"Yes," I said. I didn't know if I really was like her or not in this respect, but I knew at the moment, I wanted to be. She sounded like a love coach, if there ever was such a thing.
"Good. He'll turn to you to try to take control again. Let him kiss you, but this time, when he touches your breasts, you push him back and say it's awkward in the front seat. He'll practically claw the seat to get into the rear. That's when you tell him to prepare so neither you nor he can get into trouble. See? You're ordering everything He won't even realize it right away, but you've turned him into your sex slave, and not vice versa."
She looked at the sofa.
"This is about the length and width of Dana's back- seat," she said. "Get up a minute."
I did, and she sprawled on her back and looked up at me.
"I'm Dana, practically with my tongue hanging out by now," she said, and stuck out her tongue. I started to laugh, but she shook her head. "No, no, let's stay serious. We'll have plenty of time later to laugh about it."
I was really laughing more out of nervousness than anything. "How come you think we'll laugh afterward? You think it will be funny?"
"You're so serious all the time, Zipporah. I have to work hard at getting you to enjoy yourself. Of course, it will be funny, too, but I want you to get more out of it than he does, and I want him to believe that."
"Why?"
"Because they always think they're so superior," she practically shouted at me. "It's just good to bring them down a peg or two. Now, you start to climb over the seat and stop and take off those panties."
"Take them off?"
"It will be quite difficult to do anything with them on, Zipporah. Hold them up. He'll be so excited he'll be begging you to hurry. Make sure he's done what he was supposed to. He uses the lubricated ones, which you need, this being your first time. He'll be impressed that you're making sure. He'll think you might even be more experienced than he is. He'll say something like, 'See for yourself.' You say, 'I will, and you'd better not be lying to me, or I'll leave you lying there to suffer.' Say that," she said.
I did feel as if she were writing this whole scenario right here and now, just as she had predicted she would.
"Reach down and check."
My heart was pounding with the thought of doing what she said.
"Then lower yourself slowly over him. We talked about orgasms before. You know what you're expecting to happen. Even if it hurts, don't let him know. You'll get past it. You'll see. When it's over, you'll recuperate faster. Climb over the seat, and tell him you have to get back quickly. He'll be moaning in the backseat. Tell him he's a wimp if he doesn't get moving. When he drops you off back at the post office, he'll beg for another date. Tell him you'll think about it. Make it seem as if he wasn't quite as good as you expected or hoped. Now, do you have any questions?"
"I don't know if I can do it all exactly as you described," I said.
She sat up. "Damn it, Zipporah, you can, and you will. Am I right? Well, am I?"
She looked furious. I nodded quickly. "Yes," I said. "Um, my father might wonder about this skirt."
"He knows your clothes that well?" she asked, grimacing.
"I've never worn it before. He might ask," I said. "I just want to be careful."
"So take it off for now, and put it on before you get to town," she said with some annoyance. "You can stop anywhere in the darkness and do it."
"I have other skirts."
"No, wear mine. Just like we were doing before," she said, "we're sharing everything. You should have this experience in my skirt. Promise me you will. Promise. Otherwise, it just won't mean the same to me, to us. Promise."
"Okay, okay, I promise," I said, even though I really didn't understand why it would matter so much.
"Good," she said, lying back. "Good." She smiled up at the ceiling.
"When you return tonight, we'll be closer than ever, because we'll have something new to share. I couldn't describe my experiences well to you, being you were such a virgin, but that will be different now." She reached up for my hand and pulled me a little closer. "Let's recite the Bird Oath," she said. "I need to hear it. It gives me comfort." We did, and she looked very pleased and at ease again.
"I've got to go down to prepare what my mother left for my father's and my dinner," I said. "He should be home soon, anyway."
"Fine," she said. She walked me to the attic door, where she reached for my hand again and then hugged me. "I'm so excited for you," she said.
I could see in her eyes that she really was, but I couldn't help still wishing she would worry more about herself and what would happen to her, more than she was about my having crucial life experiences.
"Stop thinking so hard," she said. "Everything will be just fine soon. Besides, let your emotions and feelings take over for a change. Give that overworked brain of yours a rest."
I forced a smile, nodded, and left her. Nothing she would say or I would do would stop the trembling inside me, however. Now that it was drawing close to the time my father would arrive, I was even more anxious. Then the phone rang.
"Hey, honey," I heard him say. "How are you doing?"
"Okay," I said. "Mom left us a roast chicken, and I'm putting up some wild rice and. . ."
"Well, I'm calling because I won't be home for dinner. Sorry. I can't get out of this meeting with a pretty important business client of ours."
"Oh?"
"Yes, it's something I have to do, or I wouldn't, especially tonight, believe me."
"It's all right, Daddy," I said.
"I'll be tied up until about nine-thirty or ten." "Don't worry about me."
"I had a chance to talk to the district attorney today, Zipporah. They're going to speak to Karen's mother about the thing you told me, and later this week, maybe as soon as tomorrow, they'll want to speak to you again. Are you up to doing it? It would really help Karen."
"I'll do my best," I said.
"Good. You're a tough kid. Your mother will probably be calling to check on you soon, too. You're sure you're okay by yourself? "
"I'm sure," I said, and hung up.
I ran up to the attic to tell Karen she could come down and have dinner with me.
"See?" she said, after she heard my father wasn't coming home until later. "It's all working out as if it was meant to. You don't have to bother taking off the skirt and stopping on the road in the darkness to put it on. You'll be home before your father gets home."
"Yes, it's just as you said it would be. He also told me the police want to speak with me again."
"When?"
"Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. They're going to speak with your mother first."
"They are?" She looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled. "Good. Maybe they'll catch her in a lie. Don't worry. I'll think about what you should say and do. You'll be fine."
"If they believe us, you'll be able to come out of hiding," I said. "My father might even be your lawyer and everything He'll have you out on bail, and you can live with us without it being a secret."
"Sure," she said. "Let's just do it right. You don't tell them anything about me until I say so. Swear. Hand on your heart. Go on."
"I swear," I said, my hand over my breast.
"Good. I'm starving. Let's eat," she cried.
Why was she so much less intense about all these things than I was? I envied her for her calmness.
My mother called soon after, just as my father had predicted. Karen stood off to the side, listening to me reassure her that I was fine.
"You're doing really well, Zipporah," Karen told me after I hung up. "I'm proud of you. I just knew you'd be the right person to invest my hope and trust in. I'm so lucky to have you as a friend," she told me, and I felt the tears come to my eyes.
"I'm lucky to have you, too," I said.
"Even after all the trouble I've made for you?" "That's when friends are most important."
She smiled. "You know what I like about you the most?"
"I like your optimism You don't know it, but the truth is, I wish all the time that I could be more like you. You really believe good things are going to happen. That's nice. Your days will be full of joy, I'm sure."
Now, she looked as if she was the one who would soon cry.
"I want you to be happy and safe, too, Karen. My days won't be full of joy if you're not."
"Thanks. All this has made us closer, but I still feel bad that you're doing so much for me. That's why I want so much for things to go well for you tonight. We've been teenagers together, and now we're going to be young women together. Imagine We'll be sharing the same guy. We'll compare real notes later, so don't keep your eyes closed the whole time," she said, laughing.
Sharing the same guy, I thought, and
remembered what Jesse had told me on the phone about the dangers of two girlfriends having the same guy. It couldn't be good. If Dana liked me more after this, she wouldn't be happy, and if I was a failure in his eyes compared to Karen, I wouldn't be happy. Jesse was right, I thought, but there was no turning back now.
At dinner, I thought we'd continue to talk about my rendezvous with Dana Martin, but she wanted to hear more about school and especially the other girls. When I spoke about our classes and teachers, there were some moments when Karen looked as if she really missed everything. She talked about the teachers she liked. She spoke in the past tense, as if she were already long gone.
Both of us watched the clock. I thought I should leave when it was just a little past seven, but she told me to wait a little longer.
"It's better if he thinks you might not come. Show him you're not dying to be with him."
I couldn't stop having the feeling I had swallowed a hive of bees. Finally, she turned to me and said, "Okay, you should set out. I'm sure he'll be there waiting."
She followed me out in the darkness to get my bike.
"Good luck," she said. "I know it's going to be
wonderful." -I started away and stopped to look back at her.' Was Dana Martin your first, too?" I asked her. "No, Zipporah, Harry was my first, and it wasn't very nice, remember? Remember I told you I went with Dana to feel good about myself again? You don't have that problem. This is just going to be a special experience for you. You don't have the baggage I had. You don't hate yourself."
I stared at her. I never thought of her as someone who hated herself. Why should she? "You shouldn't hate yourself," I said.
"Let's not talk about me. It's hard for you to understand, I'm sure. You're a lot luckier than me. You've always been," she said.
I think she realized the way she sounded, the
resonant note of bitterness under her words, because
she quickly added, "But I'm happy for you. I really
am. I'm happy for us both!" she said.
I nodded and started away.
"Don't you see? This really is like my first time,
too. So don't let me down," she cried, as I rolled down
the driveway. "You look like me in my skirt!" she
shouted.
When I looked back, she was gone to return to
the attic, or else she had simply stepped deeper into
the shadows to watch me ride off.
Months ago, what she had just said would have
made me very, very happy. I wanted us to be as close
as two people could ever be, friends forever and ever,
but now I wasn't comfortable about her living her life
through me, even if it were to be for only a short
while.
I had enough trouble living for myself, I
thought. The added responsibility weighed heavily on
my mind and my heart. I pedaled through the glow of
the moonlight mechanically, as if my body were truly
no longer mine, as if I had indeed fallen under a spell
Karen had cast like a net over me. I was rushing downhill, unable to put on the brakes very effectively,
and completely unable from to change direction. The sight of Dana Martin's car in front of the
post office sent a chill up my spine. I slowed my
pedaling and hesitated. In a few moments, it would
really be too late to turn back, I thought. How could I
even think of turning back now, anyway, after all the
promises I had made? I got off my bike and walked
the remainder of the way. I could see him watching
me in his rearview mirror. I put my bike on the side of
the post office building and approached his car. He
leaned over in his front seat and opened the door. "Hop in," he said.
I looked back at the center of the hamlet
George's was closing. The lights were being flicked
off in the front windows. The rest of the village was
dark, except that the bar and grill was still open, and
Sparky was out in front as usual, looking up the street.
He was the only witness seeing me get into Dana
Martin's car, I thought, and laughed to myself,
recalling how Karen and I attributed so much possible
testimony to Ron Black's dog.
"If he could speak, he could bring down most
of the big shots," Karen had said. "My mother
included."
The moment I closed the car door, Dana drove
off.
"So," he said, turning and smiling at me, "have
you spoken to Karen today? Did she warn you about
me?"
"If she had, would I be here?" I answered. He laughed. "Karen told me you were very
special. She called you the school's biggest well-kept
seeret." "Me? Why?"
He just smiled at me. "To be truthful, I've never
heard any of the other guys talk about you except to
say they wouldn't mind being with you."
"Why should they?"
Again, he just smiled.
"Where are we going? I can't stay out more than
a half hour," I said.
"Okay," he said, whipping the car suddenly to
the left to go down a side drive. He turned to the right
and into a cleared area. I saw what looked like the
start of a house construction. There was a foundation
built and lumber piled on the side. "My cousin is
general contractor for this house," he said, and turned
off the engine.
"So," he said, "what are we going to do to help
Karen?"
"What can we do?" I asked.
He moved closer.
"I don't know, but we should think about it. I'm
sure you have. I've never seen two girls who were
closer or better friends than you two. I guess you
know as much about each other as any two people
could know about each other," he said, running his
fingers through my hair. "I know this . . . I'd rather
have you for a friend than any other girl at that school.
Most of the other girls are stuck on themselves, but
not you. You're responsible, reliable, someone to be
trusted:'
"How do you know that?" I asked. He was
doing just what Karen predicted he would do, saying
the things she said he would say. How did she know? "Give me some credit for being bright enough
to see through the phony crap, will you? There's
something real about you, something sincere. I've
been watching you for a long time, even when I was
going steady."
"Watching me? What about Karen?"
"Oh, sure, but that was just my way of finding
out more about you."
"Huh?" I pulled my head back and my hair
away from his f
ingers.
He shrugged. "Karen was flirting with me, so I
paid attention to her, but after I was with her, I
realized you were really who I wanted to be with. All
we did was talk about you all the time "
"Talk about me?"
"Exactly. She told me about how you two
pretended to go on trips, even a honeymoon." "She told you we pretended to go on a
honeymoon?"
We had talked about the places we thought
were right for a honeymoon, but we never pretended
to go on one.
"Well, something like that," he said, laughing.
He edged closer again. "Whatever, I feel like I've
known you a long, long time. I'd like to know you a
long, long time," he added, and then he kissed me. There was something about the moment, about
what was happening, that made me suspicious, and it
had nothing to do with what I had come to do. It
wasn't because of his warm lips on my face or his
hands moving up my arms and around to my breasts.
It was all just a bit too perfect. An image flashed
through my mind. Karen, my love coach, was
coaching him, but on how to be with me. Was that
ridiculous or not?
"What else did Karen tell you about me?" I
asked, pushing him back.
"Nothing terrible. She told me you were the
warmest, most loving friend she had, 'ever had, ever
could have. She said she learned a lot from you." "She said she learned a lot from me?" "Sure. She said that was what was most
interesting about you, how quiet you were and
modest, but how much you already knew about life,
about relationships, about . . . love," he said, and was
at me again.
This time, he pressed his lips harder. He put the
tip of his tongue to mine. His hands were under my
blouse and his fingers on my breasts, moving over my
nipples, lifting the blouse so he could bring his lips to
them.
"You want to go into the backseat?" he asked.
That was supposed to be my demand, but I was too
deep in thought. Anyway, this was no longer
happening the way Karen envisioned it would. "I thought we were going to talk about Karen,"
I said, "talk about what we could do to help her." "What can we do? She's gone. Running off. She
Secrets 01 Secrets in the Attic Page 21
