Maybe it was best for him to go. Ariel picked up the sheet music, pretending to leaf through it as he flung open the door to the mudroom, then paused.
“Just saying,” he said, “she’s better than you.”
At first she didn’t know what he meant, but then it came into sharper focus. Their sexual adventure had happened right here in the studio. This damned studio. It had become her prison in more ways than one.
“I’m glad,” she said coldly. “A mother wants that for her daughter.”
“I wonder what would happen if I shared our secret.” He came back into the room, walking thoughtfully toward the piano. “You know, I was under eighteen.” He cupped his hands over the fly of his shorts. “Maybe I was taken advantage of,” he said in a whiney voice. He reached toward the flowers on the piano, touching a rosebud. “I was a young bud, not ready to open.”
“Oh, cry me a river.” She got up from the piano bench and went to the water dispenser, trying to fake indifference.
“You know, I could make a lot of trouble for you. But I’ve kept my mouth shut. And I’ll continue to keep our secret, if you patch things up with Remy.”
“That’s not going to happen.” When she turned toward him, he was right on her, intimidating her. But she spoke in a firm, calm tone. “Right now you are going to go home and take a cold shower. And next year at college you will meet a beautiful young girl and you’ll forget all about having your heart broken in high school. You’ll get married, have babies, and use your daddy’s money to buy a McMansion.”
He snickered. “And you’re going to land in jail.”
“No, Cooper. If you so much as sweat one drop of what happened, I will cry rape so loud that your ears will be bleeding. A big brute of a guy overcoming little old me. You can forget that football career. You’ll be living in the shadow of your criminal behavior. Bye, bye, football hero. That gorgeous girl won’t go near you, much less marry you. You’ll be the scourge of campus. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“You’re a piece of work.” His nostrils flared, but he was in check now. He was a skilled-enough player to know when to retreat. “Tell Remy I asked about her,” he said in a bitter tone before storming out.
She watched him go. It was only after she heard the outer door slam that she allowed herself to breathe again.
Chapter 9
Kaboom! Cassie felt like the roof had blown off her life to reveal a sky full of fireworks. She finally did it—she had sex!—a few times now, and after that awkward and painful first time, she has come to see what all the hype was about. Kapow!
It really helped that Andrew was so sweet and thoughtful. When they were making love he spoke to her softly, telling her what felt good and praising her skin, her breasts, her body. His words washed away any self-consciousness, allowing her the freedom to enjoy the sensations, embrace the journey.
But now it was Friday morning and she was in Andrew’s bed and he’d woken up with an unbelievable boner and there were no condoms left. Oh no.
He was cupping one of her breasts and rocking his pelvis against her, sending a ribbon of desire curling through her. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t risk it.
A whimper escaped her throat as she scooted back from him. “I can’t.” She sat up and scrambled back on the bed, bumping into the wall with a thump that set her bare breasts jiggling. “I can’t do this. Can’t take the chance.” She could not ruin her life with a baby now. No, no. She was not going to follow her mother down that path.
“It’s okay.” Andrew rolled away from her and pulled the quilt up to his waist. “I just . . . I wake up this way. It’ll go away.”
“Okay.” She gave up her stance against the wall and sidled close to him once again. “I want to, but, like I said, I’m not using the pill, and I can’t risk getting pregnant.” Feeling more relaxed now, she snuggled against his back and slid a hand around his chest, which had enticing indentations of muscle that she had not expected. Andrew was one of those guys who seemed thin and bony in clothes, but with everything stripped away you could see the definition of his muscles. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll get more condoms.”
She let her arm slid down over his tight abs.
But she landed on . . . it. So hard and high.
He groaned.
“Sorry.” When she started to pull away he covered her hand with his and held it there.
“Maybe we can try something different?” he whispered. He guided her palm over him, up and down. Slowly. Then picking up the pace.
Oh. Okay. She could do that. Attentive and on alert, she was a student of the process, a woman in training. She could learn this. She had an excellent teacher.
The week before finals was not the best time to hook up with someone. Sex was a huge distraction when you could have it just about any time, all the time. Besides, when Cassie wasn’t with Andrew she found herself obsessed with thoughts of him and of her new self and of the potential of the two of them together. Cassie had two papers to write and a mountain of material to review for next week, but that was nothing compared to Andrew’s workload. An engineering major, he had a few classes that she didn’t even fathom, one involving algorithms, and one called Quantitative Physiology. He called it Quan Phys. So cute. As in, “I’ve got a Quan Phys study group this afternoon. Want to come to the library with me?” he’d asked her over lunch. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, which he had made for her since they were at his house.
“Sure,” she told him. She had a poetry analysis essay to write, and it was easier to work in the library. When they arrived at Valley Library, she was headed toward the cubicle when he grabbed her hand, linking his fingers through hers.
“Come on upstairs with me. You should meet my brainiac friends.”
She had called him a brainiac as a joke, and it had stuck. Now she felt oddly touched that he wanted her to meet the smart kids after just a week or so of them being together. He liked her, and he sort of wanted to show her off. No one had ever wanted to show her off before. That was kind of cool.
All three of the guys shook her hand, which was not something kids in the U did. Darren shook her hand and then returned to searching for something on his iPad. Seth, the bearded one from Spokane, Washington, seemed painfully shy, while Shiv, a slight young man from India with jet-black hair and gorgeous mocha skin, was very personable. When he found out that she was a nursing major, he teased her. “That is a far more noble profession than anything we might engage in. Andrew, you have a good girl here.”
“I know,” Andrew said, his pale blue eyes holding her gaze in such an intimate way, even here, in front of his friends.
She chatted with Shiv a little longer, then bowed out of the small conference room to whittle away on her essay. As she worked she texted with Remy, eager to talk with her. At this point, all of Cassie’s roommates knew about Andrew, and Remy knew they were dating, but Cassie hadn’t shared many details. Now, with concerns over birth control for the very first time, Cassie needed to talk to her younger sister. Knowing that all her roommates had lost their virginity in high school, Cassie didn’t want to bring up the topic of sex with them. It was too embarrassing to be the only novice in the group.
When Remy texted her that she was free to talk, Cassie packed up her things and ducked outside to the gray drizzle. Tiny droplets hummed through the air, and the grassy lawn was soaked. But the moisture was a refreshing reminder of spring—of new things. Cassie lingered under the library’s overhang as she called Remy’s number.
“Hey, wassup?” Remy sounded cheerful as ever.
“Actually, a lot of things. Remember I told you about that guy, Andrew? Well, things have moved fast.” Details spilled forth as she brought her sister up to speed on her relationship with Andrew. Remy wanted to know which actor he most resembled—Michael Cera, but more distinguished—and what his sign was—Sagittarius.
“That’s a good match. A Sagittarius man needs a strong woman, and
that’s you, Cassie. Leo and Sag go well together.”
“Nice.” Cassie didn’t really follow astrology, but she was happy to have the stars on her side.
“When are you going to send me a picture of you two together?” Remy nudged her.
“I will. It’s all pretty new right now. And that’s not the only thing that’s new.” Cassie explained that they had been having sex. “We’ve been using condoms, but you know that’s not a hundred percent effective. And I can’t get pregnant. What should I do?”
“Go to the school clinic, or else get a referral for a free clinic. They’ll give you BC pills.”
“How much will that cost?”
“It should be free. I’ve never paid for them. And you’re over eighteen, so you won’t need consent. You’re in a college town; it’ll be super easy.”
Of course it would. Cassie wondered if they’d still be open now, Friday afternoon. She would call the school clinic for information as soon as she got off the phone with Remy.
“Thanks. How’s your day going?”
“Kind of sucky. Cooper is being a shit.”
“Aaah! I can’t believe he’s being so mean to you. What did he do now?”
“He poured a bottle of cologne inside my locker. Bad cologne. Now all my books reek.”
“What an ass. I guess his true colors are shining through.”
“He was always so nice to me. I know he has a good heart, and he’s just hurt.”
“Don’t defend him, Remy. He’s acting like a ten-year-old.”
“I know, and it makes him impossible to reason with. But I’m going to talk to him. I’m not going to let him scare me, and I’m not going to be the victim here. We don’t have to be friends; I just want a truce between us.”
Cassie frowned at the thought of that big brute pushing her little sister around; Remy had always been way too nice for her own good. “A truce is fine, as long as you stand your ground with him. Don’t let him push you around just because he’s a big bully, twice your size,” Cassie warned.
Remy let out a laugh. “Spoken as a big sister. Don’t worry about me. I know how to handle Coop, and I don’t even want to waste time talking about him anymore. You go do your birth control shopping. I’ve got to get over to the bridal shop to pick up my prom dress. The alterations are done.”
“Nice. Are you looking for another prom date?”
“Nope. Not feelin’ it. I’m going with some girlfriends. Keepin’ it in the posse.”
Cassie smiled as they said good-bye. That was Remy, always landing on her feet, like an agile cat. Taking her sister’s advice, she hung up and dialed the number of the school clinic. The sooner the better.
Chapter 10
Rachel slogged along the path Friday evening, grimacing with each damp squish of her running shoes. Her mood was darkened by the pointed edges of recent conversations that haunted her. Her sons and their problems. In the dusk, gray clouds parted to reveal the moon surrounded by translucent rings. Her mother used to say that a ringed moon was a sign of bad weather and trouble.
Right now Rachel had plenty of both.
Although she was able to put her personal worries on a back burner when she was at the salon, turmoil over her sons’ issues ruled her personal life. That was nothing new, but recently she’d begun to wonder if she was part of the problem. Rachel had always been involved in their lives, not really a helicopter parent, but a disciplinarian and a cheerleader. A pusher. She had always acted in their best interests, but maybe it was a mistake to have her hands all over their lives. KJ was twenty and Jared would be eighteen soon. Had she carved them into mama’s boys? Was it time to back away? Or maybe just begin to extract herself. Good Lord, she couldn’t walk away from KJ when his health was at risk.
“There’s a concern about brain-stem injury,” the neurologist Dr. Susan Ginsberg, had told Rachel over the phone earlier that afternoon. The doctor had explained that KJ had given consent for her to talk with Rachel. “And that might be the best thing he ever did, Mrs. Whalen, because he seems to be in denial about the consequences of continuing to play football. KJ’s chances of brain damage are worse than he realizes. And once the brain is damaged, we don’t have the means of fixing it.”
Stammering a response, Rachel had encouraged the doctor to go on, and the woman had compared the brain to a head of cauliflower. When the top of the cauliflower was hit, the stem softened and weakened a bit more. Repeated blows to the top of the cauliflower damaged the stem. With enough damage, the stem would no longer function.
Rachel’s heart had been racing like a nervous rabbit by the time the doctor had finished her description. For the first time, she had realized that her son’s health truly was at stake here. Gummed up with concern, she had dialed up KJ to tell him about Dr. Ginsberg’s warning.
“Yeah, I met with her. She and one of the coaches double-teamed me,” he’d complained, as if it were a bad thing. “They went on and on about the possibility of brain damage from repeated concussions. They really tried to sell me on quitting football. And I told them that I don’t care about the risk; I’ll never give up football. Never.”
“Oh, it’s worth winding up brain-dead?” she had blasted him.
“Mom . . . I may never get another head injury again.”
“You don’t know that, and I am not willing to see you reduced to being a vegetable just so you can play a stupid game for a few more years. I am not going to be around to feed you pudding while you breathe through a tube!” That was Rachel, always overboard, hammering away at her point.
In truth, she knew she would stand by her boys through thick or thin, but that was no excuse for KJ to make a stupid decision because of his ego.
“Mom! You told me to keep my options open. You drove out here Sunday night and told me to wait on it.”
“That was before I learned about the smashed head of cauliflower.”
“What the hell? You’re not making any sense.”
“I just spent thirty minutes on the phone with a neurologist who was kind enough to reach out to me because she’s concerned about your health. A lot of people are putting themselves out there to save your quality of life, KJ. Don’t you think it’s time to take the advice you’ve been blessed with and minimize the damage? Dr. Ginsberg says the hazards of playing football outweigh the benefits of playing for another year or so. It’s time to give it up.”
It was not the pep talk KJ had wanted to hear. He’d hung up on her, and she had let it go for today. Well, she wasn’t calling him back, but unfortunately, she was unable to let go of the stress and fierce worries.
With a rush of breath through her teeth, she sprinted for a few yards. Slacking off, she realized that the source of her worries had shifted to Kyle James from Jared, who had spent years navigating an entirely different set of issues. The quiet son had attracted more than his share of harassment. In junior high a handful of kids had interpreted Jared’s naïve shyness to be effeminate, starting a groundswell of rumors that he was gay. Jared had been stung to be branded for being himself, and she has swiftly stomped out the bullies’ fire with the help of the vice principal.
Then, in high school, a new brand of bully had emerged on the football team. That year there had been a shortage of players, so the freshman team had been merged in with junior varsity players. The combination put innocents like Jared in the sights of a handful of conniving sophomores and juniors who were jealous of KJ’s success and quick to recognize Jared’s weakness.
Looking back, Rachel could see that Jared did not belong in sports. His lack of athleticism made him destined to fail. But between Jackson’s passion and KJ’s talent, they had become a football family, and there was no easy way out for Jared. A second-string player, a bench warmer, Jared quickly became the victim of choice for the pack of hungry boys. They homed in on his weakness and made him the butt of locker room jokes. On the field, the players banded against Jared. Whenever Jared got a chance to run the ball, his teammates were suspiciou
sly detained elsewhere, unable to block for him.
In the first two weeks of the season, a handful of hazing incidents masked as practical jokes went unnoticed by the coaches and parents. After that the attackers narrowed their focus and accelerated the frequency and intensity of their assault. In a short amount of time, all strikes were aimed at Jared.
Of course, Jared tried to fend them off with insults, good humor, nonchalance. He went to the school counselor for help, but the administrator misconstrued his request and referred a therapist. Isolated from his friends and menaced daily, Jared began to shut down in September. He stopped speaking during dinner, stopped seeing friends on the weekends. In October, when the church choir director called to see if there was a conflict that was keeping him from attending practice, he had no answer.
“It’s a phase,” Jackson said when Rachel pointed out that Jared was sleeping more, staying in his room, maintaining an emotional distance. “This is what boys do when they’re separating from their parents.”
He made it sound like a good thing, but Rachel could feel the darkness swirling around her son, tugging him away from her.
In the twisted jumble of barbed incidents that eventually came to light, Rachel believed the worst was the time the players held Jared facedown in the men’s room toilet, threatening to drown him. Sometimes she awoke early in the morning and imagined Jared choking and gasping for air. What would it be like to hold your breath while thrashing helplessly in captivity? Guilt forced her to relive her son’s fear and revulsion in that critical moment when his head was plunged into the toilet water.
How she longed to strangle those monsters....
Rachel hated labels like the word bully, but Jared’s experiences had opened her eyes to the pack mentality in American schools. Like a group of wild wolves, bullies marauded through the halls and classrooms, sniffing out fear and pinning down the weakest prey. A nerd here, a loner there. Bullies forced kids with learning disabilities to pretend they didn’t care about the answer, even as they swept individuals hungry for identity into their ranks. At Timbergrove High, bullies ruled the popular groups and clubs, and the alternative groups like the ceramics club and the debating team were branded as “freaks, nerds, and losers.” Rachel had no reason to believe it was any different outside their suburban haven of hanging flower baskets and old-fashioned lampposts. Fresh and pristine and photogenic, her beloved town put a happy face on turmoil.
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