"What's got you in such a good mood?" a familiar, permanently-sarcastic voice asks me. I turn to see Zoe walking up the driveway, looking dead on her feet.
"Where did you come from?" I ask her back, eyes narrowed. "Mom never let me come home at one in the morning when I was fourteen."
Zoe snorts. "Yeah, that's why you started sneaking out when you were thirteen. Why so melancholy? Is it what had you hanging all over mom earlier?"
"No offense, but you're the last one I'd wanna talk to about it." I pointedly look away from her and to the grass.
"Nothing can get Her Royal Sluttiness down for this long... and you're not sucking on a cigarette." She leans in, staring closely at me. "Who are you and what have you done with Natalie?"
Ignoring the jibe, I stare back at her, scowling. "I'm right here, and for your information, I'm trying to quit. There's just a lot of stuff on my mind right now."
"Nat..." Zoe whispers, mouth hanging open slightly. "You're really changing, aren't you? You'd never have even considered it before. And you haven't cussed at me once. Seriously," she says, raising her voice and regaining some of its bite, "What is going on?"
"Nothing, Zoe. I'm just thinking about a lot of things, like I said. You should go sleep. I'm gonna go back inside myself." I turn and open the door, holding it for her. She steps in, staring hard at me.
"You should trust me more. I'm not the one who..." she trails off, shaking her head and mumbling as she walks away. "That'd make me just as bad as you."
It doesn't take me long to figure out what she meant. I'm not the one who killed her first friend.
