by MS Weinman
Clarissa’s Choice
MS Weinman
Copyright © 2017 by MS Weinman.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017904416
ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5245-9999-7
Softcover 978-1-5434-1000-6
eBook 978-1-5434-1001-3
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Rev. date: 04/10/2017
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
This novel is dedicated to my Loyal Leo Sandwich.
To my mother: I miss you every day. You made me feel completely loved and supported. You reminded me that “nobody’s perfect.” You made me laugh. You told me to “go for it.” Luckily, I still hear your voice.
To my daughter: You inspire me. You are the strongest and smartest woman I know. Everything I do is for and because of you. I love you.
March 21
First day of spring. Still no boyfriend. How’s a girl supposed to catch a case of spring fever if she doesn’t have anyone to kiss? What do I have to do to get a boyfriend anyway?
Michelle has a boyfriend. Seems like Michelle has always had a boyfriend. Of course, he treats her like crap.
I never should have broken up with Brian.
This is all my mother’s fault.
Chapter 1
Clarissa walked the same path she had followed for the last one and a half years. It was as if she was stepping on her own invisible footprints along the cement walkway. Two-story, red brick buildings formed a horseshoe around the grassy quad of Ocean City High School. The sun warmed Clarissa’s face as it rose over the structure before her. A cool sea breeze caressed her back. It was another run-of-the-mill Ocean City day.
As she climbed the stairs to room D21, Clarissa scrutinized her fellow students, mainly comparing herself to the other girls. Twirling one of her chestnut curls around a finger, she thought, Why wasn’t I born with straight blond hair? Guys don’t like girls with muscles. Khaki isn’t really an eye color. My clothes are so boring.
She entered the classroom, put down her black backpack, and took her assigned seat at the first desk closest to the door. Homeroom. The same faces, in the same order, occupied the same space since the beginning of tenth grade.
Jay Thompson ambled into the classroom, took Clarissa’s left hand, and kissed it tenderly as he folded his towering frame into the desk behind her.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Jay said.
“Good morning, handsome,” she replied, completing the daily ritual as she stared into his brilliant blue eyes. In her mind, Clarissa began her mantra: We’re just friends, we’re just friends.
Their teacher wandered in, and everyone faced forward to hear the mundane announcements of the day. Clarissa rested her chin in her hand. She watched the second hand on the clock above the teacher’s head tick steadily from one short black line to the next, wondering if this day would bring anything new or interesting. Lately, it seemed as if there was a certain consistency to her life.
I sure wouldn’t mind if things got shaken up a bit.
Clarissa and Michelle settled in their uncomfortable plastic seats, a lump of reddish-brown clay deposited before them. Clarissa began squeezing and shaping the amorphous mass into a small bowl. The damp clay felt good in her hands.
Clarissa averted her eyes from her clay to her friend. For reasons she just didn’t get, people were always mistaking Clarissa and Michelle for sisters. They were about the same height, and both had wavy brown hair. But the similarities ended there. Michelle’s body was curvy and very sexy, an attribute that Michelle referred to as fat. She had soulful brown eyes that appeared to turn amber when she grew angry. Since Michelle was covered with freckles from head to toe, guys were always offering to “connect the dots.”
Michelle smiled a knowing smile. “I saw you looking at Brian during lunch.”
“I know. I miss him,” Clarissa replied, looking down at her bowl and pinching the clay between her fingers.
Clarissa could still feel Brian’s lips touching hers. Before him, she was pretty much sweet sixteen and never been kissed, except for a game of spin the bottle in sixth grade. They had intense make-out sessions, frequently steaming up the windows of his white Toyota Corolla. It was because of Brian that she knew what it felt like to be really turned on.
Her mother made the first comment to her sometime in August. “I know you and Brian are fairly intimate. I think he might want to move ahead a bit faster than you do.” The words lodged in Clarissa’s mind.
The next night, she told Brian that things might be moving too fast.
“I’ll only go as far or as fast as you want,” he assured her.
“You mean it?”
He held both her hands. “Sure, I mean it. I just want to be with you.”
But her mother’s comments kept coming. And Clarissa was so aroused when she and Brian touched that they explored each other a little bit more each time. Although he never pushed her, Clarissa had a hard time controlling herself when they were together. Finally, she just got scared. Clarissa broke up with Brian two weeks before the start of this school year.
“You just need someone new to think about,” Michelle said.
“Well, I don’t see that happening, do you?” Angrily crushing her bowl with both hands, Clarissa began to reshape the clay into a ball.
“What about Jay? You guys are so cute together.”
“We’re friends.”
Raising one eyebrow, Michelle asked, “Are you sure?”
Clarissa felt an urgent need to change the subject. “Are you and Rick together this week or not?”
Michelle flicked a small piece of clay at her friend. “Are you still meeting me at the baseball game to watch my boyfriend play?”
As she scratched her nose with the back of her clay-covered hand, Clarissa said, “I’ll be there after swim practice.”
“Jay will probably be there.”
“Shut up.”
After slapping on some lotion and throwing on her clothes, Clarissa slumped down on the locker-room bench, her entire body suffering the exhaustion of the workout. Lying on her back, she spread her towel across her face to block out the fluorescent lights. Lockers slammed shut around her. Teammates lightly hit her stomach as they walked by to leave, saying things like “If you didn’t train so hard, you wouldn’t be so tired” and “We’d better not find you still here on that bench tomorrow.”
Two hours ago, she had pulled on a red Lycra swimsuit. A chaotic mass of swimmers walked out on the warm concrete deck, putting on caps and goggles in all shades of the rainbow. The smell of chlorine permeated
the air—a smell that Clarissa found comforting. Sliding into the pool, Clarissa delighted in the sensation of the cool water against her skin. Requisite groans rang out over the pool after the coach’s instructions. On the short burst of a whistle, one swimmer in each lane pushed off from the wall, with another leaving every five seconds. They circled the black line down the center of each lane like traffic on a two-lane highway.
Resting his hand on her shoulder after Clarissa got out of the pool, her coach said, “Not a bad workout, Clarissa. That 100 breaststroke will be all yours at City Championships next year if you keep this up.” That one goal kept her coming, putting up with the extreme fatigue, day after day.
Sitting up, Clarissa finished buckling her sandal and shook out her curly hair. She rushed out the door to catch what was left of the baseball game.
People clustered in the bleachers and dugout after the game, making plans and saying goodbyes. In the cloudless sky overhead, seagulls circled, scouting the leftover food ripe for the taking. Clarissa and Michelle remained seated in the stands, waiting for Rick and watching the crowd. Without warning, the first baseman, Tony Brooks, plopped down next to Clarissa.
“Hi, ladies,” he said. His disheveled brown hair fell toward his dark-chocolate eyes.
Clarissa’s pulse quickened. Although she usually preferred the blond-surfer type, Clarissa thought there was something very appealing about Tony, perhaps his carefree smile.
Sensing her flustered friend’s inability to speak, Michelle said, “Hey, Tony. Nice game.”
Clarissa eyed Tony’s tanned, muscular forearm. Wow, that’s a beautiful arm. Jarred from her trance by a shove from Michelle’s knee, Clarissa jumped in, “Yep, great game.” Boy, that was a stupid thing to say.
Tony pushed the hair back from his eyes. “I’m glad you bring your friend to the games, Michelle. She’s a nice addition to the fan base.”
The metal bleachers rattled, and a pair of arms wrapped around Clarissa from the seat behind her. Jay settled his chin on her shoulder. “Hi, beautiful.”
Clarissa muttered, “Hi, handsome.” Her face felt warm. She touched her cheeks with both hands, attempting to simultaneously cool them off and hide their reddening color.
Releasing his embrace, Jay asked, “Are you going anyplace good tonight?”
Clarissa turned, straddling her bleacher seat in order to face both Tony and Jay. “Nope. Homework. Then bed.”
Jay hugged her again. “Ohhh,” can I come?”
Wiggling out of his grasp, she gave him a soft punch. She feigned a look of anger.
Standing up and rubbing his arm, Jay said, “I’ll take that as a no. Then, I’ll see you in the morning.” He bounded down the bleachers and ran off after some friends.
Tony watched Jay’s departure. Pointing his thumb in Jay’s direction, he asked, “Is that your boyfriend?”
As she coiled one of her curls around her finger, Clarissa replied, “Um … no. Just a good friend.”
Michelle pulled her tomato-red VW Bug out of the parking lot and onto the street, heading into the setting sun. She pulled down the sun visor and glanced at Clarissa. “What was that?”
Clarissa watched palm trees go by out the passenger window. “What was what?” she replied, although she knew exactly what Michelle meant.
Michelle turned left onto Shoreline Drive. “Tony Brooks!”
The sun burst through the passenger window. Clarissa put a hand up to block the rays and watched the waves wash onto the sand. “What about him?”
“Oh come on, Clarissa. He has never talked to us after a game, let alone climbed up the bleachers to do it.”
A smile spread across Clarissa’s face. “True,” she said.
Chapter 2
The obnoxious buzz of her alarm jolted Clarissa’s eyes open.
“I need a different alarm,” she muttered.
Staying in bed for a moment, she stretched her arms high above her head. Then she swung her feet to the floor, pulled off her CAL nightshirt, and stuffed it back under her pillow. She shuffled into the bathroom, her shoulders rounded and her hair hanging in her face.
After a steaming, hot shower, Clarissa surveyed the contents of her closet. Usually she would wear jeans and a tank top to school this time of year. But today she decided to try something different.
You’re an idiot, she said to herself, knowing all too well that she was dressing up in case she saw Tony.
Four outfits ended up as heaps on the carpet. Finally, she settled on a flirty, tropical-print skirt and curve-hugging red T-shirt. She grabbed her white sandals off the floor of her closet. Out of her underwear drawer, she retrieved a matching red bra and panties. Power lingerie: something about the secret of knowing what you were wearing. She put on the outfit and eyed herself in the mirror. Not bad. She topped the ensemble off with a pair of small gold hoop earrings.
Moving back into the bathroom, she spent a bit more time than normal on her hair and makeup, paying attention to the details she never really cared about before, like lip liner and two coats of mascara. She pulled the top of her wild curls back into a clip and dabbed some lavender oil behind each ear and in her cleavage.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Her mom called in, “Do you want any breakfast?”
Clarissa opened the door. “No thanks, Mom. I’ll just have a banana on the way to school.”
“Is there something going on today that I forgot about?” Her mother asked as she inspected her daughter’s appearance.
“No, Mom. I just felt like dressing up a little today.”
With her face radiating approval, Clarissa’s mother said, “Well, you look great.”
A car horn beeped out in front of the house. Clarissa grabbed a banana, her backpack, her swim bag and raced out the front door.
After homeroom, Clarissa descended the stairs in an automatic fashion, preoccupied with the possibility of a pop quiz in history. Flipping through flash cards on her phone, she occasionally bumped into other students climbing the staircase. When she reached the landing, she looked up, and her stomach jumped directly into her throat. At the bottom of the stairs, staring up at her, stood Tony Brooks.
Clarissa’s heart galloped through her chest. Her face flushed, and her palms got sweaty. Oh my god. I had expected to maybe see him at lunch, not now.
Trying to appear unfazed by Tony’s presence, she palmed her phone in her left hand and walked down the stairs, carefully placing one foot per step and keeping a steady grip on the handrail.
“Hey, Tony.” His hair was wet, and he smelled like soap and shaving cream.
“Hi, Clarissa. Can I walk you to your next class?”
“Oh … OK.” Well, this will be interesting.
Tony held out his left elbow, indicating he wanted Clarissa to take his arm. She locked her right arm in his.
“Where to?” he asked.
Clarissa pointed to the gray steel door looming directly before them. Laughing, they strolled the six steps to Clarissa’s class.
“Well, that was fun,” Tony said. “But I’d better get to class. I’ll see you later.” He held her arm cradled in his for just a moment longer. Then he trotted off, his blue backpack bouncing against his back.
Clarissa meandered into her classroom and lowered herself into her seat. What just happened? Was he waiting for me, or was that just a coincidence? Could he feel my heart beat? Could he feel how sweaty my palms were? Why did he leave so quickly? Did I make a complete fool of myself?
Question after question swirled through her brain. She felt dizzy. Somewhere in her spinning mind, she heard, “Please clear your desks for a quiz.”
At lunch, six girls gathered in a large circle on the center-quad grass, in front of the outdoor stage. The sun glared from overhead. Banners hung from the second-story railing, publicizing various clubs’ meetings—The Basketball Pe
p Rally, Friday at Noon and Prom Tickets Now on Sale.
Since she was wearing a skirt, Clarissa sat rather daintily, avoiding her customary cross-legged position. Seeing her for the first time that day, Michelle smiled. “Who … I mean, what are you so dressed up for?”
Clarissa leaned closer to Michelle. In a voice barely audible, she said, “I already saw him—this morning, after homeroom.” Her green eyes twinkled with excitement.
“Well,” Michelle took a bite out of her apple and stared at Clarissa, “what happened?”
“Nothing, really. I think he might have been waiting for me. Oh, probably not. It was probably just a coincidence. Oh … I don’t know.”
Michelle started to laugh. “Your confidence is overwhelming.”
As she chewed on her peanut-butter sandwich, Clarissa began scanning the quad for Tony. Groups of students, large and small, congregated on the stage, on the grass, and by various planters holding palm trees and jasmine plants. She inspected the planter where some twelfth graders hung out, knowing Tony occasionally ate his lunch there.
She saw Brian with his hands all over his new girlfriend. Oddly, seeing Brian pawing his girlfriend really didn’t bother her. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe I just needed someone else to think about.
Clarissa pored over the rest of the quad. No Tony. What she did see was Rick and Jay coming her way. Laurel and Hardy … almost. What a pair. The contrast between Jay’s six foot five, stick-thin frame and Rick’s stocky, borderline shortness amused Clarissa. As always, Jay wore chinos and a button-up shirt. Rick dressed like most of the other guys at school: jeans and a T-shirt.
Michelle reclined back against Rick’s chest after he sat down behind her. Jay sat next to Clarissa and leaned his blond head on her shoulder.
