When Zoey Fell Too Far

by Sparling,Amy

  On Sunday, Dad drops me off at Mom’s and I continue with the sick charade just so no one gets suspicious that I was sick for just twenty-four hours when most colds take a few days. Mom is being normal around me now, so that’s good. She keeps talking about college and how she can’t wait to go shopping with me for dorm stuff.

  Dana comes over in the afternoon with a big container of her homemade chicken noodle soup for me since I’m “sick.”

  We eat in my room and Dana makes a big deal about sitting far away from me so she doesn’t get any sick germs from me. I want to tell her everything. Lay it all out there and confess every terrible, stupid thing I did on Friday night.

  But I can’t. The words lodge in my throat and the shame over what I’ve done forces me to keep sitting on the bed, eating soup and pretending to be sick with a cold.

  I hate the person I’ve become, because the old Zoey could tell Dana everything. The old Zoey didn’t lie to her parents and she didn’t give blow jobs to ungrateful guys in some stranger’s bedroom.

  I hate this.

  Dana doesn’t stay very long, probably because she’s afraid to catch my fake sickness and also because I don’t talk much. Everything we chat about seems like a big freaking lie because it’s just small talk and not the real thing I’d like to tell her. As much as I hate keeping all of this from her, I’m happy when she leaves.

  Now I can be alone with my self-loathing.

  The worst part is that I keep checking my phone, hoping to hear something from Kris. An apology, a just checking in text, anything. Even a hello would work. He took me to a party, got me drunk, then abandoned me.

  Does he even feel bad about it?

  If that’s what normal high school girls do, then I no longer care about being normal. I’d do anything to snap my fingers and magically be transported back to when I was Zoey, the biggest prude. Zoey, who turned down a hand job in the movie theaters with a guy I barely know.

  I like that girl a lot better than the girl I’ve become.

  Finally, when I’ve finished Dana’s soup for dinner and told Mom I’m feeling mostly better, I break down and send him a text. After hours of antagonizing over what it should say, I go the simple route.

  Me: Hey

  I’m about to go crazy waiting for a reply, when my phone finally goes off an hour later.

  Jonah: How are you feeling?

  My heart leaps up into my throat. As much as I’d like an explanation from Kris about why he abandoned me, hearing from Jonah is almost a million times better.

  Me: I’m okay. You?

  Jonah: Just remembered I had English homework so I’m scrambling to get it done on time.

  Me: That sucks.

  Jonah: Tell me about it. :)

  I like how his replies are quick, like he’s got his phone in his hand like I do, waiting for my next text to come in.

  Me: Well good luck. Let me know if you need any help.

  My phone rings. I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering if he called me on accident and will hang up soon. By the forth ring, I decide to answer it. Nervous butterflies fill my stomach.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” It sounds like he’s smiling and that makes me smile.

  “Did you call me on accident?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  I roll my eyes. “Because no one calls anyone anymore.”

  “Ah, well I’m old fashioned. I called you on purpose. It’s more fun than texting.”

  I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing he was here with me instead of on the phone. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I get to hear your voice.”

  His words make my toes tingle. But I can’t let him know that, so I hit him with sarcasm. “Sounds like someone’s just procrastinating their English homework.”

  “I can do both at the same time. I happen to be fluent in English.”

  I laugh. “How was your weekend?”

  “Not that great. I’ve been wanting to kick Edgemont’s ass for forty-eight hours. Well, I guess I’ve wanted to since he set his eyes on you, but it’s gotten worse this weekend.”

  “Why? He’s not worth it,” I say, even though deep down I think it’s awesome that he cares about me.

  Jonah is quiet for a second. “He took you to a party and left you drunk and alone.”

  “That’s not all,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jonah sighs. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

  “No, you won’t.” He starts to argue, but I interrupt him. “Jonah, you can’t. You’ll be charged as an adult and it’ll screw up your life.”

  “It’d be worth it,” he says, the anger evident in his voice.

  “You’d never get to see me again.”

  He sighs. “True. I wouldn’t want that.”

  I grin. “Definitely wouldn’t want to miss out on being my friend.”

  “I wouldn’t want that at all,” he says with a flirtatious lilt to his voice that sends chills down my arms. “Hey…” Jonah says. “You want to come hang out? Watch me do homework? My mom will probably offer you some of her famous sweet tea.”

  I’m about two seconds away from screaming yes and running across town on foot. That’s how bad I want to see Jonah right now. But I can’t. I haven’t showered all day and my hair is a mess and the shame I feel over what happened Friday night weighs on me like a thunderstorm cloud.

  “I can’t, I’m not really feeling well,” I say. This time it’s not even a lie. Feeling sick from shame is still classified as not feeling well. “I wish I could.”

  “Maybe another time. My mom’s been asking about you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I can’t stop smiling and I’m so glad he can’t see me right now. “What is she saying?”

  “She just keeps asking when I’ll bring you over to hang out. She thinks you look like a very nice girl,” he says, imitating her Spanish accent.

  I laugh a little and some of the pain from this weekend melts away. “I’m glad you’re in my life,” I say without even thinking about the words before they come out. My phone beeps and I glance at the screen, seeing that Kris just sent me a text. My heart speeds up. I don’t even want to talk to him anymore.

  “I’m glad you’re in my life, Zoey.” Jonah sighs. “This has been really nice, but I guess I should get back to this stupid homework. I know I talk a mad game, but I actually want to graduate and all,” he says with a chuckle.

  “I’m starting to think you’re not as bad as you want everyone to believe,” I say.

  He laughs. “When Marcus was here, I was his little brother ally. Every time I got in trouble, it was from doing something for him. But now he’s locked up, and I hate that he’s gone and all, but at least it gives me a chance to start over and try not to be such a fucking loser anymore.”

  “I think that’s really great,” I say, meaning every word.

  “I’ll talk to you later?”

  I smile. “Yes.”

  When the call ends, I see Kris’s unread text on my phone. I guess I do still want an apology, even though I know for a fact that I never want to talk to him again.

  I click on the message.

  Kris: Wanna come over?

  Me: No. You left me at the party.

  Kris: you didn’t say you needed a ride home

  Me: OMG go fuck yourself you asshole.

  Kris: calm down, damn. You should be thanking me because I helped you with your list

  What the hell is he talking about? I read the message again, wondering if I read it wrong. I didn’t tell anyone about that list.

  Me: what list?

  Kris: your prude list. It fell out in my truck and I’ve been helping you succeed.

  Kris: you’re welcome

  Chapter 27

  Mom doesn’t fall for my sick routine as easily as Dad does. She puts the back of her hand to my forehead on Monday morning. Her lips purse and she studies me, as if she’s pulling the tr
uth right out of my eyes.

  “You don’t have a fever,” she says. “You can go to school.”

  “But I feel sick.”

  Mom puts a hand to her hip. In her Hello Kitty scrubs, she doesn’t exactly look intimidating. “What kind of sick?”

  Sick from discovering that Kris knew my plan all along.

  Sick from being talked into giving oral sex to guys who don’t even care about me.

  Sick of having Jonah as just a friend.

  “I don’t know. I just—don’t feel good.”

  “You’re going to school,” Mom says, turning on her heel and disappearing into the kitchen. “We’re leaving in five minutes,” she adds.

  All the hope I had for a quiet day in bed is now squashed. I grab my backpack off the floor, turn off my bedroom light, and trudge out into the kitchen. By now, I’m sure Kris and Alex won’t ever talk to me again. They’ve gotten what they wanted, after all. Still, I don’t want to go to school and risk seeing them. The mortification that Kris has had my list all along makes me sick.

  All night I struggled to remember what was written on it. The exact words I used. I know I put something about it being a prude list at the top. God, I am such an idiot.

  How could I have been so stupid? Of course guys don’t like me. They never have, and they never will.

  At school, Dana meets me outside near the incredibly ugly statue of a bearcat that was donated by the class of 2004. She hands me a muffin and a coffee. “So Devin’s sister and I totally dated the same guy back in junior high,” she says, falling into step with me. “It was super freaking awkward when we found it out.”

  “Wow,” I say, staring at the blueberry muffin. It’s from The Main Street Bakery, and it’s my favorite. But I’m having a hard time wanting to eat right now.

  “You okay?” she says, her mouth full of her own muffin. “You look shitty.”

  I shrug. “I feel shitty.”

  She takes another bite. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it Jonah?”

  I nearly trip over my own feet. “What makes you think that?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You two like each other. Just admit it and move on with your life.”

  I take a bite of my muffin just to stall. “I will do no such thing,” I say after a moment.

  As we walk into the school, this weird sort of déjà vu happens. People stop their conversations and watch Dana and me. Or maybe it’s just me they’re watching.

  “Are people staring at us?” Dana says.

  I nod. “Is there something on my face?”

  She gives me a once over and shakes her head. “What about me?”

  “You are gorgeous as always,” I say.

  A guy with short curly hair passes out flyers as he walks down the hall. When he gets to us, he hands one to Dana without so much as looking up at us.

  I recognize the stupid half-sheet of paper the second I see it. Another Dis List has been announced.

  “Ugh, not this again,” Dana says, crumpling it up in her hand.

  “Wait,” I say. I toss my half eaten muffin in a nearby trashcan, then I unfold the list and search for my name.

  Sure enough, I’m on there. Zoey Caplan has made the list for a second time, only I’m no longer a prude.

  Zoey Caplan is now labeled as the biggest slut.

  Dana peers over my shoulder to read the list. All around us, people are staring as they walk past. I want to scream at them to take a damn picture if they think I’m so interesting.

  “Damn girl,” Dana says, stepping back. “What did you do?”

  Hot tears puddle in the corners of my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, walking quicker to get away from her. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  ***

  Ten minutes after first period begins I get a text from Jonah. Mrs. Perry is reviewing logarithms on the whiteboard, so I sneak a look at the text.

  Jonah: the key code is 14731

  I memorize the number and then slip the phone back into my bag. My first period pre-cal class is mostly made of nerdy kids who love math, so I’m not getting stares in here like I do in the hallway. I take a deep breath and try like hell to focus on the problems on the board.

  When the bell rings, I take my time gathering my stuff, letting everyone else rush the hallways before I do. Then I slowly walk to the bathroom, leisurely hang out a while and pretend to fix my hair even though I don’t give a single crap about what I look like right now. Finally, when the warning bell rings for second period, I slip into the hallway and walk down to the locked maintenance door. When there’s no one else around, I punch in the code and step inside.

  Jonah isn’t on the roof, but he left a soft flannel blanket up here for me. I drop to my knees and then lie back on the blanket and look up at the bright, beautiful sky.

  Somehow, Jonah knew exactly what I needed. Not a talk like what Dana would do, not hanging out with the guy I have a massive crush on—just alone time.

  Just me and this blanket on this roof, staring up at the clouds and realizing how very small I am compared to how very large the universe is.

  That thought gives me a little peace. But it isn’t enough, not really. My problems might be small and insignificant in the whole scale of things, but right now they are my entire world. I’ve been publicly embarrassed in front of the entire school. Twice.

  Anger, betrayal, and sadness consumes me. And although I’m sure I’ll get better eventually—I mean graduation is in a few weeks—right now everything sucks. So I roll over on my side and cry until the lunch bell rings.

  Chapter 28

  The door to the roof opens and I jolt up, panic overtaking me. Then I see Jonah’s dark hair and that smirk on his face. “It’s just me,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Probably should have warned you that I was coming up.”

  “You think?” I say as I wipe at my eyes and attempt to fix my hair. “I almost had a heart attack.”

  “No worries. Even the teachers don’t know about this place.” Jonah sits beside me and drops a Subway bag in front of me. Then he hands me a soda. “Hungry?”

  “You brought me lunch,” I say. It’s not a question, but more of a statement of how awesome he is.

  “You said you liked turkey and Swiss, right? Because that’s what I got.”

  Now I feel like I’m going to cry all over again. “You’re the best,” I say, reaching for one of the two sandwiches. “Thank you.”

  We eat in silence for a few minutes, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts.

  I reach for another chip when Jonah says, “I want to kick their asses. I want to track down everyone responsible for the stupid list and bash their fucking heads in.”

  He exhales sharply and then looks at me. “I’m really sorry they did this to you. I don’t care when my name is on the list, but when it’s someone as sweet as you, I just want to rip some fucking heads off.”

  My half-eaten sandwich sits like a rock in my stomach. I didn’t really want to talk about this, but now that he brought it up, I guess I have a few things to say about it.

  “I guess I deserve it. This time, at least.”

  “Don’t say that,” Jonah starts, but I stop him.

  “No, I do. When they called me a prude I should have just ignored it and went on with my life, but instead I decided to, like, declare war on being a prude.” I stare down, focusing on the writing on my bag of chips. “I set out to prove that I wasn’t a prude and now I feel so gross about it.”

  “Edgemont is just an asshole, Zoey. You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “Kris and Alex Blackwood,” I mutter, still looking down.

  Jonah puts a hand on my shoulder. “Zoey, you might not believe it, but you are too kind and sweet of a person to let them get you down. You’re so much better than they are. Who cares what they say? They can’t hurt you without your permission.”

  I shake my head. “They’ve already hurt me.”
>
  “What do you mean?” Jonah’s hand had been smoothing circles on my back but now it stops. “Zoey, why did you say it like that?”

  I turn to him, taking in his dark eyes, that little twist of seriousness in his lips. “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?”

  He holds up his hands. “Who would I tell?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me, too. I’ve got your back, Zoey.”

  I take a deep breath. And then I tell him.

  About the list I wrote.

  The mission I put myself on.

  The dates with Alex and Kris.

  The hand jobs that led to blow jobs.

  I tell him everything, and when I am done, it doesn’t feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It feels like more shame and embarrassment have been piled on. I am suffocating and Jonah is just silent.

  “You think less of me, don’t you?” I ask, my voice barely louder than the gentle breeze blowing through the trees below.

  “I’ll never think less of you,” he says. He closes his eyes. A muscle in his jaw goes ridged and then he lets out a slow breath.

  “Then…what are you thinking?” I say.

  He opens his eyes but when he looks at me, it feels like he doesn’t even see me. “I am trying to keep my control. Trying not to storm down the stairs and kick open every classroom door until I find those pricks and make them pay for what they did to you.”

  I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “It was my fault,” I say. “I shouldn’t have flirted with them and I shouldn’t have tried so hard to stop being a prude. Hell, I even threw myself at you, too.” I drop my forehead to my knees and sigh. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Zoey, I pushed you away because I’m a good fucking person. They didn’t. They forced you to do something you didn’t want to do. That’s not okay.”

  I shrug, still looking at my knees. “I did it. It’s my fault.”

  “Listen to me,” he says. “It is not your fault. You were coerced. They took advantage of you. That is not okay.”