"Absolutely," Trista said. "But let me pour it for you, Pennsylvania. You probably don't even know how to pump a keg." Emily watched as Trista pumped the keg handle a few times and let the beer filter slowly into her cup, producing almost no foam. "Thanks," Emily answered, taking a sip. Trista poured herself a beer and led Emily away from the line to one of the couches that lined the walls of the silo. "So, did your family just move here?" "I'm staying with my cousins for a little while." Emily pointed to Abby, who was dancing with a tall blond boy, and to Matt and John, who were smoking cigarettes with a petite redhead wearing a skintight pink sweater and skinny jeans. "You on a little vacation?" Trista asked, fluttering her eyelashes. Emily couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Trista was moving closer and closer to her on the couch. She was doing everything in her power not to touch Trista's long legs, which were dangling inches from her own. "Not exactly," she blurted out. "My parents kicked me out of the house because I couldn't live by their rules." Trista fiddled with the strap of her tan boots. "My mom's like that. She thinks I'm at a choir concert right now. Otherwise she never would've let me out." "I used to have to lie to my parents about going to parties too," Emily said, suddenly afraid she was going to start crying again. She tried to imagine what was happening at her house right now. Her family had probably gathered around the TV after dinner. Just her mom, her dad, and Carolyn, happily chatting among themselves, glad that Emily, the heathen, was gone. It hurt so much it made her feel nauseated. Trista glanced at Emily sympathetically, as if she sensed something was wrong. "So hey. Here's another one. If you were a party, what kind of party would you be?" "A surprise party," Emily blurted out. That seemed like the story of her life lately--one big surprise after another.

"Good one." Trista smiled. "I'd be a toga party." They smiled at each other for a long moment. There was something about Trista's heart-shaped face and wide, blue eyes that made Emily feel really...safe. Trista leaned forward, and so did Emily. It was almost like they were going to kiss, but then Trista bent down very slowly and fixed the strap on her shoe. "So why'd they send you here, anyway?" Trista asked when she sat back up. Emily took a huge swallow of beer. "Because they caught me kissing a girl," she blurted out. When Trista leaned back, her eyes wide, Emily thought she'd made a horrible mistake. Perhaps Trista was just being Midwestern friendly, and Emily had misinterpreted. But then, Trista broke into a coy smile. She moved her lips close to Emily's ear. "You totally wouldn't be a Tootsie Roll. If it were up to me, you'd be a red-hot candy heart." Emily's heart did three somersaults. Trista stood up and offered Emily her hand. Emily took it, and without a word, Trista led her to the dance floor and started dancing sexily to the music. The song changed to a fast one, and Trista squealed and started to jump around as if she were on a trampoline. Her energy was intoxicating. Emily felt like she could be goofy with Trista--not constantly poised and cool, as she always felt she had to behave around Maya. Maya. Emily stopped, breathing in the rank, humid silo air. Last night, she and Maya had said they loved each other. Were they still together, now that Emily was possibly permanently stuck here, amid all this corn and cow manure? Did this qualify as cheating? And what did it mean that Emily hadn't thought of her once tonight, until now? Trista's cell phone beeped. She stepped out of the circle of dancers and pulled it out of her pocket. "My stupid mom's texting me for like the gazillionth time tonight," she yelled over the music, shaking her head. A shock vibrated through Emily--any minute now, she'd probably be getting a text of her own. A always seemed to know when she was having naughty thoughts. Only, her cell phone...was in the swear jar. Emily let out a thrilled bleat of laughter. Her phone was in the swear jar. She was at a party in Iowa,