First Loves: A Collection of Three YA Novels

by Jolene Perry

  “Yeah. Whatever.” I turn away.

  “Hey!” she yells. “Don’t pull that passive-aggressive bullshit on me. I’m serious. Either you want to go out, and you’re not an asshole—meaning you’re happy to be dating the kind of girl who would put her friend first.” And then she doesn’t say anything else.

  “Or?” I prompt.

  “Or you’re not someone I’d want to date.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You’re one guy, Shawn. One guy in a world with millions of guys.”

  Her words are like punches.

  I’m one of many. One of many. One of many. One of many… I stare at my boots for a few minutes before finally lifting my eyes to hers.

  “You’re totally right.”

  Her full lips twist until she’s smiling. “See? Now you’ve just earned all sorts of brownie points.”

  “I don’t work on the brownie scale,” I say.

  “Is that so?” she asks.

  “That’s so.”

  She taps a finger on her lip. “Nah… I’ll ask what scale you work on tomorrow, if you’re up for doing dinner then instead.”

  “I don’t know,” I say

  She cocks her head to the side.

  “I’m not sure…” I can feel myself putting up walls. Distance from her would probably be good.

  “Well, then fine.” She spins and walks away.

  I take two steps after her—almost like there’s a string in my chest tugging me along, but I snap it and head for my bike. Maybe a ride would do me good.

  * * *

  Two am, and I’m finally heading back to Reno. I saw nothing but desert for hours. Thought about very little but how I never want to be called Romeo again and how I wish Maci and I had been able to go on our date. Maybe next time I’ll go a different direction.

  This is shit.

  * * *

  The most awkward week of my life goes by in Maci brushing by me. In her purposefully keeping Celia out of the garage, and her offering to pick up lunch for her brothers while I’m standing next to them.

  I know it’s better this way, but it still sucks. Her pouty frown on full lips is a little sexier every time I see her.

  Nico finally pulls me aside. “What did you do man?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. Said I couldn’t go out.”

  He snorts. “That girl is a fireball.”

  I glance up to see her wiping sweat from her brow as she sits on a stool next to an old Harley. “Somethin’,” I say.

  “Hey, Nico!” she calls.

  He gives me a weird look before wandering to his sister. I go out back to take a five-minute break but not before I hear her tell him she has to leave early because she’s going on a date with some guy named Richard.

  And it’s like I’ve been kicked in the chest.

  I’m screwed with this girl no matter what I do.

  * * *

  The whole time Maci’s on her date, I’m pacing like a lunatic. I can feel my hands tightening, my heart racing, and I can’t slow it down or stop it. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. Who the hell would have even guessed that I’d like some tough-as-nails chick who’s better at working on bikes than I am and has a three year old kid?

  Madness.

  The punk’s truck pulls up, and I decide I should go for a walk. People do that. I’d have killed to go for a walk a few months ago. Walking the halls of juvie wasn’t exactly refreshing.

  Yeah.

  A walk.

  I slip on my shoes and head into the hot night air.

  “No, seriously,” Maci says, her voice sharp.

  “Come on, Mace.” I know that tone.

  My stomach tightens. I used that tone with Ronnie how many times? That pleading show me you love me voice.

  Does Maci want him?

  Now my stomach is rolling. Why did I push her away? What the hell was I thinking? This guy’s hands are probably all over her.

  I pause at the corner of the building to see him standing close to her, looking down.

  “I’m serious.” She shoves his chest, but he doesn’t move a fraction of an inch, until he moves closer.

  I should stay out of this, but… But I can’t.

  “Back off.” Maci frowns. “Now.”

  Instead of backing off, he puts a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the brick of the shop. I’m ready to sprint ay any second. I’ll have to face the wrath of Maci when I step in, but it’s better than watching some asshole hurt her.

  “Now, Rich.”

  “You’re always up for some fun when I take you out, baby. Don’t be like this.”

  Maci punches him in the side.

  He grabs her wrists and slams them against the side of the building, and I’m on top of him in a second.

  “What the hell!” he yells as I smash my fist into his cheek. And then his nose. And his jaw. The slices of pain shoot up my arm, pushing me harder.

  I spin him over and have him pinned on his stomach on the ground in about three seconds.

  “Shawn!” she yells.

  My head snaps around. “Just go!”

  But she’s Maci so she doesn’t leave, and my heart’s thrumming a million miles an hour. I could break his finger. I’ve got him in a pressure hold and he’s whimpering underneath me. It’s that same rush I had when I grabbed Ronnie…

  Like he grabbed Maci…

  I jump off the guy like he caught on fire and back up until I’m against the brick wall surrounding the dumpster.

  He stands up and swipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “Damn. Was that really necessary?”

  “Get out of her asshole!” she yells.

  I stare at Maci. Motorcycle boots. Denim skirt. Some kind of top with only one shoulder. Her short hair is sticking up still but with more purpose than in the garage.

  He swipes his hand over his mouth again, blood leaks from his nose and his lip, but he walks toward his truck.

  How could he hurt her?

  How could I hurt Ronnie?

  At one time Ronnie was a little girl like Celia.

  I choke. Maci walks my way, and I can’t stop staring at her.

  My breathing shifts my shoulders up and down. I wanted to kill that guy for how he was touching her, but how was that different from what I did to a girl I loved?

  It wasn’t.

  What I did was probably worse because I did love Ronnie, and this guy very obviously doesn’t love Maci.

  My stomach rolls and I throw up all over my shoes.

  “Kind of a lightweight for violence, eh?” Maci’s voice shakes, even though she’s trying to tease.

  I wipe my forearm across my mouth.

  “I’m so sorry Ronnie,” I whisper without thinking.

  Maci’s brows twitch and she shifts away from me. “You okay?”

  I back away from her and jump on my bike, kicking it to life.

  Maci’s still staring at me as I peel out of the parking lot and tear up the road.

  What did I do? How did I get to be a guy who thought it was okay to hurt someone else? Someone I love? How do I make sure that guy never comes back?

  I stay far, far, away from anything like a relationship. That’s how.

  * * *

  I have Ronnie’s number memorized. Of course. Even with phones where no one knows anyone’s numbers anymore, I know hers.

  I’m on a tired swing set on a playground about a block away from Nico’s.

  I send a text first, heart pounding.

  SHAWN: This is Shawn. I’d like to talk.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  I get that it’s the middle of the night.

  She might not answer. She might never let me talk, and I finally get it. How could I? How could I ever, ever, ever do what I did to her?

  I remember how I felt like she was slipping away. I remember my anger, hurt and frustration when I felt like everything around me was crumbling. I remember
the sick part of me that grew stronger when she was afraid.

  My stomach rolls again and I heave once before using my breathing to calm back down. I hate that my counselor would be proud that I’m using my “tools.” I’m one pathetic sack of shit in a crappy children’s park.

  And then my phone rings.

  Ronnie.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey,” she answers.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I’m getting that shaky all-over feeling I get when I’m about to cry.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah,” she says with more strength than I’ve probably heard from her since we were kids.

  “I get it now. Finally. I get how… I can’t believe what I did to you. I loved you. I love you now. I can’t…”

  “Breathe, Shawn.” Her voice sounds worried. Over me.

  “Why are you being nice?” I ask.

  “Because you’re… You’re important to me. You’ll always be important to me. I want… I’m so worried about your state of mind right now.”

  “So that’s why you’re being nice?” I ask.

  “What brought this on?” She lets out a breath. “Why did you call?”

  “I left… I mean, I’m out.”

  “I know.”

  Right. She’d be warned. Of course.

  “I’m in Reno. I met this girl.”

  “Yeah?” She sounds so hopeful. Her life would be simpler if I were with someone else.

  I tell her about my night. About worrying. About freaking out. About finally, finally understanding how awful I was to her.

  There’s silence for close to a minute before Ronnie talks.

  “I love you, Shawn. Not the kind of love that would bring us together, but the kind of love that will keep us friends until we’re all old and wrinkly. I’m okay. Let it go. Move on. Be happy. You deserve that so much.”

  “Tell Luke I’m sorry too, okay?”

  “We just… We’re… We’re taking things really slow, and I didn’t talk to him for months… I mean, after.”

  I get what she means. “It hurts still,” I say. “Which feels weird because I’m moving on.”

  “For me too.”

  For her too. And I believe her. “This is good. This was good. Talking.”

  “So good. Take care of yourself Shawn.”

  “You too.”

  I hang up and feel lighter than I have in months, maybe years. Maybe since Ronnie and I first got back together.

  The exhaustion of my night starts to catch up to me.

  I grab a shitty McDonald’s meal on my way back to my apartment and open the door to see Maci crashed on my couch.

  I’m not sure if I wake her up or let her sleep. I know she’s raising Celia with her parents, but she still might need to get home to her.

  Instead of just shaking her awake, I sit on the floor in front of the couch. She blinks and then we sit there, staring at one another.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  Her hands are clutched together and tucked into her chest. I place my hand over hers. “Are you?”

  “I want your story, Shawn.” She takes my hand.

  I’ve never seen Maci so serious.

  “Full disclosure,” I say.

  “Yeah. That’s what I want.”

  “I had this girlfriend…” I trail off. “More than that.”

  Maci’s brow arches.

  “We sort of grew up together and we… We dated, but…” I never thought about what it would be like to tell someone I care about how awful I was. Now I’m staring at the carpet because I don’t know how to look at her and say this. I’m not sure I could deal with seeing the disappointment in her eyes.

  “Shawn.”

  I meet her eyes and her face has softened.

  “I went to jail for hurting her. I want you to know. I was in a shitty place in my life, and I know it was a shitty place for her too…”

  Maci just stares.

  “I know anger is my fall-back now. I never want to deal with the wretched feeling of facing what I’ve done again. Not the way I did with her. I’m… Life is different now.”

  “I should go…” She sits up and my hand falls from hers.

  God, it hurts to lose her.

  “I called her tonight. Ronnie. The…um…girl.”

  “How did that go?”

  “Let’s just say she’s a very forgiving soul.”

  Maci’s eyes meet mine. “I’m not sure I am.”

  She stands and walks to my door. I let her go. There’s nothing else to do.

  “I wish I could put you in my head so you could see… So you could see how sorry I am. How I finally feel somewhat in control of my own life…”

  Maci pauses and turns.

  We just stare at each other, the dim light of my one stupid lamp between us.

  And then she turns around again and walks out my door.

  I can feel myself turning angry—that familiar tense feeling of both power and powerlessness. The need to prove myself. But that’s gotten me nothing good before, and it won’t now either.

  Snatching my bag of McDonald’s, I turn on the TV.

  Sesame Street again.

  Maybe The Count will be on tonight.

  * * *

  Maci doesn’t show up for work on Monday. To be fair, I know she doesn’t work every day, but I know today is because of me and that changes things.

  When I was a junior in high school, riding my bike to school most days, walking with Ronnie the other days, hanging with people whose parents made boatloads of money… Living with my parents who spent money like we made boatloads of money, I never thought I’d be happy sweeping garage floors.

  There’s a part of me that says, you should be humiliated by this job. But the bigger part of me realizes that I’m happier than I’ve ever been for me. Right now this is what I need, and that’s okay. Later on I’ll need something else.

  I wander to the Taco Truck with Nico and Hector at around lunchish time. I ask to be surprised again. I get nachos again.

  Hector laughs, but the nachos are amazing, so it’s all fine.

  Maci is nowhere to be seen, and neither of her brothers mentions it. Celia’s obviously wherever her mom is, and I’m…

  I’m wondering if I lost my chances before they began. That would suck, but I’d get it. Though, it might mean that I won’t stay here for much longer. Save up, find somewhere else. A gust of hot hair hits us, and I squint as it kicks up dust from the empty lot next door.

  How did I end up liking this? Maybe I’m not ready to leave—even without Maci.

  All week Maci doesn’t show. I don’t ask. I’m not told. It’s probably better. I mean, I’m sure it’s better, but I feel hollowed out at the idea that I didn’t even get a chance to see what it would be like to be with her.

  * * *

  I stare at the ceiling, but sleep doesn’t come. The place smells like tires and car oil. Always. The blinds don’t keep out much of the stupid light from the decrepit sign, but I don’t care about that either.

  My life is nothing like I thought it would be. Growing up in a nice California neighborhood where half the people also have homes on the beach, set me up for a kind of life I’m not sure I ever wanted.

  I’d love it if Maci were to be able to see beyond my past, but if she doesn't, eventually someone else will. I’ll just need to make sure I’m the kind of guy I wouldn’t mind my daughter dating.

  A light bumping sound comes from the hall, and I sit up in bed. What the hell?

  It happens again.

  Knocking?

  I laugh a little because the only person to knock since I moved here was Celia, and it’s the middle of the night, so I’m assuming it isn’t her.

  When I make my way through the main room, I pause.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, you ass. Open up,” Maci says.

  “I’m in boxers
and a t-shirt,” I warn.

  “I’ve seen it all before. Just not yours.”

  “Subtle aren’t you?” I tease as I pull open the door and then my smile fades when I see her serious face.

  “I can’t sleep.” She walks past me into the living room. Checkered pajama pants, and a white tank, which makes her skin glow. “Like for days.”

  Maci pauses next to the mini kitchen.

  “You wanna ask me something?” I ask, shutting the door quietly.

  “How long ago was all this?”

  “Almost a year.”

  “Why did you leave home?”

  I shake my head. “Because it wasn’t home. That’s not where I belong. Everything about that place makes me feel this pressure to be bigger or better or smarter or something that’s not who I am.”

  “And here?”

  “I can breathe here.”

  She glances around the dim room. “Even with the tires and oil and forty year old dust?”

  “Especially with that,” I say. “I like working with my hands. It relaxes me.”

  “You changed a lot then.”

  “Maybe.” I fold my arms wishing I had on pants so I could shove my hands in my pockets. “But it’s more that I finally gave myself permission to be myself.”

  “Oh.”

  I bite the inside of my lip. “I’ve been in juvie for eight months. I got out and came home and nothing felt right, so I left.”

  Maci takes a slow step toward me. And then another one. Her fingers touch the front of my shirt. “You know I’m a pain in the ass.”

  I rest my hands on her strong shoulders. “A serious pain in the ass.”

  “Okay then.” She pushes up on her tiptoes and brings my face toward hers before pressing her lips to mine.

  She’s this amazingly tough creature, but she suddenly feels like the softest. I kiss her again, parting my lips, tasting her. Testing to see what she wants.

  “You’re being too careful,” she says.

  I pull back. “And from now on, I will be.”

  She holds my face in her callused hands, studying me. Her eyes move slowly, taking me in, and I let her. I stand still, underneath the gaze of this tiny, fierce woman, and hope she finds whatever she’s looking for.

  “We could really actually be something, huh?” she asks.

  Now it’s my turn to study her. Tousled, short hair. Muscular arms from working in the garage. Forward. Strong. And it’s stupid, but I’ve got a good four inches on her, which feels great—that’s one part of my old self that’s followed me here. “Yeah,” I say. “I think we could.”