, but pinches her nose and forces it down anyway.

  “Mind if I sit here?” the man asks her, gesturing to the few inches of bench beside her. Equal parts flustered and flattered, Jenelle scoots over to make room.

  “Uh, sure. No problem.”

  “I’m Billy,” he says. “Billy Payne.”

  But Jenelle only nods in response. Her face blooms as she feels Billy’s thigh press up against hers.

  It dawns on her that she hasn’t yet responded. “I…I’m…hi,” she stutters.

  “Nice to meet you, ‘Hi.’ I think I know a friend of yours: ‘Low.’”

  Tracy and the others groan at Billy’s awful joke. But Jenelle giggles for real.

  And her six o’clock curfew completely disappears from her mind.

  Chapter 6

  The drive into Cherokee National Forest is a breathtaking one, especially during the summer. From the passenger seat of Tracy’s car, Jenelle Potter is staring in awe at the rolling hills and lush green canopy of trees in all directions.

  She feels a hand tap her shoulder. She turns around.

  From the back seat, Billy flashes her a heart-melting smile.

  “Ain’t it beautiful?”

  Jenelle nods, bashfully.

  She knows he means the natural scenery all around them. But a tiny part of her, deep down inside, is hoping against hope he means her.

  Jenelle, Tracy, Billy, and the others have all hung out together a few more times over the past few weeks. Gradually, Jenelle has managed to convince her parents to allow this, even though they’re still uneasy about it and have kept her strict, early curfew. Jenelle still isn’t very comfortable spending time with the group “IRL” (“in real life”), as the expression goes. But she’s ecstatic to have so many new people to talk to on Facebook.

  As soon as she made it home from her fateful encounter with Billy at the bar—thankfully, only about ten minutes past her curfew, since Tracy had an evening shift at the pharmacy to get back for—the first thing Jenelle did was friend him on Facebook, along with everyone else she’d just met.

  Since then, to her delight, they’ve all been exchanging messages and “liking” each other’s posts with regularity. And any time she gets a like or comment from Billy, even a simple “Cute!” on one of her bulldog pictures, Jenelle’s heart skips a beat.

  Jenelle has also combed through every single photograph Billy has ever uploaded to the platform. In most of them, he’s fishing with friends, playing pool, or toasting with a beer. But in plenty of others, he’s mugging for the camera with all sorts of attractive women. Jenelle hasn’t forgotten Tracy’s warning about her brother’s allure.

  Still, she can’t help but wish she were in some of those pictures herself.

  Tracy pulls into a parking spot not far from the trailhead. “Here we are. Everybody out!”

  Jenelle, Billy, and Tracy exit the car. They’ve come to Cherokee National Forest this afternoon to go on a scenic three-mile hike. Waiting for them are a few friends Jenelle recognizes, as well as a slightly older man she doesn’t, who looks to be in his mid- to late thirties.

  “Hey, Jenelle! Come here a sec,” calls Billy, beckoning her over to the man. “Want you to meet somebody. This is Jamie Curd. He’s me and Tracy’s cousin.”

  Jamie’s got a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and is wearing a ratty baseball cap and a wrinkled plaid shirt that doesn’t quite cover his prominent potbelly.

  Jenelle says flatly, “Hello.”

  Jamie, his eyes glued to the dirt, murmurs, “Um…hey.”

  After an awkward pause, Billy laughs and claps them both on the back.

  “I told Tracy you two would hit it off!”

  Everyone soon falls into line along the trail and the hike begins. Jenelle had been hoping to snag a spot near Billy, to give them a chance to really talk—maybe even flirt. As much as she loves interacting with him on Facebook, being in his physical presence makes her feel another level of warm and tingly.

  Instead, Billy has ended up at the front of the pack. Jenelle is stuck near the rear. Next to Jamie.

  Great.

  After a painfully long, awkward silence between them, Jamie finally says, “So, uh, Billy told me you don’t really have a job. And you’re, like, always on the computer?”

  Jenelle bristles. She isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Should she be flattered that Billy was talking about her in the first place? Or insulted?

  “I look after my parents,” she answers sharply. “That’s my job right now. And so what if I like to use my computer?”

  “I don’t mean it like a bad thing,” Jamie replies. “I’m on mine a lot, too. I’m no expert or nothin’, but I’ve been teachin’ myself how to fix ’em and stuff.”

  “Is that what you do for your job?”

  “Maybe someday. For now I’m workin’ at Parkdale Mills. The textile plant just down the highway. Same as Billy.”

  “I know where Billy works.”

  “I’m sure you know a lotta stuff. You seem like a real smart girl.”

 

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