Meet me at the mall at 8. If you can.
transgression (noun): a bad deed
(see also: kissing someone else’s boyfriend)
16
I'M STANDING NAKED in front of my closet in a heap of clothes that I’ve tried on and taken off. I can’t even decide what underwear to put on, which doesn’t make any sense because no one’s going to be seeing it except me, when I go to bed later. I want to call Tracy for an emergency consultation, but if I do that, then I’ll have to tell her where I’m going and why, and I want to keep this private. Not a secret, exactly, but private. Tracy already thinks this thing with Jamie is weird, and she doesn’t even know what happened at homecoming.
Tracy is with Matt tonight. They’re going to Susan’s Valentine’s Day party—which I am, of course, not invited to, since I am not a cheerleader—and then they’re going back to his place. His parents are seeing a show in the city and, according to Tracy, she and Matt are finally going to do it. I don’t believe Tracy when she says this anymore. Something always seems to prevent her from having sex with Matt, which has made me realize that she doesn’t actually want to, no matter what she says.
She told me the other day that they’d had a huge talk about everything, and that she explained to him why condoms were so important to her, and that if he really loved her, he would want to be as safe as possible. According to Tracy, he said he did really love her and that he would use condoms. I felt like there might have been some embellishing going on, but I just said, “That’s great, Tracy. I’m glad he finally came to his senses.”
I wish I could ask Ms. Maso to help Tracy come to her senses.
I pick up my favorite pair of jeans from the pile on the floor, hating myself a little bit for choosing my go-to Levi’s instead of putting some effort into creating an outfit. If Tracy were here, she’d whip together a look for me that I’d pretend to hate but that I’d secretly love, using one of the untouched issues of Lucky that live under my bed. I tried to read Lucky once, but it made me feel so far behind the curve that I couldn’t deal. I didn’t even understand half the outfits I saw in there, and there were pages and pages of jeans that all looked exactly the same.
I pull on a wool sweater I stole from Peter while he was packing to go back to school last month. The only fashionable touch I can manage is my boots. I have these cool Uggs that I bought last spring with my birthday money when Tracy, Stephanie and I went shopping together. I wasn’t going to get them because they were stupid expensive, but Stephanie told me I’d love them and wear them nonstop, and she was right. At least the stripes on Peter’s sweater match the color of my UGGs. Tracy would probably approve of that.
I start searching my room for some jewelry. Peeking out from underneath my PSAT study guide on my beanbag chair is the box with the necklace that Robert gave me, which I never thanked him for. I wonder if it’s wrong to wear jewelry given to you by one guy on a date with a different guy. And then I wonder if tonight is a date. A Valentine’s Day date.
I put the necklace on.
As I’m zipping my down coat—which Tracy has told me she now hates, ever since I wore it to homecoming—I decide that it’s not a date. Jamie just wants to talk, that’s all. About what, I’m not sure, but I can guess. He probably wants to tell me that he shouldn’t have kissed me and that I can’t ever tell anyone because Regina is a psycho.
But maybe he’s not going to say that. I mean, he did send me a flower. And he did tell Angelo about the kiss. Maybe he’s going to say that he ended things with Regina—why else would he be free on Valentine’s Day?—and he wants to know if I’ll go out with him. The thought makes my stomach flutter.
I try to picture us as a couple, walking down the halls holding hands and kissing at my locker. It’s hard to do. For one, Jamie hardly ever seems to be in the halls at school anymore. I never know where he is. I don’t even know what classes he takes, except for that remedial English class. Is it weird for someone in advanced English to go out with someone in remedial English? Is it weird for a freshman to go out with someone who is probably supposed to be a senior? Is it even legal?
I leave a note for my mom, who is in with a client, promising to honor my probation and be home by nine-thirty. The route to Cavallo’s is the same route I take to and from school every day. It’s a nice walk except for one creepy spot, right near the school, where there’s an overpass. There are no houses on this stretch, and every once in a while, someone claims to have seen Mr. Nakey there. Mr. Nakey is a guy who likes to wear a raincoat and expose himself to kids—boys, girls, it doesn’t matter. But he apparently has some standards, because no one under the age of fourteen has ever reported seeing him. In my imagination, he looks like a spy—trench coat, hat, dark glasses. I often wonder what I would do if I saw him.
I don’t look anywhere but straight ahead as I walk under the overpass, though I’m guessing Mr. Nakey isn’t interested in flashing his thing on a freezing night in February.
I don’t exactly know where I’m going. I mean, “the mall” is kind of vague. So I start with Cavallo’s, which is packed, as usual. Frankie is behind the counter, tossing pizza dough high in the air and talking to his guys, who are sitting at the counter. I always feel like I should say hi to Frankie when I see him, but he has absolutely no idea who I am. And then I see Michelle sitting in a booth in the corner, wearing a beautiful red, sparkly sweater. When she sees me, she waves. I manage not to look behind me to see if she’s actually waving at somebody else, and I raise my hand and smile. And then I realize: Michelle’s not supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be at Susan’s Valentine’s Day party.
And so is Regina, who is sitting right next to her.
I put my head down and hurry past the booth just as Regina turns to see who Michelle is waving to. I quickly check the back for Jamie, but I’m guessing that if Regina’s here, Jamie isn’t. He wouldn’t ask me to meet him here anyway—too many people would see us.
I try to sneak past Michelle’s booth and head for the door, but I get caught in a crush of people who are trying to go the other way. My back is to the booth, but as I stand there, waiting for my escape, I hear Lena say, “He couldn’t come out tonight because he’s breaking up with Tracy. Things are going to be a little weird on the squad for a while.”
“Lena, do you really have to steal Tracy’s boyfriend?” Michelle asks.
“I’m not stealing her boyfriend!” Lena insists. “He started the whole thing.”
“And you can’t just say no?” asks Michelle.
“Oh, come on,” says Susan. “He’s a freshman on the swim team. What the hell do you want with a freshman?”
“I like him. He’s cute. Tracy will get over it, I’m sure, even if it is Valentine’s Day.” Lena giggles mercilessly.
Would Matt really dump Tracy on Valentine’s Day? Like I have to ask. Of course he would. Anything so he can go out with an older, more experienced cheer-witch than a virginal freshman.
I see an opening in the crowd and I push through it, out the door. This is one of those moments when I really wish I had a cell phone. If I did, I could call Tracy and warn her. Because what if Matt has sex with her and then breaks up with her? I remember what Ms. Maso said about having sex with someone who doesn’t respect you, and the kind of humiliation that can cause. I wonder if Tracy is about to make a terrible mistake. Maybe I should find a pay phone.
Or maybe I should stop getting involved in other people’s business. Do I really need a
swim thug and a psychotic cheerleader after me?
As I stand there trying to figure out what to do, snow starts to fall. It looks pretty underneath the huge lights in the parking lot, swirling around and floating. I can still hear the noise from Cavallo’s, but it’s mostly quiet out here. Quiet and peaceful. I wish Tracy were here with me instead of getting her heart broken by Stupid Boy.
Headlights flashing on a parked car catch my attention. Jamie. My heart starts to pound as I cross the lot. I look over my shoulder to make sure that Regina isn’t coming out of Cavallo’s with her claws bared, ready to rip my face off. Although I’m less nervous about that than I am about getting in the car with Jamie.
I open the passenger door and slide in.
“I woulda warned you but I don’t have your cell.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t have one. Yet,” I say, trying to seem like less of an idiot. “What happened to Susan’s party?”
“Her parents’ trip got messed up ’cause the airport’s closed or something.”
“Oh. So…where does Regina think you are right now?”
He shrugs. “I’m supposed to pick her up here later.”
Well, that settles that. This is definitely not a Valentine’s Day date.
“You got snow on your eyelashes.”
I shake my head and brush the snow off my face. It lands on the seat of his car, and I start trying to brush it onto the floor.
“It’s cool. It’s vinyl,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, not really knowing how that’s relevant. “The cheer-witches almost caught me in there.”
“Who?” he asks, looking mystified.
“Regina and Lena and those girls.”
“Yeah, but what did you call them?”
“Oh. Uh, cheer-witches.”
Jamie throws back his head and laughs that beautiful laugh that I heard for the first time at homecoming. Except this time I’m not so green with envy over the thought of him being with Regina that I can’t appreciate how nice it sounds. His laugh makes me laugh, and I feel warm inside. Too warm. Like I have to take off my coat and half my clothes immediately or I’ll soon be soaked with sweat.
“Guess you got a thing about cheerleaders, huh?”
Before I can think about whether I should tell him the truth or not, I say, “I think they’re hideous. Like Lena? She’s totally trying to steal Tracy’s boyfriend, even though she and Tracy are supposed to be teammates. And cheerleading itself is quite possibly the dumbest excuse for a sport that there is on the planet. I’m as mortified that my best friend is a cheerleader as she is that I’m not a cheerleader.”
The words hang in the air. I realize that I just said way too much, and I used words that make me sound pretentious. When I get worked up about something, I forget to pay attention to how I sound, and “AP English words,” as Robert calls them, come flying out of my mouth.
Oh, and also, I just totally insulted Jamie’s girlfriend by going off on cheerleaders like they’re one of the world’s great evils or something. I mean, I think they are, but obviously not everyone does.
“You’re a runner, right?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Not really.”
“I’ve seen you. You’re pretty good.”
I guess he watched me for longer than I thought at tryouts. Or longer than Robert wanted to tell me. The thought of him watching me completely bomb that day is almost more than I can bear. “Not good enough to make the team. I’m actually pretty terrible. Or at least I was that day.”
“Something go wrong?”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I just say, “I used to run with my dad.”
Jamie nods like he understands exactly what I’m talking about, and then he starts up the car and backs out of his space. I don’t know where we’re going, but wherever it is, I should probably just say I can’t go because I told my mom I was going to Cavallo’s and that I’d be home by nine-thirty. I’ve already made a fool of myself enough times in front of Jamie, but I can’t afford to get in any more trouble. I take a deep breath.
“Um, I know this is stupid and everything, but I have, uh, a curfew. And it’s kind of early tonight.”
“How come?” he asks as we pull out of the parking lot. He adjusts something on the dashboard and heat starts blasting into the car. “Sorry. I just gotta do this for a second because the defrost isn’t working so great anymore. I gotta get Angelo to fix it.”
“Angelo knows how to fix cars?”
“Yeah, he works at his dad’s garage.”
“Oh, cool,” I say, hoping that he’ll turn off the heat before I get any sweatier. I’m sure I’ve soaked right through Peter’s sweater, although I know that would be impressive, even for me. “Angelo’s a musician. Did you know that?”
I’m so dumb sometimes. Of course he knows that—they’re friends.
“Lemme guess. Angelo talks your ear off in study hall.”
I laugh a little. “Um, yeah, he likes to talk. He’s nice. Although I liked study hall better when you were still there.”
I can’t believe I said that. I’m so nervous about whatever it is that he wants to talk to me about that I don’t have any control over what I’m saying. But he changes the subject, which leaves me even more confused and nervous than I was before I said what I said.
“So what’s up with your curfew?”
“Oh, um, I’m on probation. I was grounded over Christmas break. For the whole homecoming thing.”
He looks at me, surprised. “You got grounded for that?”
“Yup. I did exactly what I was supposed to do, and I still got in trouble for it.”
“You ever been grounded before?” he asks.
I wish I could say yes so I seem older. I mean, I could, but Jamie would ask why and I’d have to lie, and I know he’d see right through that. I shake my head.
“What’s with the ‘probation’?” he asks with a slight smile.
“I guess two weeks of being grounded wasn’t enough.”
Jamie is now fully grinning, as if my story were funny to him. Well, of course it is. He’s a junior. A junior who drives his own car and shows up at school when he feels like it. I wonder if he’s ever had a curfew in his life.
“Hey, how come you weren’t at the after-party at the hotel that night?” I ask.
“Didn’t feel like it.” I wait for more, hoping he’ll say something about how Regina was driving him insane, but he just says, “I’ll get you home on time. I wouldn’t wanna make your mom mad.”
I want to ask him what he meant that time when he said my mom helped him out once. But people only go see my mom if something is really, really wrong, and maybe he doesn’t want to tell me about it.
After all, it’s not like I’m his girlfriend.
We’re driving on the main street in Union, which goes through what I like to call the ugly strip-mall section. Pretty much every fast-food joint and chain store in existence is in this part of town, and it’s really lame. But once you get past the stores, it starts to get a little more woodsy, and there’s a country-club golf course at the top of a hill with a nice view. I’ve heard that people sometimes have parties up there, or do other things. Like lose their virginity.
“Where are we going?” I ask, feeling my heart start to race.
“The golf course. It’s nice up there. You ever been?” I look at him, and he apparently sees the panic on my face because he says, “I just want to talk about some shit that’s happening.”
<
br /> Half of me wonders what he means while the other half is thinking about how sexy it is when he swears. It’s weird, the things that I think are sexy about Jamie: swearing, the fact that he doesn’t talk much, that he’s more practical-smart than school-smart, that he’s just who he is and nothing else. I guess they’re things that make us different from each other. Maybe opposites do attract.
We’re both quiet until we get to the golf course. He drives past the entrance to the parking lot and takes the service road all the way to the top of the hill, pulling into what seems like an alcove, hidden behind some trees. He turns off the headlights but leaves the car running so we don’t freeze to death. The moon is really bright, which I didn’t notice until now. I smell that same clean car and rain smell that I remember from the first time I was in this car. I have a feeling Jamie takes better care of this car than some people do their kids.
“Regina’s asking questions about you,” he says. “She can get crazy jealous.”
I nod, hating how it sounds like he knows her so well.
“Do you know why she’s doing that?”
I’m confused. All this time, I pictured Regina screaming at Jamie about following me at Halloween and again at homecoming. But suddenly, I realize that Regina would never dare—because Jamie wouldn’t put up with it. If she treated him like that, he’d disappear so fast, she wouldn’t know what hit her. So she’s never said a word about Halloween or homecoming.
She’s smarter than I thought.
“Yeah, I know why she’s been asking about me.”
Jamie waits for me to continue. I’d rather just sit in silence inhaling his clean-laundry scent than say another word. But this is an opportunity that I shouldn’t pass up. I stare straight ahead and focus on the snow that is piling up on the branches of the trees that line the golf course, waiting for enough courage to make words come out of my mouth.
Confessions of an Angry Girl Page 17
