Fallout

by Ellen Hopkins

  for sadness. He reaches for me,

  pulls me against the comforting

  beat of his heart. Oh, baby,

  he whispers. I’m so sorry.

  “I don’t … I just … never

  talk about it.” That part is true.

  You don’t have to talk about

  it. Sorry I brought it up.

  He kisses my forehead, down

  my left temple, the corner of

  my eye. Some weird instinct

  I never knew I possessed turns

  my face into his, and suddenly

  we’re kissing a for-real, deadly

  serious kiss. His lips are soft.

  Warm. Yielding. His tongue,

  when it comes, is gentle. Inviting.

  My own tongue is accepting and …

  SURPRISE NUMBER THREE

  Some totally foreign parts

  of my body awaken suddenly.

  Oh my God. That’s what it’s all

  about! We are kissing. Tongue

  on tongue. I can’t believe it’s

  so easy. So wondrously,

  perfectly, impossibly me.

  I am breathless, but I don’t

  want to fight the sensation. For

  once, not breathing feels right.

  I am tingling, too. But in

  all the right places.

  I DARE

  To open my eyes, only to find

  Bryce staring at me.

  Wow. You know the old saying,

  “You’re beautiful when you cry”?

  Well, you definitely are.

  “I’m not cry—,” I start, but when

  his hand brushes my cheekbone,

  his fingers come away wet.

  “I guess I am, huh? I’m sorry,

  I … uh …” He stops me with

  one tear-damp finger against

  my lips. Shh. Nothing to be sorry

  about. He kisses me again,

  and this one is even sweeter,

  despite a lingering essence

  of Esperanza’s world-famous

  salsa. Not to mention a spicy

  taste in my own mouth. Guilt.

  Summer

  CRAZY

  If I had to use one word

  to sum up my life now,

  that’s what it would be.

  Insane,

  pure and simple. Here

  I try to do the right thing,

  attempt to be one of the

  heroes.

  What does it get me?

  A life tossed into turmoil,

  any pretense of stability

  shattered. It takes

  super-

  human strength to get

  through the day when

  evening might bring pain

  or

  worse, love, only to have

  that love stolen away.

  I hold tight to my heart,

  otherwise

  it might get broken into

  tiny little pieces. Taking

  a chance on that would

  mean you definitely

  have to be crazy.

  THAT KIND OF DENIAL

  Of course means

  I must be in love.

  Fighting that love

  as best I can.

  It’s a hopeless battle.

  I’m already heart-deep.

  Don’t want to be.

  Love scares me.

  Do want to be.

  Love summons me.

  Don’t want to be.

  It’s an illusion.

  Do want to be.

  It’s pure magic.

  Don’t want to be.

  He will smother me.

  Do want to be.

  He takes my breath away.

  WHETHER OR NOT

  I want to love Kyle, I do. I have

  been avoiding Matt, and he doesn’t

  know why. He’s hurt and I should

  confess, but I have no clue how

  to say good-bye. All I know

  is that the only splinter of happiness

  I find in each day is when Kyle

  is near me. Life is currently a vortex.

  The incident with Erica exploded

  completely. Human shrapnel

  flew. Our mutual caseworker,

  Mrs. Shreeveport, is still trying

  to sort things out. She yanked

  us both out of there immediately.

  Ah, but just where to put us?

  There was only one foster care

  opening—so many messed-up kids,

  so few places for them. Erica posed

  the biggest risk right then. What to

  do with a possible sexual offender?

  Now, though, I hear they may send

  her back to Darla and Phil’s.

  Ashante is too scared to tell

  what really happened. Poor little kid.

  So begins the end of innocence.

  AND ME?

  Too bad, so sad. Nowhere else close

  to send me, I ended up back with my dad,

  at least for now. I can’t stand it here.

  I mean, at least foster homes are required

  to maintain a certain level of cleanliness.

  Not like Dad’s deteriorating single-wide

  on a dirt road near a dairy farm at the far

  edge of town. Everything here is layered

  in tobacco smoke and cow shit dust

  and carries a lingering scent of human

  piss because neither Dad nor his latest lay,

  Kortni, knows how to use a toilet brush.

  My first instinct upon arrival was to pick

  up the litter on the floor, toss the food,

  molding in the fridge. Then it struck me.

  Why do any of that? If I do, they’ll expect it,

  maybe think God returned me from foster

  care to become their designated housekeeper.

  I hope I’m not here long enough for the trash

  to gross me out completely. Bad enough

  I have to lay my head on the same old pillow

  I used when Zoe still lived here with us.

  It was clean then. Everything was—Zoe

  reigned as scrub queen. Something to do

  with the little bugs she imagined everywhere,

  including under her skin. Meth addicts

  pick those nonexistent bugs into sores.

  Pretty sure Dad doesn’t do meth anymore.

  You can’t eat like he does or wear such

  a big belly while dancing with the monster.

  He cleaned up when Grandma Jean

  and Grandpa Carl took him to court over me.

  Guess, win or lose, he decided to stay ice free.

  Noticed I didn’t say bad habit free. He chugs

  cheap beer, and the smell of weed

  has become a daily welcome home

  in the two weeks since I’ve been back.

  He even asked if I wanted a hit once, but the idea

  of smoking with my dad seemed messed up.

  I hate that he made that offer to me. Hate

  that he doesn’t think better of me.

  Hate him for not really wanting me here.

  ONE OKAY THING

  About being here. Neither Dad

  nor Kortni really cares about

  when, if, or how I come or go.

  They barely take notice at all.

  Other than school, I’m free.

  The main problem is transportation.

  It’s a long way to civilization,

  if you can call anything about

  Bakersfield civilized. To find

  something to do on this Sunday

  morning, I need a ride into town.

  Dad is still sleeping off too much

  Saturday night fun. I should

  call Matt. Have him come get

  me, apologize for being so cold.

&nb
sp; He’s such a nice guy, at least

  for the most part. I mean, pretty

  much every guy is about feeling

  you up when he can, right?

  But Matt’s never pushed me to go

  all the way. Never once raised

  his voice to me. Never once

  made me feel less because

  of where I came from. And

  somehow that makes him boring.

  SO INSTEAD

  Of calling Matt, when I pick up

  the phone, the numbers I punch

  in add up to Kyle. B-r-r-r-n-g.

  Why am I doing this? B-r-r-n-g.

  He won’t be home anyway.

  B-r-r-n-g. He’s out having fun—

  H-hello? Definitely Kyle on

  the other end. Was he sleeping?

  “Oh, hey. It’s me. Did I wake you

  up?” The long pause that follows makes

  me wonder, “Do you know who this is?”

  Of course. Wide awake now.

  What’s up? Everything okay?

  Nerves strike suddenly, try to

  shut me up. “I-I’m fine. I just

  have some free time today and …”

  And what, Summer? “And thought

  maybe you could pick me up….”

  Bad choice of words. “Uh, come

  get me. Maybe hang out for

  a while? I’m at my dad’s, and

  claustrophobia is making me insane.”

  THERE, SAID IT

  This time there is no hesitation.

  Thought you’d never ask. Give

  me about a half hour, okay?

  Over and out. It’s a very long

  thirty minutes, watching for dust

  clouds blowing this direction.

  Finally, though, a big puff of gray

  signals Kyle’s F-250 is coming

  this way. My pulse picks up speed.

  I leave a note: Went into town

  with a friend. Back before dark.

  Not sure why I bother. Dad

  and Kortni will probably

  just be rousing around then.

  Hey, maybe they’re vampires.

  On the more likely chance that

  they’re not, I grab my hoodie

  and head out the door. No need

  for verbal explanations when

  a written one will do. Kyle skids

  his truck to a stop in the gravel.

  He slides across the seat,

  opens the passenger door.

  Get in, he says. Where to?

  FAIR QUESTION

  After all, this was my idea.

  But I don’t have a destination

  in mind. I shrug. “Anywhere.”

  He grins. Anywhere it is.

  He starts the truck, which

  hums gently. Well-tuned.

  We bump down the dirt

  track, turn onto the blacktop

  away from town, toward

  the state park. The road

  winds along the Kern River.

  Ever rafted this section?

  I shake my head. “Heard

  it’s fast through here.” I don’t

  mention my water paranoia.

  I’ll take you in the spring.

  It’s more than fast. It’s ball-

  shrinking crazy. And cold.

  I laugh. “I’ll take your word

  for it.” I look over at him,

  can’t help but stare at his

  incredible physique. Only

  problem is, he catches me.

  What? Something wrong?

  “No.” Is he kidding? Just

  being here so close to him

  makes everything, “Perfect.”

  It’s close to an invitation.

  Kyle takes the opportunity

  to ask, So what got into you?

  I understand the question,

  but pretend I don’t. “What do

  you mean? Got into me how?”

  We’ve been traveling at

  a good clip. He slows down

  now. Why did you call me?

  A direct question deserves

  an equally direct answer.

  “I wanted to be with you.”

  Well, if that’s the case …

  His hand finds my thigh,

  pulls. Come over here.

  I’VE BEEN THIS CLOSE

  To Kyle before, but never with the same

  intention. Not sure where he’ll decide

  to park, but I do know when we get there

  everything will be different between us.

  We will no longer be two sides of a triangle.

  We will be adjacent parallel lines.

  My own hand travels the length of his leg,

  from knee to groin, memorizing the cut

  of his muscles. You’re driving me crazy,

  he says breathlessly. But then you’ve

  been driving me crazy for a while.

  I just have to know: Why? Why now?

  “I don’t know. I love Matt, really I do.

  But more like a friend. Not like … this.”

  At the mention of Matt, Kyle tenses.

  Matt. Right. He’s going to be pissed.

  I pull my hand away. Slide over a little.

  “It’s not too late. We don’t have to …”

  Yes, we do. He pulls me against him again.

  Put your hand back where it belongs.

  HE TURNS OFF THE MAIN ROAD

  Onto a narrow strip of potholed

  pavement. It leads to a small parking

  area. River access, and this time

  of year, there’s no one else here.

  My heart beats against my chest

  like eagle wings against heavy air.

  Kyle throws the shifter into park,

  pushes me over enough to slide

  out from beneath the steering

  wheel. In almost the same motion,

  he yanks me into his lap and our

  lips weld together. Heated. Urgent.

  This is not a kiss of friendship.

  This is a kiss born of lust, and I have

  never known anything like it.

  This is unstoppable, no holds

  barred. This is beautiful.

  Crazy. A beginning. Betrayal.

  Addictive. Aggressive. Alive.

  This is something to be afraid of.

  I AM CERTAIN OF THAT

  Yet even as my brain cries, “Slow down,”

  my body insists, “Give me more.” Kyle’s

  hands move over me and his touch

  is nothing like Matt’s clumsy

  investigation. Somehow, these

  hands have intimate knowledge

  of the heights and depths of my body.

  Their skin is unimaginably soft.

  But they are not gentle. “Easy …,”

  I start, but as the word leaves

  my mouth, I realize I don’t want

  it easy. And Kyle knows it too.

  Shush, he commands. Don’t tell me

  what to do. I know what you want

  and I’m going to give it to you.

  His words bring a rush of fear

  and, worse, excitement. He lifts

  my shirt up over my head, kisses

  down my neck to the deep V

  between my breasts. Pauses.

  You are incredible. Beautiful.

  I look down into his upturned

  eyes, and though he doesn’t say

  so, I know he wants my permission.

  In answer, I unclasp my bra, offer

  myself to his mouth, his tongue,

  his teeth. This is already more

  than I’ve given Matt, or ever will.

  Superego whispers, “How far are you

  willing to go?” But I don’t have to

  answer that question yet. I place

  my hands on Kyle’s cheeks, lift
>
  his face toward mine. He pulls

  away reluctantly, like an infant

  intent on dinner. But he lets me

  kiss him softly, cool the inferno.

  “I didn’t come here with you

  because I want to have sex

  with you.” I kiss him again,

  feel the heat of his response

  beneath me. Still, he asks reasonably,

  Why did you come here with me?

  A BATTLE BEGINS

  Inside me. Head versus

  heart. Logic versus emotion.

  And every synaptic surge of

  logic

  is telling me not to let

  my mouth spill

  the words my heart

  insists

  are true. Any girl ever

  stung in this common

  manner would agree

  it’s

  a bad move to confess

  such a strong emotion

  so quickly. In fact, it’s

  idiocy.

  So okay. I’m stupid.

  I don’t stop myself,

  but rather rush

  to say,

  “I know I shouldn’t tell

  you this, but I wanted to

  be with you because …

  I love you.”

  I EXPECT HIM

  To laugh. Snort. Push me

  away. What I don’t expect

  is for him to knit his fingers into

  mine and say, I love you, too.

  God, Summer, don’t you realize

  how hard it’s been to feel like this

  about my best friend’s girl? How

  it hurts to see you with him?

  It’s torture. I’ve wanted a day

  like today for a long, long time.

  One hand rises to touch my still

  exposed right breast. This time

  he is gentle. I close my eyes, give

  myself to the dizzying sensation.

  “So what are we going to do?

  About Matt, I mean.” The hand

  falls away. We tell him. Tomorrow.

  You’re mine now. Nothing can

  come between us, especially

  not Matt. Understand?

  SUDDENLY I’M UNCOMFORTABLE

  But it’s not the tone of his voice—

  inflexible, with jealous undertones—

  that makes me that way. It’s how

  I’ve been kneeling, legs spread

  across his lap, for twenty minutes.

  When I try to move, he stops

  me. No. Not till you say you

  understand. You and Matt

  are finished, right? He sounds