Peaches

tighter around her. It tightened gently and she felt his warm breath on her neck. “What is it?”
    “My dad,” she said, sitting up. “He’s going to kill me.”
    They both got up, readjusting their clothes, patting down their hair, staring at each other. Quickly Enrico walked Birdie to the front door, then out onto the porch. She pivoted and kissed him quickly, breathlessly. “Will you be here later?”
    Enrico beamed. “Of course, Birdie.”
    “Kiss me,” Birdie said boldly, and he kissed her one more time. Then she hurried up to the house. Walter was sitting on the porch.
    “Where were you, Birdie?” His voice was deadly angry.
    “Um, I fell asleep in the dorms, Dad. I’m sorry.”
    “Fell asleep?”
    Birdie nodded, her heart racing. “Go on inside and get cleaned up,” Walter said. “We’ve had good news. Balmeade is going to buy.”
    “No.”
    Walter snapped his head to look at her. “Birdie, this is a good thing. Now go on and get cleaned up. I want you to be polite to him. He’s on his way over with his lawyer. The man has lost a lot this week, so he’s not in a great mood.”
    “But if he’s lost so much, why is he buying? I don’t…”
    “Birdie, this is for adults to figure out.”
    Birdie planted her feet where she stood. “I am an adult.”
    Walter shook his head. “You don’t know what that means.” He stood up to walk off the porch. Birdie blocked his way.
    “I know it means carrying the load with Mom gone. I know it means all the work I did all summer, doing your office work, directing the harvest, making sure the tractors were running. I know it means picking up the slack and all the things you weren’t doing.”
    Walter shook his head at her. “Birdie, shut your mouth….”
    “Does it mean giving up? Because that’s what you did, you know.” Her voice broke all along the syllables of the words.
    Walter’s hands shot out and grasped her shoulders. “Go up to your room. I don’t want to see you….”
    “You don’t see me anyway. You know, I spent the night with a guy, Dad. Is that adult enough for you?”
    Walter let go of her shoulders and sank back on his chair, stunned. Birdie knelt beside him and put her hand on his. “And I want to be with him. And I want to stay here. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to do just what you and Mom want.”
    When her dad looked at her, it broke Birdie’s heart. He was crestfallen.
    “I exist, Dad. It’s my life too.”

    Murphy hated to be interrupted when Days of Our Lives was on. With the remote still in her hand, she slunk to the door and peered outside. Rex stared back at her.
    Murphy turned the lock and walked back to the couch.
    Knock knock knock.
    “Murphy, let me in.”
    Murphy held the remote slackly and raised the volume. Bo was just about to say that the case Hope was on was too dangerous. And Hope was going to assert that he would never let personal feelings get involved with being a good cop. Murphy had the whole formula down.
    “Murph, come on.”
    “It’s Murph-y,” she muttered, upping the volume another few bars. But not loud enough to drown out Rex’s voice when it said Leeda had sent him.
    Murphy walked up to the door and peered out at him again.
    “I have something from her for you….” Rex was holding a brown paper bag and what looked like a little manila envelope.
    “You can slide it through the cat door.”
    The McGowens hadn’t had a cat for many years, but their trailer had always had a cat door. Rex frowned at her, then stooped and disappeared. A second later the package came creaking in.
    Murphy sank down beside it on the ground and picked it up. It was a large, square envelope and it was blank on the outside. She ran her index finger into the seal and ripped it open, then turned it over. Out fell a folded piece of paper and a CD.
    Murphy examined the CD. In neat purple marker it read THE BLUH MIX. She unfolded the letter.
    Murphy,
    You may notice I’m sending you a CD of all the crappy music you like. I’m also sending you my ex-boyfriend. I think he belongs to you.
    Murphy kept reading.
    I hang out with my other friends, and they never screw with me like you do, telling me my faults, making me think about what an anal butt I can be sometimes. They all think I’m perfect, or at least they say they do. It’s annoying. But you’re annoying too, Murphy. Really annoying. I made a list of the reasons you are annoying.
    I. Show-off
    A. show off boobs
    B. show off things you