First Time

by Meg Tilly

  “A vegetarian?” Lynn and Mom say together, their eyebrows raised.

  “Yep,” I say nonchalantly. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time.”

  “What?” Lynn says, her voice a squeak. “You never mentioned it.”

  This is kind of fun in a perverse sort of way. I mean, I eat meat. Who am I kidding? I’m probably one of the biggest carnivores at our school. Refusing the steak was just another way to give Larry the finger. But now that I’ve announced it, seen the reactions, maybe I’ll follow through with it. Buy myself some of those gross Birkenstocks and not wash my feet. Just joking. I won’t go that far, but maybe I’ll try to go vegetarian for a while.

  “I’ve got secrets too,” I say. Bad choice of words. I shouldn’t have glanced up either. Would have missed Larry’s wink.

  Lynn’s cell phone starts playing the ooh-ga-cha-cha song. “I’m sorry, Ms. Spence,” Lynn says, smiling apologetically at my mom, scrabbling in her purse for her phone. “It could be my mom.”

  Bullshit. From the expression on her face, she’s hoping it’s Chad. Not to mention, she always checks call display, and when it’s her mom on the phone, she lets voice mail answer. I wonder if that was what she was doing with me last night when I was trying to get a hold of her. I wonder if I’m now in the same don’t-pick-up-the-phone category as her mom.

  “Hello?” Lynn says breathlessly. She listens, a smile blossoming across her face. She covers the mouthpiece with her hand. “It’s Chad,” she whispers excitedly as she pushes away from the table and goes to stand over by the barbecue. I don’t know why she bothers. It’s only a few feet away. We can hear her clear as day. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. That sounds good. Okay. Okay.” Wow, they’re having a real scintillating conversation. “Uh-huh. Okay. See you soon. Bye.”

  “See you soon?” I say the minute she hangs up. “What do you mean, see you soon? I thought you were sleeping over?”

  “I am. I was,” Lynn says, all flustered. “I mean, maybe I’m sleeping over. I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure?” I don’t know why I’m feeling so jealous. It’s not like I like Lynn in that way or anything. Definitely not. So what’s the big deal? Except it is. “I don’t understand. Either you’re sleeping over tonight or you’re not!”

  “I don’t know yet. We’re going to go over to Mike’s place to hang out.”

  “Who’s Mike?”

  “One of his friends.”

  “So let me get this straight. Even though we’re best friends, and we’ve made plans, you’re going to blow me off —again—and go over to this Mike guy’s house. Who you don’t even know—”

  “I met him last night—”

  I railroad right over her. “—to hang out with Chad. A guy you’ve known for what? All of two weeks?”

  “Well,” Lynn says, like she’s not sure what I’m getting so crazy about, “I was hoping you were going to come with me.”

  “What?” I’m stunned. She wants me to come. A smile starts spreading across my face.

  “Yeah. Mike is a really nice guy. I think you would like him. Cute too. And Chad says he doesn’t have a girlfriend, so I thought...”

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea,” Larry says, cutting her off. Like it’s any of his business. “What do you know about these guys?” he asks my mom. His voice is sounding kind of belligerent. “Do you think it’s safe?” Safe? Don’t even get me started on safe! What a creep.

  “Oh,” Mom says, pushing back in her chair a little bit. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  “Are they going to be chaperoned?”

  I can’t believe he’s acting so pushy. It’s not like he’s my dad or anything.

  Chaperoned? Lynn mouths at me, rolling her eyes like, Is this guy cuckoo or what?

  Mom looks at him for a moment. I’m not sure what she’s thinking. I see a flash of something. I don’t know what. It’s gone a second later. Mom turns to me. “Are there going to be chaperones, honey?”

  “I don’t know. Are there?” I ask Lynn.

  “Maybe,” Lynn says, but I can tell she’s lying. I think Mom can tell too.

  Mom looks at me a long time, like she’s adding up numbers in her head. “You’ll be careful, Haley? Use good judgment?”

  “Of course, Mom.”

  “No smoking marijuana.”

  “Mom, I told you before, I’m not...”

  Lynn starts laughing because she thinks my mom’s making a joke. “Yeah. Good one, Ms. Spence. Haley, smoking marijuana! That would be the day.”

  The frown wrinkles erase from Mom’s forehead. She smiles, like she’s relieved. “And bring your cell phone so you can call me if things get out of hand or you need a ride home.” I nod.

  “I’ll give her a ride home, Ms. Spence,” Lynn says.

  “I really don’t think Haley hanging out with these boys, without a chaperone, is a wise idea,” Larry interjects.

  Mom ignores him. “Okay,” she says to me, her voice firm, like it’s the end of the conversation. “You can go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m sitting on the sofa with Mike. Apparently this is his apartment. He shares it with Ben. We’re the only ones left in the living room. Sadie and Ben disappeared into Ben’s bedroom, and Lynn and Chad are borrowing Mike’s. Lynn almost forgot to take her purse in, but I scooped it up and handed it to her. “Don’t you want your gum?” I said. So even though Mike’s a very boring guy, it’s a good thing I came along. Because what good are condoms if you leave them on the coffee table in your purse?

  This sofa is quite old, a faded gray plaid with thin, rust-colored stripes. It’s a sort of scratchy material, with about a million knobby fabric pills on it. When I first got here I was nervous. I wasn’t paying attention to what my hands were doing, and I pulled off a couple of the pills by accident. Luckily, I caught myself and stuffed the evidence in the front pocket of my jeans before anybody noticed.

  “Yes!” Mike yells, pumping his fist in the air. He turns to high-five me. I high-five him back. I guess the Canucks scored again. The announcer’s saying something about Henrik Sedin, whoever that is. Must be one of the players.

  “Is this a great game or what?” Mike says happily.

  Now if it was Lynn and me sitting here, I’d say, “or what,” but I don’t think Mike would get my humor. Personally, I don’t get the attraction of hockey. It’s hard to see where the puck is on the tv, and all these little figures are racing around the ice, beating each other up. It seems like a lot of energy just to try to get the little black puck past the guy in the net. Big deal. And another thing that I find hard to watch is all the spitting. Like really, is that necessary? You’re on national tv. Do we really need to see snotty mucus streaming from your mouth? No matter. I’m a guest in this guy’s apartment.

  “Yeah,” I say, “it’s great.”

  The tv goes to commercial. Mike leans forward to get himself a handful of chips that are lying on the coffee table. It’s a good thing I brought them, because it’s the only snack out. This guy doesn’t eat them one by one like I do. He rolls them around in his hand for a second and then tips his head back and pours the whole handful in. I wonder if he practiced that. Maybe he thinks it looks manly or something. Like, hey baby, look how many chips I can fit into my mouth in one fell swoop.

  Once the handful of chips has been dealt with, he stretches, and next thing I know his arm lands around my shoulders. I’m not sure what to do. So I just sit there, looking at the tv like this beer commercial is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I could use a beer,” Mike says.

  “Yeah, me too,” I say.

  I’m just making conversation, but I guess Mike doesn’t know that, because he gets up, disappears around the kitchen divider and comes back looking pleased, two cans of beer in his hand. He pops one open, hands it to me and then sits down even closer, so our thighs are touching. He opens his beer, replaces his other arm around my shoulders and takes a long slurp. I take
a sip, but I hold the beer tipped up to my mouth for a little bit longer so it looks like I’m drinking it properly. I don’t really like the taste of beer.

  I hear a moan come from Mike’s bedroom. I hope it’s a good kind of moan and not a that-is-really-hurting one. I’ve heard it sometimes hurts the first time you do it. I wonder if they’re doing it or if they’re just fooling around. That would be weird. Me sitting here on the sofa, watching the Canucks, while Lynn loses her virginity.

  The commercial is over and the hockey players are whizzing around the rink. I guess this must be some pretty exciting game because Mike’s hands are a little bit sweaty. My shoulder, where his hand is resting, is sort of moist and warm.

  “Aw...Damn,” he says. Somebody on the ice has done something wrong.

  “What?” I say.

  “Penalty,” he says. His eyes are fixed on the tv. But I feel his hand start to move on a downward trajectory toward my breast, and my heart starts pounding.

  I don’t know what to do. His hand’s almost touching my breast, but it’s really confusing because it’s his hand, some friend of Chad’s, but it gets all mixed up with Larry, what happened with him. And I can’t breathe. It’s like Larry’s got his hands wrapped around my throat again.

  “Don’t...” I say, my voice coming out barely a whisper. “Don’t...please don’t...”

  Mike’s hand stops. Everything stops.

  “Are you crying?” he says.

  I’m still watching the tv, but I can feel his eyes on me.

  “Haley.” He turns my chin toward him, gently. Looks into my face. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. Was I moving too fast?” And his kindness makes me cry even more.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a roll of toilet paper.

  “Here,” he says. I blow my nose. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever blow my nose in front of a guy. But he doesn’t reel back in horror and disgust. “Give it to me,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll put it in the garbage.”

  “Ew...no,” I say, really embarrassed. “I don’t want you to have to touch it.” There’s cheering on the tv. A big horn’s blowing, so someone’s scored, but he doesn’t even glance at the television. He’s too busy taking care of me. He unrolls a few loops of toilet paper, lays them on his palm, holds it back out.

  “There,” he says, like the problem’s solved. “Now I won’t touch it.”

  I feel self-conscious, but I put my used toilet paper in his hand and he goes back into the kitchen to dump it. I can’t believe he’s so sweet. I can’t believe I thought he was a big snore-fest.

  He comes back into the living area and sits down. “Are you okay now?” he says, giving my hand a gentle pat. I never noticed that he had such nice brown eyes. His eyelashes are thick and long. There is something about the way he’s looking at me that reminds me of a puppy.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” We smile. We both turn back to the tv, but I keep my hand under his. And then, after a few minutes, I turn it over so we’re holding hands. My hand in his. His hand in mine. We watch the rest of the game like that.

  Once, in a commercial break, he brings our hands up, fingers still entwined, and brushes his knuckles softly against my cheek. It’s really special. I don’t want the night to ever end. But eventually the hockey game’s over. The Canucks win in a shootout, four to three. Chad and Lynn emerge from the bedroom. I can’t tell if Lynn’s done it or not, but she looks quite tousled and her cheeks are flushed.

  Mike and Chad walk us out to Lynn’s car. Mike and I are still holding hands. It’s a really nice feeling. Lynn and Chad start indulging in a major, full-body lip lock, up against the driver’s door.

  “Good night,” Mike says.

  “Night,” I say, suddenly shy.

  “Can I see you again?” he asks.

  “I’d like that,” I say.

  Mike hesitates, then he leans in and gives me a hug. I hug him back. It feels good. I’d kiss him right now if he tried. But he doesn’t. Just opens my door and I get inside. Lynn gets inside, starts up her car, slips in a cd and rolls her window down so they can hear the music too.

  “See you tomorrow,” Lynn calls out the window to Chad. We wave, they wave, as Lynn pulls away from the curb. I want to turn around and watch them walk back into the building, but I don’t.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When we pull up to my house, all the lights are blazing. Which is odd. It’s after eleven. Mom’s usually in bed by now. The good news is I won’t have to deal with Larry. His car’s not in the drive, so he must have gone home.

  “Wonder what’s going on,” Lynn says as she puts the car in park and sets the emergency brake.

  “I don’t know,” I say, but my stomach’s not feeling particularly settled. “Maybe you better not come in.”

  “But I was going to sleep over.”

  “I know,” I say. “But maybe you better not.”

  Mom steps out onto the porch, her terrycloth robe tight around her to keep the late-night chill away. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. This is not a good stance for her to be in. This is her you’re-in-big-trouble-young-lady stance.

  “Yeah,” I say, my nerves rising to my throat. “I definitely think you should go home. She’s pissed.” I can’t see her foot, because it’s outside the pool of light she’s standing in, but I’d bet good money that it’s tapping.

  “Okay,” Lynn says. “I wonder what she’s mad about.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, but I do. That asshole, Larry, must have filled her ear with a bunch of lies. I can only hope that she’ll believe me when I tell her the truth.

  I get out of the car. It’s like I’m watching someone else move my body.

  I hear Lynn say, “Call me when it’s over. I’ll put my cell on vibrate so it won’t wake my mom.” I feel my head nod. I start walking toward the porch. I can see my mom’s eyes flashing fire from here. I keep walking. I hear Lynn’s car reverse, back up and then head down the drive. I reach the porch. I climb the stairs.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do, young woman,” my mom says, her voice terse. “Inside. Right now.” She holds open the door and I walk inside. The door slams shut behind me. The sudden adjustment, from darkness to the glaring brightness of the kitchen lights hurts my eyes.

  Mom stalks past me to the living room. I follow. This is the room she always has the serious family meetings in. It is where she told me my grandfather had died. The one in which Mom and Dad informed me they had decided to get a divorce.

  “Sit down,” she says. I sit on the sofa. She doesn’t sit. She paces in front of the night-filled picture window. She stops suddenly and turns to face me.

  “I trusted you,” she says, and I can hear the anguish in her voice.

  “I know, Mom,” I say. “I didn’t mean to. Honest!”

  “Didn’t mean to? Ha!” She laughs, derisively. “What do you take me for? A fool?”

  “Mom, listen. He came into my room. Yes, I invited him, but I thought it was you! I swear to God, Mom. I wasn’t coming on to him. I don’t even like him, for God’s sake! You have to believe me.”

  And for the second time tonight, I find myself crying. Only this time, I’m crying hard. Choking on words and spit. “I never would want to hurt you, Mom. Ever. I don’t know how it happened...”

  “Wait. What are you talking about?” Mom’s voice is sharp.

  “Larry. That’s why I locked my room. Not ‘cause I was smoking p—”

  “Back up! Back up!” My mom’s on the sofa now. I feel her hands on my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “What are you talking about? Haley, honey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Her voice is softer now. I can see the edge of her chin as she bends a little, trying to look into my face.

  “What...what were you talking about?” I’m suddenly so confused.

  “I was t
alking about the condoms.”

  “The what?”

  “The condoms, honey. The ones Sondra saw you buying at Shoppers Drug Mart this afternoon. Now, don’t get me wrong. If you are having sex, I’m grateful that you are using condoms. It’s just that...”

  She breaks off. I glance up at her face, and it’s like someone slugged me in the stomach. All of the sunshine from this afternoon has drained out and there is nothing left but this deep weary sadness.

  “Now,” she says, taking my hands in her soft, cool ones, “it’s okay to tell me. It’s important, baby. I need to know.” Her gray-blue eyes catching and holding mine. “What happened with Larry?”