“Are we even allowed to be back here?” I ask.
“All Brianna said was that we had to stay within sight of the rec cabin,” Matthew says. He reaches out and taps his palm against the exterior cabin wall. “And we are.”
“What’s going on?” Carolyn asks.
“Look what I found,” Matthew says and reveals the bottle.
Daniel’s eyes go wide, and Carolyn whispers, “Where did you get that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Matthew says. He transfers the vodka into an empty water bottle and then hurls the vodka bottle so deep into the woods that we don’t even hear it land. He takes a big sip and then holds it out to Daniel. “You in?”
Daniel looks like he thinks it’s a trick question.
“I’m in,” Carolyn says immediately. She grabs the bottle from Matthew’s hand and takes a swig. Her face crumples up as she tastes the liquor, but she swallows it like a champ.
God, I’m really giving into peer pressure today. But if my two best friends at New Horizons are going to get drunk, there’s no way I’m just going to sit back and watch while they have all the fun.
“All right, I’m in,” I say and take the bottle from Carolyn.
“Thought you might say that,” Matthew says as I drink. I’ve never had vodka before, just beer at parties and the odd glass of mulled wine at Christmas. The vodka is warm and tastes like what I imagine lighter fluid would probably taste like. It burns, but once it’s down, my belly is warm and my head is light. It actually feels pretty good.
“What about you, Daniel?” Matthew says.
Daniel looks at each of us, the pink light of the sunset catching the lenses of his glasses. “Um…” he says.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He hesitates a moment more and then says, “No, I do want to.” He takes a small sip from the bottle, swallows, and coughs like crazy.
We sit on the grass floor in a little circle and pass the bottle around. I try to pace myself by only taking a sip every other time the bottle comes around to me and drinking a lot of water in between, but before I know it, I’m drunk. Turns out vodka is a lot stronger than beer and mulled wine.
I stretch my legs out in front of me and kick off my stupid sandals. “I hate these fucking clothes,” I say, and the three of them burst into laughter.
“Are we a little drunk, Alexis?” Matthew says, in a perfect mimic of Brianna’s voice.
“God, don’t call me that!” I groan. “And how could you tell?” I thought I was doing a pretty good job of acting normal.
“I’ve never heard you curse before,” Matthew says.
“Curse? What, like cuss?” I say.
“Yes, Miss South Carolina, cuss. Swear. Use naughty language. Whatever.”
“I actually know Miss South Carolina,” I say. “Her name’s Patricia.”
They all crack up again. What, I’m not that funny when I’m drunk, am I?
“I’ve never been drunk before,” Daniel says, slurring his words a little.
“We know,” Matthew says and gives Daniel a little pat on the back. “What do you think?”
“It’s different than I thought it would be. It feels like…like I’m floating in a river made of honey.”
We all laugh. “Not an entirely inaccurate description,” I say. “I’m surprised you even wanted to join in on this, Daniel. You know we’re breaking the rules right now, right?”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m following the rules in a way too!”
“How do you mean?” Matthew asks.
“I’m not being a Kitchen Window Boy. I’m doing what Mr. Martin said to do—I’m joining my friends in the fun.”
There’s a momentary silence, and I’m pretty sure we’re all thinking the same thing: that’s the first time Daniel’s described us as his friends. He’s one of us now, even if he is only drinking because he thinks Mr. Martin would want him to.
Matthew smiles. “So the river made of honey—is it a good feeling or a bad feeling?”
“Oh, it’s definitely good,” Daniel says. “It’s like…if I don’t want to think about something, I don’t have to think about it. The thought just goes away.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Carolyn says and takes another huge gulp.
“What are you trying not to think about?” I ask her.
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Wait. Does Carolyn have a secret? Is it the thing she thinks about when she’s off in la-la land? What could be so big that she can’t even talk to us about it when she’s drunk? She’s already told the whole camp about her cousin sexually harassing her—what could be worse than that?
I catch Matthew’s eye. “Hey, Lexi,” he says, making it clear that he’s changing the conversation for Carolyn’s benefit. “Tell us about your tattoo.”
The request catches me off guard, and the first reaction my vodka-delayed senses come up with is to laugh.
“What did I say?” Matthew says, confused.
I just shake my head, still laughing. “You wanna know about this?” I slide the clunky bangle off my arm and hold up my tattooed wrist.
“Um…I guess?” Matthew looks unsure now, after my reaction.
Screw it. Carolyn doesn’t want to talk about her stuff? Fine. But I have nothing to hide anymore. “Okay, here’s the story. I got this tattoo because of a girl named Zoë Green.”
I tell them the about the rainstorm and the plants and the lightning and how I had to keep it all secret.
I run a hand through my hair. “I had all these…these feelings, and I couldn’t tell anyone, and it was killing me. I had to get it out somehow. So I got this.” I hold out my lightning bolt again. “At least I could share this with the world.”
“So nothing ever happened with you two?” Carolyn asks.
I look at her and a crazy idea takes hold of me. I smile mysteriously and say, “Well, I didn’t say that…”
I know it’s stupid. There’s no point in trying to make her jealous. This whole situation is freaking impossible; it’s not like we’ll ever be more than friends. But I’m feeling loopy and can’t help myself.
“Ooh, now it’s getting good,” Matthew says, leaning forward. “What happened?”
“Yeah, what happened?” Daniel echoes.
Everyone’s staring at me, waiting eagerly for the story’s salacious conclusion.
Oh God. I should have kept my fat mouth shut. I should have said, Nope, nothing ever happened with us. End of story. But I didn’t. So now I have to tell them.
“We were at this party…” I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and tell them the rest.
It was last summer. After secretly being in love with Zoë for almost an entire year, I got the chance I never thought I would see. There was a big end-of-summer bash at Vinny’s house, and we were playing Spin the Bottle. Most people there were pretty drunk. Except for me. With Dad sick at home, I didn’t want to do anything to stress my parents out more, so I volunteered to be the DD. Perfect excuse to stay sober.
I spun the bottle, and in that never-ending moment where all you can do is wait to see where it settles, I wished and prayed and projected every last bit of energy I had into that beer bottle with the torn label landing on Zoë Green.
The rules of the game were that you had to kiss whoever it landed on. The guys seemed to have more of a problem with that rule than most of the girls did. Whenever a guy spun it and it landed on another guy, they would just do a jokey, quick peck on the cheek and then laugh hysterically for about five minutes. I think the only reason they played the game at all was so they could get a chance to make out with the cheerleaders. I didn’t blame them. The only reason I was playing was to get a chance to make out with Zoë.
It couldn’
t have been a more perfect situation. This was my one chance to kiss her—the one thing I wanted more than anything—without having to confess my secret. In the world of this drunken party game, I could actually have it both ways. Even for just a few precious seconds.
And it actually worked. The bottle came to a halt and was pointing directly at Zoë.
I crawled across the circle, my heart pounding so intensely I thought for sure everyone would hear it, and touched my lips to hers. Her mouth was soft, and she tasted like beer and Starbursts. And it felt so right. As if the stars had finally aligned just for me and her, and this moment existed only for us.
And she was kissing me back. She was into it just as much as I was. Her tongue even slipped inside my mouth a few times.
I slid closer to her, our mouths moving in perfect harmony. I completely forgot about the room full of people watching us, and that we were just playing a game, and that Zoë was only kissing me because she was drunk. In that moment, I even forgot about all the reasons why we would never get to be together.
I was just so happy.
Zoë finally pulled away, and I came back to the room. She downed the rest of her beer and popped another Starburst in her mouth. The boys were all cheering like the two of us making out was the greatest thing they’d ever seen in their lives, and Zoë licked her lips and grinned at them.
“Now it’s a party!” she shouted and high-fived a bunch of the guys as a new wave of cheers sounded.
After that, everything changed. Suddenly the world was filled with magic. For days, all I did was think about that kiss—that perfect, life-changing kiss. She kissed me back.
A few days later, we were hanging out in her room. School was starting the next day and I was supposed to be helping her find something to wear for the first day of junior year. But I wasn’t doing a very good job of staying focused.
“What are you smiling about?” Zoë asked, amused.
I looked up from the elaborate doodle I was working on in one of her notebooks, my cheeks suddenly on fire. “Nothing.” I shook my head.
“Tell me!”
“It’s nothing.”
She flopped down on the bed beside me. “You like someone, don’t you?”
Her face was bright and her smile was knowing—it was like she knew what I was thinking and she just wanted me to say it aloud. And I wanted to, more than anything. I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head and all I wanted was to lean over and close the distance between us and kiss her again, right there on her bed, just the two of us. No cheering crowds this time.
And suddenly all that want and the memories of the kiss and her teasing smile and the year of suffering in silence all got to be too much. I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“Actually, yeah,” I said softly. “I do like someone.”
Zoë squealed and scooted closer to me. “I knew it! Who? Who is it?”
And before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and kissed her.
She pulled back almost immediately. “What…?” But her question went unfinished. She just looked at me with wide, bewildered eyes.
There was no backing out now. “It’s you,” I said, ignoring the instinct to flee. “You’re the one I like. It’s…it’s been going on a long time.” She was still speechless, her forehead crinkled like a Shar Pei puppy’s. “I know it’s a lot. I never even considered telling you before this weekend. But after we kissed at Vinny’s party, I thought…maybe…you might feel the same way? About me?”
I waited, my heart racing, my fingernails digging into my palms.
Slowly, Zoë’s face changed. The surprise and confusion left and was replaced by the kind of look that’s usually reserved for watching someone get hacked to death with a chainsaw in a horror movie.
“You thought I was gay? That’s so gross,” she said, effectively slicing my heart in two. “Why would you think that?” She backed away from me, not even bothering to hide her disgust.
“I…um…” I stuttered, trying to rearrange my thoughts into something resembling coherence. “I thought…um…didn’t you kiss me back?”
Her nose scrunched up in revulsion. “That was a game, Lexi. We were drunk. It was a show for the guys. I can’t believe you thought it was real! Oh my God.”
Slice, slice. My heart was officially in pieces.
“I can’t believe this.” She ran her hands through her hair and then looked at me, her eyes hard. “You know we can’t be friends anymore.”
We stared at each other for a long second, so many emotions zapping between us that it would be impossible to count them all.
“Get out of my house,” she said. “Get out!”
And then I ran. Out of her room, out of her house, out of her life forever.
See, that’s the problem with getting hit by lightning. You get burned.
Chapter 18
Everyone is staring at me. I blink the moisture away from my eyes and take a long pull from the vodka bottle. “So, yeah. That’s the story of the lightning bolt.”
I can tell they’re all trying to come up with something to say, but I’m surprised when it’s Daniel who speaks first. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Lexi,” he says. He slides next to me and puts his arm around me.
I rest my head on his bony shoulder. “Thanks, Daniel.” I sniffle.
“I know how you feel. It’s kind of like what happened when I kissed Colin,” he says.
I remember his story of kissing the boy in the nurse’s office. “Yeah, I guess it is,” I say. “But he hit you, didn’t he? I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”
“It’s the same though,” he says. “Zoë didn’t hit you, but she hurt you just as much.”
I sigh and thread my fingers through his. “At least we’ll never have to go through something like that again, right?”
Suddenly Matthew’s on his feet. “Oh yeah, because Mr. Martin and his cute little Jesus camp is going to turn you straight, right?” Crap. He’s upset. No, he’s mad.
“Yes, Matthew,” Daniel says, his voice firmer than I’ve ever heard it. “That’s right.”
Matthew laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Wake up, people! This whole place is a total scam! You can’t pray the gay away. Jesus Christ!” He kicks a rock and it skids off into the woods.
“Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Matthew,” Daniel says. This kid should really get drunk more often—he’s a hell of a lot more confident with an elevated blood alcohol level.
“Fine, sorry.” Matthew sits back down, but he’s still all worked up. “But come on, you guys have to know that you can’t change your sexuality any more than you can change your eye color. You really should just get used to it already.”
“You don’t know that,” Carolyn counters. “You’re the one who always talks about that stupid scale and sexuality being fluid and all that. So maybe we’re more fluid than you are. Ever think of that?”
“If you were that fluid, Carolyn, you wouldn’t need a team of counselors and a whole summer of workbooks and freaking role-playing exercises to make you hot for guys.”
Carolyn’s face goes bright red, and I jump in to defend her. “She’s got a point, Matthew. Maybe we’re not like you. Maybe it can work for us.”
He crosses his arms and glares at me. I glare back. I feel bad for ganging up on him, but he’s the one who started it.
“Okay, Lexi, let’s say for a minute that you’re right. Maybe you guys are different. So tell me: how’s it going?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been here for a while now, doing everything they tell us to, saying whatever they want us to. And I know you three have been trying your very hardest to kick that pesky SSA once and for all. So how’s it going?”
Our eyes are locked now. His piercing stare says it all: he knows I’m hooked on Carolyn
the way I was hooked on Zoë, and he knows I’m not one iota less gay now than I was when I drove up that mountain road with my mom.
I let my eyes soften. Please, I beg him silently. Don’t make me say it.
Either he really does feel bad for me, or my wordless plea is enough of a victory for him, because he lets it go.
“What about you two?” he says to Daniel and Carolyn. “You’re two of Mr. Martin’s star pupils. So, are you straight yet?”
Daniel’s confident demeanor falters. “We’ve only been here three weeks,” he mumbles.
“And it’s an eight-week program. So we’re almost halfway done. Do you feel almost fifty percent more attracted to the opposite sex than you were before you came here? If you do, then say so. Prove me wrong.” He steps back and sweeps out a hand in front of him. “The floor is yours.”
Silence.
I look from Carolyn to Daniel, waiting for them to put Matthew in his place. But Carolyn’s got that far-off look in her eye again, and Daniel is picking at the sole of his shoe.
“Yep. Didn’t think so,” Matthew says.
“No,” I say. “You don’t get to just be right about this.” I want to prove him wrong, if not for me, then for Carolyn and Daniel. So I explain it the way Kaylee did back on the second day of camp. “It’s not magic. I think we can all agree on that. It’s not like a switch can be flipped or a few wires rearranged and everything is different. It’s about learning what choices to make, what things to focus on in our lives. It’s a long-term process, like a diet.”
Daniel is nodding like crazy and giving me a grateful smile. Carolyn isn’t doing much, but she seems to be more present than she was a minute ago.
“Sounds like a pretty miserable existence to me, to have to keep denying who you are every second of your life,” Matthew mutters.
“I think the point is to keep working at it, every single day, so it becomes part of who you are,” I say.
The vodka’s gone now, and it’s pretty obvious the fun is over.
The Summer I Wasn't Me Page 13
