Chaste

by Angela Felsted

  Kat bends down to trace her manicured finger along the run in her stocking. “Your precious Quinn can’t keep his hands off me. Someone needs to make him cut his nails.”

  That’s it, I’m done! I pick up my physics book and get ready to throw it at Kat’s lying face. Except I can’t. My mother’s words play like a CD in my head, “Only weak men take their anger out on women. You need to be strong, be a man.”

  Be a man, she says. It’s the exact same taunt Kat used on me the first day of school. And it no longer feels like good-natured advice, more like a big stone hanging around my neck. A way to control my actions, words meant to make me a pathetic puppet. Because as much as I want to throw my book at Kat, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

  Wound up, I pivot and let it fly at the wooden door, shut tight on its hinges with only a small rectangle of glass above the knob. But my aim is bad and glass shatters all over. I look from the broken window to my glass-covered book to my empty hand. The room goes so silent you can hear a feather drop. I’m shocked, so shocked at what I’ve done, I retreat in my mind as if through a long dark tunnel.

  When Mrs. William’s finally speaks, I hear her voice from a distance. Someone puts a hand on my arm and pulls me sideways by the elbow. They lead me over the crunchy glass and through the door.

  “Office,” says Molly’s familiar voice.

  “Office,” I repeat, thinking how Mike Duvall already wants to kill me. After he hears about this, he’ll be sure to rip my head off. I image myself lying in a pool of blood with my knees bent in the wrong direction.

  I’m as good as dead.

  10

  Katarina

  This just sucks! Principal Bates paces the length of the wide conference room, Quinn sits across from me with his eyes down, and the school counselor holds my hand while shooting “concerned” glances in my direction. Does she really think I’m the victim here?

  Mrs. Burns leans forward. “Kat, I asked you before if Quinn was bothering you. If you’d confided in me, it never would have come to this.”

  Wow, the woman is stupider than she looks!

  “He didn’t hurt me, and it’s not a big deal,” I say, hoping to sound polite so I don’t have to go to any more therapy sessions. “I was at least three feet from the door. You will notice I’m completely intact.” I stand and turn to show them how I look. “No bumps, cuts or bruises. Why am I even here?”

  The Principal doesn’t answer. Instead he turns his attention to Quinn. “Breaking windows is bad enough. It’s mandatory suspension. If you were eighteen you could be tried for a felony. Add that to the bullying and sexual harassment you’ve put Kat through and we’re looking at expulsion.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I ask. How can adults be so blind? Quinn is a coward. He doesn’t even speed. Just ‘cause my dad will assume the worst if Mrs. Burns tells him Quinn is “harassing me,” and just because the Pastor will make hell for the principal in the same way he did when Molly cheated off my final, doesn’t make this conversation okay.

  “Violence against women is a very big deal,” says Mrs. Burns in a rough voice. “You need to take care of this now, Kat. Make a stand before it gets worse.”

  “He didn’t hurt me,” I point out. “So what if he broke one stupid window?”

  “It was an accident,” Quinn mumbles, staring into his fingers.

  “How do you accidently break a window?” Principal Bates asks.

  “It wasn’t premeditated, okay?” Mr. Nice says. “I didn’t wake up this morning and think: Gee, I’d love to throw a book today, break a window and get expelled.”

  Principal Bates stares daggers at Quinn. “Don’t you dare cop an attitude with me, Mr. Walker. This is a safety issue. You don’t go around throwing heavy objects in crowded classrooms. You could’ve hurt someone. Then there’s the matter of the broken glass.”

  “I told you I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says.

  “So you want me to believe that some other person grabbed your arm, pulled it back and made you throw the book against your will?”

  Quinn’s head snaps up. “Of course I threw it, but I didn’t mean to hit the window. I’m sorry.” He shuts his eyes as if the words are painful. And that’s when it hits me: I could own his ass.

  “Don’t suspend him,” I say. “I’ll pay for the window.”

  Principal Bates crosses his arms across his chest. He shakes his head. “We’re not going to punish you for something he did.”

  “Fess up, Kat,” Mrs. Burns says. “Stop enabling him. Admit he’s been harassing—”

  “He’s not harassing me!” I nearly shout.

  Mrs. Burns frowns, unable to move past her notion of women as helpless victims. “You’re free to go, Ms. Jackson,” the principal says.

  As soon as I stand, Mrs. Burns puts a hand on my shoulder. “Kat?”

  I turn.

  Her eyes are pitying. “Protecting every guy who treats you badly won’t bring your brother back.” I can’t believe she’s using more psycho-babble bullshit on me.

  “You know nothing about my brother,” I say.

  “Your dad filled me in, so I know more than you think. I know he cut you down and made you fix his messes.”

  How dare she stick her nose in my business! “Go to hell,” I say, hitting the doorframe on my way out. I see John a few doors down and rush to catch up with him, too annoyed by Mrs. Burns to glance back at her face.

  Shrinks are idiots.

  11

  Quinn

  There’s only one period left before the end of school. As I open my locker in the empty hall and fill my bag with every textbook I have, I think of what happened with Principal Bates. He thinks Kat’s this innocent girl that I’ve gone out of my way to torment, but nothing could be further from the truth.

  Katarina Jackson is out to hurt me, I swear it.

  As I zip my bag shut, I hear footsteps shuffling toward me. When I lift the heavy bag to my shoulder and turn around, Mike Duvall is scowling down at me.

  Crap!

  “You messin’ around with my girlfriend?” he says, puffing out his chest like a bull ready to charge. Bulls don’t have clean shaven faces, but they do have steam coming from their nostrils. And Mike’s have flared so wide they take up almost half his face.

  He laughs in a bitter way, and I take a step back. My shoulder rams into the edge of my locker.

  “You’re awfully loaded down, Quinny boy,” he says, knocking my backpack onto the floor. “And while everyone’s entitled to be stupid, you abuse the privilege.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I say, slamming my locker shut and picking up my bag. I try not to show my fear because guys like Mike can smell it. Instead I turn on my heels and walk down the hall.

  “Stay away from Kat,” he yells, following me. I increase my speed, but I can hear him gaining. His breathing gets louder. He’s getting himself worked up. “You think you’re such a pretty boy. But you won’t be after I beat your face in. You’ll have to come to school with a swollen lip, broken bones and a couple black eyes.”

  “Best wait a week then,” I say, my voice oozing with sarcasm. “Beat me up now, and I’ll nurse my wounds at home.”

  Opening my car door, I throw my backpack into the passenger seat. Thank you, Principal Bates, for the five-day suspension. My father is furious. I doubt Amy will let me live this down. My mother will be beyond disappointed. Plus, if I let Mike goad me into a fight, I’ll end up expelled. Life as I know it will end. No college will consider taking me. Chances are I’ll end up with some dead-end job at a fast food restaurant during the day. Taking care of Elijah at night. My life will officially suck.

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble for cutting class?” I ask in a sorry attempt to save my skin.

  He takes a step forward to invade my space, his face turning red as he cracks his knuckles. Sweat trickles down my forehead. Duvall pulls his fist back, and I duck at the last second.

  I hear a clang.
<
br />   My attacker cradles his fist against his stomach while I rush to get into my car. There’s a dent in the doorframe but hey, the car’s old. I’m just relieved he missed my face. Locking the door, I stick the key in the ignition and rev the engine. Mike shouts obscenities at me through the rear view mirror as I drive off.

  12

  Katarina

  “Need help with that box?” John asks. I recruited him to help me clean out my house after school, to clear some space to walk so I can see the carpet and vacuum.

  With dust on my white tank top and a rip in one of my pant legs, I haul the heavy box to the Jeep. “Do I look helpless to you?”

  John glances at his watch. “How long ‘til your parents come home?”

  I jump from the Jeep and go back for more stuff. “Don’t know. Depends on how long my mother’s psychologist keeps her waiting. My father pulls the strings, you know? And he insists we all have shrinks. You can see how much good it does.”

  I gesture around my living room at the dust-covered boxes filled with kitchen appliances, tanning creams, exercise equipment and unopened junk.

  John picks up a pizza box with four stale pieces inside. They knock against the cardboard like bricks against a wall.

  “How do you plan on doing a project about fire without starting one?”

  I shrug. “Mrs. Williams is crazy.”

  “She controls your grade,” he says, throwing the pizza box into a plastic trash can overflowing with garbage.

  “I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll complain to Mr. Boucher, the president of the school board, who’ll complain to Principal Bates, who’ll tell Mrs. Williams to give us a more reasonable assignment. It’s one small advantage of having a famous father.”

  “Only ‘cause your dad knows how to wield his power.”

  “You’re telling me.” I rub my forehead with the back of my hand. “He wants me to go to Washington Bible College next year and says he’ll pay all my expenses if I do. When I ask him about going to Virginia Tech, William and Mary or George Mason, he says those places are fine. But if I want to go to any of them, I’ll have to pay for it on my own. So open-minded of him, don’t you think? On the one hand he’s never home. On the other, he wants veto power on all my decisions.”

  “So how’s the bet going?” John changes the subject.

  I roll my eyes.

  “That well, huh? You ready to give Tasha your most prized possession?”

  If I hadn’t just picked up a box with a thigh master in it, I’d smack him in the shoulder, mostly because I’m worried he’s right. I must have been crazy to agree to that bet. What makes me think I can tempt a Mormon boy with morals into spending time with a girl whose father is famous for saying nothing but bad stuff about Mormonism?

  I’m not saying I don’t believe what my dad says. Just that it makes things harder. He has an entire sermon debunking the religion on his website. He even teaches an anti-cult class where Quinn’s beliefs are ripped apart. Mr. Nice would have to be blind and deaf not to know. And it doesn’t help that I got the boy suspended. This will take a hell of a lot more than getting him to want my body.

  John opens the door. I step out onto the porch.

  “Hey, look. Mike and Tasha,” John says from behind me.

  I glance at Mike’s house.

  Tasha and my ex are walking single file across his front yard and toward their cars. It’s obvious what they’ve been doing. For starters they don’t look at each other. Tasha’s hair sticks out at weird angles. Mike’s shirt is buttoned crooked.

  Throwing the thigh master into the Jeep, I march up to Mike. “You’re such a manwhore.”

  Tasha glares at me.

  Mike grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him. “You can’t be jealous, Kat. You’re the one who set this up.”

  “I didn’t ask you to nail her.”

  Tasha comes to stand next to him. Poor Tasha. I know she still likes him. Mike’s playing her for a fool.

  “Say the word, Kat. And I’m yours,” he says.

  Tasha shoots me a dirty looks before stalking off toward her black Mazda Miata. I wait for her to get into her car and leave. Then I yank my wrist away.

  “Like I wanna be with a guy who’ll sleep with anything that breathes.”

  “You wouldn’t be so picky if it weren’t for your physics partner.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, sliding one of his fingers under my bra strap.

  I swat at him and take a step back. Mike is such a prick.

  “I heard you tried to punch him in the parking lot.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Are you kidding? The entire school is talking about the crazy jock who can’t control his temper. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Quinn.”

  “Did it hurt, Kat, when I cheated on you? Because lately you act like you don’t give a—”

  “It hurt like hell! How dare you stand here and accuse me of not caring!”

  Catching Mike with his pants down behind a dumpster was about the last thing I needed after helping him sort out his Roland guilt. Where was the gratitude, the appreciation, the commitment I more than deserved?

  Mike grabs me by the belt loops and hauls me toward him. His hands squash me up against his chest as he kisses me. My body purrs. Damn him. I have a right to move on! I wrench myself free and slap him across the face.

  “You two need to get a room,” John says.

  “Shut up!” Mike hollers. He puts a hand to his red cheek, turns on his heel and stalks across the lawn. When he slams his front door, my hands start shaking. Living next to him is torture.

  I’ll never date another “boy-next-door” again.

  13

  Quinn

  When I walk into my physics class after a week of doing all my schoolwork at home, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m glad to be at school. On the other, I still have to work with Kat. And I swear that girl has something against me. Her shoulders go stiff when I take my seat.

  “You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?” I ask her.

  “Nope. I’m the damsel in distress.” She bats her long lashes, fanning herself with the palm of her hand.

  Molly reaches back and grabs my fingers. From the corner of my eye, I see Kat rolling her eyes. Is it really so unbelievable that a great girl like Molly would like me?

  “I’ve missed you,” my gorgeous redhead whispers.

  Even though Molly has tried to call me almost every day for the last week, we’ve yet to go out again. My dad put me on house arrest after I got suspended. No phone, no computer, no time with friends, no television.

  “Can I see you tonight?” she asks.

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  “I’ll come over,” she says, grinning.

  But if she comes over, I’ll have to come clean about Amy and Elijah. And I doubt she’ll want to hang out if she knows about my messed up family.

  “I’d rather it just be you and me,” I say. “We should meet someplace else.”

  “But your mother’s in Europe, your Dad will be teaching and Amy’s at BYU. Come on, Quinn, we’ll be totally alone.” So maybe I haven’t been completely upfront with Molly. Figures that would blow up in my face.

  “Amy’s home,” I say, as I stare at a jagged crack on the edge of the table. “She decided to take a year off.” Or three.

  “Then why don’t I see her at church?”

  When Mrs. Williams walks into the room, I breathe a sigh of relief. Molly lets go of my hand and faces forward. Our crazy teacher comes over to our table and narrows her eyes at Kat.

  “Since my fire assignment isn’t good enough for you, Ms. Jackson. I’ve decided to dismiss you and your partner from class today. You have exactly one hour to come up with a project of your own, something your father will approve of.”

  She hands Kat and me hall passes. Mine looks like a baseball with black marker scribbled over it. Kat’s is a giant yellow plastic key. The kind you might “win” at an arcade when you
don’t have enough tickets to pick anything better.

  “You’d better not throw that thing,” my partner says with a teasing grin as we step into the hall. “It might dent a locker and get you expelled.”

  I clench my teeth. “And now that you’ve effectively ruined Mrs. William’s opinion of us, what do you suggest we do for our project?”

  “I’m not the one who broke a window,” she points out, holding open the door that leads to the parking lot.

  She takes the sidewalk toward the rear of the building, passing a set of double doors, a grungy green dumpster, a red sedan. I chase after her as she reaches the chain-link fence separating the asphalt from the football field. We’re only a hill away from the bleachers. The wind blows. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Re-extending my offer from the first day of school.”

  I glare at her back. “I told you I don’t date bad girls who treat me like crap.”

  She turns so fast I almost run into her. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Maybe I’m not as bad as you think.”

  She lifts the bottom of her chocolate brown shirt, which is only a few shades darker than her skin. At the sight of her unadorned stomach and the line of muscle running up to parts unknown, my jaw goes slack. I imagine drool dripping from the corner of my mouth and shut it fast. What has come over me? It isn’t as if I’ve never seen Kat’s belly before. She’s shown it to the whole school for crying-out-loud.

  But this seems different. For one thing she’s wearing long slacks and a top that covers her most prominent feature. For another, the girl looks as if she might actually mean what she says. I shake my head, pushing away the insane thought that Kat has donned this look for me.

  “Come on, Quinn.” She puts a hand on my elbow.

  “I don’t date girls who think I’m brainwashed either.”