“You look fantastic,” Audrey gushed, eyeing my black halter-neck and tight jeans. “Whoa, I can actually see your body for once. And your makeup looks amazing. Did your mom do it?”
I nodded. “I love your top.” She was wearing a blue crocheted top with navy boot-cut pants.
“Thanks.” Audrey chewed the side of her lip. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe we’re going. You know what’ll happen, right? We’ll stand in the corner talking to each other all night long and wishing we weren’t there.”
It’s scary how much she thinks like me sometimes. Because that’s exactly what I thought when Kaitlynn James opened the Nielsens’ front door. “Hey, girls,” she said listlessly. “Bring any beer?”
I laughed and glanced down at her brown legs and flip-flops. For one thing, she obviously had no idea of our names, and for a second, it hadn’t occurred to either of us to bring anything other than ourselves. We’d screwed up before even setting foot inside the house.
“No beer,” Audrey and I said simultaneously.
“Well.” The word stretched out for an eternity on Kaitlynn’s disappointed lips. “Come in.”
We lurched through the door and along the front hall. In the kitchen a bunch of guys, a beer in front of each of them, were playing Texas Hold ’Em. They stared up at us like we were in the wrong place. “Almost everybody’s downstairs,” Kaitlynn shouted after us.
We peeked in on the near-deserted living room as we approached the stairs. Sadie was lying across her boyfriend’s lap with her eyes shut. “The living room’s off-limits,” she announced, opening her eyes and blinking tearfully. “No offense. My brother and I just don’t want it getting trashed.”
“That’s cool,” Audrey said. “We’re on our way downstairs.” Audrey made a face at me as we opened the door to the basement. “If we can’t find him soon, we’ll leave, okay?” I nodded as rap music thumped around us. One minute at the party and I was more than ready to take off.
The basement was packed like Mumbai. I started to sweat as we worked our way through the guys sitting on the stairs. “Audrey,” Massy called, grabbing hold of her arm and grinning at her like she was a birthday present. “You want a beer?” He tossed me a smile. “How ’bout one, Finn?”
“Sure.” Massy bounded across the room to get us beers. The last normal thing I remember was thanking him as he handed one over.
The beer tasted terrible, like refrigerated pee, but it was too hot down there not to drink. At first I stuck with Massy and Audrey, but after finishing another can I ventured into the crowd and forced myself to mingle. Kaitlynn and I talked about London, where she’d been on vacation two months earlier. The heat was playing havoc with her foundation, and she looked like she was melting in front of me.
Then Sadie came downstairs, rubbing her eyes and complaining that her boyfriend didn’t understand the first thing about her. I talked to people without even knowing their names. I talked about things I knew nothing about and nodded and laughed at all the right moments. I danced to OutKast, shaking it like a Polaroid pic. It was me but not me.
People were passing around little purple pills, and Kaitlynn handed me one, explaining that she never took drugs herself. I slid it into my pocket, with no intention of ever swallowing it. When I looked up, Audrey was weaving through the crowd towards me, wanting to know how I was making out.
“I’m cool,” I told her, smiling to prove it. “How’s it going with Massy?”
“I think there’s some momentum happening,” Audrey replied, her cheeks flushed. “But I don’t know—it could just be the party vibe, you know?”
I bent my head down to answer and felt a finger skim along my bare back, sketching out what felt like a Christmas tree. My head snapped around, and I caught Adam Porter in the act. “What’re you doing?” I asked loudly.
“Do you know what that was?” He touched my arm, smiling his flawless Hollywood grin.
“No clue.” Adam and I had never exchanged a single word. I had no idea what or why he’d draw on my back.
“Okay.” He swung me around so I couldn’t see him and did it again, slower, like he was creating a modern art masterpiece.
I swiveled to face him. “I don’t think that’s anything.”
“It is,” he insisted. The cheesy grin was beginning to work on me. Or maybe it was the beer. “It’s the Chinese symbol for beautiful.”
I snorted and shook my head. “That’s so lame,” I told him, laughing.
“Yeah?” He hadn’t stopped smiling yet. “It got us talking, didn’t it?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“This isn’t talking,” I corrected. “This is …” My mind went numb. The whole situation was completely surreal: purple pills, the puddle that was Kaitlynn James, and now Adam Porter practicing the art of calligraphy on my back. I scanned the room for Audrey, who was already halfway across the basement, and shrugged blankly. This is …
“This is talking,” Adam insisted, moving closer to me. “So how come you never talk to anyone at school?”
“I talk to people at school,” I said defensively.
“Not these people.” Adam motioned towards the basement population. “You never talk to me.”
“You never talk to me either.” I was still a little irritated by the accusation, but my voice had mellowed.
“Yeah, well.” Adam leaned towards me so that our arms were touching. “I thought I’d finally change that.”
He was really good, the way he was staring at me, all soulful and sexy, like he was genuinely concerned that we’d never managed to speak. The fact that I didn’t believe him was beside the point; there was something compelling about the performance just the same. And then it occurred to me that Adam was actually quite good-looking and that something needed to happen to me sometime. I was almost fifteen and still wearing virgin lips. Surely I could use some practice. Nothing drastic, just some limited physical contact to stop my body from rusting up before graduation.
“So why now?” I asked, focusing on his mouth. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re flirting. I read it in one of those stupid magazines I never buy.
“Well.” Adam put his hand up to my neck and brushed my hair back. “You seem a little different tonight. More relaxed.”
“Drugged and drunk,” I joked.
Adam laughed, his eyes gleaming. For a second I thought I caught a glimpse of the real him behind the bullshit. Then he pressed his body against the length of mine. It felt good. It felt like a wake-up call.
“I don’t even think you know my name,” I whispered. Not that I cared. It was just another element in the flirting.
“Okay,” he said, wincing. “You’re right.” He drew back, staring at me solemnly. “What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?” I asked, grinning. The flirting thing was coming so naturally; I couldn’t believe it myself. “I’m kidding—I, at least, know who you are.”
“Oh, come on,” he said lightly, like I was giving him a hard time. “You have to give me points for effort.”
“Effort doesn’t get you points.” I gave him a stern stare, but my mouth was half smiling. “Results get points.”
“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, bending his head towards me. “Come on, you gotta tell me your name so I know who I’m talking to—and then maybe we could go somewhere a little more private. Get to know each other a little better without all this noise.”
“It’s Finn,” I said in a low voice. “But we’re not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” Adam nodded. “I don’t mean leaving.”
“Or bedrooms,” I clarified.
“No leaving or bedrooms.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “Just somewhere a little quieter, all right?” He motioned to the left. “Just over here.” I followed him, not only because our hands were attached but because I wanted to.
Then we were standing inside the Nielsens’ laundry room, next to an exercise bike that looked like it’d never been used. I st
raddled the seat and kicked at a pedal like I was in no special hurry. Watching Adam Porter put in an effort was too entertaining to let him stop now. I wasn’t used to people doing that for me, even if it was just an act.
Adam grinned at me on the bike and said, “What am I supposed to do? Wait for you to cross the finish line?”
“What’s your hurry?” I teased, but even as I said it, I couldn’t wait for something to happen. Nervous energy swooshed around in my stomach as I climbed off the bike.
“Life is short, Finn.” He still hadn’t quit smiling, and I felt my lips tighten with an anxious grin of their own. “And for all I know, you might decide to stop talking to me again at any minute.”
I took two steps towards him. They felt like astronaut leaps. “Why would I do that?” I asked.
Adam laid one hand on my back and slipped his fingers through the loop of my jeans. I thought I’d explode. “Finn,” he said, trying out the word again as he pulled me closer. “I never would’ve guessed that, but it’s a cool name.” He buried his fingers in my hair and guided my head up to his.
I was scared I wouldn’t know how to kiss him, but the fear didn’t last. Kissing isn’t something you learn. It’s something you’re not aware you know until the first time. Adam’s tongue was warm and tasted like beer. He kissed my neck too, and the sensation made me want to purr. He slid his hands up under my top and touched my breasts over my strapless bra. I wondered if I should stop him, but I didn’t want to. Everything he did felt wonderful and new. He jammed his body against mine, and I pushed back, wanting more.
“Finn,” he said huskily, going for my pants.
The first button went. Then the second. I thought I’d die waiting for him to do it. But God, what was the next step? I wasn’t going to let him de-virginize me in the Nielsens’ laundry room. I didn’t even really like Adam.
“Not that,” I said, putting my hand down to do up the buttons.
Adam laughed and kissed my chin. It was every bit as hot in there as it was in the rest of the basement. Our faces were sweating and my back felt damp. Adam poked his tongue into my mouth and I kissed him back. My pelvis was bumping against his and I imagined how things would go if I let them. It makes me nauseous to remember how I pictured the act. It makes me shiver, my mouth as dry and disgusting as rust.
Adam massaged my breasts through my top, pinching at my nipples and bending down to kiss them. “I didn’t know you were like this,” he said.
“Like what?” I whispered.
“Cool.” Adam looked up at me. “Sexy.” He slipped his hand down between my legs and popped another button.
“Not that,” I reminded him, grabbing for his hand.
“Okay.” His mouth dipped at the corners as he straightened his back. He took my hand in his and pressed it against his jeans. “Feel that?”
I nodded. It was hard to miss.
“Okay,” he said again, unzipping his pants and taking out his penis. He was already hard, and he looked down at himself and said, “I told you that you were sexy—that’s proof.” He reached for my hand and guided it to him.
But my hand didn’t want to move. I didn’t even want to look at his penis. It felt like alien skin against my palm, and Adam was staring at me with small eyes and squeezing my breasts, making me feel even dirtier. “I don’t know how to do this,” I said, tearing my hand away. “I want to go.”
“You’re a real virgin, aren’t you?” Adam touched my face as I nodded. “That’s so sweet, I mean it.”
My hands were trembling and I locked them behind me.
“I can teach you a few things,” he continued, lips poking up into a crooked grin. “Tricks for the future boyfriend.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, doing up my button as I turned away.
“Hey.” Adam gripped my shoulder. “Why are you in such a hurry all of a sudden? We were having fun, weren’t we?”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“We’ll do something painless,” Adam said, smiling as he draped both arms over my shoulders. “I promise.”
“I have to go.” My heart was thumping so quickly that I could barely get the words out.
“Finn.” Adam coiled his fingers into my hair and yanked so hard that tears came to my eyes. “Be nice. I’ve been nice to you. I just want to show you something.”
I shook my head vigorously, and he yanked again. Adam glared at me as I yelped. For the first time it occurred to me that no one would be able to hear, no matter how loud I shouted. Mary J. Blige was singing “Work That” from the other room. I could hear it clearer than I could hear my own thoughts.
Adam wrapped his hands firmly around my neck, any tighter and I wouldn’t have been able to breathe. “Shut up,” he ordered. “Get down.”
He was stronger than me. I got down on my knees, beginning to cry under my breath. He told me what he wanted me to do. He told me how. “You’ll like it once you get started,” he said. He smiled at me, but his voice was harsh. “I know you will.”
“I can’t,” I wheezed. “Adam, please. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
He looked down at me and stroked my hair. “Why are you making such a big deal of this? It’s insulting.”
Insulting? My eyes streamed as I asked him why it had to be me when there were so many girls outside who liked him. “Because you’re different,” he said impatiently, touching himself and grabbing the back of my head.
I opened my mouth one last time, gagged on air, and heaved up chunks of my pepperoni pizza dinner—onto his hand, his penis, and my hair. Adam’s hand flew off the back of my head like I’d knifed him. The taste of vomit in my mouth and the sight of it on his veiny skin made me sick again, worse than before.
“You fucking bitch,” he cried, staring down at himself with his mouth open. He brushed secondhand cheese off himself, smearing it against his shirt and pants. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” He rushed over to the sink, turned on the tap, and shoved his hands underneath. “Get up,” he shouted. “You’re disgusting.” The contempt in his voice turned me cold, but I was done crying. Something inside me had changed. “Come here. Clean yourself the fuck up.”
I got to my feet and stumbled to the sink. He pointed down, and I stuck my head under the tap, like he wanted. He’s going to drown me, I thought, and I don’t even care.
But I’m still here, so you know that’s not what happened. Lukewarm water rushed over my hair and rinsed it clean. Afterwards Adam grabbed my arm, shoved me roughly aside, and told me to go home.
I did what he said without questioning, and in the moment I reached for the laundry room door my mind vaulted towards safety. It tried, but never really got there. A different version of me walked out of the laundry room with dripping wet hair and the taste of rust and pepperoni in her mouth. That new Finn rubbed her eyes, wrung the excess moisture from her hair, and went to look for her best friend, Audrey.
AuDrey’S THe OnLY person who knows what happened that night. When I found her, I couldn’t talk. She dragged me outside with her, into the Nielsens’ front yard, beside their yellow rose bushes. We were still too close to where it’d happened, and I asked her to walk with me. I started to cry again as I told her about Adam, and the look in Audrey’s eyes made me cry harder. She said we should call my parents, or the police, but the suggestion made me tremble.
Audrey stretched a rubber band around my wet hair and rubbed my back. “It’s over,” she told me. “You’re going to be okay, Finn. You’re safe now. You’ll be home in a few minutes. Then we can think what to do next.”
“I don’t want to do anything next,” I croaked. “I just want to forget about it. Nothing even happened.”
Audrey stopped walking and pinched her top lip between her fingers. “It’s not nothing. He was trying to force you.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” I pleaded. “Promise me you won’t.” There was no evidence, just my word against his. How could I look anyone in the eye and explain? I wanted to f
orget the details, not repeat them out loud. I thought of the way Adam’s penis had felt in my hand and the sound of his voice when he’d barked instructions, like the fact that I had no choice but to follow them was part of the fun.
This couldn’t have happened to me. Any second now I’d wake up.
“You know I’d never tell anybody unless you wanted me to,” Audrey said, putting her arm around me. “Don’t even worry about that.” Her jaw wobbled a little as she looked at me. “I shouldn’t have left you with him. I should’ve come back to check—”
My head whipped from side to side like I couldn’t believe she’d just said that. It wasn’t her fault. I didn’t want to hear another word.
“Okay,” Audrey said softly. “Okay. Just concentrate on breathing, all right? Nice and slow. It’ll calm you down.”
I took deep breaths and listened to the sound of Audrey’s voice. We circled around my neighborhood until my hair was dry and I was calm enough to face my parents. Then we lied to them, told them I’d felt sick and that we’d gotten one of the girls at the party to drop us off. Audrey called home and arranged to stay the night, but I didn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about forgetting, and how doing anything else would be worse. I didn’t want to be the person this had happened to, and I didn’t have to be. Not if I kept it to myself.
Adam wouldn’t come near me again; he was disgusted with me. What happened was done and over with, and anyway, it’d never really happened in the first place. Not really. All I had to do was stay quiet, and things would go back to the way they were before.
I listened to Audrey roll over next to me and told myself those same things over and over again until they were the only reaction that made sense. Then I lay there with my eyes open, feeling my wrist ache in the dark. He must’ve bruised it at some point, but I couldn’t remember when. Maybe that meant I was already forgetting.
So nothing happened that night in the Nielsens’ laundry room. I didn’t make the details realer by sharing them with anyone else— I did my best to make them disappear and stuck with my earphones blasting and the teeter-tottering back and forth between fuzzy viewpoints. Old me. New me. Old me. New me. They’re so mixed up now that I’m not sure I know the difference.
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