Equilibrium

by Lorrie Thomson

  Darcy propped on one elbow, working hard not to laugh despite her fluttering belly. She swiped a hand in front of her face and pantomimed pulling her expression rigid. “I want you to know that I’m not being facetious.”

  “Okay.” Nick removed her dangling jeans and tossed them across the room. He reclined next to her and caressed her from ankle to waist, until his fingers teased her belly. “You’re not whatever it was you just said.” He rubbed across the outside of her underwear, paused his hand right where she liked it. “So do you want to do it?” His hand started moving again, and he brushed his lips against hers, like the flick of a feather, leaving her in need of more intense pressure.

  “Wait a minute.” Darcy sat up, wrestled her tight-fitting T-shirt over her head. Her mother’s many warnings about sex floated through her mind.

  She could get pregnant. Even the health teacher at school had to admit that when used properly, condoms prevented pregnancy ninety-nine percent of the time. Wicked good odds, as far as she was concerned.

  Disease. Condoms once again galloped to the rescue, brave little knights in red capes.

  A broken heart. This last warning almost launched a fresh barrage of giggles. Maybe sleep deprivation made her fearless; her legs weren’t even shaking anymore, at least not in a bad way. Maybe the last year had toughened her up, maybe her entire crazy life had led her to this place where she couldn’t imagine any boy breaking her heart. What hurt could possibly compare to Daddy’s suicide?

  Just the same, something was missing.

  She’d imagined doing it for the first time so often, maybe she’d ruined it. Nothing could compare to the fantasy movies in her mind.

  But she still wanted to feel good. “Do you think we could—” She paused, stalling to gain courage. “Do you think we could maybe just touch a little?”

  Now it was Nick’s turn to laugh. “I think we could touch one hell of a lot.”

  She unhooked her bra and slipped it off before she could change her mind, her heart pounding louder than rainfall on the tin roof. Nick’s stare revved up the thudding, making her wonder whether fifteen-year-olds could suffer heart attacks. He held back the bedding, and she eased into their cozy bed cave. Only the swatch of her cotton underpants remained between them, a just for show boundary. Nick yanked her underwear down over her hips, and she pushed them off the rest of the way, making her decision final.

  What did Nick think he was doing to her boobs, squishing them like glitter-filled gel toys? He stopped kissing her. “Darcy, I’m sorry, but I can’t hold on. You’re gonna have to finish me fast.” Finish? Back up. She’d just gotten started.

  He took her hand, demonstrating exactly what he’d meant by fast. The way he drove should’ve clued her in; the kid had a need for speed. Okay, this was both boring and gross. She counted out two sets of twenty, and her arm tired.

  “Don’t stop.” Nick scrunched up his face and gave a series of embarrassing wounded sounds, losing it all over her hands, losing way more than the well-directed spoonful she’d imagined.

  Yuck! Talk about disgusting! Darcy wiped her hands on his sheets, depositing the slime all over his nice clean bedding.

  The rain was still pelting the roof and Nickelback was still trickling through the speakers, although she didn’t much care about the lyrics. Nick sprawled across the bed, eyes shut and mouth slightly open, as if he’d exhausted himself when she’d done all the work. She touched his arm and smiled when he twitched in his sleep.

  A phone rang somewhere in the house, and soft chatter she’d wrongly identified as rainfall clarified into women’s voices. She could hear two women talking on the front porch, fussing at the stuck lock, and sending the lightweight door flying into the living room wall. She shook Nick by the shoulder and whispered as loudly as she dared, “Someone’s here. Wake up!” He only stirred slightly.

  Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Normally she’d care, even worry, that she couldn’t uncover a more suitable word to express herself and she was taking the lazy way out. But right now, who the fuck cared? Her jeans lay in a crumpled heap halfway across the room, which meant they were halfway to the door that might open any second. She jumped into her underpants, nabbed her T-shirt and bra from the foot of the bed, made a mad dash across the bedroom, and slid into her jeans. She didn’t bother waiting until she’d fought her way into her bra and T-shirt before renewing Nick wake-up duty. “Wake up now! We’re not alone!”

  That did it. Nick scrambled into his clothes and yanked the comforter over the entire bed mess. Good, the phone had finally stopped ringing. One of the women must’ve answered the call. That should give them a few more much-needed minutes to figure out a plan. Even with their clothes on and the bed covered, the whole scene looked suspiciously rumpled. If her mother ever found her alone with a boy in her bedroom and the door closed, she’d send down a life sentence and ground her for life. Just for starters.

  A tentative tap at the door sent Darcy into a panic. Already, her cheeks were burning. She could lie to her mother, but a stranger might not be so easy to fool.

  “No biggie,” Nick whispered to her, and then headed across the room. “Just a minute! I accidentally locked the door.”

  “Nicky, I’ve got a woman on the phone looking for her daughter?” Probably the woman speaking through the door wasn’t shouting, but it sure sounded that way, louder than the clash of thunder.

  Nick opened the door, revealing a woman of indeterminable age—not really old, but worn out like a birthday balloon two days post party. The woman offered her the cordless receiver. “Darcy? Your mother’s on the phone.”

  Quick, call 911. She was having a major heart attack.

  Chapter 14

  Daughter Darcy was definitely off her game.

  Home from Ever True Cemetery with Troy and Elle, rain-spattered and muddy, Laura had found Maggie meditating in the living room, and Laura had basked in the light of her peace. Until Laura had followed Troy upstairs and discovered her daughter missing, the evidence trail as troubling as her absence. In her haste, Darcy had left her underwear drawer open, revealing a twelve-count box of Trojans with only eleven remaining. To top it off, a lone joint had taken the place of the missing prophylactic. At least Darcy had taken protection.

  Nick’s phone number had been even easier to find, dangling from Darcy’s fabric memo board, thumbing its nose at Laura. Neener, neener. When Laura had called, Nick’s mother, Hope, said she’d just gotten home. She hadn’t known Darcy was in her son’s bedroom, but she hadn’t seemed all that surprised, either.

  Laura peered at the driveway through the distortion of antique glass, waiting for Nick to return her daughter. She would’ve driven across town to retrieve her daughter herself, but she wanted the two of them here, on her home turf. One look at them together would likely speak volumes.

  “I am so sorry,” Maggie said, for the third or fourth time. “This is the last thing you need.”

  “Not your fault,” Laura said. “She played me.” Please don’t make me go to the cemetery. I need to remember Daddy my way. Cue the tiny violins and Darcy’s pleading look. Cue the tears. Darcy didn’t want to explore her feelings about her father; she wanted to explore her boyfriend.

  Laura couldn’t even wrap her mind around the idea of her fifteen-year-old daughter having sex. She prayed she’d get to the truth and Darcy’s little afternoon adventure wouldn’t produce any lasting consequences. Like a grandchild, for instance.

  Tires ground into the wet driveway, and Elle handed Laura a cup of tension-tamer tea. Wiper blades whirred and cut out. An engine coughed to a halt. Laura took a sip of tea and burned the tip of her tongue.

  “Sure you don’t want us to stay?” Elle asked, even though she likely knew the answer. Laura relied on her friends for moral support, but the kids she handled herself.

  “I’m sure,” Laura said.

  Maggie looked at her sideways.

  “I promise not to harm the dear children, just make them squirm.”
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  “Wish I could stay for the show,” Elle said, and gave her a pat on the arm. Maggie and Elle ducked out the door, and then Elle popped back in. She held her forefinger and thumb up to her ear, the call-me sign, and Laura nodded.

  Darcy slunk in the house first, Nick two steps behind. When Laura had spoken to Darcy on the phone, she’d told her to make sure Nick came in the house with her. She’d told Darcy she’d like to have a word with him. She’d told Darcy she was not pleased. She’d wanted to give Darcy and Nick something to chew on during the car ride home.

  What she’d given them, she now realized, was time to co-ordinate their alibi.

  “What happened?” Laura asked Darcy, and her daughter’s big eyes got even rounder.

  “What do you mean?” Darcy pulled her head back, and twin pink splotches bloomed on her cheeks.

  Dear Lord, give her strength. Laura wasn’t about to question Nick about what he and Darcy had done while they were alone at his house. That interrogation she’d save for Darcy. But her daughter’s instant embarrassment reminded Laura of how she’d sat in the front row of Professor Jack Klein’s class trying to hide the shame firing her cheeks.

  Laura took a breath and reminded herself to exhale so she wouldn’t turn blue. “Let’s start from the beginning. Why did you sneak out of the house, today of all days?”

  Darcy opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Her gaze dropped to her untied sneakers. “I don’t know.”

  Laura tried Nick. “Didn’t you know Darcy wasn’t supposed to leave the house? Didn’t you know she sneaked out of the house to be with you?”

  His gaze darted to the ceiling, evading. He edged closer to Darcy till they stood arm to arm. Darcy straightened her spine. She peered from beneath her paintbrush lashes and tugged at a hairstyle that bore a striking resemblance to morning bed head.

  Laura sighed and decided to play good cop. “I’m sorry, Nick, but if you encourage Darcy to go break house rules, I can’t allow her to see you.” She was bluffing, sort of. Nothing united a couple faster than having to sneak around behind people’s backs. That explained why she and Jack had invited Laura’s dorm mates and Jack’s colleagues to their wedding.

  Nick shook his head, met Laura’s gaze, and the words gushed out of him. “She told me she had family stuff, but she didn’t have to go. I’m sorry, Mrs. Klein, really sorry. Honestly, I didn’t know.”

  Laura squinted at Nick, decided he was lying his ass off to try and save Darcy’s. He had to have known her family was busy visiting her father’s grave while she was busy, well, getting her hair rumpled.

  “This cannot happen ever again. No sneaking out. And for goodness sake, the two of you,” she said, shifting her gaze between Darcy and Nick. “No lying.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Darcy muttered.

  “Darcy Ann!”

  Darcy jostled, as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. Her lying had become that automatic.

  “Do we understand each other?” Laura asked Nick.

  “Yes, ma’am. No sneaking out and no lying,” he parroted. At least the boy could memorize rules. Only time would tell whether he’d any intention of following them.

  “You can leave.”

  Nick turned to Darcy, and his gaze went hazy, as though he thought he could kiss her good-bye.

  Laura opened the door for Nick. “Right now.”

  A look passed between Nick and Darcy in place of a good-bye kiss, and Nick stepped out the door into the afternoon drizzle. His on-its-last-legs-looking car started on the first try and screeched from the driveway, no doubt leaving a nice deep rut.

  “Upstairs, please.” Laura took Darcy by the shoulders and turned her around.

  Darcy brushed off her hands. “Don’t touch me,” Darcy said, and Laura spoke without thinking, entirely from her bruised heart: “You’re grounded.”

  “What else is new?”

  That wasn’t fair. Laura only grounded Darcy when she’d broken one of her many reasonable rules, each and every one set up to keep her daughter safe. She didn’t like grounding her daughter. It had been nearly nine months since Darcy’s punishment for the skinny-dipping incident.

  Laura paused on the stairway to regain her composure. Breathe in, breathe out. She caught up with Darcy in her bedroom, shutting her underwear drawer. “I’ve already found your stash,” Laura said. “The joint, I got rid of, but I left all of the condoms. Minus the one that’s missing.”

  Darcy bit at her lower lip and reached past Laura to swipe a lip gloss from her dresser top. She wrenched off the cap and smeared wild cherry–flavored gloss across her lips.

  “Angel …” Laura began, even though the angel-Darcy from last night was nowhere to be found. Long ago, Maggie, mother to three grown daughters, had warned Laura about the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde stage teenage girls went through. Laura never really believed it would happen to her daughter until Mr. Hyde had smacked her upside the head.

  Laura sat on the edge of Darcy’s unmade bed. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  Darcy capped the lip gloss, mashed her lips together, and set it back on the dresser.

  “Look, I realize you like Nick, and he certainly seems like he’s fond of you. I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret. And no matter how smart you are—” She caught Darcy’s attention. “No matter how smart, you simply cannot make an informed decision if you’re stoned.”

  Darcy couldn’t hide the sneer in her voice. “We weren’t stoned.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that,” Laura said. “So something happened? Darcy, do you need to see a doctor?”

  Darcy’s gaze flashed on Laura. She gathered the scatter of books from her floor and stomped over to her bookcase, arranged the books into a tidy stack of five.

  Either Laura’s question had lighted on the truth or she’d pissed Darcy off with the intrusion. Laura shuddered a sigh. She was about to bargain with God and toss up a prayer to keep Darcy safe from Jack’s risk-taking gene, when her mind picture turned on a dime into an image of her teenage self. She’d offered herself to Jack, as though her virginity were a jacket she’d outgrown. One heedless act had changed the course of her entire life. She didn’t regret it. How could she? But she’d be damned if she let Darcy follow her example on this one.

  Using a boy’s attention as a substitute for her father’s love could only lead to further heartache. Laura should know. “Were you intimate with Nick?”

  Expressionless, Darcy just stared at her mother. It must’ve killed her not to respond to Laura’s word choice.

  Okay then. “I don’t want you to have sex before you’re ready. At least not until you’ve graduated from high school. Although I’d prefer college graduation as a precursor, I’m a realist.”

  This claim earned a snort from her daughter.

  “You’re too young, Darcy, and having sex doesn’t make you mature. If anything, it messes up the process.”

  Darcy knelt, picked up a pair of jeans from the floor, and found a neighboring hanger.

  Laura went to Darcy, got down to her level, and stroked her cheek with the back of her hand. She gazed at a girl hell-bent on rushing headlong into womanhood and saw herself in her daughter’s eyes. For a moment, Laura thought Darcy might speak. Instead, she brushed at the spot where her mother had touched her face.

  Just like her father. Jack wouldn’t listen to Laura’s sage advice, either. No, he’d nod and smile, and then do whatever the heck he pleased as soon as he got the chance.

  Laura stood. She rubbed at the grass stains spoiling the knees of her slacks—evidence of where she’d knelt by Jack’s grave, seeking closure. It made sense that at Ever True Cemetery, she’d felt an almost imperceptible lightening. Jack’s body rested in peace. But what remained of the stubborn as hell facet of her husband’s spirit was sitting on the floor, pretending to sort her wash and stonewalling like a pro.

  Chapter 15

  Ten past two on Friday usually meant the beginning of the Darcy party:
free time and friends. Instead, today’s end of D block bell would usher in her first full weekend of grounding. Two entire days stuck with her family, no friends allowed, practically constituted abuse.

  Vanessa bounced by Darcy’s seat, depositing a scrunched-up note into her hand. What was wrong with her? Darcy had told her she was grounded for sneaking out with Nick and getting caught in his room, so she couldn’t hang out after school. Loudmouth turned Queen of Nosey had stared at her and Nick throughout lunch period. Her entire table of look-alike Vanessa Wannabes took turns ogling them, giving Darcy the big-time creeps. Nick, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the attention, making a show of feeding her black olives until the memory of his naked body made her chest ache.

  Darcy slipped the note beneath her desk, unfolded the crumpled paper, and read Vanessa’s oversized scribble: Give it up, Darcy! Did you and Nick do it or what?

  Darcy’s smile started at her lips and flooded the rest of her body. That was for her to know and Vanessa to never find out. Let the pervert imagine whatever she liked. This morning, Vanessa had asked Darcy if she and Nick had enjoyed the box of condoms she’d given Darcy along with the ridiculous cucumber demonstration. Amazing how a few well-chosen words uttered during first period could crack Vanessa’s teeny-tiny brain.

  Vanessa turned around in her seat, looked over her shoulder, and made sure Darcy watched her doing Vanessa’s favorite pantomime. Eyes partway closed like a blind mole, she scrunched her face and pushed a shiny drop of spittle through pursed lips. For the first time ever, Vanessa’s imitation of a penis erupting made Darcy’s cheeks burn. Vanessa was getting way too personal, guessing at what had happened between her and Nick and simultaneously making fun of it. Nearly as mortifying as her mother’s useless sex lecture.