Nine Lives of Chloe King

by Celia Thomson

  “How did you know I was sixteen?” Chloe asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “It was more of a general comment. Not you in particular, but when ’you’re’ sixteen, meaning everyone.”

  He took the tiniest sip from his cappuccino but still managed to get a foamy mustache.

  “The day after I turned sixteen, I almost punched my dad out,” Brian continued. He straightened up and looked her in the eye, daring her to disbelieve him.

  “That would be so much more effective if you didn’t have milk all over your lip,” she said, laughing. She reached over with a napkin and carefully wiped it off, trying not to drag it across his mouth too hard. She was doubly glad she had a manicure: it made the gesture twice as sexy. Denim dust under the nails would not have been attractive.

  He blushed, and his hand went through his hair, dislodging a lock that made a Superman-style curl in the middle of his forehead. With glasses and a dye job, he’d make a very passable Clark Kent.

  He’s so … cute! Chloe thought again, and it wasn’t for the last time that night. She wondered what the chances were that someone so much like her, so cute and so charming and so funny, could have randomly met her at work. If she had been in the back that day, or if Lania hadn’t been so mean to him, or … it never would have happened. And while mentioning Xavier and his subsequent sickness with him was not the sort of thing one did on a first date (or ever, really), Chloe could definitely see talking to Brian about other things. Her mom, her dad, Paul and Ame, her near-death experience …

  “Well, there they are,” Brian said, indicating the big yellow cats.

  Chloe put her hand out to the rail. She had always sort of dismissed lions before as the popular and inevitable members of any zoo tour. Common, even. But she looked at them more closely now. One female rose and walked languidly over to a water trough. Every step was casual; her shoulders moved up and down slowly. There was no mistaking the power in her muscles. Somehow Chloe wasn’t surprised when, after taking a gentle lap and letting the droplets hang from the fur around her mouth, the lion turned and looked directly at her, golden eyes into her own hazel ones.

  “I never realized how beautiful they were before,” Chloe whispered, unable to turn away.

  Brian was saying something, spilling off factoids about the big cats, but she wasn’t listening. She could feel her dream again, like it was real.

  “… know all about these guys. In the wild they eat like ten pounds of meat a day, sleep up to twenty hours a day, and can run up to fifty miles an hour. …”

  You need a desert, Chloe thought at them. The lioness showed no sign of hearing or caring about her. She wandered back over to the other females and let herself down onto the ground, lazily and heavily. She bit at her paw.

  “Uh, Chloe? Chloe?” Brian asked, waving his hand in front of her.

  “What? Sorry?”

  “I was trying to impress you with my National Geographic-like knowledge of the big cats.”

  “Oh, sorry. Very clever.” Chloe turned for one last look at the lionesses. “These don’t just kill people, like Siegfried and Roy’s tiger?”

  Brian snorted. “Lions aren’t usually as dangerous as tigers. But they’re not house cats, either. They can get annoyed or pissed off—and even the friendly ones, like these, don’t know their own strength compared to humans. They can accidentally kill a zookeeper while trying to play with him.”

  “Oh.” Chloe thought about that last fact, and Xavier.

  “We should probably go; it closes in like ten minutes.”

  “Oh yeah. Of course.” Chloe shook her head. “I have to get you your monkey!”

  Brian smiled shyly. “You don’t really have to. …”

  “Of course I do, silly. This was a great idea for a date.” She grinned.

  “Date … ?” he asked, surprised. Chloe hit him playfully on the shoulder. As the twilight deepened and they headed back to the main entrance, Chloe felt a surge of energy jolt through her, making her skip, babble incessantly, and touch Brian as she talked, without embarrassment or reserve. She even bought him an extra-big monkey, one with long arms and Velcro so he could wear it around his neck.

  They made it out just as the gates closed.

  “This was great—thanks for suggesting it,” Chloe said honestly. Her bus was coming; he was going in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, cool. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  She waited. He seemed to be looking anxiously for the bus. “Can I see you again?” Chloe finally asked, a little annoyed that she had to be the one to bring it up. Hadn’t she bought him a monkey, after all?

  “Oh—yeah—of course. If you want.” He looked down at her, unsure.

  “Of course I do! Didn’t I just say this was, like, the best date ever?” The bus stopped and opened its doors. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Chloe asked, the first real flirty thing she had said all evening.

  He leaned over and kissed her delicately on the cheek.

  “Good night, Chloe,” he said softly, and turned around and walked away.

  Chloe climbed into the bus, feeling her cheek with her fingers, wondering if this was as close to a normal guy her age as she was ever going to date.

  As soon as she was sure he wasn’t looking, at the last moment she dove off. There were other ways to get home. She took off her jacket, tied it around her waist—and ran.

  This time she concentrated on more and more outrageous leaps, sometimes running along a line of parked cars, bouncing from roof to roof. When she turned off the street and started running through tiny parks, fences proved no issue: she vaulted over short ones and leapt as high as she could onto chain-link ones, throwing herself over the top and jumping all the way to the ground, sometimes as far as twelve feet.

  A pit bull strained on its leash in the courtyard of one run-down condo complex; a beautifully groomed old yellow Lab barked at her, nipping at her legs as she streaked by. Even Mrs. Languedoc’s nasty little shih tzu howled like a wolf at her when Chloe finally ran up her own driveway.

  “Kimmy, what’s wrong with you?” Chloe heard her neighbor scold the dog.

  Chloe wandered over to the cheap picket fence. This time she was breathing heavily, and her lower stomach was cramping—Chloe wondered how badly she would pay for this exercise session tomorrow. She stuck her hand between the plastic slats to let the dog nose her. They had never been particularly good friends in the past, but Chloe had occasionally thrown it raw hot dogs, trying to get it to shut up when Mrs. Languedoc was away.

  Kimmy growled, backed away to a safe distance, and began barking again.

  “Whatever.” Chloe shrugged and went inside.

  “How was your study session?” her mother called from the table, where she was paying bills on her laptop.

  It took Chloe a moment to remember exactly what lie she had told.

  “Lousy. We got nothing done.” She threw her jacket into the closet with disgust. “I just don’t see why Lisa keeps inviting Keira along. All she wants to do is gossip and bitch.”

  “Well, if you need help”—Chloe’s mom looked over at her and smiled—“I was great at trig.”

  Of course. You were freaking great at everything.

  “Thanks.” Chloe gave her a weak smile and went upstairs to the bathroom.

  Blood.

  On her boy panties, in the front part of the cotton crotch. Bright red. Her ten-dollar nice boy panties.

  Her first thought was that she had ripped her hymen during one of the gigantic leaps off fences she had taken, legs spread wide.

  Then as she felt more wetness on the inside of her leg, she realized what it was.

  Holy shit. She finally got her period.

  “About time,” she muttered, and started rooting through the bathroom cabinet. That must have been what set the dogs off. They must have smelled the blood on her. She finally found a box of tampons—another thing that, if she didn’t like her mother’s brand, she woul
d have to start paying for herself.

  I have to call Amy, she thought. Chloe smiled.

  And then she got a cramp.

  Nine

  “Hey—where were you last night?” Amy demanded. Once again, the bus had arrived early or someone at the school had arrived late, and they had to wait outside for the first bell. It was a brisk fall morning, and, like many other students, Chloe had not dressed for extended outside lounging; she stamped her feet and balled her fists into her pockets, considering bumming a cigarette.

  “I had a date,” Chloe responded coolly. It was easy in this temperature.

  “With Alyec?”

  “No. Someone else.”

  Amy regarded her for a long moment. She was going sort of mod today, sort of Austin Powers, in a big purple fake-fur coat and goggles.

  “What the fuck, King?” she finally said. “First you don’t even answer when I invite you to my poetry reading and now you announce this little secret life—”

  Chloe knew how she wished she could respond. Like the people on TV who always had a good answer, the proper words, just enough righteous indignation:

  “I have a secret life? Since you and Paul started dating, it’s like neither of you exist anymore. We haven’t really seen each other except for my birthday, and suddenly you’re pissed that I won’t come to your poetry reading you so graciously deigned to invite me to?”

  Or at least the heartfelt, emotionally genuine premutual-crying speech:

  “Amy, I’ve really felt abandoned recently. I know that you and Paul have suddenly become very important in each other’s lives, and I respect that—but we’re friends, too. A lot has been going on in my life I haven’t had a chance to tell you about—and you’re my best friend. I really need you sometimes, and lately I feel that you just haven’t been there for me.”

  But, “I’ll be at your poetry reading,” was what she actually said, grudgingly, looking at the ground.

  “Oh.” Amy looked confused, then relieved. “Thanks. Maybe you’ll tell me about your secret lover then?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” There was a long pause. Chloe sensed that this was a crux of a moment, what could be the beginning of a serious rift. For a second it was breathtaking, like she was poised at the edge of a canyon, at the top of a tower, ready to jump: no more annoying, pretentious Amy or weirdness with Paul, just a slow parting of ways behind her. In front were Alyec or Brian, the new things she could suddenly seem to do, the freedom and excitement of the night.

  But she wasn’t ready for that yet. An image came to her mind of the lionesses in her dream and at the zoo. If they were human, they wouldn’t even let something as small or foolish as this waste their time.

  “Could you ask Paul to come a little later?” Chloe finally asked. “Give us some girl time to catch up?”

  Amy’s face softened.

  “Yeah, of course! Totally. Come by at seven.”

  “Will do.”

  They were silent for a moment, awkward in their emotions.

  “So … like my coat?” Amy finally asked.

  “How many Muppets died to make that thing?” Chloe shot back, grinning.

  Chloe was in a state of mental panic when Alyec called out to her in the hallway. She didn’t hear him, overwhelmed by what she had just promised. Ame’s poetry readings were something not to be believed.

  Chloe thought madly about tiny FM radios that she could hide in her ear and pull her hair over to hide, about getting very badly drunk or stoned, about getting one of the loopier Wiccans at school to put her into a trance before the reading. Anything that could get her through it with her sanity intact and a straight face.

  She and Paul used to sometimes have to hold hands during them, squeezing for strength and distraction during the bad parts, keeping the other restrained if she or Paul couldn’t fight the urge to giggle or get up and run screaming from the café. Somehow she didn’t think that would be happening with Paul this time, however.

  Maybe I can puncture my eardrums. …

  “Hey! Chloe!”

  She finally looked up and realized that Alyec had been waving to her and calling her name for a few minutes. He ran down the hall to catch up with her.

  “Sorry.” She shook her head. “Lost in thought.”

  “No problem.” He looked her up and down. Suddenly Chloe was self-conscious about her secondday jeans and her Strokes T-shirt with the bleach hole. Even her undies were the last ones before the wash: nasty, unsexy thongs. “I tried IM-ing you last night, but you weren’t on.”

  Me? You were IM-ing me, you hunka hunka icebergy love? He smiled at her, a little puzzled, a little expectantly. Chloe immediately began to come up with some non-ego-shattering lie she could tell him about why she wasn’t around that would keep him calm and interested, that would cut the conversation short and move them on to pleasanter topics.

  Then she noticed how close he was standing, very much in her space, looming over and looking down at her. Kind of obnoxious. Like she was the kind of girl who enjoyed being loomed over by the sexiest guy in her class in the middle of the hall.

  “I had a date,” she answered, shrugging.

  “Like, a study date?”

  She almost laughed at his quick assumption. “No, a date date.” She turned and began walking to her next class.

  “Wait, what?” He ran to catch up with her again. “Who?”

  “Brian. You don’t know him.”

  “Does he go to Mary Prep?”

  A wicked gleam came into her eye. “No,” she answered casually. “He’s not in high school.”

  “King, you are one hell of a tease.” He sighed.

  “Tease?” She turned and faced him finally. “Uh, I don’t see anyone else making demands on my time.”

  “That is definitely teasing,” Alyec called after her when she walked away again. “If I understand English properly.”

  She waved buh-bye at him over her shoulder.

  Reflecting on the encounter later, Chloe had to admit she was thrilled with the way Alyec had no inclination to keep their little tête-á-tête silent. He was obviously after her, loudly, in the middle of the hall and didn’t seem to care if anyone—even Keira and her gang—heard him. The whole school now knew that Alyec Ilychovich wanted Chloe King.

  It was a nice feeling and made her feel even cozier with the cold day outside and her inside the thick-wood-and-velvet café, hands wrapped around a hot cider. She snuggled back into her seat, pretending to not see the microphone and spotlight being set up in a corner.

  “He-e-e-y!” Amy came in, looked around, waved to the people setting up, kiss-kissed them on their cheeks, and told them she would be with them in just a few minutes. Even though it was a little thing, Chloe was pleased that her friend cared enough to put off what was a fairly adoring crowd to spend time with her. Which did not stop Chloe from putting her hand up just in time to prevent Amy from air kissing her, too. There were limits. The pretension ends here.

  “So … what? What? What are all these things happening in the life of Chloe King?” Amy turned and screamed, “I’ll get a tea, over here, Earl Grey, with lemon!”

  “Well, first things first.” Chloe shifted back and forth uncomfortably. “What kind of tampons do you use?”

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. You finally got your period?”

  Chloe winced, trying to draw her hair down over her face. She felt the tips of her cheeks, right under her eyes, go hot and pink.

  “Tell the entire world,” she mumbled.

  “Oh. Uh, sorry. I’m just … amazed. And glad you’re, like, normal and stuff. No weird tumors or something.” Amy’s eyes went glassy. “You’re a woman! You’ve finally joined us in the cycle of life and—”

  “Save the goddess shit for later. I’m uncomfortable and cramping.”

  “Try ’slenders.’You have to change them more often, but that’s what I used until I started having sex. …” Her friend’s face suddenly furrowed. “Jeez, you’re going
to have to start taking all that stuff seriously now. Maybe go on the pill. Condoms break, you know, and you could get pregnant—”

  “Thanks for the sex-ed speech. I only needed the relevant part. ’Slenders.’ I get it. Thanks.” She looked at her cider and admitted, “Besides, it’s not like I’ve even had actual intercourse yet … and it doesn’t look like it’s a possibility anytime in the near future.”

  “Yeah, Paul and I haven’t had sex yet. Even if we were at that point, he’s, you know, old-fashioned and stuff.”

  Chloe shuddered. Thinking of Paul having sex made her think of Paul having a penis, and Paul’s penis was definitely something she never wanted to think about. Much less Amy and Paul having sex. Together.

  “I know you two are serious, and I’m happy for you,” Chloe said slowly, “but it would be nice if you kept some parts of it … to yourself, you know?”

  Amy blinked. Her blue eyes made her look extra innocent. “Who else am I going to talk to about it?”

  “You can talk to me about it,” Chloe said, “but just censor the dirty parts, you know? This is Paul. And besides”—she came up with a brilliant excuse—“do you really think he would want me knowing these things about him? He gets all blushy about a trip to the doctor.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Amy said after a long moment. She fiddled with the hand charm on her necklace that had lost its silver tarnish long ago from other nervous musings. Chloe smiled; she remembered when her friend first got it, years ago, from her grandmother. … “Well, what about you? What happened to Alyec?”

  “Nothing. He’s still on my ’watch’ list.” Chloe grinned like a very self-satisfied cat over the rim of her cup. “It’s just that I met this other guy, Brian. He comes to Pateena now and then. Totally cute. He’s working a couple of years before applying to college. I think you’d like him; he knits his own hats. He took me out for coffee last night.” She didn’t feel like telling her the part about the zoo; there was something strangely private about it. In a nice sort of way. Not meant for sharing, not even with Amy.