Wrapping my arms around myself, I follow the road all the way to Jonas' house in search of Brandon. He's probably at the Shirt Shack—Saturday is the busiest day—but he won't be for long, the sun is already starting to set. Thinking in the sand all day has left me with no other choice than to apologize. There may be a slight chance that Brandon can look past my brief relapse and still like me. I'm willing to find out, even if I resemble some corner-standing lowlife in my skanky dress and sandy hoodie, and I can't forget my dehydrated and tired face. The smeared lip gloss tops it all...