Hold Me Now

by Addison Moore

  I let Tess know I’ve got something big to tell them while we wait for Rachel to pick up.

  “Like what’s this about?” I can hear her gum snapping a mile a minute. I’ve always found it a little grating, but lately it’s like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Like hello?” Rachel picks up with her huskier tone. I can see where Jennifer thought Tess might be sweeter, but in the case of these two girls, it’s going to be like picking a better poison. Which way would I like to die? I already know that either relationship is doomed from the start.

  “Okay, so I have something to tell you both.” I run my hand over my face because I can’t believe I’m about to do this. “I’ve decided that I’m going to try something different for this last half of my senior year—something that I’m hoping will change the way I view things well into the future.” Because if I keep up the pace and trajectory I’m heading in, my dick might just fall off.

  “Like what is it?” one of them shouts, and for once, I can’t make out who.

  “Are you dumping us?” Definitely Rachel. She says it aggressive, deep man’s voice aggressive.

  “Actually—”

  “Like no fucking way! This is totally bogus.” Tess. She can get feisty at the drop of a hat. I only wish Jennifer were here to witness this. I truly believe people’s true colors come out in the face of adversity. But this isn’t any real adversity. This is me, a boy choosing between two girls. It should be simple math.

  “He’s just psyching us out. There’s like no way he’s ditching us.” You can hear the gum nearly falling from Rachel’s mouth.

  “It’s true. But—” I try to hike my voice over their simultaneous protests. “I’m narrowing it down to one.”

  “What!” Tess squeals with delight. “I like so knew it, babes. I like knew you’d come around and see that, like, you and me were meant to be.”

  Rachel clicks her tongue. “Like what the hell are you talking about, skank? He’s obviously getting ready to dump your ho ass. He’s just like too much of a gentleman to come out and say it. Isn’t that right, Jessie Poo?”

  Jessie Poo? Did she just equate my name with a pile of shit? As a term of endearment no less? I’m pretty sure Jennifer will have a hard time narrowing the field herself.

  “So, like who’s it gonna be?” There’s an audible wobble in Tess’s voice, and it kills me just to hear it. The nice part of an open door policy is that no one gets their heart shattered. My father’s words come back to me. A broken heart is never worth what you think you had. I’m not sure I ever thought I had anything with the two of them, with the exception of getting physical. But, nonetheless, I hate the idea of making a girl cry.

  “I’m not the one who’s going to decide.” Now I feel like a rat pawning it all off on Jen.

  They both indulge in an audible gasp. All sorts of theories are let loose at once, and Jilly, Estella, and Ramona even get dragged into this—my father.

  “Heads or tails!” Rachel shouts like she just gave the right answer on a game show.

  “Rock, paper, scissors!” Tess chimes in on the game show fun.

  “Nope. None of the above.”

  “Then who?” they demand at once.

  “Jennifer Barkly.”

  Chapter Three

  Smooth Operator

  Jennifer

  Dear Katie,

  I’ve been tutoring kids on The Hill for a year now, and guess who’s my new student? Jilly Fox—yes—as in Jessie Fox’s little sister. She’s a pistol, but for good reason. Their mom passed away several years back. Jilly didn’t exactly have the nicest things to say about her, though. She said her mother gave her the nickname Little Shit before she was ever born. I can’t imagine that anything would suck more than having your own mother call you by that horrible epithet—even if she was joking. And, then, to make it even more twisted, Jessie confessed to me that his mother told him he should be just like his daddy—the devil in a suit. She said that was his destiny. It’s like she said these horrible things, and then had the misfortune of passing away. She never got a chance to right her wrongs. I guess it’s a good lesson to be learned. Sometimes, we don’t get a chance to take back what we say.

  But on a strange, yet brighter note, Jessie Fox has asked me to do the unimaginable. What’s that? Marry him, you ask? Wishful thinking. More like cull his future bride from a cast of thousands. Well, at least from a cast of two. It’s going to be hard choosing from a skank and a ho—Tess and Rachel—a real Sophie’s Sexual Choice kind of moment. A part of me doesn’t want to do it. A part of me wants to hang on to the fantasy that, some way, somehow, Jessie could see me in that light. Oh, and have I mentioned that I’ve somehow managed to convince him that I’m interested in Danny Potter? Yes! This is my life.

  XO ~Jen

  Book I’m reading: Christine by Stephen King (As if my life weren’t scary enough.)

  Song I’m loving on a loop: Duran Duran’s “Save a Prayer” (If you can shoot one up, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to need it.)

  * * *

  “Okay, like run this all past me again.” Melissa douses a halo of Aqua Net over the three of us while we do a quick primping session in the girls’ bathroom. There are about forty of us fighting for a glimpse of our frosted lips in the mirror—for elbowroom and oxygen as well at this point.

  “Like let’s get out of here.” We stumble into the hall and head toward Heather’s locker, which is safely tucked behind the stairwell in no-man’s land. “It’s true. He totally asked me to weed through his wenches.” There’s a note of pride in my voice, and I wasn’t really expecting that myself.

  Heather makes an indistinguishable noise as her gum nearly falls right out of her mouth. She’s looking extra cute today. With her hair crimped and spiked and the ruffled tulle skirt and black lace tights, she’s got that whole Cyndi Lauper thing going on. Her lips are bright blue, and her eyes are heavily shadowed in a neon rainbow. Melissa and I are practically twins with our matching black satin blazers (it was totally an accident) with the extra stiff shoulder pads, ripped jeans, and matching LA Gear. The only distinguishing factor between us is that her laces are the curly-Q phone cord variety, and mine are just hot pink. It’s raining outside, thus the decision to trade our miniskirts for slouch socks. It’s not the first time Melissa and I have wardrobe jinxed.

  Somewhere down the hall “In a Big Country” thumps through the air, and Melissa sways her hips to the rhythm.

  “So the deal is, I like pick one for him.” My face contorts in a grimace as I say it. It feels practically criminal coming from my lips.

  “The hell?” Heather gags on her gum for real this time.

  “Don’t choke over it,” I muse. “Trust me, those skanks aren’t worth it. We haven’t even started our little sexperiment, and already I’m running for cover. They’re showing up everywhere. One of them actually tried to pass me a note while I was sitting on the toilet.”

  Melissa’s features cloud over. “You like realize they’re going to kidnap you, and we’re never going to see you again. How long is this crap-fest supposed to last?”

  “A couple of weeks.” I wince at the thought of such a long torture session brought on by Jessie’s hussy harem.

  “I can’t believe you agreed to this.” Heather looks physically ill. “It’s truly going to be a special brand of hell.”

  “Does Jessie even realize how you feel about him?” Melissa has that look in her eyes that suggests Jessie Fox’s balls are in mortal danger.

  “No. And I plan on keeping it that way. He’s not interested. It would just be embarrassing at this point. He made it clear it’s between Tess and Rachel.”

  “Those bitches are going to bury you alive in ten minutes.” Heather shakes her head at the idea. “Do you know self-defense? Things are going to get ugly fast.”

  Melissa nods, shoving her bottle of Aqua Net into my backpack, which is completely unnecessary since I’m fully equipped with my own.

  “They won’t re
ally go blind if you spray them good in the eyes. But, it’ll buy a few minutes.” Her lips tug in that strange way she does when she’s driven by genuine fear. “Maybe you should ask your parents to transfer Mark back so he can protect you.”

  “I’ll protect you.” Heather gives an anxious nod. It’s true. She would slit a throat if she had to. She’s that great of a friend.

  “Don’t look now”—Melissa’s eyes round out in terror while observing something over my shoulder—“double trouble at six o’clock.”

  “Jenny Poo!” Rachel is the first to lunge in my direction. She is done up to the nines this morning. She’s gone the dramatic makeup route today, bordering on transsexual, with her hair ratted out an envy-worthy foot off her scalp. Her lips are a dark maroon outlined with a darker color and heavily lacquered in gloss over it. How does Jessie kiss that? I’d imagine it’d make a nasty mess all over his face. I should probably take little things like this into consideration. Strike one for Rachel.

  She threads her arm in mine as Tess comes up on the other side and does the same, albeit in a much gentler, milder fashion, which in my eyes still makes her a real contender. Although, my blood boils at the idea of either of them scoring the ultimate prize. I really don’t know Jessie that well, but from what I can tell, he seems pretty decent, far too decent for these two.

  “So, like what do you like to do?” Tess coos while plucking at a long, dark curl. She’s dressed totally cute, and for some reason, her acid-washed, paint-splattered miniskirt enrages me. I’ve been on the lookout for that fashion unicorn for at least six months. Rachel’s a little more casual, with her black stirrups and bright pink leg warmers. She hardly dons a miniskirt because it’s so restricting and revealing when it comes to her pop and lock routines. Of course, she’s wearing a stretch purple top that I saw last week at Units. God, I love that store. There’s nothing more timeless than one-size-fits-all clothing that will be in style forever.

  “Oh, you know, like just the usual. Hang out. Watch TV.” I’m pretty sure confessing my Saturday morning cartoon obsession isn’t in my best interests. It’s bad enough I’ve let Jessie in on this non sequitur. “Shopping, I love shopping!”

  “Me, too!” they scream in unison, and just like that, we have a date to crawl through the mall at some undisclosed point in time.

  They talk my ear off regarding all things bitchin’! Their vast and extremely expensive Esprit sweater collection, their infinite love for Rob Lowe and Andrew McCarthy. Their contest to see who can end up with the most Swatch watches (Rachel is in the lead by five). Their insatiable obsession with Kevin Bacon and the movie Footloose. Apparently, Tess watches it every single day after school while Jessie is at practice. She says it helps her expand her mind and her heart. Heaven help us all.

  At nutrition, they actually coax me over to their table, soggy as it might be.

  “Let me get that for you!” Tess yanks Amanda Prescott’s tiny white sweater off her waist and sets it down for me to take a seat on.

  “Like you guys are so fucked.” Amanda Prescott may talk like a sailor, but there is no denying she is every bit beautiful—just on the outside. On the inside, she’s all corrosive battery with radioactive pus leaking all over. She demonstrated that clearly when she took those centerfold pictures of Heather in Motor Grinder and wallpapered the English building with them. But, like I said, she is a stunner, as are Tess and Rachel. I’m beginning to feel like Quasimodo in their bombshell presence. I’m pretty sure just being around them is a danger to whatever miniscule beauty I may have. I like totally swear, I feel myself entering into some form of superficial entropy. It’s as if they’re sucking all the decent looks right off me, and I’m becoming more and more troll-like by the minute. It’s the downward spiral beauty version of Dorian Gray, only I don’t actually benefit from this in any way.

  “Look, I have my own friends,” I snap, and the table goes quiet as the three of them gawk at me in awe. I don’t think any of these girls have ever relinquished an ounce of their power, and for a brittle, yet beautifully wicked moment, I relish how much of it I’m able to lord over them. “I just need to get to know you two, cut and dry. Like tell me something about yourselves.” There’s no way in heck I plan on hanging out on Barbie Doll Lane with Plastic Princess One and Plastic Princess Two for weeks on end. I’m pretty sure I can shore this nightmare up quickly.

  “I like shopping.” Tess nods wildly, her pink gum appearing and disappearing like an obnoxious second tongue.

  “I like shopping, you copycat skank,” Rachel is quick to growl out at her newfound nemesis.

  “I’m pretty sure we’ve already established that.” I’m beginning to think that’s all there is to cover. “Anything else? Do you drink excessively? Smoke? Are either of you pushing uppers in your spare time?” Honest to God, this would not shock me. They have an abnormal amount of energy, nervous as it may be. It’s exhausting just being in their presence. God, in comparison, Jessie must think I’m half-asleep.

  Amanda rolls her eyes. “Like, duh? Shouldn’t you be asking what their long-term goals are? What qualities they’re most interested in a man?”

  God, I hate it when I’m bested by a Barbie.

  “What she said.” I make a face at Amanda before awaiting their responses.

  Before the bell has a chance to ring, I hear all about Tess’s long-term goals regarding her toenail polish collection, in which she apprises me of the fact that the bottles last ten times longer if you put a few drops of nail polish remover in them. Of course, Rachel quickly refutes these claims, and I’m treated to a war of unpolished words for the next ten minutes.

  “Stop!” I shout. “Okay, I get it. You’re both very goal-oriented—when it comes to extending the life of your vast Cutex nail polish collection. Moving on…what are you looking for in a man?” I give a curt nod to Amanda and her bubble gum pink lips for sponsoring this necessary level of crazy.

  “Jessie Fox!” they both say it so fast, so in unison, they practically shouted his name in perfect harmony.

  “Duly noted.” I get up to leave. One can only hang out at Barbie’s playhouse for so long before your brain cells start to fizzle.

  “Wait!” Rachel gruffs in a panic and snatches me back down with her meat-hook of a hand. “Let’s get together—just you and me.” Her overblown drawn-in lips heave as if she ran a mile in this small space. “That way you can see what a great person I am, and how right I am for Jessie.”

  “Me, too! Me, too!” Tess raises her hand and scoots in her seat as if she’s about to piss her pants. “I want a date with you, too!”

  “Dear God,” I whisper, doing a quick sweep of the vicinity in the event word gets out that I’m not only a part of Jessie Fox’s hussies, but that I’m dating his harem as well. These are the kinds of misunderstandings that can shut down any future sexual prospects for the next ten years. Once the nickname Lesbo Jen replaces Tits McGee, my love life will go into an Empire Strikes Back worthy carbon-freeze. “Okay,” I hiss. “I’ll do something with Rachel first, then I’ll get together with you, Tess.” The bell rings, much to my relief, and I scoot off to class. At lunch, the same scenario reprises itself, only it’s Tess and Rachel joining Heather, Melissa, and me at our lowly table that is nowhere near Barbie Doll Lane. I’m shocked they’ve decided to leverage their social standing in an effort to get in my good graces. And in a non-off-putting way, the fact they’re willing to eschew social status in exchange for a shot at Jessie Fox’s heart sort of does bode well for them.

  By the time speech rolls around, I’m relieved to see Jessie. Yes, Rachel is a part of the ThunderCats, but for some reason, I feel like I have a greater in with him than she does at this point. For the first time in my entire high school career, I’m no longer intimidated by Rachel or Jessie.

  “How’s it going?” he asks, navigating us to the side of the room as everyone breaks out into groups.

  “Hectic.” I blink a quick smile while getting lost in his root beer
gaze. Jessie is warm and kind and doesn’t at all strike me as a vampire-dwelling douche who belongs with either Rachel or Tess. “We’re just right out of the gate, and they’re campaigning pretty hard.” I wrinkle my nose. “Nothing I can’t handle. How’s your sister? I felt kind of bad about her writing that letter to your mom. She was crying so hard I didn’t know what to do.”

  He flexes a dry smile, his eyes set to a faraway place for a second. “Don’t worry. Jilly is fine.” He leans in, the heat radiates from his face to mine, and every last part of me thirsts for more of the burn. “She loves you, by the way.” He sheds his mile-wide grin, and I do my best impression of a Popsicle on a hot tin roof. “That was nice that you cared enough to help her get through it.”

  “No problem. She doesn’t really need any tutoring, does she?” Jilly is smart as a whip. I looked over that twelve-page manifesto she penned. It’s pretty evident she could teach a senior level class on spelling and grammar.

  He shakes his head, but there’s something in his eyes that’s pleading with me. “She just needs you. We don’t like to use the word babysitter around her. It sort of sets her off.”

  “Oh, fer sure.” I have a feeling a lot of things set Jilly off. “I don’t mind keeping her company. In fact, now that I’m aware of it, this opens up a whole lot of options. Would it be okay if I took her to the mall? The bookstore? I drive real safe, and I’ll make sure she has her seatbelt on the entire time.”