by N. K. Smith
The movie was okay. Movies made from books were almost always like that. He seemed to be fine with skipping the last one.
As we pulled up to Tom’s little house, I felt the urge to kiss him. It was strange because I didn’t want to kiss and grope him…although he was totally grope-worthy. The closeness of his body made me tingle, which made me want to be all sweet with him, and possibly even have a real end-of-first-date kiss or some shit.
That was when I kicked myself.
I was not that girl and he was not my boyfriend. This wasn’t a date and I wasn’t sweet. Kissing Rusty Dalton? What was next, holding his hand and stroking his cheek? I felt like such a moron, but when he’d asked me which book I wanted to borrow first with that sexy, unassuming smile of his, I couldn’t help myself.
This was messed up.
I felt messed up as I leaned over the console and pressed my lips against his. My heart started beating faster. What was I doing? My head told me this was wrong. These were fifth-grade antics, so I brought my hand to his thigh. It rested there for only a moment before I moved it up, closer to where the bulge in his pants was growing.
He was hard and that made me happy, because it meant that I didn’t make as big a fool of myself as I had thought with that stupid-school-girl-kissing shit. He wanted me too.
Then his chest heaved as he pushed my shoulders back. Our lips lost contact and I withdrew my hand. I was about to get pissed until I saw his face. His eyes were steadfastly glued to the ceiling of the car and he was panting.
He wanted me. I could tell that he wanted me, so what the hell was going on? I thought for a moment that maybe he was a virgin, but that couldn’t be, since Megan Simons had clearly said they’d had sex. She could’ve lied, but why? Maybe he just liked taking things slowly, or perhaps he was playing hard-to-get. Either way, he didn’t shove me back because he didn’t want me. I licked my lips and breathed out. “Sorry.”
I shouldn’t have touched him. While I was normally impulsive, I should have controlled this better. I should’ve known that a small, innocent kiss was something I could never do. I should have seen that I would screw it up in some way, and I shouldn’t have even tried it in the first place. Now I’d probably emotionally scarred him for life because here he was just dropping off some effed-up girl and minding his own business and then I…
Shit! Why couldn’t I just be a normal girl?
Shaking my head, I whispered, “Sorry,” again.
Elliott turned to me, eyes wide, lips pressed together. He shook his head almost violently as if needing me to know something important. Finally he spoke, or rather, tried to speak. “N-n-n-n-nooooo, S-S-S-So-Soph-Sophie.” That was the worst I’d ever heard him butcher my two-syllable name. “P-p-p-p…”
Without thinking, I ran a hand through his hair and he closed his eyes for a minute. I had no idea where that action came from, but suddenly I was comforting him. I’d never comforted another living soul in my life, but somehow I knew it was the right thing to do. I removed my hand and looked away. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I whispered.
I dug around in the bag in the backseat and pulled out a book. “I’ll take this one first.” He nodded, his lips pressed tightly together again. “Thanks, Elliott,” I said casually as I popped the door open. Once I was standing outside, I leaned down and said, “I’ll see you, Monday.”
He looked at me and his mouth opened as if to speak, but I quickly looked away.
Shit. I felt like an idiot as I shoved the door closed and walked up to Tom’s house. The porch light was on and I didn’t even have to unlock the door, because he pulled it open himself.
“Spying?”
Although his eyes narrowed, he gave me a smirk. “Just making sure the delinquent didn’t manhandle you.”
As Tom shut the door behind me, I said, “Manhandle? Elliott Dalton? Obviously you don’t know him.”
“He’s an adopted kid in therapy, Soph, how well do I need to know him?”
I shook my head. “You’re an ass, just like everyone else in this ignorant town.” Before I could get reprimanded for my use of “unladylike language,” I held up my book. “He tried to buy me some books, and when I wouldn’t let him, he bought them for himself and said I could borrow them. Not much worry about manhandling from a dude that buys classic literature, Tom.”
He gave me a weak, apologetic smile. “I’m not trying to be overprotective, I just-”
“Good, because you’re a little late for that.” I watched as his expression changed. “I’m going to bed.”
“Did you eat?”
I sighed at my pointlessly concerned parental figure. “Like I said, Tom, a little late.”
“What’s that smile for?”
I looked over at Jason as he buttoned up his jeans, his smirk telling me that he already knew what my smile was about. “I was just thinking if there is a god, it’s definitely a chick. That was awesome.”
“Glad to be of service,” he said with laugh.
I stood up, tugging down my top and looking around the narrow cave. It was damp and fairly cold, but for some reason, it seemed like a natural place to be. “So how many girls have you deflowered here?”
“Deflowered?” he asked, the laugh still present in his voice. “I’ve never deflowered anyone, Sophie.”
“What?” I was honestly shocked. A dude like Jason would be a great first time. “You’re full of shit. Come on, I’m not your girlfriend. I swear I won’t be offended if you tell me the truth.”
He lit a cigarette and then sat down on a jutted-out rock. “I’ve never had sex with a virgin, Sophie. That’s the truth.”
I smiled as I moved to sit down next to him. “Well let me go out and find you one, ‘cause, Jesus, it’ll be that girl’s lucky day. You know what you’re doing.”
He shook his head. “No, thanks.” I quirked my brow. “Too much responsibility. There’ll have to be hearts and flowers and lots of foreplay.”
“You’re good at foreplay.” That was the truth.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t really interest me. I don’t really think it’s a turn-on having to do all the work, while the girl just lies there.” He gave me a look. It was the first time since we’d started the conversation that he actually looked at me. It made me slightly uncomfortable. I didn’t know why, I just knew that it did.
“A girl like you is perfect for me. Experienced.”
I wrinkled my nose.
He saw my expression and quickly said, “Not, like, slutty experienced. You get what I’m saying. You know what you like and you don’t wait around for me to give it to you; you make it happen. I don’t need some sappy virgin that’s going to want me to meet her parents afterward.”
A girl like you is perfect for me. I cringed. I totally didn’t want to get into being perfect for Jason. I stood up quickly, running my hands through my hair. “So can you score acid? I haven’t tripped in a long time.”
I was perfect for no one.
“The last time I tripped, no one was guiding me and there were Tree People and they started out like the Ents in The Lord of the Rings but ended up like the tree from one of the Poltergeist movies, trying to eat me and all that shit. So, it’d be nice to—”
“What the fuck are Ents?”
I sighed. Jason was not cultured and I wondered if he even owned a book. “Haven’t you seen Lord of the Rings?”
“That’s gay, Sophie. Fucking hairy-footed little people and elves and shit?”
I decided to let it go, otherwise I might geek-out on him. I guess if the movie didn’t have a car chase or something exploding, a guy like Jason wouldn’t be interested. “So, acid. Can you get any?”
“I sell weed, Sophie.”
“So that’s a ‘no’ to the acid? What about painkillers? Does Jerry have a script?
Bet he’s on Methylin for his shit, right?”
“Yeah, but he uses those pills.” He rolled his eyes. “He counts out three a day and would probably throw knives at me if there were any missing.”
I woke up on Monday feeling foolishly excited to see Elliott. It made no sense for me to feel that way about a boy. I mean, yeah, he was incredibly good-looking and I could completely see myself banging the living shit out of him, but he was too nice. What the hell would I seriously do with a nice guy like him? Why the hell was I excited?
We watched one movie together, ate pizza, and listened to music, and now I was ready to…to what? It totally wasn’t me to be all puppy-dog with boys.
And when the hell had he become “Elliott” and not “Rusty Dalton?” I totally didn’t need to crush on Elliott Dalton of all people. I would just hurt him.
Jason was early as usual, and we clam-baked on the way to school. Smoking a joint with the windows rolled up tight got me really high. I was incredibly thankful to smoke his free pot.
I saw Elliott in the hallway before first period. His hair was shorter. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. For some reason, that small half-inch of hair being gone made me a little sad. It wasn’t long enough anymore to fall over his eyes when he looked down.
I watched him like I normally did, but as usual, he never looked up. It was better that way. If I saw his hazel eyes, I was sure that I would swoon like a silly little girl. I hated myself for having these feelings.
I needed something to numb them; to snuff them out. I didn’t want to feel this shit. I didn’t deserve to feel this shit.
Jason had told me that if I wanted something other than pot, Aiden Montgomery was the person to see. I knew of him. He was nice-looking; not a dirty hippie like Jason, and not quite a jock like Anderson. Apparently Aiden had been out on the Chesapeake Bay in the summer and was involved in a boating accident. He now had a plethora of pain pills at his disposal. Apart from that, he was Damascus’ resident hard drug dealer.
I hoped that by the weekend I’d be trippin’ balls. That would be all it took to get back to my regularly-scheduled life and forget about my “feelings” for Elliott.
The day sucked. The only class before lunch that was remotely interesting was Photography. Pinny Dalton and I developed our film in the darkroom together. She talked almost constantly about her boyfriend and how much she loved him, and then switched into how one day she wanted to be a professional photographer or a history teacher. She couldn’t decide. It was mind-numbing, but nice. I liked Pinny, despite her non-stop talking. She wasn’t too deep and she smiled at me like we were already old friends. Plus, she took my mind off all the stuff I didn’t want think about.
The post-lunch pot helped me not turn into a gooey mess in Horticulture. I was confronted by Elliott’s amazing eyes, but managed just give him a small nod instead of throwing myself at him.
He looked tired. I wanted to talk to him, but it was incredibly awkward. There was no privacy at school and what the hell would I have said anyway? Most of the class I just daydreamed about being somewhere else. I did my best to ignore that somehow I had managed to let Rusty Dalton get under my skin.
It was so messed up. I was so messed up. Sophie’s number one rule was to not let anyone in; especially idiotic high school boys.
But he wasn’t an idiot.
Damn. I needed to pull my head out of my ass.
Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster the bell rang and I could leave this den of torture and go to…well, to another den of torture – P.E. But at least there I could take out my aggression by being blatantly clumsy.
It was on Wednesday that I found the opportunity to talk with Aiden. I skipped Photography when I saw him in the hallway. All he did was smirk at me when I asked to talk to him privately.
We went out to his brand-new Escalade. The windows were tinted and I suspected that they were too dark to be legal. “So, what’s up, Sophie Young?”
I smiled at him, leaning back against the door. His olive skin offset the brightness of his eyes. “Jason doesn’t sell acid and I want some.” There was no need to dance around the topic. He had something I wanted.
His smile grew. “Are you a narc, Sophie?”
I huffed. “Of course not. Would Jason sell to me if I was?” He shrugged and I sighed again. “No, I’m not a narc.”
“Jason says you’re cool.”
“Then sell me some acid already.” He gave me another smirk. It was beginning to annoy me. This whole thing should’ve been pretty simple, just like going to Walmart. But there he was smirking at me like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “What?” I asked.
“Are you Fox’s girlfriend or what?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I was no one’s girlfriend; that was for sure. “No. Why? Do you have something against selling to girlfriends of Jason Fox?”
He shook his head. “Like he has enough game to get a girlfriend.”
Boys were morons. “He bones like a porn star, Aiden, but I’m not his girlfriend.”
“If he’s so great, why aren’t you?”
Taking a deep breath, I moved closer to him. “Why buy the cow when I can get the milk for free?” I’d heard a million people say that about my mother and her boyfriends. I paused for only a moment before continuing, “I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“But you have sex with him, right?”
I gave no other response than a quick roll of my eyes. Wasn’t that what we were already talking about?
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
It was nearly time for lunch when I walked back into the school, still feeling empty as usual, with a hit of acid wrapped in plastic hidden inside the pocket of my jeans.
I looked at no one, especially Elli…no…Rusty Dalton, as I waited for Jason to finish his lunch so we could go smoke.
Thursday morning was the start of an annoying day. Boneheaded Jason Fox never picked me up for school, so I had to take the public bus, which made me late and resulted in a lunchtime detention.
It wasn’t like Jason didn’t go to school. He wasn’t sick or anything. No, the asshole was there and accounted for, he just hadn’t bothered coming to get me. Due to my detention, I didn’t get the chance to talk to him because I had to report to the office halfway through Study Hall. Instead, I found myself in the last few moments between lunch and Horticulture listening to Andrea Tuttle puke up her lunch.
She came out of the bathroom stall, pulling her hair back and looking at herself in the mirror. She turned sideways, studying her profile. I could tell she wasn’t happy with what she saw. She looked fine to me, maybe a little too skinny, but I wouldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’d known enough girls in Tampa with eating issues, and telling a bulimic girl she was too thin would just send her into hysterics.
She bent down and turned on the tap, scooping water into her mouth before swishing and spitting it out. Standing up straight again, she turned it off and looked at me through the mirror. “Don’t tell anyone, okay, Sophie?”
I shrugged. “Who am I going to tell?” I didn’t think Megan or Chris would really give a damn if Andrea puked herself into an early grave. Her friends didn’t seem the type to be overly-compassionate. Hell, a bitch like Cierra probably knew and shoved her thousand-calorie slice of pizza under Andrea’s nose every day.
“You’d be surprised.”
“By what?”
Andrea studied herself again, sighing and tugging her shirt down like she was covering up some non-existent roll of fat. “By how many people here would rat on me if they figured it out. If Robin Wallace or my mother found out…”
“Screw Wallace,” I huffed, “and screw your mom too.” I was in a horrible mood. Usually by this time I was nice and high, but thanks to Mr. No-Show Fox, I was sober and there were still hours
left in my day. “I would never say shit to Wallace.”
She turned and gave me a smile. “Thanks, Sophie.”
As we headed out of the bathroom, I decided I didn’t care if she went into hysterics, I had to ask. “Why do you do it? Do you really think you’re too fat? I mean, I know you’re smart and shit, I just don’t understand.”
“It’s a control thing,” she admitted quietly. I turned to her. She looked incredibly nervous, as if she was completely exposing herself. “It’s the only thing I have.”
I wanted to ask her more, but it would have been incredibly inappropriate and totally not my business. Plus, the more I pried into her life, the more she’d start to pry into mine and I already had too many people interested in the life and times of Sophie Young.
I entered the greenhouse and immediately my eyes were drawn to my work partner, Rusty Dalton. I’d done my best over the course of the week to keep a good and healthy distance from him, only really talking to him when absolutely necessary. He seemed to be doing the same. I was sure he was mortified that I’d practically jumped him in his car last Saturday.
Hell, I was mortified. I felt pathetic. What was I supposed to say?
Before I could get to my desk, Chris Anderson jumped up and blocked my path. “Sophie!”
I sighed. “Chris,” I answered, sounding unenthused.
“So, you know, there’s a dance coming up in two weeks.”
I just stood there waiting for the asshole to ask. He kept looking at me as if I was supposed to throw myself at him at the mere mention of a school dance. “And?”
“Do you want to go with me?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” he replied, his tone turning a bit indignant.
“No, I don’t.”
His eyes darkened. I’d seen that look before on other boys; other men. As much as I disliked Chris and didn’t really care about his feelings, I certainly didn’t want to make an enemy. Up until this point, I’d been able to peg him with basketballs and then manipulate him into thinking it was purely accidental. I didn’t want to piss him off. I barely knew him, or what he was capable of.
