NORMAL

by Danielle Pearl

  "Hey I told you not to worry about it," I answer, "And it hasn't even been five minutes."

  "Stop, Ror. If you didn't need to talk you wouldn't have asked. Out with it," he demands, straight to the point as ever. "Those girls treatin' you good?"

  "Yeah, they're fine. I'm fine," I insist. "Get back to Missy, I'll call you in the mornin'."

  "Missy can wait. Don't you worry about me, Rory girl, what d'ya need? If Lacey fucks with you just tell me, I swear to God-"

  "Cam!" I cut him off. I'm not three feet from Lacey and I glance at her wondering if she could hear him through my phone. She looks at me and her eyes brighten. It's clear she's only just heard me say Cam's name. I excuse myself out the french doors that lead to the side of the house as Lacey calls for me to tell Cam that she says "hi". Once on the porch, I forward her greeting.

  "Yeah, yeah, hi back, or whatever," is his response. I'll dress it up when I pass it on to Lacey. "So what's up Ror? You need me to pick you up?"

  "No, Cam, I'm fine, really." I take a deep breath. "Okay. I ran into Robin Forbes when I got here tonight," I begin.

  "He say somethin' wrong to you?" Cam's voice is low and deathly serious, the threat implicit.

  "No! Jeez, Cam, why do you always assume someone is mistreatin' me? Am I such a goddamned victim?"

  "Nah, Rory girl, you're no victim, but you are beautiful and innocent and Robin Forbes doesn't do innocent. What'd he say to you?"

  "He, uh, he asked to take me out," I murmur softly, suddenly unsure of what Cam's reaction will be. He's always been so damn protective of me. There's a long pause and for a moment I think the call got dropped, before Cam lets out a long, resigned sigh. "Cam?"

  "I was afraid a' this." Another sigh. "Damn, Rory girl, what'd you say?"

  "I... said nothin'. I stood there like a stupid deer in headlights!" I grumble.

  Cam chuckles. It's a comforting sound, reminding me of childhood, of home. "Well you musta said somethin'. Was he a gentleman about it?"

  "Uh, yeah, I guess. He was... sweet. Kinda. I don't know. But no. I really said nothin'. When I couldn't make myself talk he just smiled and told me to think about it. That he'd come by for my answer later tonight." I don't mention that he instructed me to make sure I was sleeping alone in the guest room. I know what Cam will make of that, and vaguely I wonder why it's not sending up red flags for me.

  "Well, don't hold out on me, what's your answer gonna be? Don't keep me waitin', Rory girl, I ain't him."

  "Of course you're not, Cam. I... don't know. That's why I called you! What do I do? What do I say?" I'm desperate, completely out of my comfort zone.

  "Say no," Cam says immediately, the big brother in him shining through.

  "Cam!"

  He sighs again. "Well hell, Ror. You're the one who's gonna have to make this call. Guys are gonna ask you out. You're too damn adorable for your own good. I was worried about this the other day. The seniors were talkin'. Sayin' how hot you've gotten, askin' me all about you, and about you and me. they aint gonna stop askin', and I can't hold them off forever. Forbes ain't a bad guy, but you know he gets around. You ain't that kinda girl."

  "Well I know I ain't that kinda girl. But surely Robin must know that, right? I mean, why would he even wanna go out with me?"

  Cam laughs again. "Why would he wanna go out with you? Seriously Rory girl?" He lets out another frustrated sigh. "Whatever, it's probably best you keep on not knowin' what you got goin' on. But Forbes sure has noticed, along with the rest of the damn town. The fact that he must know how inexperienced you are is the only reason I believe his intentions might be alright. But that doesn't mean you gotta go out with him. That's your choice... what do you want, Ror? Do you wanna go out with him?"

  Cam asks the million dollar question. And the truth is, I have no idea. I was much more comfortable admiring him from afar - when he was unattainable. And I know I should want to go out with him, every other girl sure does... and maybe I do, too. I think I'm just so thrown off and nervous that I can't quite get a grip on how I feel about it, but how do you decide if you like someone if you don't even know them? I suppose that is what dating is for - to get to know them.

  "I suppose I'm not sure, Cam, can't you just decide for me?" I groan. He always makes decisions for me when I can't decide something, which is pretty often. But this is different than choosing my lunch order.

  "I did, remember? I said 'no'. You didn't like that answer," he reminds me.

  I hear Lacey call me from the living room and realize I should get back to the girls. I tell Cam I'll call him tomorrow and sarcastically thank him for his "help".

  The rest of the evening flies by and I'm no closer to knowing what the hell to do about Robin when Lacey starts telling us where we're all sleeping, which I'd thought would all be in her room. Courtney is sleeping in Lacey's bed with her, and Emmers and Stella will sleep on the pullout in the den. I have a choice between an air mattress in Lacey's room or the guest room on the third floor. She explains that it's the only room on the third floor so I may not want to be alone up there. Without thinking too hard, I tell her I don't mind, and climb the second staircase to the converted attic room.

  Everyone's gone to bed, but I can't sleep. The guest room up here is lonely, like Lacey warned, but it is lovely. There's a canopy bed with a soft cream quilt that matches the gauzy drapes. The queen size mattress is comfortable, but still, I can't sleep. I can't stop wondering if Robin was joking or not about coming up here for my answer, or even if he was joking about asking me out in the first place. When I glance at the mahogany wall clock and see it's almost 1:00 am, I realize he wasn't serious, or maybe he changed his mind. Part of me is relieved, but another part is disappointed, and I drift off to sleep wondering why I'm the only girl in my grade that's never even been kissed, let alone the only virgin in my group of girlfriends.

  ****

  I'm startled out of sleep by a bang and a muttered curse.

  "Shit."

  I open my eyes, but it's too dark to see the door, which I'm pretty sure has just slammed shut.

  I lean up onto my elbows.

  "Who's there?" I ask, frightened, as the figure approaches my bed.

  "Well, it's just me a' course. I told you I'd come, I'll be needin' that answer now, sweetheart," Robin drawls and I notice there's a slight slur to his accent. He's been drinking.

  He sits down on the bed as I sit up.

  "You scared me," I whisper.

  Robin reaches out and brushes my hair out of my face, pushing a chunk of it over my shoulder. I must look like such a mess. "Well now I see why that daddy a' yours calls you Sleepin' Beauty." He grins sloppily and it’s somehow incredibly endearing, but I can smell the beers he's drunk tonight. And perfume. A woman's perfume.

  I blush at his compliment, grateful that it's too dark for him to notice. A pang of disappointment stabs deep in my gut and I wonder where it came from. I have no right to be jealous of the owner of the perfume, but part of me is wondering why he's bothering to ask me out at all when he obviously has some other girl ready and willing to do whatever is required to get her scent to cling to him so fervently.

  "Didn't mean to scare you, but I can't go to bed, not yet. I'll never fall asleep 'til you agree to let me take you out next Friday."

  "Um..." Again, words evade me.

  "How about I'll pick you up at seven, and you wear a pretty little dress for me. I'll take you out somewhere nice, and maybe, if I'm real good, you'll give me a nice kiss. How does that sound?" He's smiling sincerely, and I think he's trying to ease my nerves by saying he'd only expect a kiss if things go well. The thought warms me and I smile timidly up at him in response. "Don't you worry, Sleepin' Beauty, I know you're a good girl, and I'll treat you right, I promise." He holds up three fingers like a boy scout and I laugh.

  "Okay," I murmur, surprising even myself. Robin grins widely in triumph and I can't help but laugh again.

  "Well you just made my night," he says excitedly,
and I wonder if perfume girl hadn't already made his night before he ever got home. "How about a little preview of that kiss?"

  My heart drops. Alluding to a potential kiss if we had a good date is one thing, but now?

  I've never been kissed. Ever. Cam once offered to be my first kiss - to teach me, but I'd balked at the idea.

  I'm anxious and disappointed until Robin turns his head and points to his cheek. I smile again and press my lips chastely to where he'd just pointed.

  Robin presses his index and middle fingers to his own lips and plants a kiss on them before touching them softly to my cheek. It's innocent and sweet and for the first time, I'm actually excited to go on this date.

  "Night Sleepin' Beauty," he whispers before standing from my bed and strolling out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Present Day

  I climb into the passenger seat of Carl's Audi. She tells me that Tina is already at the party and we'll meet her there. I look at the clock on her dashboard and estimate that I'll need to kill about three hours before Mom goes to bed and I can sneak back home.

  When we arrive, Tucker hands us both red plastic cups and points us to the keg, but I put mine down on the first flat surface I can find. I haven't taken a pill today, but I still don't really like to drink. Tina and Andrew are laughing and talking with a group of people and Carl goes off to join them while I hang back a few feet from the crowd. A minute later Tuck jogs over, slings his arm around Carl and plants an exaggerated wet kiss on her cheek. She playfully pushes him away, but it's clear she doesn't mean it. Everyone looks so happy and carefree... normal.

  I don't belong here.

  "Having fun?" Sam inquires from behind me.

  I startle but catch myself quickly. His tone tells me his question isn't an earnest one; he can tell how much fun I'm having.

  "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

  I shrug. "Tons," I murmur, unenthused, "you?"

  "A blast." He matches my level of excitement. "Can I get you a drink?" he offers.

  "I don't really drink," I reply.

  "How about some water?"

  "I- uh-"

  He hands me his unopened bottle of Poland Spring and I thank him.

  "You don't seem to want to be here," he observes and I frown. He's right, I don't, but it's rude of him to point it out, isn't it?

  "Neither do you," I counter. Sam smiles, and it's an unexpectedly wistful smile. I'm surprised by it. I'd expect something more cocky from such a gorgeous, confident guy.

  "Touché... I have a lot on my mind," he explains.

  If he expects me to ask him about it, he's going to be disappointed. Even though I find that I am interested to know what's plaguing the mind of this beautiful boy, I worry that if I ask about his problems, then he'll have the right to ask about mine. But he doesn't give me a chance to ask, and I think maybe he didn't want me to after all... maybe he didn't even mean to say it.

  "You wanna go for a walk?" he asks, nodding in the direction of the open grassy area that leads to what looks to be a pond.

  Is he seriously hitting on me?

  He doesn't even know me, and the one thing he does know is that I obviously have issues. He probably thinks that the crazy ones are easy. I narrow my eyes at him. I straighten my shoulders indignantly and square my stance. False confidence all the way.

  "No. I don't want to go for a fucking walk. I'm not gonna fuck you, or hook up with you in any way. Or anyone else for that matter. Spread the fucking word," I spit before taking a swig from his water bottle to soothe my suddenly dry throat, which I can only hope did not betray my nerves.

  Sam is staring at me wide eyed like I'd just grown another head so I turn and start stalking away from the hordes of people, toward the pond, marching in the exact direction I'd just insisted I did not want to go. My heart is pounding, but this isn't panic, this is anger.

  Ugh! Guys! They're all the fucking same.

  "Hey!" Sam calls after me.

  Can't he just take no for an answer?

  He catches up with me and grabs my arm to stop me.

  I don't think. I wrench out of his grip, turn, and smack him across his face. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!" I growl. We're now far enough away from the crowd that no one notices us, but if I scream, they'll hear me.

  Sam's fingers caress his cheek where my palm made contact, his eyes even wider than before.

  "What the fuck is your problem, Rory?! I wasn't fucking hitting on you!" He rubs his reddened cheek again. "Damn it!"

  He wasn't hitting on me?

  As my boiling blood starts to simmer, shame floods through me. Why was I so certain his invitation for a walk was code for a hook-up? Why would I even think he'd want me that way at all? God, if he didn't already think I was crazy...

  Damn it, Rory, don't panic.

  Sam is glaring at me, but something in my mortified expression must warrant pity, because he takes a deep breath and I can sense his anger beginning to dissipate.

  "I was... you just didn't seem like you were up for a party. I thought you'd want to get away from all those people." He gestures to the crowds, now off some ways, shoving his fingers through his messy brown locks in frustration. "I wasn't trying to fuck you. I realize that we don't know each other very well, but what about me that you know so far, exactly, makes you think that I'm the kind of guy that would lure you down to a lake, lay you down on the dirty ground, and have sex with you with a hundred of our friends not fifty yards away?"

  I swallow anxiously. I've offended him. He's pissed, though he's speaking calmly. I feel moisture pricking the back of my eyes and I will it to stay put. It is beyond reason how much I have humiliated myself in front of this guy in just one week.

  "I-" I choke back a sob, close my eyes and silently count back from ten in double time. When I open them again, I meet his gaze; he's looking at me expectantly. "I'm so sorry," I breathe.

  Sam exhales deeply and runs his fingers through his hair again. "Look, I shouldn't have grabbed your arm like that, I wasn't thinking," he murmurs. Now he's apologizing and I'm more than sure he has nothing to be sorry for.

  "Not just for slapping you." Oh God, I freaking hit him! "God, but I am so sorry for that. But I'm sorry for assuming... I wasn't thinking. I..." I pause and look away before whispering, "I don't know what's wrong with me." It's a lie. I know exactly what's wrong with me.

  Sam's expression warms, and it's not full of pity either, it's... compassion. Empathy. He sighs.

  "There's nothing wrong with you, Rory."

  I look away again, anywhere but at the deep blue oceans that unnerve me so. They seem to know more about me than they should. "Sure there isn't," I mutter bitterly under my breath. Suddenly Sam takes a step so he's directly in front of me, silently demanding eye contact. His arm twitches, like he wants to touch me but thinks better of it.

  "There's. Nothing. Wrong. With. You."

  He glares at me like he can convince me of this with just a look. Everything in my gut is screaming that he's a good guy. Like Cam. But if there's anyone whose instincts can't be trusted when it comes to guys, it's me. I was even wrong about Cam. I'd thought I'd known everything about him. But he was keeping his secrets, too.

  But Sam saw me freak out, he knows I have issues, but no one else here does. Which means he's kept my secret. Otherwise it would have been all over the school in a heartbeat. That's got to count for something.

  "Sam, you... thank you. I mean it, but you know that's not true. And I know you didn't tell anyone what happened my first day. When I..." I trail off and shake my head. He doesn't need a recap, he was there. "Thank you for that. You've been nothin' but nice to me. There's nothin' about you that would make me think anything bad about you," I say meaningfully, answering his original question. "Except that you're a guy," I add quietly.

  Sam looks sad for a moment, but offers me a weak smile anyway. "I was just hoping we could be friends. Just friends." He covers h
is mouth and whispers conspiratorially, "no public fucking on the grass outside of parties, I promise."

  I smile, but it's a wistful smile, because I could never be Sam's friend. Though something in my bones really wishes I could. Very much, I realize. But I no longer believe that guys and girls can really be just friends, and I'm too attracted to him to even try. I could never fully trust him, not really, and I could never trust myself with him.

  "Why would you even want to be my friend?" I ask, because really, if I were him I'd have run screaming in the other direction.

  He thinks about it a moment, then shrugs. "I don't know, Ror, you just seem... real." He shrugs again. Something about the way he says "Ror" reminds me of Cam, and the memory of our friendship cuts me so deeply that I wince.

  "I wish I could be your friend, Sam," I murmur.

  His eyes are full of some unfathomable emotion and I wonder how this conversation has gotten so intimate. We barely know each other.

  When Sam speaks again his voice is so low it's practically a whisper. "Who hurt you, Rory?"

  I match his tone. Barely audible. "Everyone."

  He looks back at me, bemused. Out of my peripheral I see a girl stalking over to where we're standing. Belatedly I realize it's that girl - Queen Bee - Chelsea. Sam follows my gaze and notices her too, and I can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed by her arrival, but either way the spell is broken, and suddenly it feels like we're standing too close. I take a step back from him.

  "There you are!" Chelsea says to Sam, like she's been looking all over for him.

  "Here I am," he agrees, taking the cup from her hand and gulping a healthy sip of beer.

  "So I wanted to ask if you're coming on Sunday?" Chelsea asks excitedly. It's like I'm not even there, which would be fine if we were with a group of people, but since it's just the three of us, her not acknowledging my existence is just beyond awkward. I'm invisible again.