The Anti-Virginity Pact

by Katie Wismer

  I’m so taken aback, I actually take a step away. “So, I guess you heard.”

  “Of course I heard!” she calls from the other side. “How could I not? There were a dozen of those damn flyers shoved in my locker.”

  I close my eyes and rest my hand against the door. “I’m so sorry, Harp. I never meant for—”

  “Oh, just save it,” she snaps. “You never ‘mean for’ things to happen. It’s never your fault. It’s always the world out to get Meredith, isn’t it?”

  It feels like she just slapped me. The tears rise again, but I bite them back. “I never said—”

  “Tell it to someone who cares. This is the last thing I need right now.”

  My guilt and concern quickly shift into something else. Something with much more heat. “This is the last thing you need right now?” I demand.

  “Yes!” she practically shouts. “You’re the one who screwed up, so how is it fair that I’m the one getting punished for it? Do you have any idea what it was like for me at school today? Do you?”

  “What it was like for you?” I echo tonelessly.

  “It was hell,” she continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Do you know what it’s like to have everyone, even people you don’t know, come up and make fun of you for having a slut for a sister? To have people shove your books out of your hands and write things on your locker? You were asking for it, but me? What did I do? Why is what you did my fault?”

  Her words strike hot, leaving my skin stinging as if struck—and she may as well have hit me. But I’m not sure if the burning sensation is from shame or anger. “Would you just open the door so we can talk about it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You know, it’s probably stupid of me, but I was kind of hoping you would be the one person in my corner on this.”

  There’s a pause, and then: “Maybe you should have thought about that before,” followed by her footsteps retreating farther into her room.

  Well. I guess that’s it, then. I pretend there isn’t a lump in the back of my throat, that my eyes aren’t burning. That the churning in my stomach isn’t the size of a wave.

  You were asking for it.

  My throat tightens so much, it’s hard to breathe.

  Halfway down the hallway, I freeze and turn back around. “Please don’t tell Maman and Papa.”

  There’s a long pause. For a moment, I think she didn’t hear me, but then the words, “Maybe I won’t, maybe I will,” fill the space between us.

  ✦✦✦

  It’s a few hours after sundown when I pull up to the shelter. All of the windows are dark and the parking lot is empty. Closing time was several hours ago.

  I didn’t technically sneak out. Maman and Papa have never had to give me a curfew since I never really do anything that requires staying out late. But I did wait until they’d retreated to their room and closed the door before I left.

  I just couldn’t handle their questions. Tonight might be the last night before they know. By some miracle, they haven’t found out already. But I can’t bank on that lasting much longer.

  I fish the spare key Jada had made for me months ago out of my pocket and head for the front door. It’s quiet when I step inside, and the bell above the door feels twice as loud as usual. I hear the dogs start to stir in the back, probably from hearing the bell. Just in case a concerned citizen decides to call in a break-in, I resist the urge to turn on the lights and use my phone’s flashlight to guide me through the dark building instead.

  The dogs go crazy when I step into the room.

  “Shh. Shh.” I grab a bag of treats from the table and slide one into each of their cages, coming to Squirt’s last. She wiggles excitedly, pawing at the door as I approach. Instead of sliding her treat in like the rest, I open the cage. She jumps into my arms immediately, licking beneath my chin.

  “Hey, little one,” I whisper, press my back against the wall, and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. Squirt curls into a ball between my legs and rests her head against my knee.

  We just sit there for a while, my hand absently running through her fur. At some point, I started crying, and the tears drip silently down my cheeks, but I just stare blankly at the wall of dogs, focusing on the warmth of Squirt against my legs.

  I’ve thought about it so many times, just taking her home. Hiding her in my room from my parents; I could probably get away with it for a solid few weeks before they found out, maybe longer if I could get Jo in on it, passing her back and forth between our houses. Just long enough until college; then I could declare her as an emotional support animal or something so I could bring her with me to school.

  Squirt turns around in my lap so she’s facing me and licks my arm a few times.

  “You’re such a good girl,” I whisper, scratching behind her ears. “You’re such a good girl.”

  She sighs happily and flops back onto my knee.

  I know I should go home. Try to get some sleep. Figure out what I’m going to say to Maman and Papa after Harper tells them, because I know she will. Figure out how the hell I’m supposed to get through the school day tomorrow.

  Figure out how I’m ever going to face Sam again.

  But I do none of those things.

  I just scratch Squirt behind her ears, lean my head against the wall, and close my eyes.

  17

  It’s five minutes until first bell, and I’m still sitting in my car in the parking lot. My hand has been on the door handle for the last ten minutes, but I can’t bring myself to get out of the car.

  I can do this.

  Maybe if I repeat that to myself enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

  Miraculously, my car was mostly fine after flying off the road yesterday. Towing it back up the hill proved to be the difficult part—but at least Johanna finally got to test out just how much horsepower her Jeep has. And maybe some neighbors got an entertaining show of two completely clueless teenage girls standing in the middle of the road for two hours, trying to figure out how the heck to tow a car, because we sure as hell weren’t calling anyone else and letting that get back to either of our parents.

  Besides a few scratches and a serious coating of mud, Stew’s okay. Honestly, I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t be so I’d have no way to get to school today, yet here I am.

  I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

  I don’t care what any of these people think of me.

  They only win if I let them.

  I shove the door open before I can talk myself out of it and walk into the school, head held high and eyes trained forward. Maybe everyone already forgot about it. Maybe I’m old news. Maybe—

  “Hey, Mare!” A guy in a letterman’s jacket bumps me with his shoulder as he passes. He’s on the football team, that much I know. He’s also never spoken to me before, so this can’t be good.

  “We’ve got five minutes before class. Wanna head back to my Jeep over there? I can make it quick.” He winks. Two more jocks appear at his side, they exchange high fives, and all turn away laughing.

  My cheeks are burning, but I refuse to stare at the ground and scurry inside as I usually would. I kind of wish I’d thrown back some witty comeback, something like, Like you could last five minutes, but the moment passes and they walk away, swallowed into the crowd entering the school.

  I think someone else says my name as I walk, but I keep my eyes trained forward until I reach my locker, where I find a sheet of paper taped to the surface, but it’s not another photocopy of the pact.

  Sign up here to volunteer your services for the charity of Nail Meredith Beaumont is written neatly at the top followed by: *screw at your own risk. We are not liable for any STIs contracted during your volunteering period.

  Twenty or so names are listed below, followed by a note scrawled in black ink: I wouldn’t touch that disgusting whore if you paid me.

  Disgu
sting whore?

  I have never in my entire life been called something so ugly.

  I’ve always been the preacher’s daughter. The goody-two-shoes. The shy girl.

  But a whore? I’ve never even had sex, and suddenly I’m a whore?

  I inhale a shaky breath, tear down the paper, and pop the door open to retrieve my French book.

  It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

  No matter how many times I tell myself that, I can’t seem to swallow the feeling rising behind my eyes that feels suspiciously like tears.

  ✦✦✦

  I spend the entire day with muscles so tense, my shoulders are aching by the end of it. When the last bell finally rings, I hurry out to my car, desperately eager to get home and away from all of these people, and come out to the parking lot to find this.

  My car is surrounded by a dozen or so members of the Pretty Committee. Literally surrounded. They stand shoulder to shoulder around its perimeter, waiting for me. Ashley stands at the head, and as she sees me approach, her peach-glossed lips break into a smirk. “There she is.”

  Her posse glances up, donning matching amused expressions. They all seem to be derivatives of the same person, within a few varying shades of box-dyed hair. They’re not even matching, per se, but it’s in the way they hold themselves, the way their eyes follow Ashley’s every movement, almost subconsciously. How every time she tilts her head or crosses her arms over her chest, the entire group’s center of gravity shifts to accommodate it. There’s a sharp hunger in the way they watch her, something caught between wanting to be like her and wanting to take her place.

  The pair of girls directly behind Ashley, with matching dirty-blonde bobs, starts a slow clap as I approach.

  This can’t be good.

  “Hi, Ashley,” I offer and come to a stop a few paces away. I eye the door on the driver’s side, but two girls are now leaning against it, arms crossed, lips curled as if daring me to try to get past. There’s no way I’m getting in there without some kind of violence. Not that these girls don’t deserve it, but that’s not really my style. And honestly, I’d probably end up doing more damage to myself than to any of them.

  “Happy long weekend!” Ashley takes a step forward and reaches her hand out to me, causing the numerous gold bracelets around her wrist to ding.

  I stare at the oncoming hand in alarm, but she just wraps it around the top of my arm, almost in a friendly gesture, and escorts me toward the group. “We’re all hanging out tonight,” she informs me.

  “Cool,” I say noncommittally. I don’t think it’s any secret that the Pretty Committee hangs out practically every night. But that does nothing to clarify what the heck is going on here.

  “No, silly.” She pats my arm and releases me. “We. All of us. That means you, too.”

  My stomach knots as I meet the gaze of the girls leaning against the door again. They both show me their teeth, but I definitely wouldn’t call them smiles.

  “Um.” My voice comes out too high. I scratch the back of my neck. “I don’t think I can—”

  “Nonsense.” Ashley waves her hand. She’s still smiling, but there’s something about the look in her eye that I don’t like.

  “Want me to take your bag for you?”

  I jump at the sudden presence of the tall girl on my right. I hadn’t even seen her approach. She’s at least six feet tall—easily the tallest of the group—and she’s built like an athlete. Her hair is nearly as blonde as Ashley’s, but it’s clearly not natural. April, I think her name is. As she reaches for the strap of my backpack, I pull it tighter against me and try to take a step back. But there’s another girl right behind me. I bump into her and fall forward a step toward April. “No, it’s fine—” I start to say, but they’re not really listening because they weren’t really asking. April rips the bag from my grasp.

  “Hey—”

  Two other girls grab me from behind, each taking an arm, and start to pull me toward my car.

  “Find her keys,” Ashley instructs the tall one.

  “What are you doing?” I demand.

  The locks of my car click and the trunk pops open.

  “Hurry,” Ashley orders, glancing around the parking lot. I hadn’t even bothered to notice how uncharacteristically deserted it was when I came out. That wasn’t an accident.

  Before I can do anything else, the two girls shove me face-first into the trunk. I barely manage to curl my legs underneath me before they slam the door down on my face. Thick darkness envelopes me. Laughter ebbs in from the other side as I feel the car rock slightly under me—other people are climbing into the car. My car.

  I reach around blindly in the dark for my phone, and then silently curse myself as I remember it’s in my backpack.

  I bang my hands against the roof as the car roars to life.

  “Let me out!” I shriek.

  My breaths come in faster, but no matter how many times I gasp, I can’t seem to get any air in my lungs.

  Whoever is driving reverses so fast that my head smacks into the wall. Music starts pounding from the front as we peel out of the parking lot. I have to brace my hands on either side of the trunk just to keep myself from tumbling around.

  The drive is long and bumpy, so I assume we’re not on any main roads. At some point, the radio cuts out. They could’ve just turned it off, but I can’t help but think it’s because we’re someplace so remote that there’s no signal. I can’t think of a single positive outcome of the situation—not even a decent one. I guess the worst case scenario is they’re going to murder and bury me in the middle of nowhere, and then I’ll end up on one of those late-night unsolved mysteries shows. So, really, we can only go up from there.

  After what feels like hours, my arms aching from staying so tense and holding me up, the car slows to a stop. I can hear what sounds like gravel crunching beneath the tires, and then the hood pops open, assaulting my eyes with bright sunlight. Before my vision has a chance to adjust, someone pulls me by the arms and yanks me out of the trunk.

  I hit the ground on my knees, the rocks biting in my skin. Blinking, I try to survey my surroundings. It’s like I suspected: I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by empty land and no signs of life. Ashley and three of her friends stand around me, looking very much pleased with themselves, and I see a white SUV sitting a little behind my car.

  Dead grass and weeds surround us, extending endlessly in each direction. It almost looks like we’re in the middle of New Mexico or something, but there’s no way we drove that far.

  “What is this?” I ask, though I know the answer. I’m getting hazed, and I didn’t even join anything.

  “Well.” Ashley clasps her hands together like she’s about to teach a room full of small children. “We threw your phone somewhere in that direction.” She points to her right, a flat plane of dirt. “And your keys somewhere over there.” She points to her left, another flat plane of dirt. “Have fun.”

  Without any more explanation, the girls take off toward the white car. Ashley lingers behind, hands on her hips, face devoid of emotion as she stares at me.

  I stare back, but before I can even think of something to say, she prowls toward me.

  “Stay away from my boyfriend,” she says very, very quietly.

  “Your boyfriend?” I repeat stupidly.

  She smiles, but there is nothing pleasant about it. “Just know, if you ever come anywhere near James again, we will do something much, much worse than this.”

  James? I don’t even think I know a James.

  I shake my head, slightly stunned, and glance back toward the white SUV. The other girls are standing beside it, waiting for their leader.

  Ashley grabs my chin with three fingers and jerks my face to the side, forcing me to look at her. Her nails dig into my skin. “Understand?” she snarls.

  “Let go out of me!” I try to pull away, but she holds fast, and sharp pain
flashes up my chin. I yank a second time, this time successfully pulling my face from her grasp, and feel something hot and wet trickle down my neck.

  She’s crazy. She’s actually crazy.

  “I think you have something on your chin,” she purrs, strokes my chin with her index finger, and pulls it back, proudly displaying the smear of bright red blood.

  “Is this fun for you?” My voice comes out so quietly, I’m not sure she heard me, but once the words are out, I realize I really want to know the answer. I want to know how someone could consistently treat other human beings like this and still sleep at night.

  “Is fucking every guy in the school fun for you?” she asks, voice sickly sweet.

  “You know that’s not true,” I say quietly.

  She shrugs. “I really don’t care who you spread your legs for. But if you go after my boyfriend, I’ll make your life even more of a living hell than it is right now. Or, you know what, maybe that’s too obvious. Maybe I’ll go after that little dyke of a sister of yours.”

  Whatever fear was left in my system is quickly overpowered by the pure fury surging through my veins.

  “You know what?” I hear myself saying, though it’s almost an out-of-body experience, because I have no control over the next words that come out of my mouth. “I feel sorry for you. Because this is it for you. After high school, you’re not going to be able to push everyone around like this anymore. You won’t be able to step on everyone like they’re ants. You’ve peaked in high school, Ashley. You know what happens to the mean girl who peaks in high school? Yeah! Me, neither. Because no one gives a shit about her after graduation, and she never ends up doing anything. So live it up.” I raise my arms at my sides and gesture around. “Live it up now while you can.”

  She stares at me in silence for several seconds. I stare right back. Then she slowly backs away to her car, and I watch them pile into the SUV. Ashley hesitates by the driver’s door.

  “That’s it?” I call after them. “This is the best you can do?”