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    Red Queen
    Red Queen
    Red Queen
    Ebook491 pages7 hours

    Red Queen

    By Christopher Pike

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Witches are real—and each of us may be one—in this all-new paranormal suspense novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christopher Pike.

    Heading off for a weekend in Las Vegas with her friends, Jessie Ralle has only one worry—how to make it through the road trip in the same car with her Ex, Jimmy Kelter. The guy who broke her heart five months ago when he dumped her for no reason. The guy who’s finally ready to tell her why he did it, because he wants her back.

    But what Jessie doesn’t realize is that Jimmy is the least of her problems.

    In Las Vegas she meets Russ, a mesmerizing stranger who shows her how to gamble, and who never seems to lose. Curious, Jessie wants to know his secret, and in response, alone in his hotel room, he teaches her a game that opens a door to another reality.

    To Witch World.

    Suddenly Jessie discovers that she’s stumbled into a world where some people can do the impossible, and others may not even be human. For a time she fears she’s lost her mind. Are there really witches? Is she one of them?

    #1 Bestselling author Christopher Pike offers up another classic edge-of-your-seat thrill ride that keeps you guessing right until the last page.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon Pulse
    Release dateAug 19, 2014
    ISBN9781481425025
    Red Queen
    Author

    Christopher Pike

    Christopher Pike is a bestselling young adult novelist and has published several adult books as well—Sati and The Season of Passage being the most popular. In YA, his Last Vampire series—often called Thirst—is a big favorite among his fans. Pike was born in Brooklyn, New York, but grew up in Los Angeles. He lives in Santa Barbara, California, with his longtime partner, Abir. Currently, several of Pike’s books are being turned into films, including The Midnight Club, which Netflix released as part of a ten-part series. The Midnight Club also draws from a half dozen of Pike’s earlier works. Presently, The Season of Passage is being adapted as a feature film by Universal Studios while Chain Letter—one of Pike all-time bestselling books—is also being adapted by Hollywood. At the moment, Pike is hard at work on a new YA series.  

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    Reviews for Red Queen

    3.5/5

    835 ratings76 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Outstanding! Fantastic series.
    • 4/5
      The Red Queen by Philippa Gregory; (3 1/2)It was my great pleasure to read this, the 2nd of the Cousin's War series. This one covers the life & times of the one day to be Queen Mother, Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry Tudor and heiress to the Lancaster line to the throne. She tells the tale in her own words, including her 3 loveless but profitable marriages, her plans and struggles to keep Henry in the lineage & moving up the line closer and closer to the throne of England.She also talks of her religious ardor and dedication to God even though she, at times feels personally abandoned by God, she never loses faith that it is the will of God that her son one day inherit & sit on the throne of England.Gregory's writing style makes it comfortable to follow the tale and follow the characters albeit there are a few pages that are a bit of a tedious go. However, it was all worth it to this reader and I enjoyed the novel. I am looking forward to going on with the series.
    • 2/5
      Boy did I want to like this book, but the character of Margaret Beaufort is so relentless two dimensional, she's obsessed with her dynastic legacy and her faith, it was hard for me to be sympathetic with her. I just found out she's one of my great great grandmothers and I ended up being sympathetic to the York cause. Yikes! In her nonfiction work, "The Cousins War," Philippa Gregory writes about the tendency for contemporaries to support the political powers in place at the time of their writing. In Margaret Beaufort's case, she was presented as a sympathetic figure by her contemporaries, according to Gregory, possibly because her son came out on top following the War of the Roses (or "The Cousins War," as it was called at the time). This may be true, but you wouldn't have been able to tell that from the fictional account Gregory wrote.
    • 5/5
      I found that I could hardly put this book down. It's much different than Gregory's other books, but no less enjoyable. It was fast paced and though I despise King Henry VIIs mother I still found the book excellent. I didn't like Margaret Beaufort in The Constant Princess and I didn't like her here. Elizabeth Woodville seems much more personable and less holier than thou compared to Margaret.
    • 3/5
      I am becoming addicted to Ms Gregory's books! This was a good read. I think I enjoyed the White Queen a little more but the saga continues...on to the next in the series.
    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed this, the second novel in the Cousins War Series by Philippa Gregory. Told once again in the first person, but this time with Margaret Beauforts voice, and a pious and bitter voice it is too! Someone so "in tune" with her God but so vicious and self centered without any feeling for anyone but herself, whilst all the time saying she is working towards fulfilling her son's destiny! She was treated harshly as women tended to be in those times, used to further men's ambitions and fortunes.But her single mindedness got her what she wanted in the end, the respect she desperately wanted, and the right to be called Margaret Regina! She almost has to be respected for her tenacity!
    • 3/5
      Didn't enjoy this as much as The White Queen. Margaret is just so full of herself and her perceptions of her holiness that it's hard to find any way to relate to her as the protagonist of the story. It is interesting to contrast this to The White Queen and see how different actions are perceived by different actors in the same story - that was what kept the book interesting for me. Ready for The Lady of the Rivers!
    • 4/5
      As the heiress to the Lancaster title, Margaret Beaufort believes it is her destiny to rule England. However, when she is passed over by King Henry VI, who suddenly descends into madness, fourteen-year-old Margaret is forced to enter into a loveless marriage with a man old enough to be her father. Shortly after the birth of her son, her husband dies and she enters another loveless marriage to earn the favor of her bitter enemy, King Richard III. All in all, Margaret Beaufort is a very unsavory character.
    • 4/5
      Gregory's got mad historical fiction skills. Another fantastic book about the same events as The White Queen, told from the Lancaster perspective rather than the York. Margaret is an infuriating character, but I just couldn't seem to put her down. The suspense that Gregory builds at the end is intense. Definitely one of her better ones.
    • 2/5
      The second book in Philippa's stunning new trilogy, The Cousins War, brings to life the story of Margaret Beaufort, a shadowy and mysterious character in the first book of the series - The White Queen - but who now takes centre stage in the bitter struggle of The War of the Roses.

      The Red Queen tells the story of the child-bride of Edmund Tudor, who, although widowed in her early teens, uses her determination of character and wily plotting to infiltrate the house of York under the guise of loyal friend and servant, undermine the support for Richard III and ultimately ensure that her only son, Henry Tudor, triumphs as King of England. Through collaboration with the dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville, Margaret agrees a betrothal between Henry and Elizabeth's daughter, thereby uniting the families and resolving the Cousins War once and for all by founding of the Tudor dynasty.


      I get that Philipa Gregory is telling the story of the cousins’ war from different viewpoints and that fine is until you have to tell the story of the most boring, deluded, egotistical female character...ever

      The White Queen was good mainly because Elizabeth Woodville was such a charismatic character and her story was well told. I do admit to almost enjoying the first quarter of The Red Queen with Jasper Tudor and the future king but then, for me, it went rapidly downhill.

      I was listening to it on audio book but think I would have given up pretty early on if I had been reading it.

      Every incident was either "The Will of God" (good for Margaret) or "The Work of the Devil" (bad for Margaret) …interspersed with lots of praying, and non-stop whining about destiny

      Disappointing and TOO MUCH PRAYING….
    • 4/5
      Amato brings to life yet another of Gregory's characters as we follow the life of Margaret Beaufort. Ever since Margaret was a young girl she felt that the Lord has given her a special calling. Her plans are thrown into turmoil when her hand is promised in marriage to a Tudor. This puts Margaret on a new path as she fulfills her wifely duties, resulting in the birth of young Henry.Margaret barely survives the experience of childbirth, but after Henry is born she feels the Lord has given her a new calling--To raise and prepare young Henry for the throne. Even when she finds herself a widow at an early age, she must make decisions that will advance her son Henry to the throne, even if her personal life must suffer.I love that this novel takes place during the same time period as The White Queen, but from another perspective. This makes you think back to the first installment, recalling who was blamed for specific attacks, realizing who truly was responsible.Besides Amato narrating the majority of the book, there was also a male narrator reading the war scenes. I found this a very nice change and brought these parts of the story more to life for me. Unfortunately, I'm not sure who the male narrator was, as I found multiple names on-line listing male narrators.I'm glad I listened to this segment before starting to watch The White Queen on Starz. The series is based on The White Queen, The Red Queen, and The Kingmaker's Daughters. Luckily these are the only ones in the series I have listened to so far, but I do plan on completing the series. I thoroughly enjoyed this audiobook and with themes of war, royalty, and destiny, you may enjoy this one as much as I did. I highly recommend this novel for either personal leisure or as a book club selection.
    • 1/5
      Philippa Gregory must've been drinking the Richard III Society Kool-Aid for this one. Even counterfactual fiction has to have some plausible basis to build a story. But turning Margaret Beaufort into the Cruella De Vil of the Wars of the Roses so as to make Richard III the noble blameless hero? I'm afraid that puts this series into the Science Fiction section!
    • 4/5
      After reading The White Queen I eagerly anticipated the next novel in this Philippa Gregory series. I read this novel as soon as it was released, and none of my high hopes were disappointed. I found it absolutely as satisfying as I had the last novel and more engrossing at times, and that is saying a great deal for this book's status as a pageturner in my estimation.

      I found the book more enjoyable because the protagonist was dislikable in so many ways. The first person narration of the novel offered some very amusing and interesting insights into the character's psychology.

      This book is good fun.
    • 2/5
      I have read a bunch of Philippa Gregory's previous books, particularly the ones following The Other Boleyn Girl. This was not on par with those books. The narrator and main character, Margaret, was unlikeable and, since this was told in the first person, the story was unlikeable. I was glad to have been listening on audiobook so that it took no effort on my part to continue it and glad to have checked it out from the library so that I could give it back.
    • 3/5
      "The Red Queen" is narrated by Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII, grandmother of Henry VIII, and great-grandmother of Edward VI, Elizabeth I, and Queen Mary.Margaret's first husband was Edmund Tudor. Their union marked the beginning of the Tudor dynasty, however, Margaret and the future Henry VII spent a long time in the wilderness before coming to power.This novel covers the period of 1453-1485, though it skips the odd decade here and there. Occasionally Margaret's narrative is replaced by a third person perspective to cover events important to the story that she couldn't recall herself.On the whole I found this a worthwhile read, yet at times it proved monotonous, plus there are several instances of repeated information. I had similar feelings when I read Ms Gregory's "The White Queen". Personally, I feel that had the author combined these two books into one, preferably written in third person, then she would have produced a much more rounded novel.
    • 3/5
      The book is very much an imagining of what might have gone on behind the history that is recorded for this period. It is an imagining of a woman's experience. Some of it seemed a little far fetched. Margaret at times behaved inconsistently. Pacing the book by significant battles and other events worked well. It didn't get bogged down in telling us about the probable mundanity of Margaret's life in between the battles and changes at the top of the royal tree that impacted most on her and her son.It didn't set me on fire, but it didn't put me off trying more of Philippa Gregory's books, either.
    • 4/5
      I found this book rather overwhelming. I didn't feel it was the fault of the author so much as the subject matter. Writing about the obsessively religious Margaret Beaufort, there would be that dark suffocating feeling due to the character and her background and personality. Other than that I enjoyed how, even as suppressing as it felt at times, the reading flowed. It filled in gaps the I had from the White Queen. I look forward to reading Philippa Gregory's other works.
    • 3/5
      I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to read this book after finishing The White Queen. While reading that book, I found myself already disliking Margaret Beaufort almost every time that she was mentioned. I was shocked when I started reading this novel and I liked her.After about 100 pages, the fluffy feelings toward her disappeared and that familiar loathing feeling returned. There's something that is purely despicable about any character who describes the children of her enemy as being young and trembling next to their mother, which gives the reader the impression that they are innocent, before describing them (on the same page) as "little traitorous boys who wept for their defeat." She is describing children who are about 7 and 10 years old as traitors. She is mocking them. She continuously criticizes anyone who doesn't live up to her "righteous" standards. What kind of standards must someone have to vilify a child?The annoying obsession of The White Queen was Melusina. This book also has a character with her own annoying obsession. Instead of a pagan goddess, she is obsessed with Joan of Arc. It starts as a simple childhood obsession, but becomes a lifelong one. She fangirls over Joan throughout the whole book, and even prays to her. She wants to be Joan of Arc. As a child, she dreams of becoming a nun. Then she wants to be a warrior for God once she has heard the tales of her heroine Joan of Arc. She decides while in childbirth that she is like Joan in delivering a future monarch, though Joan's delivery wasn't through childbirth.There are definitely times when Margaret deserves sympathy. Being neglected as a child, suffering through months of marital rape from a husband who is more than a decade older than her, and being treated like an object or a pawn because of her gender makes it very, very easy to feel bad for the girl. Her judgmental attitude lessens that sympathy, though. And her near-constant whining makes her insufferable to read about. It's awful that a person who should be an easy-to-admire character (because of all that she has been through) ends up being no more than an amalgam of several negative tropes. Her joy for learning and desire to be independent is not able to triumph over that self-righteous, snide attitude that she embodies.Other than my issues with how contempt-worthy I find the main character, I find myself truly torn about my feelings toward the book and the author. As with the first book of this series, I enjoyed the first part of the book. I felt there was too great of an emphasis on her obsession. I constantly wanted someone to go ahead and develop some Thorazine to give her so that she would calm down. I didn't like that this book (like the last one) had times where it would suddenly switch from 1st person to 3rd person. With that respect, the one thing I can be glad of is that this one didn't have nearly as much of that as the previous one did.Though it was mostly an easy read, I can't understand why people are so enamored with this author. Her stories may be accurate from a historical standpoint (or as accurate as one can expect in a work of fiction), but her style isn't really any greater than most of the writers out there. She's quite average and seems to capitalize on the drama and scandal of dramatic and scandalous families. She doesn't really create much conflict, and sometimes I wonder if she should be writing these as biographies instead of as works of fiction. There is nothing truly extraordinary about the stories of hers that I have read so far.
    • 3/5
      I absolutely love Philippa Gregory and will read every single one of her books. I haven’t read one that I haven’t enjoyed and The Read Queen is no exception.However, it is probably my least favourite out of all of the books I’ve read by her. I was also surprised that I liked The White Queen more than The Red Queen, which is odd. Most people seem to prefer the second book more.When I started The Red Queen, I really liked Margaret Beaufort, but as I got further into the book, and she got older, I began to dislike her more and more. At one point I actually called her a monster and put the book down for awhile.In the end, I really did enjoy The Red Queen, but not as much as The White Queen. I can’t wait to get my hands on the third book, The Lady of the Rivers. This is such a great series, which is no surprise. I mean it is Philippa Gregory.
    • 3/5
      Margaret Beaufort's story is fascinating: married off three times for her land and her ability to produce sons. Lancastrian in the struggle between York and Lancaster. Energetic writing and pacing makes everyone live on the page, page turner, not great characterization, but good enough, nice level of historic detail, good explanations of motives without lecturing. Margaret is a little whiny and not very likable
    • 4/5
      Oh this was so much better than The White Queen! I still find the whole Plantagenet/War of the Roses thing confusing: so many dukes and princes with the same name, but this time it made more sense, maybe because I've a better understanding of the Tudors or maybe constant consultation of my trusty book on The King & Queens of England by ER Delderfield has finally done the trick. Either way, this made more sense and, thankfully, did not contain all the stupid witchcraft of The White Queen.

      So this one centres on Margaret Beaufort, descendent of John of Gaunt and heir to the House of Lancaster. At a jaw droppingly early age, she is married to Edmund Tudor (who also has a claim to the throne) to cement their prospects. By the age of 13 she is a widow and pregnant. The child she bore would one day be Henry VI. The book covers her scheming and plotting to ensure that her son survives and makes it to the throne.

      She is portrayed as a very pious and devout woman and historical works all seem to agree with this. She's also portrayed as an unpleasant, cold and scheming woman whose sole existance centred on plotting regardless of the safety of those around her. Who can say if this is true or not.

      Regardless, this is a return to form for the author as far as I'm concerned. I'll probably give The Lady of the Rivers a miss as it, undoubtably, will be based around the witchcraft allegations again, but The Kingmakers Daughter may well find its way onto Mount TBR in the future.
    • 4/5
      This is an interesting version of the life of Margaret Beaufort, ending right as her son wins The Battle of Bosworth and becomes the first Tudor Monarch. There is even a bit of military history thrown in during the Battle description, which I always find fascinating.
      I really enjoy Philippa Gregory's novels. History has always portrayed Margaret as a difficult woman, and this novel certainly reinforces that idea. I would not have wanted to be her daughter-in-law, or even her son. Good stuff.
    • 5/5
      I thoroughly enjoyed this next book in the Cousins' War series, although I do believe it would have been better if I had read it as book 3 instead of book 2. Once again, Gregory makes these historical figures come alive in a way that is enjoyable and informative at the same time. I am getting a clearer understanding of this historical era through these books.
    • 5/5
      It was so strange, listening to this book and knowing that this woman's actions were not far removed from me. For, you see, Margaret Beaufort is my 10 x great grandmother.
    • 4/5
      An interesting tale of how people will stop at nothing to get power.
    • 2/5
      I definitely don't like this series as much as the Elizabethan ones. To sound like a teenager for a moment, the War of the Roses is boring and tedious and it is not made less so in these books. If I wanted to read history I would read something else. I want to read a completely implausible tale of treachery and lechery with some names I recognize to ring out summer. I hope that the series picks up and turns into that but I fear it won't.
    • 4/5
      Margaret Beaufort was Henry VII's mother. Although she felt a calling to God, she was married at 12 years old, and had Henry was she was 13. From then on, her entire life was devoted to seeing Henry as King of England. But, this was during the Wars of the Roses – cousins fought over the English throne – so there were many other people vying for that crown. But, Margaret did what she had to do to make it happen. Despite not liking Margaret (even in a novel!), I really liked this story. Obviously, I knew the outcome, but it was interesting to see how they got there. I have only just started reading about some of the people from this time period, so it was nice to round that out a bit more, as I hadn't yet read anything that focused on Margaret. I often get bored with descriptions of battles in books, but I actually found some of these quite interesting. I was a little disappointed that the author's note didn't describe what was or wasn't fictionalized, and I thought it ended a little abruptly (I would have liked to have learned the outcomes of a few of the other people – ones I didn't know anything about). Other than that, though, I really enjoyed it.
    • 2/5
      Dieses Buch ist nun also das Gegenstück zur "White Queen". Hier erzählt Margaret Beaufort,wie sie ihren einzigen Sohn Henry unterstützt und so, durch die Heirat mit Elizabeth von York die Rosenkriege beendet werden.Das ist ein sehr interessanter Stoff und trotzdem konnte mich das Buch nicht fesseln. Weder fand ich die Person Margarets gut dargestellt, noch waren die politischen Hintergründe spannend genug. Es ist zwar ein Buch wie alle von Philippa Gregory, doch dieses konnte ich nicht fertig lesen.
    • 5/5
      I loved this book despite the fact that many people say it is not historically correct. But I guess that wouldn't make it a novel, would it?
    • 4/5
      This book about Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry VI, is gripping, as are most of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels. She’s definitely brought the War of the Roses to life, by retelling it through the eyes of the two most influential women on the scene. Margaret Beaufort is not as sympathetic as Elizabeth Woodville, whose story is told in “The White Queen”. But it was Margaret who changed the course of history as much as anyone, with her persistent plotting to put her son on the throne.

      As a character study, it’s also fascinating. Margaret Beaufort was a religious zealot with a compressed core of pure ambition. Philippa Gregory writes in the first person, allowing Margaret to reveal her true motivations as she reacts to the events around her. And when told this way, everything seems to unfold in an inevitable way.

    Book preview

    Red Queen - Christopher Pike

    CHAPTER ONE

    ONCE I BELIEVED THAT I wanted nothing more than love. Someone who would care for me more than he cared for himself. A guy who would never betray me, never lie to me, and most of all never leave me. Yeah, that was what I desired most, what people usually call true love.

    I don’t know if that has really changed.

    Yet I have to wonder now if I want something else just as badly.

    What is it? You must wonder . . .

    Magic. I want my life filled with the mystery of magic.

    Silly, huh? Most people would say there’s no such thing.

    Then again, most people are not witches.

    Not like me.

    I discovered what I was when I was eighteen years old, two days after I graduated high school. Before then I was your typical teenager. I got up in the morning, went to school, stared at my ex-boyfriend across the campus courtyard and imagined what it would be like to have him back in my life, went to the local library and sorted books for four hours, went home, watched TV, read a little, lay in bed and thought some more about Jimmy Kelter, then fell asleep and dreamed.

    But I feel, somewhere in my dreams, I sensed I was different from other girls my age. Often it seemed, as I wandered the twilight realms of my unconscious, that I existed in another world, a world like our own and yet different, too. A place where I had powers my normal, everyday self could hardly imagine.

    I believe it was these dreams that made me crave that elusive thing that is as great as true love. It’s hard to be sure, I only know that I seldom awakened without feeling a terrible sense of loss. As though my very soul had been chopped into pieces and tossed back into the world. The sensation of being on the outside is difficult to describe. All I can say is that, deep inside, a part of me always hurt.

    I used to tell myself it was because of Jimmy. He had dumped me, all of a sudden, for no reason. He had broken my heart, dug it out of my chest, and squashed it when he said I really like you, Jessie, we can still be friends, but I’ve got to go now. I blamed him for the pain. Yet it had been there before I had fallen in love with him, so there had to be another reason why it existed.

    Now I know Jimmy was only a part of the equation.

    But I get ahead of myself. Let me begin, somewhere near the beginning.

    Like I said, I first became aware I was a witch the same weekend I graduated high school. At the time I lived in Apple Valley, which is off Interstate 15 between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. How that hick town got that name was beyond me. Apple Valley was smack in the middle of the desert. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said it’s easier to believe in witches than in apple trees growing in that godforsaken place.

    Still, it was home, the only home I had known since I was six. That was when my father the doctor had decided that Nurse Betty—that was what my mom called her—was more sympathetic to his needs than my mother. From birth to six I lived in a mansion overlooking the Pacific, in a Malibu enclave loaded with movie stars and the studio executives who had made them famous. My mom, she must have had a lousy divorce lawyer, because even though she had worked her butt off to put my father through medical school and a six-year residency that trained him to be one of the finest heart surgeons on the West Coast, she was kicked out of the marriage with barely enough money to buy a two-bedroom home in Apple Valley. And with summer temperatures averaging above a hundred, real estate was never a hot item in our town.

    I was lucky I had skin that gladly suffered the sun. It was soft, and I tanned deeply without peeling. My coloring probably helped. My family tree is mostly European, but there was an American Indian in the mix back before the Civil War.

    Chief Proud Feather. You might wonder how I know his name, and that’s good—wonder away, you’ll find out, it’s part of my story. He was 100 percent Hopi, but since he was sort of a distant relative, he gave me only a small portion of my features. My hair is brown with a hint of red. At dawn and sunset it is more maroon than anything else. I have freckles and green eyes, but not the green of a true redhead. My freckles are few, often lost in my tan, and my eyes are so dark the green seems to come and go, depending on my mood.

    There wasn’t much green where I grew up. The starved branches on the trees on our campus looked as if they were always reaching for the sky, praying for rain.

    I was pretty; for that matter, I still am pretty. Understand, I turned eighteen a long time ago. Yet I still look much the same. I’m not immortal, I’m just very hard to kill. Of course, I could die tonight, who’s to say.

    It was odd, as a bright and attractive senior in high school, I wasn’t especially popular. Apple Valley High was small—our graduating class barely topped two hundred. I knew all the seniors. I had memorized the first and last name of every cute boy in my class, but I was seldom asked out. I used to puzzle over that fact. I especially wondered why James Kelter had dumped me after only ten weeks of what, to me, had felt like the greatest relationship in the world. I was to find out when our class took that ill-fated trip to Las Vegas.

    Our weekend in Sin City was supposed to be the equivalent of our Senior All-Night Party. I know, on the surface that sounds silly. A party usually lasts one night, and our parents believed we were spending the night at the local Hilton. However, the plan was for all two hundred of us to privately call our parents in the morning and say we had just been invited by friends to go camping in the mountains that separated our desert from the LA Basin.

    The scheme was pitifully weak. Before the weekend was over, most of our parents would know we’d been nowhere near the mountains. That didn’t matter. In fact, that was the whole point of the trip. We had decided, as a class, to throw all caution to the wind and break all the rules.

    The reason such a large group was able to come to such a wild decision was easy to understand if you considered our unusual location. Apple Valley was nothing more than a road stop stuck between the second largest city in the nation—LA—and its most fun city—Las Vegas. For most of our lives, especially on Friday and Saturday evenings, we watched as thousands of cars flew northeast along Interstate 15 toward good times, while we remained trapped in a fruit town that didn’t even have fruit trees.

    So when the question arose of where we wanted to celebrate our graduation, all our years of frustration exploded. No one cared that you had to be twenty-one to gamble in the casinos. Not all of us were into gambling and those who were simply paid Ted Pollack to make them fake IDs.

    Ted made my ID for free. He was an old friend. He lived a block over from my house. He had a terrible crush on me, one I wasn’t supposed to know about. Poor Ted, he confided everything in his heart to his sister, Pam, who kept secrets about as well as the fifty-year-old gray parrot that lived in their kitchen. It was dangerous to talk in front of that bird, just as it was the height of foolishness to confide in Pam.

    I wasn’t sure why Ted cared so deeply about me. Of course, I didn’t understand why I cared so much about Jimmy. At eighteen I understood very little about love, and it’s a shame I wasn’t given a chance to know more about it before I was changed. That’s something I’ll always regret.

    That particular Friday ended up being a wasteland of regrets. After a two-hour graduation ceremony that set a dismal record for scorching heat and crippling boredom, I learned from my best friend, Alex Simms, that both Ted and Jimmy would be driving with us to Las Vegas. Alex told me precisely ten seconds after I collected my blue-and-gold cap off the football field—after our class collectively threw them in the air—and exactly one minute after our school principal had pronounced us full-fledged graduates.

    You’re joking, right? I said.

    Alex brushed her short blond hair from her bright blues. She wasn’t as pretty as me but that didn’t stop her from acting like she was. The weird thing is, it worked for her. Even though she didn’t have a steady boyfriend, she dated plenty, and there wasn’t a guy in school who would have said no to her if she’d so much as said hi. A natural flirt, she could touch a guy’s hand and make him feel like his fingers were caressing her breasts.

    Alex was a rare specimen, a compulsive talker who knew when to shut up and listen. She had a quick wit—some would say it was biting—and her self-confidence was legendary. She had applied to UCLA with a B-plus average and a slightly above-average SAT score and they had accepted her—supposedly—on the strength of her interview. While Debbie Pernal, a close friend of ours, had been turned down by the same school despite a straight-A average and a very high SAT score.

    It was Debbie’s belief that Alex had seduced one of the interviewing deans. In Debbie’s mind, there was no other explanation for how Alex had gotten accepted. Debbie said as much to anyone who would listen, which just happened to be the entire student body. Her remarks started a tidal wave of a rumor: ALEX IS A TOTAL SLUT! Of course, the fact that Alex never bothered to deny the slur didn’t help matters. If anything, she took great delight in it.

    And these two were friends.

    Debbie was also driving with us to Las Vegas.

    There was a mix-up, Alex said without much conviction, trying to explain why Jimmy was going to ride in the car with us. We didn’t plan for both of them to come.

    Why would anyone in their right mind put Jimmy and me together in the same car? I demanded.

    Alex dropped all pretense. Could it be that I’m sick and tired of you whining about how he dumped you when everything was going so perfect between you two?

    I glared at her. We’re best friends! You’re required to listen to my whining. It doesn’t give you the right to invite the one person in the whole world who ripped my heart out to go on a road trip with us.

    What road trip? We’re just giving him a three-hour ride. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.

    Right. The five of us are going to be crammed into your car half the afternoon and it will be perfectly normal if I don’t say a word to the first and last guy I ever had sex with.

    Alex was suddenly interested. I didn’t know Jimmy was your first. You always acted like you slept with Clyde Barker.

    Clyde Barker was our football quarterback and so good-looking that none of the girls who went to the games—myself included—cared that he couldn’t throw a pass to save his ass. He had the IQ of a cracked helmet. It was just an act, I said with a sigh.

    Look, it might work out better than you think. My sources tell me Jimmy has hardly been seeing Kari at all. They may even be broken up.

    Kari Rider had been Jimmy’s girlfriend before me, and after me, which gave me plenty of reason to hate the bitch.

    Why don’t we be absolutely sure and invite Kari as well, I said. She can sit on my lap.

    Alex laughed. Admit it, you’re a tiny bit happy I did all this behind your back.

    I’m a tiny bit considering not going at all.

    Don’t you dare. Ted would be devastated.

    Ted’s going to be devastated when he sees Jimmy get in your car!

    Alex frowned. You have a point. Debbie invited him, not me.

    On top of everything else, Debbie had a crush on Ted, the same Ted who had a crush on me. It was going to be a long three hours to Las Vegas.

    Did Debbie think it was a good idea for Jimmy to ride with us? I asked.

    Sure.

    I was aghast. I can’t believe it. That bitch.

    Well, actually, she didn’t think there was a chance in hell he’d come.

    That hurt. Love the vote of confidence. What you mean is Debbie didn’t think there was a chance in hell Jimmy was still interested in me.

    I didn’t say that.

    No. But you both thought it.

    Come on, Jessie. It’s obvious Jimmy’s coming with us so he can spend time with you. Alex patted me on the back. Be happy.

    Why did you wait until now to tell me this?

    Because now it’s too late to change my devious plan.

    I dusted off my blue-and-gold cap and put it back on. I suppose this is your graduation present to me? I asked.

    Sure. Where’s mine?

    You’ll get it when we get to Las Vegas.

    Really?

    Yeah. You’ll see. I already had a feeling I was going to pay her back, I just didn’t know how.

    CHAPTER TWO

    I WAS AN IDIOT TO get in Alex’s car. But I was not fool enough to sit in the backseat between Ted and Jimmy. Debbie ended up sandwiched between the boys, where she looked quite content.

    It was two in the afternoon by the time we hit the road. Our parents had insisted on taking us three girls to lunch, but it was only fun as long as our appetites lasted. We were anxious to get to Vegas. Also, there was tension between Alex’s and Debbie’s parents.

    It was rooted in the UCLA fiasco and the ugly talk surrounding it. The truth was Debbie had only been accepted by the University of Santa Barbara—an incredibly beautiful campus, in my humble opinion—and she had graduated second in our class, while Alex had finished thirty-eighth. Alex made no effort to soften the tension, wearing a UCLA T-shirt to lunch. Out of the five parents present, my mom was the only one who did much talking.

    No one was jealous of me. I had finished tenth in our class and my SAT scores equaled Debbie’s, but I hadn’t bothered to apply to college. It was a money thing, I didn’t have any. And I couldn’t apply for financial aid because my father was rich.

    Silly me, I kept hoping my father would suddenly remember he had a daughter who had just graduated high school and who needed six figures just to get an undergraduate degree. But so far he had not called, or written, or e-mailed me.

    My mom didn’t appreciate his silent rejection. She bitched about it whenever she had a chance. But I took the rejection in stride. I only cried about it when I was alone in my bed at night.

    I hardly knew my dad but it was weird—I missed him.

    I enjoyed your speech, Jimmy said to Debbie as he and Ted climbed aboard in a deserted parking lot far away from any stray parental eyes.

    Thank you, Debbie said. I was afraid it was too long. The last thing I wanted to do was bore people.

    Christ, I thought. Her thirty-minute speech had been twenty minutes too long. I knew because neither Alex nor I could remember the last twenty minutes.

    Debbie had spoken on the environment, of all things. What did she know about that? She had grown up in a goddamn desert. We didn’t have an environment, not really, just a bunch of sand and dirt.

    Your point on the impact of methane versus carbon-dioxide gases on global warming was important, Ted said. It’s a pity the tundra’s melting so fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if the world’s temperature increases by ten degrees in our lifetimes.

    Won’t happen, Alex said, swinging onto the interstate and jacking our speed up to an even ninety. She always sped and often got stopped by the cops. But so far she had yet to get a ticket. Go figure.

    Why do you say that? Ted asked.

    We’ll never live that long. We’ll die of something else, Alex said.

    Like what? Jimmy asked.

    Alex shrugged. That’s my point. Here we’re worrying about carbon dioxide raising the temperature and now it turns out methane is the real culprit. That’s the way of the world, and the future. You can’t predict nothing.

    Anything, Debbie muttered.

    Whatever, Alex said.

    What are you majoring in at UCLA? Jimmy asked Alex.

    Psychology. I figure there’s going to be a lot of depressed people pretty soon.

    You plan to cash in on their sorrows? Debbie asked.

    Why not? Alex replied.

    You’re so altruistic, Debbie said sarcastically.

    Alex laughed. That was one of her great qualities—she was almost impossible to insult. I’m a realist, that’s all. She added, Jessie thinks the same way I do.

    Not true, I said. No one thinks the same way you do.

    Alex glanced over. You have the same attitude. Don’t deny it.

    My attitude changes from day to day. Ever so slightly I shifted my head to the left, to where I could see Jimmy. I added, Today I feel totally optimistic.

    Jimmy was dressed simply, in jeans and a red short-sleeved shirt. His brown hair was a little long, a little messy, but to me it had been a source of endless thrills. It might have been because it was thick and fine at the same time, but when I used to run my fingers through it, I always got a rush. Especially when he would groan with pleasure. One night, I swear, I did nothing but play with his hair.

    His eyes matched his hair color, yet there was a softness to them, a kindness. People might think kind an odd word to apply to a guy but with Jimmy it fit. He was careful to make the people around him feel comfortable, and he didn’t have to say much to put others at ease.

    When we had dated, the one thing I had loved most about him was how he could sit across from me and stare into my eyes as I rambled on about my day. It didn’t matter what I said, he always made me feel like the most important person in the world.

    It had been early October when he asked me out. He came into the city library where I worked and we struck up a conversation in the back aisles. I knew he was dating Kari so I kept up a wall of sorts. I did it automatically, perhaps because I had liked him since our freshman year.

    He must have sensed it but he didn’t say anything about being broken up with Kari. It was possible they were not formally divorced at that exact moment. He kept the banter light. He wanted to know what I was going to do after graduation. He was in the same boat as me. Good grades, no money.

    He left the library without hitting on me for my number. But a week later he magically called and asked if I’d like to go to a movie. I said sure, even before he explained that he was free and single. He picked me up early on a Friday and asked if I felt like going to Hollywood. Great, I said, anything to get out of Apple Valley. We ended up having dinner and watching three movies at the Universal CityWalk. We didn’t get home until near dawn and when he kissed me good night, I was a total goner.

    First love—I still feel it’s the one that matters the most.

    We spent the next ten weeks together and it was perfect. I was in a constant state of joy. It didn’t matter if I ate or drank or slept. I just had to see him, think of him, and I’d feel happy.

    We made love after a month, or I should say after thirty dates. He swung by on a Saturday after work. He was a mechanic at the local Sears. My mother was at work at the nearby Denny’s, where she was the manager, and I was in the shower. I didn’t know he was coming. Later, he said he’d tried knocking but got no answer. That was his excuse for peeking inside my bedroom. But my excuse, for inviting him into my shower, I can’t remember what it was. I don’t think I had one.

    It didn’t matter—once again, it was perfect.

    I felt something profound lying in his arms that I had never imagined a human being could feel. I was absolutely, totally complete, as if I had spent my entire life fragmented. Just a collection of cracked pieces that his touch, his love, was able to thrust together and make whole. I knew I was with the one person in the world who could allow me to experience peace.

    Later, when I tried to explain my feelings to Alex, she looked at me like I was crazy, but I sensed she was jealous. Despite her many lovers, I knew that she had never felt anything close to what I had with Jimmy.

    Six weeks after our shower, he was gone.

    No, that would have been easier, had he just vanished. Had he died, I think it would have been simpler to bear. But no, I had to see him every day at school, Monday through Friday, with Kari—until she graduated early, at the end of January. He told me he had to go back to her. He didn’t say why. But watching them holding hands across the courtyard, I couldn’t help but feel the smiles and laughter he shared with her were all fake.

    But Alex said they looked real to her.

    And she was my best friend. I had to believe her.

    Jessie, Jimmy said, startling me. It was possible my discreet peek out of the corner of my eye had accidentally lengthened into a long, lost stare. Had he caught me looking at him? He was too polite to say. He quickly added, Do you guys know where you’re staying?

    At the MGM. Aren’t you? That’s where our class got the group rate. I paused. Don’t tell me you don’t have a reservation.

    He hesitated. I wasn’t sure I could get off work this weekend. By the time my boss finally said okay, I tried calling every hotel on the Strip but they were booked. I thought when we got there I’d see if there were any cancellations.

    That will be tricky on the weekend, Debbie warned.

    No biggie—you can always stay with us, Alex said.

    A tense silence ensued. Ted must have immediately shorted out at the thought of Jimmy sleeping in the same suite as me. The idea drove me nuts as well, but for radically different reasons. Debbie was annoyed that a guy might be staying with us period. Despite her lust for Ted, she was a prude. She glared at Alex and spoke in a deadly tone.

    Nice of you to volunteer our accommodations.

    Alex ignored the sarcasm. Hey, the more the merrier. I knew what was coming next. Alex was never going to let me get away without putting me on the spot. She glanced my way and smiled wickedly. Let’s vote on it. Jessie, you okay with Jimmy sleeping in our suite?

    I had to act cool, I thought, it was my only escape.

    As long as we get to use his body in whatever way we see fit.

    Alex offered me five. Amen to that, sister!

    I gave her five while the three in the backseat squirmed. Ted turned to Jimmy. If you get stuck, stay with me and Neil. We can always call down for a cot.

    You’re rooming with Neil Sedak? Alex asked, stunned. That guy’s never stepped out of Apple Valley in his life. Plus he was our class valedictorian, which means he’s got to be a nerd.

    You have something against nerds? I asked.

    I love nerds! Alex said. You know me, I’m never ashamed to admit my best friend works at the library. But I’m talking about Ted’s rep here. Ted, if you spend a night with Neil, everyone will assume you’re unfuckable.

    Hardly, I said. I know two girls who’ve slept with Neil.

    Who? Alex demanded, getting out the first half of the word before suddenly grinding to a halt. I smiled at her knowingly.

    Is someone forgetting a certain confession? I asked.

    Alex acted cool. Confession is private.

    Oh, my God, Alex. You didn’t, Debbie squealed with pleasure. Screwing Neil the Nerd went above and beyond the UCLA admission-man rumor. This one would be all over Las Vegas before the weekend was done. Alex cast me a dirty look.

    Tell her it ain’t so, she ordered.

    It’s possible it ain’t so, I said. There was more truth to Alex’s remark than I let on. I was a bit of a nerd. The reason I worked at the library was because I loved to read. I was addicted. I read everything: fiction, nonfiction, mysteries, sci-fi, horror, thrillers, biographies, romance novels, all the genres, even magazines and newspapers. It was probably why my brain was stuffed with so much arcane information.

    Explain that I was only joking about Neil, Alex insisted.

    The sex secrets of Alex and Neil could have gone on another hour if Jimmy hadn’t interrupted. He was not a big one for gossip.

    I don’t give a damn about Neil’s sex life, Jimmy said. But I do appreciate your offer, Ted. If I get stuck for a place to stay, I’ll give you a call.

    No problem, Ted said, a note of relief in his voice. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card. Here’s a fake ID if you plan to gamble.

    Great. Jimmy studied it. This license looks real.

    It’s not, Ted warned. Don’t use it at the MGM’s front desk to check in. It’ll fail if it’s scanned. But don’t worry about gambling at the other hotels. I haven’t seen them scan IDs on the casino floors.

    How do you know? Jimmy asked.

    He’s been to Vegas tons, Alex said. He’s a master card counter.

    Wow. Jimmy was impressed. Is it hard to learn?

    Ted shrugged, although it was obvious he enjoyed the attention. It takes a good memory and hard work. But you don’t have to be a genius to do it.

    You should teach us all this weekend, Debbie said, a bold comment coming from her. Ted shrugged.

    I can teach you the basics. But it takes hours of practice to make money at it. And the casinos keep changing the rules, making it harder to get an edge.

    The bastards, Alex muttered.

    We reached Las Vegas before sunset so we weren’t treated to the famous colorful glow suddenly rising out of the desert night. It was a curious phenomenon, I thought, but during the day Las Vegas looked far from imposing. Just a bunch of gaudy buildings sticking out of the sand. But I knew when night fell, the magic would emerge, and the town would transform itself into one gigantic adult ride.

    Alex drove straight to the MGM, where we checked in to our room, a decent-sized suite with a view of the Strip and three separate bedrooms—plus a central living area that came equipped not only with a sofa but a love seat. The price wasn’t bad, one hundred and fifty bucks: fifty bucks when split three ways. Still, the weekend was ruining my savings. The library was not exactly a high-paying place to work.

    With the sofa and love seat, we had room for another two people. But Jimmy, damn him, was too much of a gentleman to impose. He also seemed reluctant to take Ted up on his offer. He tried his best to find his own room, using our hotel-room phone to call several hotlines that supposedly could find you a suite on New Year’s Eve. But it was all hype; it was Friday evening at the start of summer and Las Vegas was bursting at the seams. Jimmy struck out.

    This couch is softer than my bed, Alex said, sitting not far from where Jimmy had just finished dialing. I was glad we had temporarily left Ted—who had gone off to find his own room. Alex, it seemed, was determined that Jimmy stay with us.

    We settled the sleeping arrangements in the car, Debbie said, studying the minibar. Because it was filled with tiny bottles of liquor, and we had checked in to the room using our real IDs, the bar should have been off-limits. But Ted had managed to bypass the locking mechanism before departing for his quarters. I was glad, I loved minibars. The snacks tasted ten times better to me, probably because they cost ten times as much as they were supposed to.

    When we talked about it in the car, we didn’t know this suite would be so large, Alex said.

    We only have one bathroom, Debbie growled.

    Do you plan on spending the weekend throwing up? Alex asked.

    Jimmy interrupted. Hey, it’s okay—remember, I’ve got Ted’s room as a backup. Don’t worry about me.

    Alex went to reply, but then her eyes slipped from Jimmy to me. Her unspoken message couldn’t have been clearer. She wasn’t worried about Jimmy, she was worried about me. Or else she was trying to force the two of us back together, which, in her bizarre mind, was the same thing.

    It didn’t matter. The elephant standing in the room had just quietly roared. It could no longer be ignored. Jimmy and I had to talk—soon, and alone. But I felt too nervous to say it aloud. I stood and caught his eye, and headed toward my room. Jimmy understood, he followed me and shut the door behind him.

    Before I could figure out where to sit, or what I should say, he hugged me. The gesture caught me by surprise. I didn’t hug him back, not at first, but when he didn’t let go, I found my arms creep up and around his broad shoulders. It felt so perfect to stand there and listen to his heartbeat. Yes, that word again, I could not be free of it when I was around Jimmy.

    The hug was warm but chaste; he didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t even move his arms once he had ahold of me. Although we were standing up, we could have been lying down together, asleep in each other’s arms. I don’t know how long the hug lasted but it felt like forever . . . compressed into a moment.

    Finally, we sat on the bed together. He was holding my hands, or trying to, but I had to keep taking them back to wipe away the silly tears that kept running over my cheeks. He didn’t rush me to speak. But he never took his eyes off me, and I felt he was searching my face for the answer to a question he had carried with him a long time.

    Of course, I had my own question.

    Why? I said. The word startled me more than him. It felt so blunt after our tender moment. The question didn’t offend him, but he let go of me and sat back on the bed, propping himself up with a pillow.

    Do you remember the day we drove to Newport Beach? he asked.

    Yes. It had been during Christmas break, a few days before the holiday. I wasn’t likely to forget because it was to turn out to be the worst Christmas of my life. He dumped me December 22. Then I hadn’t known what to do with the presents I had bought, or the ones I had made for him. In the end, I hadn’t done anything. I still had them in my bedroom closet. They were still wrapped.

    When we got back to Apple Valley, Kari was waiting at my house. Jimmy paused. She said she was ten weeks pregnant.

    I froze. We were together ten weeks.

    Jimmy held up a hand. I never slept with her once I was with you. I never even kissed her.

    I believe you. And I did—he didn’t have to swear. Jimmy was incredibly rare; he didn’t lie. I added, Did you believe her?

    She had an ultrasound with her.

    That doesn’t mean it was yours.

    Jessie . . .

    Saying, ‘I’m pregnant, Jimmy, you have to come back to me.’ That’s like the oldest trick in the book.

    I know that. I know Kari’s not always a hundred percent straight. But I just had to look in her eyes. She was telling the truth.

    I crossed my arms over my chest. I don’t know.

    And she was showing a little bit.

    At ten weeks? I asked.

    It might have been twelve.

    And it might have been a folded-up pillowcase.

    He hesitated. No. She lifted her shirt. It was for real.

    And she wanted to keep it.

    Yes. That wasn’t an issue.

    "She wanted you back. That was the issue."

    He lowered his head. I don’t know. Maybe.

    It was a lot to digest. It was a minute before I could speak.

    You should have told me, I said.

    I’m sorry. I wanted to, but I felt it would hurt you more to know she was having my baby.

    I shook my head. You’ve been good so far, real good, but that, what you just said, is nuts. Nothing could hurt worse than that call I got. Do you remember it? ‘Hello, Jessie, how are you doing? Good? That’s good. Hey, I’ve got some bad news. I don’t know exactly how to tell you this. But Kari and I are getting back together. I know this is sort of sudden, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but Kari and I . . . we’re not done yet. We have stuff we have to work out. Are you there, Jessie?’

    He stared at me. God.

    What?

    You remember it word for word.

    I’ll remember it till the day I die.

    I’m sorry.

    Don’t say that word again. Tell me why.

    I just told you why. She was pregnant. I felt I had to do the right thing and go back to her.

    Why didn’t you tell me the truth?

    I was ashamed, it’s true, but I honestly thought the truth would hurt you more.

    That’s so lame. Didn’t you stop to imagine how I felt? You left me hanging. Hanging above nothing ’cause I knew nothing. One moment I’m the love of your life and the next a cheerleader has taken my place.

    He nodded. It was dumb, I made a mistake. I should have explained everything to you. Please forgive me.

    No.

    Jessie?

    I don’t forgive you. I can’t. I suffered too much. You say you felt you had to do the right thing so you went back to her. Let me ask you this—were you still in love with her?

    I was never in love with Kari.

    Were you in love with me?

    Yes.

    Then what you did was wrong. So she was pregnant. So she wept and begged you to come back for the sake of your child. That doesn’t matter. I was more important to you, I should have been more important. You should have said no to her.

    I couldn’t.

    Why not? I demanded.

    Because when she rolled up her shirt and I saw that growing bump, and realized that it was true, that it was mine, my flesh and blood, I knew I had to take care of that baby.

    Bullshit.

    You’re wrong, Jessie. At that moment, nothing mattered more to me than that child. And yes, forgive me, but it mattered even more than us.

    I stood. Get out.

    He stood. We should talk more.

    No, leave. This was all a . . . mistake. Go stay with Ted.

    Jimmy stepped toward the door, put his hand on the knob. He was going to leave, he wasn’t going to fight me. That’s what I liked about him, how reasonable he could be. And that’s what I hated about him, that he hadn’t fought for me. I was the one who had to stop him.

    Where’s the baby now? I asked. Kari had graduated at the end of January and left campus early. I assumed she’d had the child.

    But Jimmy lowered his head. He staggered.

    We lost him, he said.

    She had a miscarriage?

    No. The word came out so small. I put my hand to my mouth.

    Don’t tell me she had the baby and it died? I gasped.

    He turned and looked at me, pale as plaster. So frail, so hollow. I felt if I said the wrong word, he’d shatter.

    His name was Huck. He lived for three days.

    Why did he die? I asked.

    The wrong words. Jimmy turned, opened the door, spoke over his shoulder. You’re right, I should go. We can talk later.

    He left; it was amazing how much it hurt. It was like he was breaking up with me all over again. It was then I wished I hadn’t said the why word. We should have left it at the hug.

    CHAPTER THREE

    I DID NOT LEAVE MY room for some time, and when I did, I found a note from Debbie and Alex. They had left to find the kids from our class and plan the night’s festivities. That’s the word Alex chose—festivities. I doubted she had seen Jimmy’s face when he had left our suite.

    I was tired and knew we’d be up late. I tried napping but had trouble falling asleep. Huck haunted me, perhaps the way he haunted Jimmy. I didn’t fool myself. Jimmy had won our fight—if it could be called that. And here I had been positive I would humiliate him when we finally spoke. I was sure I owned the moral high ground. But Jimmy was right, the child was his own flesh and blood; it transcended infatuation, even our love,

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