Secrets 01 Secrets in the Attic

by V. C. Andrews

  "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?"
r />   I shook my head, but I was eager to hear.

  "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