Falling Page 9

  “How was the shopping?”

  “Good.”

  “Katy called while you were out.”

  “Okay. I’ll go give her a call.” Thank God I had an excuse to steer clear. I couldn’t let my mom see me like this.

  I dropped the parcels in my room and went straight to the bathroom. I turned on the shower as searing hot as I could tolerate and climbed in, almost scalding myself. My tears mixed with the soap that cascaded off my body as I scrubbed it head to toe. The sting subsided but a dull pain acted as a pulsing reminder of what I had lost. What a misstatement. Nothing was “lost”—it had been brutally taken.

  I put on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt and crawled inside my heated waterbed. I let out a big breath then called Katy, not that I had a clue what to say to her either.

  “Where have you been all day?”

  “Christmas shopping.” I answered with the same false enthusiasm my mom received.

  “Did you get me something?” She laughed.

  “Of course. Also…I ran into Alec.”

  “What? Tell me everything!”

  “He asked me to help him shop for gifts. We did for a while. Then he took me back to his house.”

  “Unbelievable! What happened?”

  I paused. “I lost my virginity.”

  If I was gonna lie, I would do it up hella big. No one would ever learn the truth—I would make sure of that. Burying my shame, anger and sadness so deep it would never see the light of day again presented as my only play. I had no clue what else to do with it.

  13

  Limbo

  I cycled through the motions of everyday life—getting dressed, attending school, laughing with friends, completing homework, eating dinner with my family, and drifting into restless nights—but nothing felt normal. I wanted it to, but the world that had once blazed with brilliant color now appeared dull and gray. A new version of myself emerged, an impostor, a zombie with good hair and cute clothes.

  My fears about dodging Alec never came to fruition. Not only didn’t he pursue me, he began dating the mean blonde girl I remembered from the Homecoming Dance. Not that it stopped the tidal wave of anxiety and terror that washed through me every time our paths crossed.

  I could tell Katy and Michelle pitied me, thinking I had been used and dumped like last week’s garbage. They weren’t wrong, really. With tamped-down enthusiasm, they tried to interest me in dating again. Although I’m sure they meant well, they didn’t understand. Even I didn’t understand.

  I pushed my feelings away when they surfaced—but stayed numb a lot of the time by cranking up music (rock ’n roll only), getting lost in a book (avoiding love stories while embracing horror and suspense novels), writing in my journal (my saving grace) or occupying myself with a task (but no mindless tasks, please!). My room became a sanctuary, a place of safety and comfort. I hated leaving it.

  “Want to spend the night?” Michelle said through the phone.

  “I don’t think so. My mom needs me to help her with some stuff.”

  “I already asked her and she said yes. In fact, she thought it would do you good.”

  Damn.

  “Look, I realize the whole Alec thing has been hard for you, but you can’t let one guy ruin your life. Forget about him and what a jerk he is.”

  “I’m trying.” My chest heaved involuntarily and I fought back tears.

  “No, you’re not. You’re not going out or doing anything…you’re not yourself. Katy and I are both hella worried about you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, but stop shutting us out. Let us be there for you.”

  I gulped, keeping the waterworks at bay.

  “Just say yes to coming over. We’ll hang out, watch some TV. We can always crank call Mrs. Fielding…”

  I laughed. We’d been doing that for years. “Okay.”

  “Good. It will be fun. You’ll see. But I do have one condition,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “No makeovers, and you’re not allowed in my closet.”

  I smiled. “I think you’re set in that department.”

  “I’m really glad you’re coming. See you tonight.”

  “Thanks, Mich.” I meant it.

  After supper, my mom drove me to Michelle’s. She patted my arm and told me to have a good time.

  Within an hour, I found myself laughing and surprisingly relaxed. Michelle somehow coaxed remnants of my former self out of hiding and relief spread at being out of my house and my self-imposed prison.

  A knock on her bedroom door revealed Roger’s head a moment later. “Giggle, giggle, giggle. That’s all I hear coming from this room.”

  “What do you want?” Michelle asked warily.

  “I thought I would be nice and ask if you two wanted to come to The Point, even if you are juveniles.”

  Before I could object, she answered. “We’re in.”

  I panicked, not sure I was ready for any kind of outing.

  “Just don’t be a pain in my ass, and don’t embarrass me either.” Typical Roger.

  “Jeez, alright. Don’t be so uptight!” After he left, she touched my shoulder. “Stop worrying. This will be fun.”

  We freshened up and climbed in Roger’s car. He careened through the curves of Skyline Boulevard at top speed, making me grip the car door and brace myself so I didn’t slide all over the seat. Roger took the road winding into Joaquin Miller Park and pulled into Sequoia Point. Nicknamed “The Point,” it had become a notorious hangout for anyone wanting to drink and carouse until the cops showed up to clear out the place, which they did regularly.

  It was packed, typical for ten o’clock on a Saturday night. Roger parked the car, warning us not to “do anything stupid.”

  “Hey pretty ladies,” called out a brown-haired hunk as we walked past.

  We giggled.

  “Michelle!” someone hollered, and we turned.

  “Bradley!” I followed her over to a group of guys as she explained he was an old family friend. Introductions were made, and we stood awkwardly while the two caught up.

  Someone handed us beers, and I popped the tab and took a few gulps, uneasy about being in a strange place with strange people. I wished we were back at Michelle’s. I drained the can and was tossed another one. Despite my disdain for beer, a little buzz might take the edge off. As I finished the second one, my tension eased.

  “Whoa there, girl,” said one of Bradley’s friends. “Anna, right?”

  I nodded.

  “David,” he reminded me. “You’re going to town on those beers.”

  I shrugged. “They’re going down easy tonight.”

  David stood about my height and wore navy cords. He had a friendly face with warm brown eyes. He reached into his pant’s pocket and pulled out some cigarettes. He flicked the pack, retrieving one with his lips, then offered me one. “You go to Skyline?”

  I fished out a smoke. “Tenth grade. Lucky me.”

  David flicked his lighter a few times. It ignited on the fourth attempt, and I took a drag to light my cigarette.

  “Mean ol’ Mr. Wentworth still there?” He hunched over and lit his own, exhaling away from me.

  “I think so. I don’t have him.” I popped open my third beer and took another swallow of foamy, bitter liquid.

  “Be glad. He was a real jerk. We TPed his car once. We must have used fifty rolls on that masterpiece.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

  “Don’t you want to ask where I go to school?”

  I paused, raising my eyebrows. “So, David, tell me, where do you go to school?”

  “Hayward State.”

  A college boy. He didn’t look that old. “Or Hayweird, as we like to say.”

  He smiled.

  “Figured out what you want to be when you grow up yet?”

  David shrugged. “Maybe an engineer. Or an artist. Hell, I might just cure
cancer someday.”

  I glanced at Michelle, still immersed in conversation with Bradley and a few other guys. I scanned the view—the main attraction at The Point. From my vantage high up in the Oakland hills, I could see the smattering of homes stretched out toward the bay. At night, the array of lights made the landscape appear bedazzled with little diamonds.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It never gets old.”

  For the first time in months, I conversed with ease. The more I drank, the more relaxed I became. David and I talked for an hour, covering family dynamics, the freedom of college vs. imprisonment at high school, and what we thought our future held in twenty years. Alec and I had never even spoken like this. Why I trusted this stranger baffled me. No undercurrents of fear or threat reared their ugly heads, just a strange sense of liberation.

  I swayed and David caught me, steadying me with one arm. “You alright?”

  I giggled. “Donald, I have never been better.”

  “David,” he corrected.

  “Oops! Sorry. How about another beer, Dave?”

  “I think maybe you’ve had enough. You downed a six-pack.”

  “It’s okay. I promise.” I held up three fingers like we used to do in Girl Scouts for our pledge. It dawned on me he was kind of cute. And sweet.

  “You sure are pretty. Are you really only a sophomore?”

  I stumbled and let out a loud laugh. “Yup, I am.”

  David led me over to a giant rock, and we sat down. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. Bad idea—I started spinning like a kaleidoscope. I opened my eyes and jerked upright. The reeling stopped.

  “What is it? Are you okay?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Let’s go find your friend.” David braced me as we walked around. I felt better standing, less dizzy and queasy.

  “That’s our car. If I sit down for a bit, I’ll be fine. See ya!” Before he could dissuade me, I crawled into Roger’s back seat and leaned against the headrest. That was the last thing I remembered.

  I experienced my first hangover the following morning. My dry mouth resembled chalk. The light hurt my eyes. A headache the size of the Transamerica Pyramid throbbed against my temples. In short, death was imminent. And might be preferable. I silently swore I would never drink again.

  I sat up, wincing at the effort. I was still in last night’s clothes.

  Michelle rolled onto her side over on her bed. “This blows.”

  Spikes shot through my head. I squinted, but it only made the pain worse. “I can’t believe how terrible I feel.”

  “At least you had a good time.”

  “Did I? I don’t even remember coming home.”

  “You passed out.”

  Oh no. I rubbed my eyes. “When?”

  “Around eleven-thirty. That guy you were hanging out with came and got me.”

  “Sweet Jesus.” The memory was sketchy. Corduroy pants. Not a serial killer.

  “You’re lucky he was nice. Any other creep would have taken advantage of you.”

  I shuddered, sobered by the truth of Michelle’s words. Donald? Danny? David? That’s it—David. “How did you get me in bed?”

  “You can thank Roger. I couldn’t possibly lift you. He slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and dropped you right here, Sleeping Beauty.”

  I closed my eyes and opened them again. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Rog said you were a pain in his ass, but secretly, I don’t think so. I think my brother has a slight crush on you.” She smiled knowingly.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. In fact, he was pretty emphatic about making sure no one had messed with you. Vehemently so.” She reached down and picked up her sweatpants off the floor, pulling them on.

  “I’ll have to thank him. And I’m sorry.” Great job, Anna. You’ve got a hangover plus you embarrassed yourself. Way to go! Even hungover and sporting smudged mascara, Michelle could have won a beauty pageant.

  “Don’t be. I was glad to see you having a good time. You laughed a lot last night.” She smiled, tilting her head at me.

  I understood her relief and was touched by it, but last night remained a vague, fuzzy memory. Right now, none of it seemed important—I just wanted to die or escape this agony.

  She stood and reached out her hand. “Let’s eat breakfast. That should help.”

  I allowed her to drag me off the bed, groaning with each increment required to stand. “I feel seriously grody. And I am never drinking again.”

  “Yeah…right!”

  I don’t understand why Michelle was skeptical. I meant it.

  14

  Out of Purgatory

  I continued my homebody routine of staying home and keeping to myself most of the winter. Avoiding a social life was easy and smart. What if I showed up at a party and ran into Alec? I couldn’t risk it, but I counted the days until graduation knowing I would never have to see him again. That’s why when Reese approached me at school, I surprised myself by agreeing to come to Jaime’s birthday bash. Even though our friendship was as brief as my romance with Pete, I warmed at Reese’s invitation.

  I bought Jaime a pair of colorful dangling earrings at Bedazzled in downtown Montclair and wrapped them in pretty paper. I invited Michelle to spend the night so she could come with me—too afraid of going solo.

  A glimmer of excitement filtered through me as I dressed for the party. I figured Pete would be there, a thought both anxiety producing and thrilling. I took care with my appearance, wearing a snug pair of bell-bottoms with a black scoop-necked T-shirt and sandals. Around my neck, I placed a gold necklace with the suspended letter A. I stared into the mirror and applied a coat of lipgloss. Not too shabby. Even my hair cooperated.

  Michelle arrived in a similar outfit to mine, except her jeans were white. She’d straightened her hair again, so pretty and flattering on her. We climbed in my father’s Volvo, and he dropped us off at Reese’s house, reminding me what time he would pick us up. As if I wasn’t painfully aware my father had to drive me to and from parties.

  The music blared from inside. When knocking on the door didn’t yield any results, we let ourselves in. Tez yelled a greeting and resumed play of his air-guitar, scrunching up his face in rapt concentration. I shouted a greeting to Steve, also in the living room.

  “What?” he mouthed, shaking his head like he couldn’t hear.

  Reese and Jaime bounded into the room laughing. They made a striking couple: he tall and handsome, with his coral-tinged flaxen hair, and she with her complementary auburn mane and foxy outfit. Jaime smiled and gave me a hug. I wished her a happy birthday and handed her my gift, which she ripped opened with a squeal of approval.

  Reese led us to a keg on ice in the backyard. Nearby, a hot tub overflowed with bodies, including the dynamic duo of Jake Miller and Manny Rodriguez. Manny grinned, showing off his dazzling bright teeth, a stunning contrast to his darker skin. I returned the smile and feelings of my junior high crush flickered. Manny and I became friends after sitting next to each other in math class for three years. He was a notch or two up on the popularity scale, most assuredly from his good looks. I probably bought three hundred packs of bubble gum from his covert sales operation during those years—anything to catch his attention. I recognized the girls in the hot tub: pretty, slim-figured and easy, if the rumors were true.

  Michelle poured us a couple of beers, beaming like a lunatic.

  “What?”

  “Steve’s here!”

  I grinned. “I hope you’re planning to talk to him. It’s the perfect chance.”

  She agreed, inhaling a long swig of her beer. “I just need to find the nerve.”

  I lifted my cup. “Liquid courage right here, suds and all.” A memory of the last time Michelle and I drank flashed through my mind, and I coached myself to take it easy tonight.

  “Hey, Pete,” she said.

  My heart backfli
pped. He stood right behind me.

  “Ladies,” he said. “Excuse me.”

  I moved out of his way. “Sorry.”

  Pete filled his glass, and the silence stretched between us. I took in his feathered dirty-blonde hair, those amazing green eyes, the easy way his letterman’s jacket hung on his frame.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked, clearly directed at me.

  So now you’re going to be Mr. Polite? “Fine. You?” My heart pounded traitorously.

  “Never better. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Reese invited me.”

  Pete nodded, a slight smirk crossing his face as if remembering an inside joke. “Reese,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You ladies have a good time tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He smiled and walked back through the sliding glass doors.

  “That went better than expected.” It was the nicest Pete had treated me in many months, since that horrible night at Round Table Pizza.

  “Let’s go back to the living room,” Michelle suggested.

  I laughed, knowing she was looking for Steve, and followed her.

  When I exited the bathroom, I heard muted sobs. I peered around the corner and found Mary Murphy dabbing at her eyes with a napkin, sitting alone at the dining room table. Although the extent of our relationship consisted of the occasional hello at the bus stop, I couldn’t walk away.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She glanced up, her eyes red and slightly puffy, and shook her head.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I sat in the chair next to her.

  “It’s Jake. He’s acting like a dick.”

  Even I knew they had been tight since junior high. “You guys seem so close.”

  She nodded, blowing her nose into the napkin. “We are. Except when he’s trying to get in some other girls’ pants.”

  Realization sunk in. Mary liked Jake, another victim of his dreamy good looks. “I’m sorry. That’s pretty crummy.”

  “Totally. Then he’ll come crawling back, and I’ll let him. I do it every time.”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”