Beyond the Pale

by Jennifer Millikin

  “What are you wearing tonight?” My eyes move over Finn’s current outfit. Trinity kids will melt into puddles of Lacoste polos if Finn shows up in ripped board shorts and a muscle shirt.

  Finn looks down at himself, then back up at me. “This.”

  I give him a look.

  “What?”

  “You know you can’t wear something like that to Brady’s party.”

  “It’s my Sunday best,” Finn says, puffing out his chest.

  Despite my growing irritation, I can’t help but smile. Finn always makes me smile.

  I survey the contents of my closet. Behind me, the bed creaks as Finn sits down. If my mom and stepdad knew I had a boy in my room, they would lose their minds. They shouldn’t find out though; tonight they’re at the church, leading a couples Bible study.

  I capture the sleeve of a T-shirt between my fingers, fingering the soft fabric, and think about what it would be like to burst into that Bible study and tell everyone the truth. My mother is not the saint they think she is. She’s told them all a story, led them to believe that she was a struggling single mother until she met the doting, god-fearing man she always hoped God would bring into her life. And at that moment, I knew, she’ll say, looking around earnestly at the enraptured faces, I saw God’s plan for my life.

  What would happen if I walked in and told them all about our rotating front door? The different men who came to our apartment, some barely sparing me a glance on their way back to her bedroom. I was young, and I couldn’t make sense of the noises I heard. And I never went back to check, not after that first time. I knocked, and the man answered her bedroom door. His poochy belly hung over his underwear, hair curled over his chest and he had an angry look on his face. What the fuck do you want? he’d demanded. I turned and ran to my bedroom, curling up on my bed and putting a pillow over my head.

  So excuse me for not buying her holier than thou, godly wife act. My stepfather came to the door just like the rest of them, but instead of coming in, he took my mom out. She got a babysitter for me, a part of the charade. See how I’m a good single-mom?

  He came back, over and over, until one day my mom came home with a small sparkly diamond on her finger. My mom told me we’d move in with him after they were married, and that from now on I’d be going to church. I was excited, because I figured anything, anything, was better than what we’d been doing. And maybe, if my mom was married and happy, she’d be nicer.

  I was wrong.

  “Lennon?”

  Finn’s hand touches my shoulder, and I jump.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “Where were you just now? I said your name four times.”

  I clear my throat and push aside some shirts. “Daydreaming.”

  “Oh yeah? What were you daydreaming about?” He’s still standing close behind me, and my whole body knows it.

  “Nothing.”

  Finn snorts disbelievingly. “Were you dreaming about meeting a hunky Trinity boy tonight? Maybe he’ll sweep you off your feet, and drive you off into the sunset.”

  Now it’s my turn to snort. “Hardly.”

  “Good,” Finn says, setting his chin on my shoulder and winding his arms around my waist. “Because you’re mine.”

  I roll my eyes. “Finn, stop.”

  “You are,” he insists, and his voice takes on a possessive quality. It would be a lie to say I didn’t like it. Belonging to someone? It felt nice. Physically, I’ve always been with my mother. But in my heart? I was alone. Until Finn and Brady.

  I step out of his embrace and face him, my arms crossed. “If I’m yours, why did you take Ava Stansbury to the football game last Friday night?”

  Finn purses his lips and looks at the ceiling, as if the answer can be found there. “That,” he says, dropping his gaze back down to me, “is a very good question.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Finn, you are impossible.”

  His eyebrows raise. “Impossible not to love?”

  I smile again and feel my whole body soften. “Yes, Finn. You are impossible not to love.”

  He needs to hear this, my broken, sad best friend whose belief in his own self-worth sometimes manages to be lower than my own.

  Finn grabs my waist, eliciting a surprised gasp from me.

  “What are you doing?” My voice is breathy.

  “Love me. Right now.” Finn’s dark eyes gaze intensely into my own.

  My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “I do love you right now. I love you all the time. Even when you’re being an ass.” I’m hoping the joke, and the grin on my face, will take us back to playful flirting. Because this is precarious.

  It does nothing. Finn tightens his hold on me, his fingers digging into the flesh at the small of my back. “Let me show you love, Lennon.” Finn’s gaze moves across the room, my eyes following. I see him looking at my bed, and then I understand what he’s really saying.

  All my muscles tense.

  “Finn—” I begin to protest, but Finn speaks at the same time.

  “I know you’re a virgin.”

  “So?” Instantly I feel angry and embarrassed. I’m almost eighteen. Everyone I know is having sex except me. I don’t talk about it with Brady and Finn, but I can only assume they are too.

  Just the thought of it makes my blood boil, filling me with the deep unruly possessiveness of my guys. The thought of them holding another girl close, of her holding them inside her, makes me angry.

  “You have to lose it sometime, Lennon.” He drags his lips across my forehead, and blood rushes down there, to a place where nobody, not even me, has gone before. His kiss on my temple is soft, and I feel his lips moving on my skin as he says, “I can’t stand the thought of it being with anybody else.”

  I pull back to look at him. His words are ridiculous, but his expression is earnest, his eyes hopeful.

  Stepping away, I extract myself from his arms. “I never knew my first time would be so romantic,” I say sarcastically. I glance over at my nightstand, the top clear of everything but a lamp and a book. “Roses? And candles? You really went all out to make my first-time special.”

  Finn shakes his head, his hair falling in his face. Reflexively, he pushes it back. “That’s not how I meant it.”

  “Did you really think I would just lie on my back and open my legs?” Angrily I reach for a shirt, ripping it from the hanger. “I need to change. Please leave.”

  He sighs, his shoulders slumped as he moves for the door. I wait until it closes behind him, then I pull my shirt over my head and press it to my face, letting it catch my tears. I feel stupid and embarrassed and angry.

  When I’m done, I take a deep breath and look at my reflection in my mirrored closet door. Luckily there’s only a tiny mascara smudge under one eye, and with a swipe of my finger, it’s gone. I pull on a new shirt and swap my jeans for a skirt that falls to mid-thigh. Winding my purse over my shoulder, I pull open my bedroom door and step out into the hall.

  Finn leans against the opposite wall, his hands tucked in his pockets. He looks contrite. Ignoring him, I walk down the stairs. Just as I’m reaching for the handle of the front door, it flies open. Finn and I both freeze. My stepdad walks in, pausing in the open door when he sees us.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He looks at Finn, then back at me. “Your mother forgot the pie she made for tonight. I came home to grab it.” He speaks slowly, glancing again between me and Finn.

  “Okay, well,” I say. I’m too afraid to look back at Finn, so I glance down at my feet instead.

  “We were just on our way out, Mr. Blake,” Finn says.

  “Yeah, sure,” Ted responds quickly, moving aside. I take a step, but Ted’s arm shoots out to stop me.

  “Finn, why don’t you go on outside?” He motions out front with his chin. “Lennon will join you in a moment.”

  Finn brushes past me, our eyes meeting briefly as he goes. The door closes softly behind him.

  “Are you
having sex with that boy?” Ted asks.

  My cheeks flame. There’s no way I’m talking about sex with Ted. I’d like to pretend he doesn’t even know what sex is.

  “No,” I answer, looking away. I’m too mortified to meet his eyes.

  “Lennon?”

  I look up.

  “If you do it once, it’ll be easier to do again. And again. That’s how young women get into trouble.”

  “I’m not—”

  He turns away, walking toward the kitchen, and the declaration dies on my lips.

  I want to follow him, proclaim my innocence, but I also want to get the hell out of here.

  I dart through the front door, hurrying to where Finn waits for me beside his uncle’s truck. He opens the door for me, and I climb in. Halfway through the drive, Finn reaches across the seat and finds my hand. Then he doesn’t let me go until we reach Brady’s.

  “Brady’s mom is going to kill him,” I shout to Finn over the noise of the party. We’ve taken fewer than ten steps inside, and I’ve seen two beers spilled and tracks of muddy footprints on the foyer rug.

  Finn glances at me, nodding his head solemnly. He cares for Mrs. Sterling about as much as she does for him, but he doesn’t want to see her house ruined.

  Neither of us could figure out why good boy Brady decided to throw a house party. It’s out of character, but maybe that’s why he’s doing it. Maybe he wants one chance to be something besides the golden child.

  “Let’s find Brady,” Finn yells, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the crowd, thick with bodies. We snake through, Finn craning his neck as he looks around for Brady. It’s me who spots him first. His back is to us, and he’s talking animatedly with two blonde girls. They laugh and gaze up at him as if the moon is in the sky because Brady placed it there. We approach, but his back is still turned, and he doesn’t see us coming. Like an animal marking its territory, I reach out, wrapping my arms around Brady’s torso and squeezing him from behind. I know he’ll look down, see the delicate gold band I always wear on my pinky finger, and know it’s me. And he does.

  “Lennon,” he gets out the first half of my name before he even turns around. Smiling, he shifts, bringing me into his side. His smile is lazy and slow, his cheeks pudgy. Alcohol has thickened his skin and his tongue, making his whole body puff out.

  “Angelina, Veronica, this is Lennon. And Finn,” Brady adds, gazing over my head to Finn.

  “Ladies,” Finn says, his voice different. He’s softened it with charm. It’s like he’s really saying I’m messy and poor, but I’m a hell of a lot of fun.

  “Hi.” I wave at the two girls who have not yet said hi to me. Though that’s not to say they aren’t paying attention to me. Their narrowed eyes haven’t left the spot where Brady’s body touches mine. “We go to Agua Mesa,” I explain, because I don’t know what else to say and it’s awkward.

  “We know you don’t go to Trinity,” one of the girls (Veronica? Angelina?) says with a smile. The insult is covert, but still cutting.

  Finn, sensing my unease, offers to get drinks.

  “Do you need refills?” he asks the mean girls. They nod and smile coquettishly, blinking their long, fake eyelashes.

  “Shoot me,” I whisper to Finn, accompanying him to the keg.

  “Now don’t you wish you were in your room fucking me instead of being here?”

  I frown and whack his arm.

  He laughs and takes four red plastic cups from the stack. As I watch, he pumps the keg and fills each cup, tipping them sideways to avoid excess foam.

  “The foam is called head,” Finn tells me, winking.

  “Oh my fucking gosh, Finn. Seriously?”

  “What? It is.”

  I shake my head, and, holding two beers, follow him back to where the mean girls stand with Brady. Except now three more blonde girls have joined them. They all wear too much makeup, and their designer purses swing under their arms. Look, it’s a matching set of people.

  Brady’s telling the girls about a recent away game, one where he scored not one, but two home runs. The girls stare at him raptly, but I’d bet the last few dollars I have that each of them are thinking about something else.

  He finishes his story, and all eyes fall to me and Finn, the interlopers.

  Finn hands the two beers he’s holding to Veronica and Angelina, then takes one out of my hands.

  Brady introduces us to the new girls, but honestly, I’m not listening to their names. My focus is on reconciling Brady my friend with Brady the beloved Trinity Prep baseball player.

  Someone calls Brady’s name, and he turns, looking. His eyes light up in recognition, and he walks away, meeting the person halfway. This guy could be Brady’s twin. He’s dressed in the same khakis and polo, collar popped. When they reach each other, they do some handshake that consists of three parts. Brady looks back, catching my eye, giving me a look as if to say, Don’t tell them, okay? Don’t tell them this is all an act. The real me likes watching you make silver dollar chocolate chip pancakes, and when Finn tosses them in the air and tries to catch them in his mouth.

  I smile, silently agreeing to go along with this charade. Beside me, Finn drains his beer, and reaches for mine. He drinks the rest of mine in two gulps, then goes back to the keg for a refill.

  Before I’m forced to make conversation with the girls who are huddled in a group but keep glancing my direction, Brady and his friend rejoin me. Brady’s shoulders are bunched, like he’s nervous. He introduces his friend, Austin.

  Austin extends a hand, smiling brightly when I shake it. “Where has Brady been hiding you?”

  “In a suitcase in his room,” I answer.

  Austin’s mouth falls open in surprise, then he tips his head back and laughs.

  Brady laughs too, and some of the tension in his shoulders melts away. Perhaps his two worlds can come together cleanly.

  “She goes to Agua Mesa,” one of the girls speaks up. The huddle has opened and spread out, so that now the girls stand on either side of Austin.

  Austin winks at me. “You have me wishing I went to Agua Mesa.”

  A blush heats my cheeks. I’m not used to such blatant flirting. Guys at my school don’t come within five feet of me. They’re all scared of Finn.

  Brady rolls his eyes playfully, but the corners of his lips don’t turn up in the slightest.

  “Brady!”

  This time it’s Finn’s voice. I look over and see Finn in the air, one guy trying to hold onto each foot.

  “Come get my other leg,” Finn yells, his hands gripping the top of the keg.

  Brady and Austin leave to help Finn. I’m laughing at the spectacle, watching Finn do a keg stand with Brady’s help. I know better than to take a picture, in case it were found by my mother, so I settle for committing it to memory.

  I’m still laughing to myself when a sharp nail jabs my shoulder. I turn, and one of the blondes is a few inches away from me, her glossy lips pinched.

  “You should leave,” she says when I meet her eyes.

  “Excuse me?” Maybe I didn’t hear her right.

  “You don’t belong here. This party is for Trinity kids. Not sluts from AM.”

  “I’m…I’m…” My sputtering pisses me off as much as this girl’s words.

  “You obviously fucked your way here, and now you’re trying to get with Austin. Did you go through all the boys at AM and now you’re moving on to the rich boys?”

  Fire lights up my core. “Yes, that’s just it. And I’m glad I met you, because it’s obvious you’ve spent plenty of time on your back. Maybe you can tell me who to start with.” My voice is a snarl by the time I reach the end of my sentence.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  Her yell draws the attention of all the people within twenty feet of us. Inside, the music rages on, but around us, it’s instantly quiet. Then the girl reaches out, and yanks.

  On. My. Hair.

  I shove her, hard, right back into her circle of friends. Sudd
enly there are hands around my waist. Brady and Finn surround me, their faces filling my vision. They both hold me.

  Brady spins us around, so my back is to the girl.

  “Maybe you should go,” he says, glancing from me to Finn.

  My mouth drops open. Me? I should go? But... I’m me. She’s temporary. A blip in time.

  Finn winds a hand through mine, tugging me away from Brady and into his chest. He shakes his head, and says, “And here we were, thinking you aren’t capable of making mistakes.”

  Finn pulls me back through the crowd, and even though I don’t want to, I look back. Brady stares after us, the look on his face unfathomable.

  14

  Now

  “I like your hair this way.” Brady reaches out and pushes around the floppy bun on top of my head.

  I give my head a little shake, causing the bun to flop around my head wildly. Brady laughs.

  “Welcome to chaos.” I stretch out one arm toward the rest of the house.

  “Chaos is my specialty.” Brady steps through the front door, pausing once he gets inside. He surveys the tidy living room, then turns to me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Not in here,” I explain. With one finger, I point above my head. “Up there.”

  Brady nods. “Help is here now. Where do you want me to start?”

  “I’m halfway finished with her bedroom. Come on.” Turning, I lead the way upstairs.

  When we get to my mom’s bedroom, Brady sees what I mean by chaos. The clothes from her closet lie stacked on her bed, her drawers have all been pulled out and emptied, their contents in piles on the floor.

  Brady whistles, low and slow.

  “I know,” I agree, stepping deeper into the mess and navigating around piles of shoes. “I need you to hold open bags while I put stuff inside.”

  Brady grabs the first black bag off the roll. He shakes it, pulling the top open and holding it out. I fill it with my mother’s clothes. Then we move onto the next one, and the next one. Brady stops for a moment, pulling his phone from his back pocket and turning on music. As we work, we listen to the top forty, and Brady sings along quietly with most of the songs.