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Authors: Ellen Hopkins

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BOOK: Crank - 01
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new sense of self.

I never knew

I could play the vamp,

do it so well, flirt

with total aplomb,

and not only that, but

look good doing it.

Before Bree I never

knew such sheer, depraved

forwardness could

be so much fun.

So I went with it,

jumped right into the role

of shameless flirt.

Girls responded

with pointed whispers,

haughty laughter and, as

I myself have often done,

with evil eyes.

Bree, of course, couldn’t

care less. In fact she thrived

on any and all attention.

Guys responded

to that with solid

once-overs, come-on smiles, and

in Brendan the lifeguard’s case,

with phone numbers.

As If That Weren’t Enough

I sprinted off in search of my friends

and (literally) bumped into Chase

Wagner, Reno High’s stoned bad boy.

Kristina would have offered a quick

apology and scurried away.

It’s not like Chase was in

the running for Mr. America.

He looked like a linebacker,

one who didn’t play much

in the sun—the freckles on his

cranberry skin almost pulsed pain.

But Bree found his bedroom

eyes—glacier blue—and brooding

demeanor quite the turn on.

“Hey, Chase,” she cooed.

He scoped me out like an old

tomcat, ogling a brand-new canary.

Do I know you?

Kristina knew enough about
him

to think she ought to flee.

Chase Wagner could be

hazardous to a person’s health.

You look familiar, but not, so maybe

I’m thinking of someone else.

What’s your name?

Just like that, she had him.

If she wanted him. Her game was no

less dangerous than his. “Call me Bree.”

Right Then, Three People

shouted, “Kristina!”

Time to beat a face-saving retreat, so

I smiled and told Chase I’d catch him later.

I looked around and saw Mom,

waving to come and eat,

Leigh, minus Jake,

gesturing to come share a towel,

Sarah, at the top of Black Widow,

watching Trent’s wet ride down.

“Not hungry yet,” I shouted to Mom.

To Leigh, “Be there in a few.”

Then I joined my oldest, bestest

friends in the world, tried to think

of something to talk about

besides lifeguards, bad boys,

and this person named Bree,

growing stronger inside me,

convincing me to be someone

I never dreamed I’d want to be.

I know you should be able

to share such news with best friends,

but I felt pretty sure they’d never

relate and maybe refuse to forgive

me for trading in the tried-and-true

for a test drive of the dark side.

Still, When Brendan Came By

I left my friends with my sister, took

a walk to the back of the park, the eyes

in back of my head noting envious stares.

Brendan noticed, too.

You related to those people?

“Pretty much.” I bummed a cigarette,

inhaled like it was the healthiest

thing a person could do.

The pretty one looks like you,

but the others don’t

My turn for a jealous jolt. But I had a secret

weapon. “The pretty one is my lesbian

sister. The others are my cousins.”

Lesbian! Really? I never met

one before. How about you?

I laughed. “Of course I’ve met one, if my

sister is one. Oh, you mean do I lean that

direction? No way. I prefer male hardware.”

I like what you’ve got, too, li’l

sister. At least, what I can see.

Male hardware? Must have read it in
Cosmo.

Whatever. Brendan touched my hair, made

a move like he just might kiss me….

Damn. There’s my boss. Back

to work. Call me, okay?

I wondered if I could. I’d always waited

for boys to call me. Which is why I never

talked to any except Trent. And Adam.

By the way, beautiful, what’s

your name? In case you call.

Twice in one day! I almost told him

the truth but realized the fantasy was better

and rested completely in Bree’s hands.

I Went Home

tired, tanned, and

stuffed on barbecue,

Scott insisted

high on life,

nicotine, and

purloined booze,

Chase invited

elated, pumped

up, full of Bree’s

magical ego,

Brendan inflated

chastised, brought

back down

a notch or two,

Leigh instigated

then all the way,

chest-deep into

shit when

Mom finally noticed

the tattoo, my

meaningless, forever

symbol of love. Still,

Bree swore

whatever

punishment

lay ahead,

only one thing

could have

improved

that phat,

fabulous day:

a big bite

of the monster.

Grounded UFN

Until further notice. No

excursions, no calls.

How unfair could you get?

Couldn’t she just decide how mad to be,

then mold the consequences to fit?

I’m so disappointed in you!

What else was new? She was only good

with “all I could be” when it involved

a straight-A report card.

Don’t you realize this could

scar you forever?

Well, duh, Mom. It already had,

though not in the way you imagined.

Couldn’t you have asked about that?

Why can’t you be more

like your sister?

Did she mean look more like her? Be

PhD bound? Or maybe she wanted me

gay? Lesbians and pregnancy rarely mix.

How can I trust you to make

good decisions?

Oh, great. Here it came. No driver’s

training, no driver’s license. Their

way of keeping me cooped up forever.

Driver’s training is on hold.

And to keep you from feeling

cooped up, you can pull weeds.

Fine. I was almost 17, would never

drive, and now I’d spend my summer

yanking goats’ heads.

The Problem with Being Grounded

is it gives you a whole lot of

unavoidable time to

think.

Not even pulling weeds can

take away your ability to

plot

all the varied and wonderful

things you might do to

get even,

or at least to make up

just a smidgen

for time lost

to TV and yard work

and house cleaning.

Time better spent

camping with old friends

(even slightly annoying ones),

partying

with great-looking new friends,

and expending a few brain cells

with the monster.

She Cut Me Loose

 

 

Two weeks before

Back-to-School,

gave me her credit

Didn’t matter much.

card and a ride to

Summer had dissolved.

the mall, her way of

New clothes and a few

apologizing without

new tunes just might

saying she was sorry

improve my “sour

for trashing my summer.

outlook,” as she so

lovingly termed it.

Jake wanted to come

along, but I told him

I’d crawl into bed

I usually despise trying

and stay there rather

on clothes but, finally

than haul my little

free, I meant to make it

brother around the

an all-day affair, shop

mall. He went fishing

every store, including

with Scott instead.

Victoria’s Secret. Guess

who I ran into there?

The Reno High Varsity

Cheerleaders, all buying

new undies and bras to

I waved to Trent’s sister,

shape those tight tanks

Robyn, then pretended

and sweaters (football

to browse, watching them

weather in Reno is an

yak a hundred words a

exceptionally mixed bag).

minute, and I knew my

suspicions were accurate.

Those goody-goody girls,

flipping perfect cartwheels

and pert little ponytails,

most definitely accelerated

their metabolisms. The only

question was:   how?

I Pondered That

while I picked out

my own underwear.

As I handed the saleslady

Mom’s credit card, someone

tapped my shoulder.

Hey, Bree. Can I see

your panties.

Chase! I tried to think

of a witty comeback,

managing mostly to look

like a stuttering fool.

“Uh-oh, uh—old or new?”

Either, or. Better yet, both.

What’s up? Where you been?

Like he’d been looking

for me since Wild Waters.

Like I’d been avoiding him.

You haven’t been avoiding me,

have you?

Why would I? What

he might lack in looks,

he more than made up for

in fringe benefits.

I explained about the tattoo.

You really wanna piss her off,

try a piercing. Want to see mine?

I couldn’t find studs in his

ears, lips, or tongue. Which

pretty much left one place.

“Didn’t it hurt?”

Like a mother. But it feels

awesome now.

He guided my hand

just south of his zipper.

Kristina recoiled.

Bree—well,

Bree was Bree,

to Chase’s great pleasure.

Hee hee. So want to take

a little ride? Got my truck outside.

I started to protest.

I had some serious

shopping ahead.

And Bree or no Bree,

I wasn’t about to do

Chase Wagner.

No strings. I just want to get

to know you better.

Where had I heard

a similar tale?

I was about to give him

a definite no when he

sweetened the offer.

I’ve got a little toot, if you’re

so inclined.

Did It Show?

I mean I’d

thought

     about

the monster

dreamed

     about

the monster

lusted

     for

the monster

regretted

     knowing

the monster

but I hadn’t

     touched

the monster

in over a month.

Hadn’t even seen it.

Thought I might be over it.

Was it still alive in me?

Could it still have such

a solid hold on me?

We Drove Down by the River

parked beneath towering cottonwoods.

Strange, how intensely desire

builds when the monster waits

at the far end of a drive.

On the way I learned, for a bad boy

Chase was incredibly smart. Webster

would envy his vocabulary, he was up on

current events, could quote Keats:

Give me women, wine, and snuff

Until I cry out hold, enough!

You may do so sans objection

Till the day of resurrection; for

Bless my beard they aye shall be

My beloved Trinity.

No mirrors, no blades, Chase reached

deep inside a pocket, withdrew an

amber bottle with a tiny spoon attached

to the lid. He set it on his knee.

Hey, you’re shaking. You’re not

scared, are you? We don’t have

to do this, do anything at all. We

can just sit and talk if you want.

“I’m not afraid, Chase.” Not of him.

Not with him. In fact, I felt quite safe.

It was monster desire that made me

tremble. Chase noticed.

Take it easy with this stuff, Bree.

It brings even good people to their

knees. Don’t get me wrong. I

like it, too. Just keep cool.

One Spoon

I was cool.

Two, I was too

cool. Three,

sub-Arctic. Four,

my mouth hit

monster mode.

Chase could barely

keep up. We talked

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