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"They're so easy to spot too. Usually found giggling and whispering with their hands over their mouths."
"Are you talking about the PG girls?" Lily asks.
"Then what are you?" I ask Ashton.
"We," Ashton corrects. "You're not like them. You're one of us. And we're ... unrated."
Lily laughs.
"We don't have restrictions. Or rules. Or curfews. Or parents who actually know where we go on a random Tuesday night, forget about a Friday."
As much as I love my mother, Ashton is describing my life pretty accurately. Although I'm not bitter about the lax parenting like Ashton appears to be.
"What am I?" Kaely asks, concern flashing in her big hazel eyes.
"You're PG, sweetie," Lily says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's a good thing. It means someone cares about you. I used to be PG."
"What happened?" I ask before I can stop myself. "You don't have to--"
"It's okay," she says with a nonchalant shrug. "My dad moved out. My mother started drinking. And then didn't stop. So they both kind of forgot they had a daughter. Now ... I'm unrated. Before this summer, they never would have let me spend it alone at the lake house for a weekend, forget about two months. It's sad really. Not for me. For them. I hate watching them completely fall apart and knowing there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"I know that feeling," I say quietly. She gives me an understanding smile.
"Who knew self-destructive parents could be so bonding!" Ashton cries out, encircling us with her arms and crushing us against her.
Kaely looks on sadly. "Get in here, PG," Ashton calls to her. Kaely smiles and bounces into our crazy hugfest. I've never been around such touchy-feely girls before. Nina, Tori and I would hug, but these girls bring the mush up a level.
"I can't breathe," I choke out from the middle. They laugh and separate to free me.
"What the hell are you looking at?"
The hostile voice sets off alarms, having heard the precursor to a fight one too many times in Stella's. My head swivels in search of the guy about to punch someone. The girls don't seem to notice.
He's not hard to locate wearing his baseball hat on backward and a loose fitting tank top, with exaggerated armholes to show off muscles that he needed a shot in the ass to get. He's standing with two other morons who are nodding to whatever he says, because they don't have minds of their own. I notice the previously giggling girls standing off to the side, eyes darting around nervously.
And then ... I see who Roid-Rage is talking to.
Except Grant doesn't know he's being challenged, not yet anyway. He's standing alone, focused on the guys, who are standing in line for more tickets. He turns his head, sees us, and smiles. He's takes a step our way when the guy hollers at him again.
"Hey, man! I'm talking to you! What the hell's your problem?"
Grant hears him this time and swivels to face him. "Uh, excuse me? I don't have a problem. Sorry, there must be a misunderstanding or something. Have a good night."
I groan. He's such a fricken nice guy. It's about to get him killed.
"Oh, no," Ashton says, having picked up the douche-baggery unfolding across from us.
I slowly walk in Grant's direction, my attention solely on Roider. His hands keep clenching into fists.
Grant spots me and continues in my direction. I don't make eye contact because I know what's coming, and I need to be ready for it.
"Oh shit," I say under my breath.
"Hey, piece of shit! Don't walk away from me!"
I start running.
"Lana!" Ashton shouts in alarm.
