by Chad Kultgen
His search criteria returned four results that were within twenty miles of his zip code. He began to read the reviews of each of their services and he came to understand that an entire subculture existed of men who engaged in regular sex with prostitutes and then posted reviews of their experiences. Some men, it seemed, had even become aficionados in this world of prostitution and their reviews held more weight within the community than other reviews.
Don’s mild fascination with the culture surrounding regular customers of prostitutes subsided as he came to the reviews for and images of a prostitute named Angelique Ice. Every review she had was an eight or above, many claiming that she would “go the extra mile” or that it “didn’t feel like you were paying for it” or that she was “the real deal.” Along with her flawless collection of reviews, Angelique Ice remarkably resembled Stoya. She was slightly taller and maybe a little less petite, but Don found it uncanny. He assumed that he would never have a chance in his lifetime to have sex with the real Stoya, but for what most reviews claimed was around eight hundred dollars, he could certainly have sex with a girl who looked enough like Stoya to satisfy him. Don sent himself a text message with her name, Angelique Ice, so he wouldn’t forget her.
When Rachel came back from lunch, she checked her account on AshleyMadison.com and found that she had received an indication of interest from a man whose screen name was Secretluvur. In order for her to view the message he sent, Rachel had to purchase credits on the website, which gave her greater access to the site’s features, including the ability to communicate with other members. She used a separate credit card that she always paid the bill for, just in case Don was observant enough to notice the charge on the family card.
Once she was granted access, she read Secretluvur’s message. It read, “I saw your profile and it seems like we’re in need of the same thing. I’ve never done this, always been a little too scared, I guess, but I’d love to keep talking if you’re up for it and see where this goes. Sorry I didn’t post a picture. I just thought it was best if I didn’t take any chances as far as somebody I know finding out about this. I can send one to an e-mail address if you’d like, though.”
Rachel didn’t mind that Secretluvur didn’t send a picture. It actually augmented the feeling of excitement she was experiencing surrounding the interaction. It made Secretluvur seem far more mysterious than she assumed he actually was. She replied with a message that read, “Hi, I’ve never really done anything like this either. Maybe we are looking for the same thing. I’m open to talking a little more to see where this goes, too. And you don’t need to send me a picture or anything. It’s probably safer to keep our correspondence limited to this website anyway. I look forward to your next message.” She didn’t know whether she should sign the message with her real name or her username, which was Boredwife12345. She opted not to sign the message at all.
chapter
eight
Principal Ligorski began the Monday morning announcements by congratulating the Olympian football team on its victory in the season opener and specifically praising Chris Truby and Danny Vance for their last-second touchdown pass that enabled the win.
Hannah Clint sat a few seats away from Chris Truby in their first-period American history class. They had not communicated with each other since the flurry of sexually explicit text messages they had engaged in two days before. At the mention of his name in the announcements, Hannah smiled at him. She felt slightly uncomfortable and wondered if Chris felt the same way. He did. He smiled back. After the announcements ended, Mrs. Rector went to the dry-erase board and wrote “9/11.” She said, “What do these numbers mean to you?” A few students raised their hands. Mrs. Rector acknowledged a student named Regina Sotts.
Regina said, “It’s September eleventh. The day that terrorists attacked the World Trade Center.”
Mrs. Rector said, “That’s correct, Regina. Other than the attack on Pearl Harbor, it was the only time a foreign force has attacked anything on U.S. soil. In each of these cases, the attitude and political policy of our country were changed. You guys are all probably a little too young to actually remember 9/11, so today I’m going to put you in groups of two, and you’re all going to have a week to interview someone who was old enough to remember it and then give a presentation on Friday. You can talk to your parents, a teacher here, anyone you want about what it was like and how it changed our country.”
Mrs. Rector spoke for a few more minutes about the assignment, and then she began pairing students off into groups. Chris and Hannah were paired together. After the pairings were made, Mrs. Rector allotted the rest of the class time for the groups of two to discuss whom they were going to interview as well as the manner and details of their presentation.
Chris pulled his desk next to Hannah’s and said, “So, I guess we should probably interview, like, one of our parents or something.”
For the entirety of the class period, Chris was unable to stop himself from taking quick glances at Hannah’s breasts, and though she was fully aware of this, she offered no protest. She found it flattering and in some way it made her feel valued and important.
Hannah said, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that seems like it would be the easiest way to go.”
Chris said, “We can just talk to my dad or my mom or something if you want.”
Hannah said, “Yeah, that sounds cool.”
Chris said, “Okay, cool.”
Hannah said, “What should our presentation be like?”
Chris said, “I don’t know, what do you think?”
Hannah said, “Uh . . . I’m pretty sure we need like some kind of poster board or something.”
Chris said, “Okay.”
Hannah said, “But not, like, with the Twin Towers blowing up or whatever or anything, you know?”
Chris said, “Yeah.”
Hannah said, “Maybe with, like, pictures of firemen and police officers and everything, you know? Like, kind of patriotic.”
Chris said, “Cool.”
They continued discussing their project and what their presentation would entail. At no point did they ever discuss the kiss Hannah gave Chris after the football game, the explicit text messages they had sent to each other, or the likelihood of any sexual activity between them.
As class came to an end, Chris told Hannah that he thought they could interview his parents that night if it offered no conflict with her schedule, which it didn’t. They agreed to meet at his house that evening after his football practice concluded and then they each proceeded in opposite directions down the main hallway of Goodrich Junior High School.
Walking to her next class, Hannah took out her phone and sent Chris a text message that read, “C U 2nite.” She was tempted to include something sexually explicit but didn’t, convincing herself that she should wait for Chris to make the next advance, which she hoped would be included in his reply. Chris read her text and was disappointed that she failed to include any indication of her sexual interest in him. He took this omission as a sign that she had lost interest over the past two days. He felt that he might have lost an opportunity to have his first sexual encounter. He wondered if he should include something in his reply to test her level of interest in explicit sexual conversation at the very least, and possibly in actual sexual activity. Instead, Chris replied to her text message with one that read, “C U 2nite 2.”
When the lunch bell rang, Tim Mooney went to his locker to retrieve the lunch he had packed the night before. His father, Kent, had shirked the responsibility of buying groceries over the weekend, so Tim’s options were reduced to a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich with one piece of bread or cold turkey cutlets, which had been in the refrigerator for at least a month if Tim’s memory served him correctly. He opted for the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
Tim walked into the cafeteria and took a seat near the back of the room toward one of the corners, away from most of the other kids. As he sat down, a few of his classmates, members of the foot
ball team, began raising their speaking voices loud enough for Tim to hear.
One of them said, “Well, I guess we didn’t need that pussy-ass bitch as middle linebacker anyway.”
The other one said, “We’re better off without that faggot.”
The other one said, “Totally.”
The other one threw an empty milk carton in Tim’s direction, which drew attention from Mr. Donnelly, who was one of the faculty monitors during that lunch period. When questioned about his motives, the student who threw the milk carton said, “I was just trying to hit a three, Mr. Donnelly,” to which Mr. Donnelly replied, “Well, why don’t we keep the basketball-playing in the gym?”
Tim had already dismissed the incident as meaningless. His gaze had wandered to Brandy Beltmeyer, who also sat alone a few tables away from him, eating her own lunch and reading Breaking Dawn. Tim found it slightly off-putting that she would be reading a book from the Twilight series, but he was still tempted to pick up his lunch and sit down at her table. He wondered what her reaction would be. Over the past week, due to his quitting the football team, Tim had taken his place as a sort of pariah at Goodrich Junior High. Given Brandy’s own lack of friends at the school, though, he assumed she wouldn’t perceive association with him as negative.
Tim thought for several minutes about what he considered to be a brazen action in the Goodrich Junior High cafeteria and eventually his thoughts began to drift to the various YouTube videos he had recently become interested in—lectures and clips from television programs hosted by or featuring Carl Sagan and Neil deGrasse Tyson.
Recognize that the very molecules that make up your body, the atoms that construct the molecules are traceable to the crucibles that were once the centers of high mass stars and exploded their chemically enriched guts into the galaxy enriching pristine gas clouds with the chemistry of life. So that we’re all connected—to each other biologically, to the earth chemically, and to the rest of the universe atomically.
Tyson’s explanation of the interconnected nature of the universe made Tim feel insignificant, and in that insignificance he was able to allow himself to let go of any anxiety he might have had about approaching Brandy.
Tim thought about these predictions, that the universe would end in either a big crunch or an eventual sundering of itself from its own unstoppable and constantly increasing rate of expansion. He found comfort in this as well. In the end, he knew that nothing any human being had ever done or would ever do would mean anything, because it would all be washed away in time. He applied this inescapable truth to how he felt about Brandy Beltmeyer. If the actions of Hitler, Gandhi, Jesus Christ, anyone who had ever existed or would ever exist, were all meaningless, then surely sitting down next to Brandy Beltmeyer was equally meaningless.
As several of his classmates watched with curiosity, Tim picked up his lunch and walked fifteen feet to where Brandy was sitting. She looked up from her book and said, “Uh . . . what up?”
Tim said, “Nothing, just thought I’d sit with you if it’s cool.”
Brandy said, “Uh . . . whatevs.”
Tim sat down and said, “You’re into Twilight?”
Brandy said, “I guess. I started reading the first book and then I pretty much figured I should finish the whole series. It’s okay.”
Tim wanted to ask Brandy about the message he sent her on Myspace about her alter-ego, Freyja. He considered that an outright conversation about it might be too much. He knew that nothing mattered, and yet he also realized that, even in the face of that universal truth, at least to him, something about talking to Brandy did matter, and despite the philosophy that had motivated him to sit next to her, he felt he shouldn’t push the issue further. This did matter, at least to him.
They continued to talk for the rest of the lunch period about nothing in particular. Tim wanted to bring up the text message he sent over the summer but thought better of it as well. He was content to keep this first interaction of the eighth-grade year with Brandy at arm’s length. He was content to have someone to talk to about anything, someone who seemed not to mind his company.
As Brandy talked to Tim, she felt some of the old affection she had developed for him in seventh grade coming back to her. She remembered fantasizing about Tim kissing her, and she found herself returning to that fantasy as they talked. The act of sitting next to her without invitation was something she found attractive.
Brandy wondered if Tim would ask her about Freyja’s Myspace profile. It was a secret she had kept for the entirety of its existence. She was aware that Tim already knew it was her, and some part of her wanted to discuss it with him, just to have someone to talk to about it. But she didn’t mention it. Just like Tim, she was content to have someone at school to talk to.
When the electronic tone sounded, signifying the end of the lunch period, Tim said, “Thanks for letting me sit with you,” to which Brandy replied, “No prob.” They each wanted to say more but were hesitant. They each presumed this burgeoning relationship to be far more fragile than it actually was. Nonetheless, they said nothing else to each other as they left the cafeteria from separate doors, each making their way to classrooms in different parts of the building. For the rest of the day, they each thought about the other and wondered if they would be sitting together the following day at lunch. The prospect of this made them both happy.
chapter
nine
Allison Doss and Brooke Benton arrived at Rory Pearson’s house an hour after school ended to do their geometry homework. Despite exhibiting several highly effeminate traits—as well as being the only male member of the Goodrich Junior High Olympiannes and being sexually attracted to men—Rory maintained that he was straight because his parents were fervently religious and made a point of telling him daily that no homosexuals would be allowed into heaven and, in fact, that all homosexuals would burn in Lucifer’s hell. Rory’s mother regularly attended meetings of a militant antihomosexual Christian group that touted the slogan “God Hates Fags” along with several other “God Hates . . .” slogans referring to other groups. Rory planned to remain untruthful about his sexual orientation until he could leave for college. He found Allison and Brooke to be good friends. He assumed they knew he was homosexual but simply never questioned him about his desire to remain secretive about it.
As the girls came in, they were surprised to see Rory’s older brother, Cal, who was a freshman at North East, and his friend Brandon Lender playing Band Hero. Allison hadn’t had any interaction with Brandon Lender since the end of her seventh grade year, when he said to her, “I’d fuck you if I could find the hole.” Allison still felt some part of the crush she’d developed for Brandon as she saw him sitting on the Pearsons’ couch holding a pair of drumsticks.
Hearing the girls enter, Brandon and Cal turned around. Cal said, “ ’Sup ladies?”
Brooke said, “Not much. Just homework.”
Allison said, “That’s about it.”
Brandon said, “Sweet.”
After the brief interaction, the girls headed to Rory’s room at the back of the house. They got out their geometry textbooks and began the night’s homework assignment.
Allison said, “I didn’t know your brother was friends with Brandon Lender.”
Rory said, “Yeah. I guess they’re both starters on the JV football team or something. I don’t know. He’s a bitch, if you ask me.”
Brooke said, “Your brother or Brandon?”
Rory said, “They’re both kind of bitches, if you really boil it down. Who cares? Let’s get this done—then we can watch the Mike Tyson Oprah.”
Brooke said, “In my opinion, you watch that thing way too much. We watch it literally every time we come over. How are you not tired of it?”
Rory said, “Are you fucking kidding me? Please. I’ve watched it pretty much every day for like a year. I’ll keep watching it until my DVR wears out and then I’ll watch it online. It’s the best thing that has ever happened on TV.”
&nbs
p; They finished their homework and then all got in Rory’s bed to watch the episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show in which she interviewed Mike Tyson. Allison wondered what Brandon thought of her now that she was thin. After a few minutes of watching, Allison said, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
Rory said, “You want us to pause it?”
Allison said, “No, it’s cool. BRB.”
Allison left Rory’s room and went toward the bathroom nearest to the living room, where she last saw Brandon Lender. She found Brandon playing Band Hero by himself. She said, “Hey.”
Brandon paused the game and said, “Hey.”
She said, “Where’s Cal?”
Brandon said, “He went to the store. We needed some mas beverages and his parents wanted him to pick up something for dinner before they get home from work in like an hour or whatever.”
She said, “He walked to the store?”
Brandon said, “Nah, nah, he snatched up his learner’s permit this week. He’s completely mobile as of, like, two days ago.”
She said, “Oh.”
Brandon said, “You can sit down if you want.”
She walked over and sat down next to him. He said, “So you must have went on like a Biggest Loser diet boot camp or some shit over the summer, right?”
She said, “Yeah, I just kind of started watching what I ate more.”
He said, “Well, it shows. You’re, like, a serious piece.”
Allison found nothing demeaning in what Brandon said. She found his approval of her appearance to be a just reward for the hard work she had done over the summer and continued to do by forcing herself to omit meals regularly.
Brandon said, “You ever kiss anybody?”
She said, “Not exactly.”
He took her hand and said, “Come here.”
Brandon led her into Cal’s room and shut the door, locking it as he did. Allison saw Cal’s shoulder pads and helmet sitting on the floor next to his bed. She could smell the sweat that saturated the cloth in both of them. Brandon walked over and sat on Cal’s bed, patting the area next to him. Allison sat down beside him. Brandon reached up, put one hand behind her head, and forced her mouth to his. Allison had imagined her first kiss being different from the one she experienced now. This kiss was more forceful and sloppy than she had foreseen in her imagination—nothing sweet about it, too urgent. She pulled back a little and Brandon said, “What’s the deal?” as he took off his North East Football T-shirt.
