by Leigh Hutton
‘You like my pictures?’
‘Pretty cool.’
‘I bet your room is like a shrine to the hockey gods!’
‘Hopefully I’ll get to show you soon.’ He reached forward and cupped the back of her neck with his hand. He moved it slowly, down the centre of her back and to the waist of her jeans. His fingers crept down, beneath the denim and below her undies, tracing down …
Clover jumped back.
He shook his head and laughed. ‘Do I scare you, or something?’
‘No!’ Clover yelped. ‘I’ve just, never had a guy in my room before … I’m glad you like it. It’s a lot about dirt bikes, I guess they’ve pretty much been my life.’ She was starting to ramble, but let it flow. At least if she was talking they wouldn’t be racing closer to having sex.
‘I’m supposed to be going senior next year, into the pro class, but it costs a lot more with more races on the calendar and higher entry fees and Dad couldn’t get me a sponsor because I crashed out of my last race in juniors. He told me to try and figure out a way to convince Mom that I should be allowed to keep going, but I’ve got no idea what I can do to make either of them happy. I miss riding, though. It’s always like this; the winter seems so long. At least I’m having fun this winter, not just missing my bike. It’s a big mess, I guess. How do you deal with the pressure of hockey?’
‘Pressure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re very serious tonight,’ Dallas said, ruffling her hair. ‘Don’t worry! Maybe you need a distraction?’ He leaned forward, and kissed her gently.
Clover kissed him back, then sat still, and stared him in the eye. She wasn’t going to let him off that easy. She wanted to know the answer to her question. It felt wonderful to open up to someone Sera hated to talk about racing and she hadn’t had enough time with Sydney for the topic to come up. ‘Seriously,’ she said.
Dallas ran a hand over his hair, and shifted, so he was again sitting right next to her. She was drawn by his heat. Like a moth to flame. A skittish moth which didn’t know whether it was going to get burned, or find salvation.
‘You’re in control of what you feel,’ Dallas said. ‘Me? I want to play well for my team, and for coach and Dad, but I don’t let their expectations stress me out. I put a lot of pressure on myself, but I try to channel it and use it when I need it to pump me up and to perform.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘We’ve had a few sessions with sport shrinks, and that helped me a lot. Once you realise that you’re in control of how you feel and react, it makes it a lot easier to stay calm in your mind, focus, and block out the noise from the people around you.’
‘Wow,’ Clover said, feeling her shoulders hunch. Dallas kissed her again, but a sound from the kitchen, a chair scraping across the tiles, cut through the gap in her bedroom door, and they pushed apart. Dallas squinted his eyes, seeming to focus on her huge poster, of a grinning guy in riding gear, which covered most of the back of her bedroom door. He stiffened. ‘Who’s that?’
‘The current world champion, Ryder Black,’ Clover said. ‘He’s Australian, like the poster says; his hometown is Brisbane. He’s an idol of mine.’
‘Right.’
‘Oh, and … ’ Clover jumped off the bed and nodded at a picture high on the wall, of a huge man doing a wheelie through a creek, ‘And that’s Nick Mann, the ten-time Canadian champion he’s awesome, too.’ She whipped around, and pointed to a small poster, stuck next to her dresser. ‘This is Steph Gibbs. She rides motocross and is so fast. I wish I could ride like her.’
It took at least a minute for Dallas to look away from Ryder. Clover watched him study the picture of Steph Gibbs, who was a super hot blonde, in her bikini, sitting astride her race bike. Dallas seemed to relax and suddenly smiled.
‘I think they’re probably ready for us, down at the pond,’ Clover said, keen to get her boyfriend’s attention away from Steph. ‘Ready to be taken down by a girl?’
Dallas tilted his head, clearly confused.
‘On the pond, Dallas. Hockey?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He smiled. ‘My skates are in the truck.’
Leslie’s voice rang out from the kitchen, yelling something about the rink. They hurried out to his truck and down to the pond.
Clover thought one game and dinner with her family should keep Ernie happy. Then she and Dallas would be free to leave.
It started to snow just as Dallas parked the truck under a streetlight a few doors down from the party. Heavy, soft flakes that coated the windscreen in a film of white.
Dallas slid a box from under his seat and rested it in Clover’s lap. ‘I think you’ll like it.’
‘Wow!’ She held up the silver-wrapped package. ‘Thanks, Dallas, you didn’t have to.’
‘Sure I did.’ He pointed at the front of the black, knitted sweater, which she’d given him during the drive she’d been way too excited to wait until they stopped. It had taken her hours of online shopping to find the gift, and the week to receive it in the mail had been painstaking. Even more so than the stress she’d endured stealing her mother’s credit card numbers, and waiting for her to notice the charge. Which, thankfully, she hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.
As Clover examined the small box with its big, shiny bow, she had a sinking feeling she should have gotten him something flashier maybe a watch?
She plucked off the bow and pulled off the paper to reveal a Tiffany’s-style chain bracelet. A little heart, dangling from the clasp, glinted in the light.
‘It’s beautiful!’
The metal felt cool against her skin as he wrapped it around her wrist.
‘Dude! Awesome to see you!’ Sera thrust a red Cruiser into Clover’s hand, and then stood on the toes of her platform heels to fling her arms around her best friend’s neck.
The party was going off all around them. The music was loud and packed with attitude and base, the air thick with smoke and the smell of weed. Above them, in what Clover assumed was the living room, people were mingling, drinking and talking, their faces taking on demonic qualities in the dingy haze. Shadows lingered around eyes, cheeks were dramatically hollowed, and everyone’s teeth looked really white.
Sera released Clover, just as two boozed-up football players came stumbling down the stairs, yelling something about a keg.
Sydney materialised from a doorway on their right.
‘Jesus, Syd!’ Clover grasped her chest.
Sera was laughing. She smelled like whisky.
‘You always sneaking around places?’
‘Sorry, Clove. Comin’ to find you, this place is outta control.’ Sydney threaded an arm through Clover’s. ‘Gotta get some air.’ She did look pale and a bit shaky. Clover turned to Dallas. ‘Mind if I go outside with Syd for a bit?’
‘Just to my car,’ Sydney said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone steal her.’
At that moment, Chris appeared from the doorway, grabbed Sera and hoisted her over his shoulder, slapped a can of Budweiser in Dallas’s hand and pushed him towards the staircase.
Dallas looked back, his forehead strained with worry. Clover jumped forward and pecked him on the cheek. ‘I’ll be fine. See ya in a bit.’
‘Whew,’ Clover said as they broke out into the clean, crisp night. ‘Easier to breathe out here!’
Sydney pulled her towards her car.
It was cold inside; they could see their breath. Sydney turned the key in the ignition and cranked up the heater. It made a funny whirring sound, but it was expelling air. Clover was sure she smelled cigarettes. Sydney twisted the top off a bottle of beer, then hesitated, eyeing the Cruiser that Clover was clutching.
Clover took a sip of her drink and held it up to Sydney’s. ‘Here’s to freedom! Man, does it ever taste good.’
‘Just, don’t take it for granted.’
‘C’mon! What are you, like fifty?’
Sydney smiled, and took another swig.
‘I’m only gonna have a few,�
�� Clover said. ‘Getting back into it slowly, you know. I’ve got something to work up to, some plans for New Year’s. I think you’ll like them.’
Sydney narrowed her eyes.
‘It’s not another one at Camp Shitty,’ Clover said. ‘Or a house party.’
‘What, then?’
‘A party.’
Sydney nodded with anticipation.
‘At a bar!’
‘What?’
‘It’s the perfect plan.’ Clover took a swig, then leaned forward, close to her friend. ‘Sera knows of this place in the city, one of Chris’s friends is a bouncer there and he said if we slip him some cash he’ll let us all in! It’s called Players on 17th I’m sure you’ve heard of it? Only thing is, I’ll have to be home by curfew I’m still not allowed any sleepovers, but I’ll be able to push it till one, they never wait up, anyway.’
‘Taking a bit of a risk, aren’t you?’
‘C’mon, it’s the best idea ever! No riskier than coming here tonight! Just think, everyone from school. Dee and them all have fake IDs, and all the older kids from town, coming to our party, at a nightclub! Sera’s going to spread the word. I’ve been locked up for ages. I deserve a break.’
Sydney pursed her lips, and then said, reluctantly, ‘You are a dangerous person when left to ponder.’
ELEVEN
Clover watched Chris slip the muscle-bound bouncer a roll of twenty-dollar bills.
‘How many?’ the bouncer asked, not even trying to hide the transaction.
‘Five, six including me,’ Chris said, slapping hands with him. ‘And make sure to let everyone else from Silvertown in they’ll have cash, too. Cool, man?’
‘Yeah, bro,’ the bouncer said, opening the red rope to admit the group to PLAYERS ON 17th. He nodded, and Chris pulled Sera inside. Sydney and her boyfriend, Spencer who looked out of place already in his wire-framed glasses and collared golf shirt followed.
Dallas tugged at Clover’s hand. She walked as casually as possible in heeled boots, with her cleavage on display, in the black low-cut top she’d scored with the girls for five bucks from Kmart.
The group filed through the back entry, down a dark corridor, checking their jackets at the coat check, and out into the main cavern of the dimly lit club. The club turned out to be dingier than Clover had expected. The crowd was less than exciting, too. No ‘Alisters’, no super-tall models. Apparently, Clover had watched too many movies and vodka ads.
The interior of Players was dark and stank of alcohol, with a large staircase parting the cavernous room in two. Beneath the stairs was a small bar thronged with patrons, and another, larger bar ran the length of the far wall. This main bar was backlit by rows of bright lights and a pink neon sign with the club’s name, also thronged with a crowd waiting to be served. The entire floor area had been given over to a dance floor, which was already crowded.
As Clover led the way through the dancers, catching glimpses of faces highlighted by the strobe lights, she got a pretty clear picture as to why she’d heard people refer to nightclubs as ‘meat markets’.
Ah, Clover thought, as a guy in a tight shirt ground up to her, then spotted Dallas, and ground away, quickly. So, this is a meat market. The dance floor was packed with couples making out. Groups of young girls dressed in skin-tight spandex bandage dresses not flattering in every case and towering heels, gyrated against each other, eyeing up greasy guys who looked a little too old for them and were clearly undressing them with their eyes.
It was a mixed crowd in the club. Plenty of young guys, in collared shirts and jeans most of them halfway to being drunk already cruised the floor, looking for a fight or a girl to proposition, doing their best to look super cool. Clover was astonished to see the number of ‘cougars’ women in what she assumed were their thirties and forties, dressed in the same spandex as the girls, hiding behind masks of thick foundation and eye shadow. Suddenly Leslie’s beige, conservative wardrobe didn’t seem so bad.
Sera, who was looking as tiny and bleached-blonde as ever, was obviously feeling right at home. She kissed Chris, and took off for the dance floor, where she was welcomed by a group of girls she seemed to know. In no time, Sera’s little ass was in the air, twerking her best Miley Cyrus impression.
Clover’s mouth fell open, but she snapped it shut when someone placed a hand on her arm. She spun around.
‘Hey, Clover,’ said Dee Harding, the very one who’d nearly kicked her butt at Clover’s first ever party, just a few months ago. Dee moved in close, to be heard over the loud dance music, and Clover’s body tensed. ‘Cool club,’ Dee said, squeezing her arm. ‘Come get a drink with us later?’
Clover opened her mouth to say sure, but shut it again. The corners of Dee’s mouth twitched up into what Clover would swear was a smile.
‘All good?’ Dallas asked, slipping a hand around her waist.
‘Yeah,’ Clover said. ‘I think it is.’ She needed a drink to celebrate. And another one. And another after that. Before she knew it she was knocking back shots.
★
Clover pulled her knees up to her chest, her skin scraping against rough flannel sheets. This wasn’t good. The sheets on her bed were smooth.
The headache hit her dead on. Like being high-sided and smacked into the ground, without a helmet. When she finally opened her eyes, images of the nightclub sloshed round her brain, and her stomach heaved.
When Clover finally accepted that she wasn’t going to wake up where she wanted to be: clear-headed in her own bed, she sat up groggily. Then fell back down, pulled the blanket up to her chin she was naked from the waist up.
She peeked under the blanket. Thank God. Her black thong was still in place. She fell back against the strange, flat pillow and closed her eyes. Her head was in the process of birthing an alien.
‘Clover?’
She froze.
‘You here?’
She looked over, slowly, keeping her eyes half-shut so she could close them quickly if she didn’t like what she saw.
Dallas was rubbing his eyes.
She watched him for a moment.
He rolled over, his arm smacking her in the face. She pushed it off and sat up, grabbing her courage with both hands. Once she asked the question, there would be no going back. She had to find out what she’d done.
Her voice was shaky, ‘What did we do?’
But before he could reply, she remembered her parents. Her curfew. She was gripped by a sickening fear and the realisation that her new punishment was going to make two months being grounded seem like a slap on the wrist. ‘No forget it. No time!’ She went into overdrive, frantically digging around in the duvet for her shirt and something to cover her bottom. She spotted her black top and pulled it on quickly.
‘Clover where you goin?’ His voice was still slurred.
‘Home,’ she said. ‘I was supposed to be home last night remember?’ She looked around Dallas’s room. The clock on his table said 6.41am . Just a few million hours past curfew!
‘Oh, right, shit.’ Dallas groaned as he sat up and brought his feet to the floor. ‘I’ll drive you.’
‘That’d be good, ’cos I certainly don’t feel like walking.’ She stumbled around the side of the bed, still in search of her pants, and her foot fell on something wet and sticky. ‘Holy SHIT! Dallas!’
‘Hey, keep your voice down.’
Clover lifted her leg slowly, staring transfixed at the long piece of limp rubber attached to the sole of her foot. She yelped and kicked and it flicked into the air, over the bed, past Dallas, and hit the back of the door with a muffled thwack.
They both stood, motionless, watching as the condom slid down the door.
‘Oh … my … God,’ she said, and fell sideways onto the bed, her head in her hands. ‘Tell me that’s left over from a jerk off session, or something?’
He sat down beside her and crossed his legs. He was naked, too. His face was serious, but at ease. The complete opposite of her own feelings she’d ne
ver been so angry, and disappointed with herself. And full of shame, a hundred pounds of it, weighing her down. She felt as dirty as the floor of the club she’d thought she was enjoying last night.
‘Answer me!’ she yelled.
‘Keep it down. Let’s not wake Dad.’
‘Like that matters now!’
‘My memory’s not the best this morning, either, alright. But, I can assure you, I haven’t seen any other girls.’
A tear escaped. She shook her head. ‘I didn’t want it to be like this. Not, like this . ’
Dallas slipped an arm around her shoulders and wiped her tears away. ‘Don’t cry, there’s nothing to be upset about. You’re my girlfriend and it happened, it must have happened, but hey, we were headed this way, weren’t we?’ He smiled at her. ‘At least we know we used protection.’
She shoved his arm off. ‘This is no joke.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, blinking. ‘I know. My head’s killing me too. Now I remember why I don’t usually drink!’
She glared at him, waiting for his brain to catch up with the gravity of the situation.
‘Your first time. Clover, I’m sorry, hey.’
‘Yeah,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘So am I.’
She got up quickly and hurried for the door, in the process kicking Dallas’s shirt aside and uncovering her pants. She struggled into them and reached for the door handle. Dallas was there before she could open the door. He grabbed her around the waist.
‘Wait.’
‘Why? So we can talk about the fact we did it last night, huh? About the fact I just lost my virginity when I was too wasted to even remember it? Yeah, sounds like an awesome conversation.’ She flipped from his arms, but he was too quick.
He grabbed her by the wrists, and pulled her into a hug. Only when she stopped struggling and relaxed in his arms did he let her go enough to see into her face. ‘Clover?’
She hung her head, couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Dallas … we gotta go, I’m so dead meat.’ She was supposed to be at home, getting ready for her biggest racing season yet.
She doubted she would ever be allowed out of the house again, once Leslie got her hands on her, let alone on her dirt bike. And Ernie; the thought of him made her feel sick, of the look on his face when she came home like this. Or what punishment he’d come up with. She might as well forget about bikes altogether.