October Breezes

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  I frowned. Is that what he thought? "I was worried about you."

  "You were, huh?" Although I'd seen Kelin smile before, the grin he wore spread, transforming his expression.

  "Yeah, I was."

  We drove to the party, and my first clue about how big a mistake I’d made smacked me when I saw cars lining Tyler's street a half a mile from the house. Most of the expensive sports cars suggested I didn't belong here.

  “Looks like the party’s already in ful swing,” Kelin said.

  More cars arrived, at first iluminating the area around us and then, as they switched off the headlights, returning the darkness.

  “Yeah, it does,” I agreed, trying not to be nervous, but my stomach felt unsettled, as though I were in a roler coaster car cresting a huge hil.

  “You cold? You’re shaking. I’l warm you up.” He held me tightly. The wispy funnels of our breath rose and disappeared.

  “I’m fine,” I said, knowing the winter air wasn't the culprit.

  Lots of teenagers talked and laughed, heading toward Tyler’s house. Most wouldn’t have given me a second look before Kelin took an interest. I swalowed hard, wondering how I'd tolerate them. Devin had been right in questioning the value of the people who surrounded me. But Kelin was worth it.

  Long before we arrived, we saw the politely-manicured lawn, skeletal hedges stil trimmed to rounded conformity. The two-story grey brick house stretched toward the sky, and several ornate lampposts bathed the yard in soft light which seemed much brighter because of the snow. The shrubs gave way to a flagstone courtyard; at its center stood a huge dry fountain. A sculpture of a half-naked woman stood where the water should have been. She carried a jug on one shoulder.

  We reached the front step, and the music blared as Kelin opened the door. “Shouldn’t we ring the bel?” I asked.

  Kelin shook his head. “I never ring the bel. I just walk in. Besides, I doubt anyone would hear it, much less answer the door.” We stepped inside the foyer. Tal pilars lined a narrow entry with a black marbled floor, and I quickly realized he was right. Even though people gathered everywhere, it would have been impossible to hear the doorbel. Even with al these guests close—they colected in the foyer, along the stairs, and throughout the house

  —they were less than interested in manners than fun. Everybody had a glass of liquor or a can of beer.

  “Where are Tyler’s parents?” I asked, thinking if I had a party like this, my mother would kil me.

  “Out of town.”

  I stiffened then tried to relax. What had I expected?

  Nobody could have a party like this with his parents around. I realy needed to lighten up.

  Kelin set his hand on my back and guided me through the crowd. “Let’s find Tyler,” he half yeled. As I looked at the kids from our school and some who probably attended our rival’s—

  Madison High—I figured finding the host was about as likely as winning the lottery. Even with Kelin leading me, al the twists and turns confused me. Sweat beaded my forehead. Although I tried taking off the jacket, I couldn’t negotiate the elbow room. Besides, wearing Kelin's jacket gave me security.

  Finaly, after exploring half of the downstairs, we spotted Tyler and a group of players gathered around a keg in the diningroom. They laughed louder than they should have, suggesting they were already drunk.

  I stopped walking and pointed to the free spot on the couch. “Why don’t you talk to Tyler,” I yeled. “I’m siting there.”

  He nodded. “I’l bring you something to drink.”

  I caught his arm. “Not beer.”

  Our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. “I’l scrounge some soda or something, okay?” He kissed my cheek and walked away. Kids saw him coming and parted, alowing him passage before seaming together again. Another hint at Kelin's popularity.

  I scooted, ducked, and scrambled to the couch, grateful that no one else had the spot. Although I hadn’t been claustrophobic in years, between the heat, the crowd, and the music, I trembled despite sweating. Even trying to think seemed impossible. How was this supposed to be fun? The music thumped loudly enough to cause a migraine. There was enough alcohol to start a river of it through the house. What was I doing here? Although I figured I was probably nearly the only person not drinking, I did see Rick—or was it Jimmy?—Sorenson talking to another guy. He didn't carry a can or glass in his hand and appeared almost bored.

  He must have felt the weight of my gaze because he nodded toward me. Relieved to see someone else appearing as uncomfortable as I was, I smiled and waved.

  Twenty minutes later, Kelin finaly nudged through the crowds and sat on the sofa's arm. He carried a cup and a beer. He offered the cup to me.

  I took it. “What is this?” I smeled it, but I couldn’t tel.

  Then again, I’d never had anything alcoholic before, so how would I have known?

  “Punch. The only thing non-alcoholic I could find. I hope it’s al right.”

  “It’s fine.” I took a sip, and the bitter taste made my mouth water. “Wow, this is sour.” I touched my cheek as if my fingers could ease the bitterness.

  “I know. I tasted it.”

  I looked inside the cup. “Are you sure it isn't alcoholic?”

  He, too, looked into the cup. “Tyler said it wasn’t.”

  Tyler, the source of knowledge, I thought. I could choose not to drink it, but Kelin would realize I thought Tyler was a liar. I knew how wel that would go over. Instead of having that argument, I took another sip and grimaced.

  “Come on,” Kelin said, grabbing my hand. “We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?” He stood, expecting me to folow.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, carrying my punch.

  “To dance.” He downed his beer, then nodded toward my cup. “You might want to finish that,” he said.

  “You’re right.” I gulped i t down and gasped at the bitterness. “What is that stuff? Lemon juice?”

  We both set our empty cups on the table and headed into the living room where a machine spewed fog. As we entered, a strobe light immediately kicked on, distorting the world to black and grey shapes mechanicaly moving between light glitches.

  Kelin tugged me to the room's center as a fast beat thumped, shaking the wals. Although no neighbors lived close, those a mile away could probably hear the crazy noise. He gyrated, and in the strange light flashes, his usualy blond hair appeared darker.

  Darkness hid half his face, while the other seemed too bright. The strobe also reflected off the gold chain around his neck. A medalion dangled, every so often rising and faling against his chest.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked, pointing as I swayed.

  “My medalion?” he asked, his fingers touching it. “My mom brought it back from Greece two years ago. I colect coins, and I liked this one so much she had it made into a medalion.”

  I ran my finger across the surface. “That’s impressive.”

  He laughed and leaned close. “It would have been more impressive if I’d been able to go. The whole ‘bought the t-shirt’

  thing sucks.”

  The song abruptly ended, the strobe light dimmed, and a much slower melody replaced it. Before I knew it, Kelin had slipped his arms around me, drawing me close so I could lay my head on his shoulder. Kelin bent low and kissed me. For long moments, we moved back and forth, lost in our own world.

  “You’re a pretty good dancer,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying his arms surrounding me.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, caressing my back gently. We stayed like that—our bodies linked by music--until the song ended and another heavy rock beat filed the air. The strobe resumed its crazy light show. Suddenly the room seemed too hot, the heat of bodies pressed too closely, and the dancing renewed my thirst.

  “Do you want to get something to drink?” I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.

  “Sure.” He took my hand and led me back to the other living
room. A cheerleader and her groupies occupied the seat where I’d once sat, and other teenagers filed the rest of the chairs and couch. “I guess we’l have to stand.”

  Kelin touched my arm. “I’l go get us something to drink.”

  He disappeared toward the kitchen, where the other jocks gathered around the keg, and once he’d gone, I shed the jacket, cradling it over my arm.

  It’s so hot in here, I thought A moment later, Kelin returned, offering me a cup, and I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I gulped the punch, not nearly so offended by the taste.

  Instead, I was relieved to have something cold. After I’d finished that cup, my thirst remained. “Do you mind getting a refil?” I asked.

  “Not at al,” he said, smiling. “I’l be right back.”

  True to his word, he returned with another cup. When I drank it, I didn't even notice the taste.

  “Hey, Kelin.” Another player patted his arm.

  “How’s it going, Patrick?” Kelin smiled broadly.

  “Excelent.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “We're going to play Quarters. Count you in?”

  Kelin looked from Patrick to me and back again. “Nah,”

  he finaly said, wrapping his arm around me. I leaned against his chest, wondering what exactly Quarters was.

  “Come on.” Patrick tipped his Styrofoam cup to his lips and took a sip. “It won’t take long, and then you can get back to your date.” Kelin started to decline again when Patrick held his hands up. “I see how it is. You want to break tradition.” He turned away.

  “That’s not it,” Kelin said as the music temporarily luled.

  Another rock song took over. He tapped his foot restlessly.

  “I don’t think he heard you,” I yeled. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends.”

  He glanced toward the kitchen and then back. “Sure you don’t mind?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’l be fine.”

  He kissed my cheek. “I’l check on you in a bit.” He vanished, leaving me with strangers. Becca sat half the room away, entertaining her personal clique.

  Tired of the cup, I drank the last of the punch and looked for a waste basket. I nudged through the crowd, seeking places I thought might have one. No such luck.

  Suddenly the room started spinning. I almost fel and would have if another student, Rick or Jimmy Sorrenson, hadn’t grabbed my arm. “Skye? Are you okay?” His face looked twice as long as it should have, his voice deeper and louder than normal, booming through me.

  I jumped as he spoke. It was hot—so, so hot. I must have been sweating, as my clothes stuck to my body. I felt lightheaded, as though I' d pass out. I needed fresh air. Even the music closed in around me. The Styrofoam cup slipped from my grasp. I rubbed my temple as if that would stop the frantic spinning.

  “Skye, are you al right?” Rick/Jimmy asked louder.

  “Yes,” I said. Kelin’s letter jacket tumbled from my arm, but I was afraid if I bent over to pick it up, I'd faint. Puling away, I started to the doorway. "I'l be fine. I just need some air.” What was wrong? Despite the blurry, spinning room, I headed toward the doorway, trying to remember how to get outside. People laughed at me, their faces distorted like fun-house mirror reflections. Long, oval faces with gaping mouths. Laughter erupted, and someone touched my arm.

  “What’s the matter, Skye? Can’t hold your liquor?”

  Becca leered.

  Oh, God. The punch had been spiked. I staggered forward and fel once then puled myself upright. People crowded around me, cartoonish faces staring, watching me make a fool of myself. Was I drunk? I tugged at furniture or anything else to keep upright. At one point, I tried to latch onto a table but caught only the lace runner and tugged a vase to the floor.

  I kept faling. Someone grabbed me and set me on my feet. My vision dimmed, so I couldn’t see his face. Was it Rick/Jimmy, Kelin, or somebody else? I licked my lips, trying to quel the sudden nausea. “I need air,” I said.

  “I’l take you outside.”

  I stumbled more than walked, and once the cold air brushed my face, I knew I’d made it. The guy had wrapped his arm around me.

  “Let’s get a little bit farther."

  I stiffened, uncomfortable with such close proximity to someone I couldn't see, but if I tried to walk on my own, I'd stumble. The world, even in blackness, spun. A few more steps.

  Then he shoved me forward. I started to fal but regained my footing.

  “Where am I?”

  “Where no one can see you.”

  His words confused me until he shoved me to the ground.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Let me go,” I trying to pul away. I franticaly blinked, trying to clear the darkness.

  “Where's the fun in that?” He kissed my neck and face.

  One hand stroked my breast.

  “Tyler.” I recognized his voice and tried again to pul away. Oh God, I can’t see him. “What do you want?”

  “The same thing you want.”

  “Let me go,” I repeated.

  His fingers stroke my face, and I tried to pul away. His hands cinched down on my shoulders and shoved me. My head slammed against the ground. Pain. I almost passed out.

  “Don't fight this. Just enjoy it.”

  I tried to get up but couldn’t. I touched the back of my head and felt moisture--blood?

  “I'l be gentle.” He unzipped my jeans and jerked them down. I tried to grab his hands, but I couldn't catch them. I inhaled to scream but he covered my mouth with his. Frantic, I bit his tongue.

  "Damn!" He slammed me against the ground again. More pain exploded in my head. He shoved my knees apart. Pain stabbed my back. I saw Tyler above me, and then I felt him inside, ripping me apart. I wanted to scream, but he clamped his hand over my mouth. "Shut up, bitch! You think you're so damned much better than me. You'l go out with my best friend, but not me? Wel, he won't want you after I'm through." It seemed to go on forever, and then he slipped from atop me, hovering for a moment. As he exhaled, the scent of beer nauseated me.

  Tyler stood and calmly drew his jeans up with sure fingers.

  He zipped them and raked his fingers through his hair. “I didn't mean to get so worked up. It's just when you were holding onto me, I thought maybe you wanted me, too."

  He leaned over me, and I shuddered, knowing I couldn't escape. Instead of hitting me, he brushed the hair from my face. "I never meant to hurt you. But you bit my tongue, Skye. You bit me!

  And everybody saw the way you were leaning against me inside.

  You were al over me. Becca wil vouch for me, so it realy doesn't matter how you feel. Stil, I can keep this between us if you can.

  Keep quiet, and it won't be as bad, okay?”

  "I didn't want you," I said. "I've never wanted you."

  Tyler clenched his jaw and nodded. "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you, Skye.”

  I closed my eyes and roled into a bal. Even that motion hurt. My ribs. Was something broken? I shivered uncontrolably.

  Bile rose in my throat. I propped myself on one elbow and vomited until nothing else came out.

  I glanced to see if Tyler loomed nearby. I was alone. I drew my hand across my face, wiping my mouth. Tears spiled down my face. God, I couldn’t stop crying. I puled up my jeans and adjusted my shirt. “Oh, God,” I whispered. Did anyone see this? I blushed and imagined Tyler's face as he told Kelin the lies he'd made up about me. I had to get out of there.

  I fled Tyler’s extravagant yard, but even running didn’t warm me. Pain burned inside my chest as I shivered violently, wondering what I looked like. I touched my hair—a mess. How could I explain this? The world was stil spinning and strange, but what did it matter if my vision was so crazy? I just had to get out of there. I felt dirty and raw and ashamed.

  Finaly I reached the main road, a good five miles from my house. I didn’t know the time, but my curfew had to be close, if not way past.

  I wrapped my
arms across my chest, and even that hurt.

  Something was broken. Trying not to think, I just kept walking.

  Maybe I wouldn’t make it home soon, but my mom didn’t have to know my shame. I started to cross the street, but a car's headlights flashed. Panicked, I jumped into the shadows. Was Tyler coming after me?

  The car stopped, and Rick/Jimmy Sorenson stepped out.

  Even in darkness, I saw his untucked plaid flannel shirt and jeans. I ducked behind a tree, hoping he wouldn’t see me. “Skye?” He walked around, searching. In the moonlight his hair appeared black. “I know you’re here. Tyler's shooting off his mouth about you—except we both know he's lying." He spotted me, and I tried to duck around the other side of the tree. "You don't have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Even when I didn’t answer, he remained, hunting for me. I knew he wouldn’t leave, so I stepped out. “I have to get home.” I tried to brush around him, but he caught my arm. I recoiled and whimpered from my pain-filed ribs. “Don’t touch me.” I bent over slightly, trying to ease the pain. My body shook, and without realizing it, I’d backed up enough so a street lamp shone on me, reflecting my wild hair and ruined make-up.

  “You al right?” He stepped toward me, reaching for my hand. "God…." His voice died away in shock.

  “Don’t touch me.” I wanted to step away, but right then breathing took al my energy.

  He stepped back. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as if to prove his word. “Someone's already done that.” He puled a cel phone from his belt clip. “Want me to cal the police? Or someone else?”

  I imagined reporting this and the horrible things they'd have to do to get evidence. I shuddered. Besides, I knew wel enough how much money Tyler’s family had—enough to make me wish I’d never been born. “No--don’t.” My voice trembled, and tears burned my eyes. “Please don’t. I just want to go home.”

  “You’re hurt, Skye.” He nodded toward my ribs.

  “Judging by the way you move and the pain you’re in, you’ve got at least a few fractured ribs. Maybe broken ones. You should go to a doctor.”