by Meg Tilly
Chapter Twelve
At first I thought it was part of my dream, the rap-tap sound, but then I realize someone is knocking on my door. Let me put it this way: after what happened yesterday, it was not a slow peaceful wake-up. I went from dead asleep to hyper-alert in two seconds flat.
“What? Who is it? What do you want?” I’m sitting upright. How I got in this position, I have no idea. I’ve got my comforter clutched up around my neck. Which is really overkill. First of all, the door is locked. Secondly, I’m wearing head-to-toe flannel pajamas. I’m totally covered.
“Haley.” It’s Mom. “Breakfast is almost ready, can you...” I see the door handle move, rattle. “Why is this door locked?” I leap out of bed and unlock the door.
“It is?” I say, trying to look surprised. “Huh?”
My mom’s looking at me way too closely. “Why do you have the door locked, honey?” Her eyes start combing the room.
I feel my face flush. Can she tell what happened with Larry? Should I tell her? What would I tell her? He’d probably just deny it and twist it around to make it look like it was my fault.
Mom goes over to my bookshelf. “What’s this, Haley?” She gestures at my abalone shell. There is a half-burned cone of incense that Lynn gave me. What does this have to do with what happened with Larry?
“Incense?” I say. I’m kind of confused. It’s pretty obvious what it is. Even my mom, as naive as she is, must know what incense looks like.
She looks at me hard, like her eyes can see right through me. “Why are you burning incense, Haley?” she says pointedly. “You never used to.”
Huh? Why is she going on about incense? “Lynn gave it to me and I was curious what it smelled like.”
She starts sniffing the air, like a bloodhound. “I don’t think so, Haley.” Mom’s acting like she thinks I’m lying or something. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” Double huh? “I know why people burn incense.”
“You do?”
“Yes. To cover up the smell of marijuana.”
“Marijuana?” I try not to smile. Mom calls it marijuana.
“Pot, hashish,” Mom says, waving her hand impatiently. “Whatever you young people call it nowadays. What you call it doesn’t matter. I’m here to tell you that smoking marijuana is a real bad idea. It’s a road to nowhere. People are lacing that stuff with crystal meth so that unsuspecting kids like you will get hooked! Don’t you smirk at me! I read a huge article about it in the newspaper.” She shakes a finger in my face. “You will not smoke any more marijuana. You will not be locking your door. Do you understand?”
“Mom, I’m not smoking p—”
Mom cuts me off, her hand flying out in front of her body as if she’s a traffic cop. “Ah...That’s enough, don’t say any more. I am not a fool. I can see the signs for myself. There will be no marijuana smoking, young lady, and no locking your door.” Her eyes soften slightly. “I love you so much, Haley, but I cannot, will not, stand by and let you smoke yourself into a brain-mushed stupor.”
She tries to give me a one-armed hug, but I stiffen my shoulder and shrug her off. Smoking pot? Jesus Christ. That’s why she thinks I locked my door? Puh-lease! I haven’t tried pot yet, but if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it in my bedroom. God. How dumb does she think I am?
“I know you’re mad at me right now,” she continues. “But I love you. This is for your own good.” She gives me a some-day-when-you’re-grown-you’ll-thank-me smile and heads for the door. “Now come downstairs and set the table. I’m making buttermilk waffles. Larry’s making us some fresh-squeezed orange juice. Delicious. I sure love that man.”
So much for having a heart-to-heart talk about Larry. Not only do I have to deal with her messed-up boyfriend, who she’s totally infatuated with, but she thinks I’m a lying, sneaking, pot-smoking teenager as well. If she wouldn’t believe me about something as small as smoking pot, there’s no way she’s going to believe me about Prince Charming. I’m well and totally screwed.
I don’t linger over breakfast. Why would I? I refuse his fresh-squeezed orange juice, even though Mom gives me a look like I’m being rude.
“Are you sure?” he says, placing a glass full of the stuff in front of my plate. “Have you ever tried it? You might like it.”
“I hate orange juice,” I say, pushing it away. “Especially fresh-squeezed.”
“Haley!” Mom’s voice is sharp. But Larry laughs like I said something funny, which pisses me off even more.
I eat my waffle in record time. Excuse myself, rinse off my plate, stick it in the dishwasher and go back upstairs. I lock my door after me. Why the hell not? If she thinks I’m such a badass, I might as well be one. I wish I had some pot. I’d smoke it right here and now, in my bedroom. I wouldn’t even light the incense to mask the smell. Let that burning-cow-manure smell waft right down into the kitchen, to mingle with their buttermilk waffles and fancy oj. Let it wrap around their nostrils. That would show her. Who asked her to date some sleazy creep? Not me, that’s for sure.
I try Lynn’s cell again. No luck. She’s still got it switched off. I leave her a text message to call me as soon as she can. I clean my room for the first time this century. Not because I want to. I’m never going to be able to find what I need without having everything laid out on the floor in its special pile. It’s inconvenient, having to clean it all up. But in case Larry really is a perv in a pinstripe suit, I’m not going to leave anything lying around on the floor anymore that can tangle my feet and land me flat on my back.
Chapter Thirteen
“Holy crap,” Lynn exclaims, staggering back like I smacked her in the face with a wet fish. “What the hell happened?” She gazes around my room in shock.
“I cleaned it,” I say with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Are you kidding me? You never clean your room!”
“Well, I did. So what? I was ready for a change.” I wish she’d stop going on about it. It’s making me uncomfortable.
“It looks freaky. God.” Lynn starts laughing. “What about your piles? How are you going to find stuff?”
“I’ll manage, okay? Just leave it.” My voice is way grouchier than I want it to be. Lynn’s looking at me like I’ve sprouted two heads. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just...”
“No, I’m sorry,” Lynn says. “It’s great you cleaned your room. It smells way better in here.”
“My room wasn’t gross dirty! It was clean dirty, mostly just clothes.” Why am I being so defensive? Not to mention, I did find some pretty yucky things under my piles of stuff. A few old, moldy, half-eaten sandwiches, a petrified orange. Seriously disgusting stuff.
“Fine. Whatever,” Lynn says, like she’s thinking of turning around and going back out the door.
“Sorry,” I say again. Jesus, I’m going to spend my whole damn day apologizing. It’s not her fault my life’s gone down the toilet. “I must be getting my period,” I say, even though I’m not. It’s a good explanation and one she’d understand. Lynn turns into a real harpy when it’s her time of the month. “Tell me about last night.”
Lynn’s face lights up like a birthday cake. “Last night was amazing! I’m telling you, I’m so into this guy. He’s perfect, so gorgeous, and sexy. Oh my god, I can’t even tell you the things we did to each other last night. I wouldn’t want to damage your virgin ears.”
“Are you kidding me? You guys made out?”
She laughs, happily. Does a twirl. “We did more than make out. We did everything but.”
“Everything?”
“That’s right,” Lynn says, laughing again as she hugs herself and falls on my bed. “If you can imagine it...we did it.”
“Lynn!” I’m shocked. Really I am. It was only their first date. Not to mention, Lynn talking about this stuff is making all these images appear in my head. Images of Lynn doing things that I’d rather not be privy to. But memories of Larry too, the sm
ell of his aftershave, the weight of his body grinding into mine, his hands around my throat, and I feel dirty all over again.
“It was fantastic!” Lynn says. “I really like it. This guy...he is so amazing. When you get around to it, Haley, you’re really gonna like sex.”
“I don’t think I will,” I say. I try not to let on how shaky this conversation is making me.
“No,” Lynn says emphatically. “Trust me. You will.” She sits up, like some amazing thought just struck her. “Haley, I might be in love.”
“That’s ridiculous, Lynn. You don’t even know the guy.”
“I know him better than I did.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Okay, well maybe not in love.” She grins. “Maybe ‘in lust’ would be a better description. Yes, that’s right. I’m in lust.” She leaps off the bed, makes a fine lady face, extends her hand, her pinkie lifted up. “Hello, how nice to meet you. My name is Lynn Masterson, and this is my boyfriend, Chad. We are very much in lust.” She falls over in a heap of laughter.
“Lynn,” I say. “This is serious. Chad’s moving way too fast.”
“Not fast enough if you ask me,” Lynn says gleefully. “I would have gone the whole way last night if he’d asked me.”
“Oh my god. Lynn, you could get pregnant. This guy could have some serious std’s.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care.” She starts making a song out of it. Gets up and starts dancing around the room. “I wanna do it, I wanna do it, I wanna do it with Chad!” The Chad part is accompanied by a pelvis thrust. “I wanna do it, I wanna do it, I wanna do it with Chad!”
“Lynn!” I’m trying to be the voice of reason, but she’s bubbling over. It’s like she’s drunk on excitement, and I can’t help but be happy for her, even though I’m concerned. She grabs both of my hands and tries to pull me into the dance. I shake her off, but I’m laughing now too, watching Lynn sing, dance and pelvic thrust her way around the room.
“You need to get yourself some condoms,” I say.
Chapter Fourteen
We are strolling down the aisles of Shoppers Drug Mart. We already have a bag of Lay’s All-Dressed potato chips, some Clorets, and some kick-ass dark purple nail polish in our basket, but that’s not why we’re here. We browse the shampoo.
“Smell this,” Lynn says, unscrewing the lid of Primrose Lavender shampoo for me to smell. I take a whiff.
“Umm...” I say, even though I can’t smell anything because they have a plastic security seal over the top. “That’s pretty.”
“It’s organic too,” Lynn says, like that should be a big selling point. “You want it?”
I shake my head. I’m Lynn’s friend, but I’m not about to spend $11.99 on some organic shampoo. We’ve got plenty of regular shampoo at home. Not only that, what if I hate the smell?
“Well, you have to buy something,” Lynn whispers, leaning in close.
“I am,” I say, keeping my voice low as well. “I’ve got the chips.” I’m trying to act cool, but my face is beet red. It seemed like a good idea for us to get Lynn some condoms when we were laughing it up in my bedroom, but now that I’m in the store I’m having second thoughts.
“Something else,” Lynn says, a slight sheen of sweat appearing on her forehead and around her nose. “We can’t just buy chips, gum and condoms, for Christ’s sake.”
“Why not? Besides, you’ve got the nail polish. That will be a total of four things. It won’t look weird.”
“Like you would know,” she says dismissively, as if I’m a little kid that doesn’t know anything.
“Fine.” I grab the shampoo and throw it in our basket. “Fine, I’ll get the dumb shampoo, but you owe me.”
“Thanks.” She smiles and we continue on our way, oh so casually, up the aisle and down the next to where the condoms are hanging. This is our fourth pass down this aisle. I’m hoping Lynn has the courage this time to grab a box.
“Which ones?” she says, her head facing forward, not moving her lips.
“What do you mean?” My mouth and head are doing the same thing. “Just grab a box and let’s get out of here.”
“Ribbed? Lubricated? What’s the difference? What brand should I get?” She’s looking kind of panicky. We are almost level with the condom section now. Lynn doesn’t slow down. Now we are passing the condom section.
“Lynn, pick up the condoms.”
“No, forget it. Keep walking. I don’t need them.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I reach out a hand and snag a box, plop it in our basket.
“Wow. I can’t believe you did that,” Lynn says. I’m kind of surprised myself. “What kind did you get?” Our feet are moving faster now, our heads still facing forward.
“I don’t know. I’m not about to look.” I say it gruffly, but actually I feel kind of invigorated. Like we just switched roles and I’m the brave one now. I feel good— that is, until I hear a little snort, and then another.
I glance over at Lynn. She is having a hard time stifling a laugh. “Don’t even think about it!” I say fiercely. It’s embarrassing enough walking down the aisle with Lynn’s condoms in my basket, but it will be a million times worse if everyone is looking at us because she’s howling with laughter. She bites her lip and makes her face serious. I pray it will hold until we get out of the door.
We arrive at the cashier. I try to hand the basket off to Lynn, but she won’t take it. I’m not about to get in a hot-potato match here in the store. It would only draw more attention to our purchases. But I swear to God, Lynn owes me one.
I unload the nail polish, the Clorets. I make sure I pick up the potato chips and the condoms at once and put them down on the counter with the chips on top of the condoms so nobody will see them.
It was a pretty good plan, but the cashier must think I was trying to get away without paying for them or some-thing, because the minute the stuff hits her counter, she rifles through it, spreading it out for the world to see. Her mouth tightens slightly when she sees the condoms. Or maybe it doesn’t and I just think it does.
There are a few other customers in the lineup behind us. I can feel them shifting, breathing down my neck. Where did they all come from? There was no one here when we got to the checkout. Why does everyone in the whole store need to buy something right at this very moment?
“Nineteen dollars, twenty-eight cents,” the cashier says.
“Give me some money,” I say to Lynn, holding out my hand.
“No way,” she says in a loud voice, taking a step backward. “Why should I pay for your stuff?” Lynn’s eyes are twinkling. “I mean, I don’t mind buying you a bag of chips every now and then, but condoms?”
I hear somebody snicker behind me.
“You’re dead, Lynn,” I hiss as I pay the cashier. “I can’t believe you.”
But she has already bolted out the door, and I can see her through the glass. She is supporting herself against the brick building, clutching the wall so she won’t fall down. I can hear her pealing laughter through the shut door. Everybody in the store is looking at me. I am sure of it. I don’t even bother glancing around. I collect my change, grab Lynn’s bag of stuff and stomp out the door, ready to let her have it. But when she sees me, she peels herself off the building, still laughing, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“I love you, Haley,” she says, face glowing. She gives me a big hug, and all my madness melts away. “You’re the best!” She tucks her arm into mine and we walk down the street like that. Two friends, arm in arm, with a bagful of snacks and condoms, the late afternoon sun warming our faces.
Chapter Fifteen
“Steak?” Larry says, spearing one off the barbecue and holding it out.
It looks good, the juices dripping off it. My mouth is watering, but I don’t answer. I walk right past and help myself to some of Mom’s potato salad. I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye.
He turns his attention to Lynn
, gives her his charming man smile. She smiles back as he plops my steak on her plate. I get this sinking feeling in my stomach. She doesn’t know what he is. He says something to her. I can’t hear what it is, but it makes her laugh. He laughs too, white teeth showing. He’s got his shirt-sleeves rolled up, his gold watch catching the last slanting rays of sun.
My mom comes outside with a pitcher of fresh lemonade, the ice cubes clinking. He pulls her in for a hug. The expression on Mom’s face is a sort of dreamy happiness as she snuggles into his chest, shuts her eyes with a soft sigh.
Seeing her like that sends a sharp pain to my heart. I’ve been thinking about it, and even if Larry thought I was coming on to him, he still shouldn’t have pounced. He’s with my mom! Even if I had been dancing around naked, which I wasn’t, he shouldn’t have tried to do anything. They are in a relationship. I shouldn’t even be a temptation. He should want to stay faithful to her. So if he would try to get into my pants, with the slightest provocation, what’s he doing to the rest of the world? I wish I knew what to do.
We sit down at the table. I make sure I sit down last so I won’t end up next to him. Everybody digs in.
“Um...so good!” Mom says, cutting off a juicy, succulent bite of steak and popping it into her mouth. “You make the best barbecue, Larry.”
“It is good,” Lynn agrees. It smells delicious. I try to close my nostrils off.
Mom glances at my plate. She frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Sure,” I say, scooping up another mouthful of potato salad and washing it down with a slug of lemonade.
“Why don’t you have a steak?”
“I don’t feel like it,” I say. I can feel Larry’s eyes on me, but I don’t glance over in his direction.
“You don’t feel like steak?” Mom says incredulously. “Since when does my Haley girl not feel like steak?”
“I’m thinking about becoming a vegetarian.” I don’t know who’s more shocked to hear that statement come out of my mouth, Mom, Lynn or me.