Spiraling

by H. Karhoff

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Is that all you’re having?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He turned to the waitress. “I’ll have the sirloin, rare, with mashed potatoes, no gravy, and cream corn.”

  Janey looked up from her order pad. “Anything else, Sweetie?”

  “No, thanks.” Devon smiled.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll have that out as soon as possible.”

  After Janey walked away, I looked at Devon. He took a drag from his cigarette and gave me a brief half-smile as he exhaled. Then he settled his gaze on something behind me. I turned to see what had caught his attention, but there didn’t appear to be anything spectacular happening. People were just sitting and eating like you would expect at a diner.

  “What is it?” I asked curiously.

  “Nothing,” he answered. “I thought I saw somebody, but I doubt it’s him.”

  I turned back around. “Who?”

  “Somebody I knew back in Ashton,” he explained.

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  “I guess.” He shrugged.

  “That’s a pretty big town,” I said.

  “Yeah. A lot bigger than this one.”

  “Don’t you like Trent?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I hate it,” I said. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

  “Why’s that?” He looked at me as he flipped the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray.

  “I just want to go somewhere else. I’ve spent my entire life stuck in this stupid town.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Europe, maybe. I’m not sure I’d want to live there, but it would be awesome to visit. See the Louvre and Saint Peter’s Basilica.”

  “What’s in Saint Peter’s?” he asked.

  “Michelangelo’s Pieta. It’s the only piece he ever signed and it’s probably my favorite, which is pretty weird considering it’s one of the saddest statues ever, but I love it. The way he was able to capture all that emotion in marble is amazing.”

  “I take it art is your thing.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded sheepishly. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.”

  “It’s all right.” He smiled.

  “You say that now, but later on you’re going to be all like, ‘Does this girl ever shut up?’”

  “Maybe, but for now, I kind of like listening to you ramble.”

  “Sure, you do.” I chuckled.

  The waitress returned with our meals, saving us from the uncomfortable part of the conversation where he insisted that he did like listening to me ramble and I didn’t believe him. I was fairly certain that he’d only said it to be nice. It was our first date. From what I’d heard, first dates bursted with flattery and lacked in honesty.

  Throughout our meal the conversation was almost completely one-sided. Devon devoured his bloody steak, corn, and potatoes with determined haste as if he hadn’t eaten in days, leaving me to fill the silence as I discretely sorted the unwanted bits of shredded carrots and red cabbage out of my salad. As soon as he had finished, he sat back and listened to me babble. I had nothing all that important to say, but every time it got quiet, I grew anxious.

  Despite his social status and criminal background, Devon had no apparent deficiencies. He was gorgeous, incredibly sweet, funny, and possibly the best kisser on the planet. When he kissed me goodnight on my porch that evening, I wanted to stay there forever, but unfortunately, everything ends. As soon as the porch light flipped off and on, he said goodnight. Then he walked back to the car and drove away while I watched from the top of the stairs.

  Ten

  The out-crowd gathered in a corner of the cafeteria where two rows of six red and yellow booths ran perpendicular to the regular folding tables. Devon sat next to me with his arm across the back of the booth seat. Carter Fields joined us after lunch had started. Setting his nearly empty tray on the table, he stared at me curiously as he sat down on the opposite side of Devon.

  “Everything okay?” Devon asked.

  “Yeah.” Carter nodded, picking up a small disposable plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it. “You want this?”

  “Sure.” Devon nodded.

  “I’ll take it.” Jeremiah reached across the table.

  “Back off.” Devon grabbed the cake before Jeremiah could get it.

  I giggled as he set it down on the table in front of himself and stole one of the two forks on Carter’s tray.

  He glanced at me and then back at the cake. “What?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head.

  “Do you want some?” he asked.

  “So, you’ll share with her, but I can’t have any?” Jeremiah protested.

  “Maybe if you let him pork you.” Jake laughed.

  Jeremiah wrinkled his nose. “That’s really gay, dude.”

  “What’s gay?” A chunky, scantily-clad girl with bleached blonde hair asked as she plopped down on the bench beside Jeremiah. I recognized her as one of the dark-haired girl’s friends, but I didn’t know her name or anything else about her.

  “Jake,” Carter answered.

  “Jake’s not gay,” the fake blonde replied.

  “I guess you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Carter smirked.

  “Don’t hate on Jake because you can’t get any, Carter,” the girl retorted.

  “No offense, Maimy, but I’ve got higher standards,” Carter said.

  “As if,” Maimy quipped. “The only way you’re ever getting a piece of ass is if you pay for it.”

  “How much you charging now?” Carter shot back without hesitation.

  The boys across the table burst into laughter and Devon nearly choked on his cake. It took me a second to figure out what they thought was so funny. When I did, I had to bite the inside of my mouth to stop myself from joining them. Maimy was already livid and I didn’t want to give her an excuse to turn her anger on me. She told the entire table to “go to hell” and stormed off. I watched her as she joined the dark-haired girl and the mean girl from detention a few tables down the row.

  After lunch, Devon put his arm around me as we walked back to our lockers. Kennedy was already in the hall with Jason. They were engaged in conversation, but she paused long enough to give Devon a nasty look before she shut her locker and dragged Jason away.

  “She doesn’t like me, does she?” Devon asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s just like that sometimes. She’ll come around eventually.”

  “Sure she will.” He chuckled.

  “She will.” I insisted, though I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. Kennedy hated everything to do with Devon and hadn’t said more than a few words to me since I told her that I was dating him.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “She’s not the first person that hasn’t liked me and I’m pretty sure she’s not going to be the last.”

  “Well, she could at least give you a chance.” I sighed, retrieving my biology book and closing my locker.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

  “Don’t you need your history book?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to class.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t really feel like going,” he answered.

  “So, you’re just not going to go?”

  “Pretty much,” he said.

  “I wish I could do that. My mom would kill me. Doesn’t yours get on to you?”

  “She could give a shit less what I do.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  “I wish my mom was more like that,” I said. He mumbled something under his breath and I turned to look at him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head.

  We stopped at the door to the science lab and he kissed my forehead before saying goodbye.

  I didn’t see him again until a
fter school. As I put my algebra book in my bag, he walked up behind me, slid his arm around my waist, and leaned down close to my ear.

  “Did you miss me?” he whispered.

  The stubble on his cheek tickled my neck and I giggled.

  Kennedy cleared her throat. When I glanced at her, she gave me a disapproving glare that made me uncomfortable.

  “We’re at school.” I moved Devon’s arm from my waist.

  “All right.” He leaned against the locker next to mine and watched me.

  I could tell he was irritated by my rejection, but I pretended not to notice. Pulling my sweater out of my locker, I turned to look at him. “So, what have you been up to this afternoon?”

  “Nothing really,” he answered.

  I put my sweater on and got my bag. As I started to put it on my shoulder, Devon took it out of my hand. He looked silly carrying a pink backpack, but I didn’t say anything. It was loaded with most of my textbooks and I didn’t want to lug it around myself.

  “Got a lot of homework?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I think all my teachers got together and decided to punish me for finally getting caught up.”

  “I don’t have to be at work until five, if you want some help.”

  “Are you any good at algebra?”

  “I think I could figure it out.” He smiled.

  When we got to my house, he turned off the car and followed me up to the door. I fumbled getting the key for the deadbolt out of my pocket. It was the first time I’d had a boy in the house when my parents weren’t home. They’d never specifically said it was against the rules, but I was still nervous.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, opening the door. “Everything’s fine. Come on in.”

  I stepped inside and flipped on the light. Devon followed, glancing around the large room. Then he took my bag off his shoulder. “Where would you like this?”

  “Over by the couch would be fine,” I said.

  He walked around James’ blue armchair and set my bag on the floor next to the coffee table. Then he looked at the mantle, squinting as he took in the pictures of what appeared to be a happy family. In reality, they were just glamour shots of six people wearing plastic smiles so that Mom would have nice pictures to show off.

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” he asked.

  “Two brothers, one sister, and another something on the way.” I sighed.

  “You don’t sound happy about that.”

  “I’m not. I know I should be, but I’m not. I can’t wait until I turn eighteen and get out of this place.”

  He looked around and shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems pretty nice to me.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

  “It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It’s pretty normal really. My mom ignores me, my step-dad hates me, my brother hides at the neighbor’s house, and my real dad thinks sending a child support check is active parenting.” I took a deep breath and smiled nervously. “So…what’s your family like?”

  He scanned the mantle again. “What did you want to know?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “One of each. I live with my sister and my brother’s in Ashton.”

  “Why don’t you live with your parents?”

  “I haven’t lived with my mom since I was a kid.”

  “Why not?”

  He took a few steps away from the mantle. “Let’s just say my mom’s not exactly maternal.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was obvious from his demeanor that the conversation made him uncomfortable. I didn’t want to upset him, so I decided it was a good time to change the subject.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, thanks.” He shook his head.

  My anxiety level rose. Things weren’t going like I’d hoped. He kept glancing at the door as if he were trying to come up with an escape plan.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

  He turned toward me and furrowed his brow. “No. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged nervously. “It’s just… You seem kind of agitated and I know sometimes my mouth says stuff before my brain really has the chance to process it and things kind of get all mushy and weird.”

  “Mushy?” He smiled.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “You know. Like all mixed up and stuff.”

  He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Stepping closer, he swept his fingers across my cheek and tucked one of my curls behind my ear. The feel of his touch was like the shock from a defibrillator. It sent shivers down my spine and caused my heart to race. I held my breath, fearful that I would hyperventilate if I didn’t. Then he kissed me.

  As our lips moved together, I could feel my temperature rise. I’d never felt that way with anyone. It was like my body had woken up. Strange sensations stirred within me. All my hang-ups disappeared as we clumsily stumbled toward the couch. Falling onto the sofa, I spread my legs around his waist. We kissed passionately as he moved against me. Normally, I would have put the brakes on the second his hand went up my shirt, but the idea didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t want him to stop. He kissed my neck, unbuttoning my shirt and caressing my breast. Everywhere his lips touched tiny fires erupted under my skin. I couldn’t get enough.

  I had no idea what I was doing when I reached for his belt. Fumbling with the buckle impatiently, I got it undone just as we heard voices on the porch. Devon scrambled to his feet and refastened his belt before he walked over to the mantle. I stood and buttoned my shirt as quickly as I could. To my relief, when the door opened, Chris and Becky walked inside. I thought I was off the hook until Chris saw Devon. He looked back and forth between the two of us with growing animosity.

  “What’s going on?” Chris demanded.

  “Nothing,” I lied, suddenly wishing it had been my mom instead of Chris. At least my mom wouldn’t hit Devon. Chris already had his right hand clenched in a fist.

  “What’s he doing here?” Chris pointed his thumb toward Devon forcefully.

  “He’s helping me with my homework.”

  Chris looked at my bag on the floor. “Kind of hard to do without your books.”

  “We haven’t started yet.”

  “I can see that. What the hell have you two been doing?”

  “I should go,” Devon said cautiously.

  “That’s a great idea,” Chris growled.

  Devon grabbed his jacket off the back of the armchair and started toward the open door. When I took a step to follow, Chris shot me a warning glare. “You stay, he goes.”

  “Bite me, Chris,” I retorted.

  “It’s okay,” Devon said as he slid his jacket on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wouldn’t count on it,” Chris snapped, barely allowing Devon to clear the door before he slammed it.

  “You don’t have to be a jerk, Chris.” I protested.

  Chris whirled around and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. He looked like he was about to tear my head off. “What are you doing with that guy, Tori? And before you lie to me, you might want to try buttoning your shirt.”

  I glanced down and realized that in my haste I had missed a few buttons. “It’s not what you think.” I fixed my shirt.

  “I’m sure it’s exactly what I think.”

  “Ok. So, maybe it is, but that doesn’t make it your business.”

  “She’s right, Chris,” Becky said.

  Chris turned toward her. “Don’t tell me you’re on her side.”

  Becky shrugged. “She could do worse. Devon’s not that bad of a guy.”

  “Are you kidding me? I don’t want that asshole dating my sister.”

  “You don’t want anybody
dating your sister.”

  “That’s not true. She can go out with all the queers she wants to.”

  “Whatever.” Becky shook her head and laughed. “Now, come on. You promised me a rematch, remember? I am so going to kick your ass at Combat Fighter.”

  Chris hesitated, warning me that the conversation wasn't over before he followed Becky upstairs. I could hear her taunting him all the way up to his room. After they’d gone, I picked up my backpack and went to the kitchen to get started on my homework.

  Eleven

  I woke to Chris yelling that it was a quarter to eight. We’d lost electricity sometime during the night so my alarm clock was blinking when I rolled over. Dragging myself out of bed, I trudged to my closet, put on the first decent outfit I found, and walked across the hall to finish getting ready as quickly as possible.

  “Can I get a ride?” I asked Chris as he hurried past the open door.

  “Only if you’re ready right now,” he answered.

  “I can be,” I replied, pulling my hair into a ponytail.

  I grabbed my bag out of my room and raced down the stairs to catch up with my brother before he left without me. The entire way to school he lectured me about the day before. I told him to mind his own business, but he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t like Devon and he made sure I knew about it.

  “He’s not as nice as you think he is,” Chris insisted. “There’s a lot of shit about him that I’m sure you don’t know.”

  “Like what?” I asked. “That he’s on probation?”

  Chris glanced at me. “You know about that?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t care.”

  “You don’t care that you’re dating an addict?”

  “He’s not an addict. Just because he used to do something, doesn’t mean he still does.”

  “Are you really that naïve?” he asked. “He hangs out with a bunch of stoners. Do you really think he doesn’t get high?”

  “You hang out with the same people sometimes,” I said. “Do you get high?”

  “We aren’t talking about me.”

  My bottom jaw dropped. “Oh, my, gosh, Chris. Maybe before you lecture me on who I can date, you should take a look in the mirror.”

  “What I do doesn’t affect you,” he said. “What he does does.”