by A. J. Macey
“Okay, so practice. A lot?” I guessed, my voice betraying that I wasn’t totally sure.
“Perfect practice makes perfect,” she told us. “You can practice, but if the movements are incorrect, then you’re going to learn incorrectly. Perfect the basics and the reasonings behind it, then repeat.”
“Okay, I can do that,” I muttered, standing upright. I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. First step: believe in myself. You’ve got this, Emma.
“It’s a lot, I admit. It took me years to get where I am now,” Sensei Sarah said, her hand coming to my shoulder so I would look at her. Her smile was soft, as if she really understood, and seeing the conviction in her gaze, I held no doubt that she did. “But when in doubt, what’s your number one tool?”
I struggled to pick one thing that would be the ultimate defense to use in an attack. My gaze moved around the room, studying everyone practicing their moves. Everything seemed so important. Each piece they had taught played an essential role in protecting yourself, so I wasn’t sure what it could be. That was until my mind flared with the memory of the party from hell.
Then it clicked.
“Your voice,” I murmured, looking from the room to her. “No one will know you’re in trouble unless you tell them.”
Exactly what had alerted Jesse when I was in trouble.
Sensei Sarah nodded with a proud smile and a comforting squeeze on my shoulder before stepping back. With that, she left Lyla and me to continue practicing. Lyla pulled me into a tight hug, realizing that I needed a few moments to push the pieces of myself back together.
“You got through it once and, god forbid it ever happens again, you’ll get through it then too,” she whispered, squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Ly… air…” I rasped, patting her back lightly. Laughing, she let go and stepped back.
“We’ll practice a few times first before really trying, okay?” she offered, not going any further into the memories plaguing me. I nodded, taking a steadying breath as I readied myself.
It was awkward at first, trying to keep all the movements straight. After a few tries of focusing on just the drop and wrist hold, I seemed to get the hang of it. Before we could try for real, I had Ly do a few more practice holds for me to work on dislodging the other arm and doing an attack move.
“Okay, I think I’m ready,” I told her, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.
“You can do it!” she cheered before settling. As soon as she got hold of me in a tight, rough grip, it was like I was back at the party from hell all over again. All the negative emotions swirled in my mind, my chest constricting painfully at the memories. But at the same time, survival instincts I didn’t realize I had, kicked in.
“Holy crap,” I breathed in shock.
I did it!
“That’s my best friend,” she said proudly. “Now, let’s do it some more. You heard Sensei, perfect practice makes perfect.” Nodding, I focused once more.
Here’s to hoping I never have to use this in real life.
“Feel free to come by at any time,” Sensei Sarah offered at the end of class. “We have weekly classes if either of you are interested in continuing, but I think you guys did very well tonight.”
“We’ll think about it.” Lyla’s words were bright as we both waved our goodbyes. As we left the dojo, I was sweaty and tired after an hour and a half of practicing, but even with the exhaustion permeating me, I felt more grounded than I had in what felt like forever. A small snippet of control was finally back in my court, and after talking with my dad earlier, I felt more ready to tackle the week ahead than ever.
“So, Emma bean, how’s everything going lately? I mean, we’ve caught up at work and stuff, but it’s been a bit since we’ve had just us time after grounding and all that bullshit.” Her hands tapped the steering wheel to the music, the rhythmic staccato beat soft in the cab of her truck.
“Eh, it goes… I’m sure you remember the bullshit of high school,” I said with a huff, deflating into the seat. “At least we’re almost done with it, then it’s hopefully onto college where the guys and I can exist together without judgement.”
“Speaking of the guys...” She hummed after her words, the sound making my suspicion levels rise as I looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I just wanted to have a quick, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, little chat about them and you… you know, about reproductive safety. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”
“You are the least subtle person I’ve ever met. And that includes Reid.” I laughed, knowing this conversation was going to be as entertaining as it would be uncomfortable.
Hopefully, anyway.
Though… talking about sex when I’ve only had it once is always quite awkward.
“For real though, Emma Bean,” she told me with fake sternness, “sexual safety is important, and I’ve taken it upon myself to educate and ensure you’re doing everything you can to safely explore the amazing world of sexual activity.”
“Oh, lord, help me,” I murmured, rubbing my face. “Mhm, go on, Teacher Lyla. Should I start calling you Ms. Ester like your sister?” Lyla’s face scrunched up hilariously.
“Ew, no!” she exclaimed. “But anyway, obviously the most important tools for sexual safety are condoms and birth control. I know you told me about the time with Reid and that you were safe, but have you been safe since then?”
“I haven’t exactlyhadsexsincethen,” I slurred together under my breath.
“All right, that’s totally fine. Emma, on a real note—despite how cringey this is about to be—this is all in confidence, and I’d never judge. Okay?” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, her tone turning serious.
“Yes, I know, it’s just… weird. I haven’t really talked about this with, well, anyone. So please,” I encouraged, “do continue your cringey teachings, Ms. Ester.”
“I hate you,” she huffed with a smirk. “Just for that it’ll be extra cringey. So, even though you haven’t needed to use more condoms, I hope you have some on hand. If not, we’re going to go to the corner market and get some.”
“I personally don’t have any, but I know Reid has some. I’m not sure about the others. We haven’t really gone past kissing and well… you know,” I explained with a murmur. “Fingers.”
“No mouths?” she asked without hesitation or even the slightest blush. The more she talked about this, as if it really was nothing so ‘odd,’ the less awkward I felt discussing it.
“Reid did, the same night,” I told her. “The guys and I haven’t gotten much time alone. My mom decided they were unwelcome in the house, so it’s few and far between that we get alone time.”
“Regardless, I want you to be prepared, so we’ll stop at CVS or Walgreens real quick.” She turned at the corner and took us a different direction than my house. “What about birth control?”
“You really think I’m going to approach my mom about taking me to the doctor to get birth control?” I deadpanned, the thought almost more cringe-worthy than this conversation.
“No, but you’re eighteen now, so we can find you an OBGYN. Seeing the lady doctor isn’t just about getting birth control, it’s about making sure everything’s right and working correctly.”
“You sound like my health and nutrition teacher,” I pointed out as we neared the corner CVS.
“But am I wrong? No. So, we can look up doctors and get you an appointment scheduled as soon as we can,” she rattled off, pulling into the parking lot. As soon as the truck was in park, a lead weight formed in the pit of my stomach. Nerves I hadn’t expected to have blossomed, making me anxious and hesitant.
“Do we have to?” I asked with a grimace.
“Emma bean, look at me,” she commanded. When I looked over, she was staring directly at me with such intensity, I knew whatever she was about to say would go straight into long-term memory. “There is absolutely nothing wrong, disgusting, shameful, or any other negative connotation, about sex and any of its comp
onents. It might feel weird and awkward to buy condoms, but no one else is going to care, and if they do, they can go fuck themselves, because you’re being mature and ensuring that you’re being safe. I’m sure a lot of people in this state might disagree with me, but sex isn’t just about reproducing or something to be saved for one person that you decide to marry. It’s a natural human urge and has lots of health benefits.”
“All right,” I murmured, her encouraging words radiating through me to what seemed like my very soul. I had never had someone be so open or blasé about this in a way that didn’t make it feel like something dirty. My mom, Tyler, Kara, and basically anyone I had known up until now, had chosen to treat it like some dark secret. Two conflicting sides from various people. One side saying that sex and intimacy was something that I didn’t need to know about, while the other said that it didn’t mean anything and should be given whenever the guy wanted it.
Yes, that last one would be Tyler.
The egotistical jerk.
“So repeat after me: Consensual sex is not bad.” She spoke slowly, her hand gesturing for me to say it back.
“Consensual sex is not bad.” As I repeated, my cheeks heated, and that lump in my stomach churned.
“Again.”
“Consensual sex is not bad,” I said for a second time with a bit more conviction at her encouraging smile. With my third time saying it, the lead weight that had formed with my nerves dissipated slightly, and I felt a bit more ready to go inside. Slipping out of the passenger seat, I followed her into the brightly lit store.
We didn’t talk on the short walk to the aisle, Lyla letting me look over the shelves a bit on my own when we found the condoms. My eyes narrowed and my head tilted as I scanned the boxes. Ribbed, warming, extra thin, extending, and on and on it went, and by the time I had scanned all the choices, I felt more confused than ever.
“Can we just get the most basic kind and tackle all of this”—I gestured to the different colored boxes—“when I’m a bit more experienced?”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that’d be the case. It’s a lot, but we’ll get there on a future episode of The Lyla Teachings,” she declared with a flourish of her hands. “None of the guys or you are allergic to latex, right?” When I shook my head, she picked out a blue box and continued, “Perfect, so for the first episode of the show, I’d just go with something like this. Simple, basic, does the job. Do I need to get a banana or a cucumber and go over how to put it on?”
“Oh my God, Lyla, no, please don’t,” I groaned, ripping the box out of her hands and stepping back so she wouldn’t be tempted to try.
“Fine, fine, party pooper.” Laughing, she stepped farther down the aisle, waving for me to follow her. “Another thing we’re going to hit on the first episode, lube. Not necessarily required for some, but nice to have on hand. Nothing like going dry mid-way through.”
“Dear lord,” I muttered, letting my face fall into my palm.
“What? It’s another basic, yet essential, tool for the bedroom… or wherever you choose to do it. Besides, if you want to try bum fun, then it’s an absolute must.”
“You did not just call it that.” I balked, my already blushing face no doubt turning bright red.
“What? Would fifth base or anal work better? How about butt stuff?” Lyla’s brows waggled as she teased.
“I hate you,” I huffed, unable to stop the laugh from escaping. As much as I would rather let the ground swallow me whole, there was a piece of me that was grateful she was willing to help me navigate all of this. “Can we just get a normal one?”
“Well, there are a lot of normal ones since the ingredients work for different people and different things, but the most common one would be something like this.”
“All right,” I said, nodding as I looked over the small squeezy tube she handed me. “Is that it for now?”
“Yeah, yeah, we can be done for now, let’s go check out. But stay tuned for the next episode of The Lyla Teachings where we’ll cover threesomes, safe words, and the art of BDSM,” she announced like a TV show host.
Only I would be best friends with a female version of Reid, but I can’t say I don’t appreciate her—and her weirdness.
However... I could go without hearing the phrase ‘butt stuff’ ever again.
Anonymous
Self-defense? I thought with a sneer. What a useless pastime. My scoff was gruff and harsh inside the cab of the car. She could very well pretend that it would help her. Let her have her false sense of security... I knew the truth. With her head in the clouds in the moments she wasn’t surrounded by her guard dogs, I could hardly ask for an easier target.
I knew the brat’s schedule, when and where they’d be specifically throughout the week, and I could wait patiently to finally get her alone. It will be easy, I noted, going over the possibilities, as a delightful sense of satisfaction flooded me. I would bide my time because she’d ruined everything… ruined me. She would pay dearly for it. I knew that the moment I took her, the moment I got my payment for her part in all of this, would be more delicious than any other fix.
9
February 20th
Ugh. At least in the face of a hateful assistant principal, I know I’m not alone.
#WhyDoYouHateMeSoMuch #ScrewMrDeRosa #ThankfulThursday
“All right, class,” Mr. Davids announced, silencing the class’ talking. “We’re going to be preparing for our final tests once again, so if everyone would pair up with their partners, you can head to your stations to start today’s chemical compounds.”
Shifting off our stools, Jesse and I moved from our table and back toward the workspace of the chemistry lab. Neither of us talked for a while as we worked, conducting the experiments to try and determine the chemical we’d been given. It was tedious, yet I found myself enjoying it.
“Fire looks to be purple,” Jesse stated, letting me know what to note down on our work paper. “What’s the next test?”
“Looks like the chloride test,” I read aloud after scanning the instructions. “I’ll grab the silver nitrate.” We worked quickly, and with ten minutes left in class, we had determined our chemical was potassium chloride.
“Well, that was pretty simple.” Jesse breathed out a relieved breath, sinking onto his stool next to me. “We make a good team, Em.”
“Yeah, we do,” I told him with a smile. “I can see why Reid likes science so much, though it’s hard to imagine him staying serious long enough to conduct experiments without blowing up the lab.”
“Reid is a man of mystery.” Jesse laughed. “I find it quite boring, but at least it’s decently easy to do as long as you follow the tests correctly. So, how has your week been, Em?”
“Eh, normal,” I said with a shrug. “Not sleeping the greatest, and my mom is still being a helicopter parent, but I’m keeping ahead of my homework which is nice. We’re still doing the study group today, right?”
“Yup, at King’s.”
“Cool, cool…” I trailed off, my exhaustion wearing on me, but I forced a grin on my face as Mr. Davids approached our table, a small stack of papers clutched in his hand.
“Jesse, Emma, here are your quizzes from yesterday.” He handed them back with our scores facedown. “Very good job, both of you. I have no doubt that you two will pass the finals with flying colors,” he praised. As he walked to the other few tables that had completed their experiments, I flipped over my quiz and almost did a happy dance.
99.5%.
Heck yes! I nearly squealed, my cheeks aching from how bright my smile was. It had been a tough few months since my first ACT test, yet that blow had been ingrained into the back of my mind anytime I took an exam, quiz, or turned in homework.
I knew it was silly since my most recent practice test had been good, but I had started to doubt myself and my abilities since September. Now though, holding what was my fourth A-grade quiz since the start of the new year, I felt that doubt subside.
“How’d you do, Je
ss?” I asked, leaning over into his shoulder to look at his score. “103%? Nice! Extra credit?”
“Yeah, the last two questions were pretty easy, and I was done early. How about you?” I showed him my paper, loving the way he lit up, his proud smile bright and warm. Jesse silently closed the distance between us in a sweet kiss. There were a few murmurs that picked up at the public show of affection, and I could feel eyes on us, but I didn’t seem to care.
“You did great, Em,” he whispered, the bell mixing with his words. Before I could pull away and grab my bag, Jesse gave me one more peck, the motion making my toes curl in my boots. “I need to get going. I have to ask Mrs. Gretchen a question before the next class starts. Will you be good to walk to dance on your own?”
“Of course, you take care of what you need to. See you after school?” I asked, slinging my backpack strap onto my shoulder. With a final nod, we parted ways at the door.
The halls were crowded with bustling students and teachers as everyone headed to their final class of the day. I passed Carter and Brayden, all of us waving at one another in the brief moment. Unfortunately, another person I saw on my way to the gym was Mr. DeRosa, and the way he was stepping into my path meant I was about to have some unwanted company.
Awesome.
“Miss Clark,” he started.
“Mr. DeRosa,” I muttered, sighing in frustration at the unwelcome interruption.
“I was informed about several instances of PDA,” he stated, his tone thick with insinuation, as if holding my boyfriends’ hands or giving one of them a quick kiss was a bad thing.
I’ve seen other students practically eating each other’s faces off in the halls, but they never get targeted, I grumbled.
“I apologize, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” I lied through my teeth, holding back the retort I wanted to sling at him.
“See that you do,” he countered with a curl of his lip that made him look like he was sneering at me. Thankfully, he walked around me without any more snide comments. I took a deep breath to try and calm my annoyance and walked the rest of the way to dance, but even after changing and starting warm-ups, I still couldn’t rid myself of my irritation.