Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

  Meanwhile, I've become well acquainted with Jessica's fearsome arsenal of weapons: from the in-your-face slicing insult to the subtle, just as cutting, innuendo—all of which she wields brutally. But her most powerful weapon of all is Seth. I don't know how, but she's somehow guessed that I care for him, and she takes great joy in telling me how pathetic I am, aiming so high above me.

  She tears me to shreds verbally every single day, and there's no escape from her because we're living under the same roof. I'm desperate to find a job so that I have a valid reason for getting out of the house at least in the afternoons, but I haven't had any luck so far.

  The first couple of times Jessica ripped into me, I gave her as good as I got, but then she went to Louise with faked tears and repeated my words, evidently leaving out the fact that she had been the one to harass me into losing my cool in the first place. Then Louise tore into me as well.

  It hasn't been difficult for Jessica to turn her mother against me. Louise hadn't liked me from the start, but at least she was civil to me. Now, her civility has turned frigid. Even laid-back Greg hasn't been able to remain completely impervious to the antagonism weighing down the atmosphere in his house, all of it directed at me.

  It drives me crazy that I can't face off with Jessica like I want to and like she darn well deserves. But unfortunately, she's the daughter of the house while I'm only an interloper. If I fought back against Jessica, it wouldn't matter that she had provoked me: I'd just be giving her ammunition against me. Which I'm afraid she'd use to convince her parents to send me away.

  And I really want to stay in Rockford. I want to keep seeing Seth. I want to let myself enjoy the tentative friendships I've developed to Marcie and her group. I want to keep seeing Seth. I don't want to change yet another school. And yes, I want to keep seeing Seth. After years of living in an emotional wasteland, I've found something that I can't bear to give up. This frustrates me because of how vulnerable it makes me, but still I want to keep it. Even if the price I have to pay is putting up with Jessica.

  All the same, the state of things with Jessica and her mother is really affecting me. The house has become some kind of hell dimension in my mind, and I'm sleeping less than ever. The five hours I used to accomplish at night before coming to Rockford are a thing of the past. I'm so tired all the time that I fear I'm going to lapse into a coma and lose my mind when the nightmares come and I won't be able to wake up.

  My night terrors are hounding me with a vengeance, as if feeding off my emotional instability these days, and I'm terrified that I'll start screaming in my sleep. As bad as it is living here, I don't want to leave. Therefore, I can't risk letting the Andersons learn the truth about me, about my awful nightmares. They'd be as horrified as all my other fosters before them and ask my social worker to remove me from their home. Then I'd almost certainly be sent to a different city.

  I can't allow that to happen. Not now, when I'm finally close to Seth again.

  Truthfully, he is the first and foremost reason for my wanting to stay here. I see him every day in school, and my heart rejoices. Even my all-encompassing veil of tiredness lifts a little when I look at him. I never approach him, though, and he never speaks to me, not even during the World History class we share.

  Still, I feel his eyes on me often, quietly observant. Yesterday, he frowned when I showed up in class and he got a close look at me, and I wanted to cry.

  I know I look terrible. I have big violet bags under my eyes and my face is sickly pale. I'm starting to lose weight that I can't afford losing and, dressed in my hideous, already-too-large clothes, now I really look like a scarecrow. At lunch, Marcie and her friends throw me worried glances that I try to ignore. I tell myself that I don't really care what they think.

  Seth, though... I wish that he wouldn't set eyes on me when I'm like this. And when he's constantly being pursued by girls who are my complete opposite and who make it clear that they are his to take at the mere snap of a finger. His indifferent manner with them does calm the green monster that keeps churning inside me—but only marginally. For even though I'm fiercely glad that I don't have to actually witness Seth encouraging anyone, still I'm crushed by the suspicion that he must, nevertheless, be taking some of these girls up on their explicit offers. That's what playboys do, right? And Seth is reputed to be the most infamous of them all.

  Even so, I'm always looking for him in school; he's the one light in my miserable existence. I wish he wouldn't notice my poor health but I need to see him, and unfortunately, if he's close enough for me to feast my eyes on him, then I'm close enough for him to look back at me in return. Which he does.

  That's the odd thing—he's always watching me too. I still haven't figured out the why of it.

  Then, as if I didn't already have enough on my plate, Josh hasn't stopped hounding me. He's at the bus stop when I arrive at school in the morning, he's in front of my classrooms when I finish class, he's constantly trailing me in the hallways. He keeps asking me out, I keep ignoring him, but I can't shake him and I'm starting to get scared.

  He still uses a polite tone when speaking to me, but I sense that on the inside he's vibrating with anger. I know that I'm a nobody in his eyes, yet I've dared to reject him repeatedly. He's smarting at the humiliation, I'm sure of it, and I'm really afraid he'll find a way to punish me for my effrontery. He seems the vengeful type.

  So here I am, on Thursday afternoon, dragging my feet toward my last class of the day, and once again I have Josh stalking beside me.

  "Come on, Summer, you know you want to. One measly date, is that really so much to ask?" His once oh-so-charming grin has definitely lost its luster and acquired an edge of menace instead. I'm so glad I listened to my instincts and didn't go out with him in the first place.

  Fortunately, I reach the classroom and walk inside. Yet unbelievably, Josh follows me in, unconcerned since Mr. Abbot is late as ever. And I see that Seth isn't here yet.

  Before I make it to my seat, my wrist is suddenly caught in a tight grip and I'm forcefully turned around. I hate that he's touching me, but when I try to pull my arm away, his grip only tightens, becoming hurtful. Josh leans into me with a irate expression, and my heart starts beating too fast.

  Holy crap, he's tall! I had been concentrating so hard on ignoring him all this time that I didn't realize this, but I have to look way up to meet his gaze. He must be almost as tall as Seth. And he's strong—if he hits me, he'll do some real damage. He has a scary glint in his eyes, and I can't imagine how I ever thought that he looked the least bit similar to Seth. He's such a scumbag that he's become hideous in my eyes.

  "Now listen here, sweet cheeks!" he spits out. "I get that you're playing hard to get to whet my appetite, but I gotta tell you, this whole ice princess routine is getting real old."

  "Let go of my arm!" My voice is firm, hiding my fear.

  He ignores my demand. "So this is what we're gonna do. After football practice today, at six sharp, I'll come by your house to pick you up. You'll be waiting for me and you'll fucking get in my car like a good little girl."

  A good little girl.A good little girl... Those words, on top of the violence pressing against me, chip at a very fragile lock in my mind... and the lock cracks open. Through the split, that other, infinitely loathed voice rears up from the land of nighttime terrors, and its poisonous tones fill my ears, merging with Josh's words. "Now, now, buttercup—be a good little girl and keep quiet. We wouldn't want you to get hurt." I shake my head in violent repudiation.

  "Let go of my arm!" I tell him hoarsely, and this time my voice trembles. And not only my voice but also my body, and I hate Josh with my entire being for having brought me to this point.

  And then a supremely pissed off voice intervenes. "She told you to let her go."

  Seth.

  My legs go weak with relief. Oh, thank you, God! Thank you. Seth is here and he won't let anyone hurt me: not Josh, and not even him—the one from my nightly terrors.

  I loo
k up at my former best friend. His face is filled with rage, his eyes laser-blue, fists bunched, arms corded, his whole body poised to spring into action. When Josh doesn't release me quickly enough to suit Seth, his hand moves lightning fast, takes hold of the arm imprisoning me, and twists it in an obviously painful way until Josh is forced to either let go of me or have his own wrist broken.

  He lets go of me.

  But Seth keeps bending his arm. Josh's struggles to free himself are useless against his opponent's formidable strength, and his face has become a grimace of distress.

  "Thought I told you to leave Summer alone," Seth snarls at him. "Tell me, you asshole, didn't I make myself clear when I talked to you?" He keeps twisting and Josh is moaning softly, his eyes wild with pain.

  Finally, just when I think that his wrist is about to snap, Josh croaks, "I'm sorry", and Seth releases him.

  Josh swivels around immediately and takes a menacing step toward my savior, hatred written all across his white face. What is he, stupid? Judging from Seth's expression, he's just waiting for the slightest provocation of which to take advantage and tear Josh to shreds. His whole body is vibrating with fury and barely-leashed power. No adversary of his would stand a chance.

  Josh seems to arrive to the same conclusion. He throws one last ugly glare in my direction and takes off. In the doorway, he shoves against Carter and Jacob, who were just about to enter the room.

  "What's his problem?" grumbles Carter.

  Seth is standing so close to me that I can feel the heat of his body touching me, sinking into me, warming all my cold inner places. His hand touches gently upon my cheek, tipping up my head so that I meet his eyes, and there's no trace there of that terrible rage he showed earlier. There's only worry and tenderness—for me.

  He leans intimately closer. "You're okay? Was I here in time, or did he manage to hurt you?"

  He's so near that all I can see is him. Those pesky butterflies that his mere presence always manages to rouse in my stomach these days have, by this point, gone way beyond acting rowdy and started dancing the samba, it seems like.

  "You arrived in time, Seth. Thank you. Feels a bit like déjà-vu, though, doesn't it?" At my quip, his lips curl into a slight smile.

  Holy smoke, that's too hot! My heart misses a beat and I'm struck by the thought that, were he to ever gift me with a full-fledged, no-holds-barred smile again, I'd probably go into cardiac arrest on the spot.

  The intense moment comes to an end when Mr. Abbot finally appears and asks us to take our seats. Seth's jaw tightens, but his hand lowers from my cheek, leaving behind a warm imprint. He gives me one last, conflicted look, then he whirls around and heads to his seat.

  I glance around me and see that all the other students are gawking at me. Carter seems disbelieving, and Jacob looks as if he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle. Just before he turns to face the teacher, he gives me a wide grin. What's up with that?

  * * *

  After class, I don't want to head back to the Andersons' house just yet, and there is nowhere else I can go, so I stay in school.

  And then, for some insane reason, I end up watching the football team's practice.

  Earlier during my Economics class, some girls were gossiping and giggling about that breathlessly awaited event, spring football practice, when the school's girl population could finally—finally!—drool again over the Rockford Rams (the football team) doing what they did best (which, apparently, was to look scrumptious in pads and cleats). And for the sole purpose (naturally) of raising the girls' fluttering pulses to red levels, Coach Bohlen had even invited the Senior players to take part in this week's practices—which (apparently) upgraded those practices, in the girls' vocal opinion, from "glimpse of yummy" to "certifiable drool fest".

  I'm not one to drool, of course. Not over football players. (Not in the plural, anyway. My fear that one very specific football player could do me in all by his lonesome is to be willfully ignored at this point.) But really, it's not like the opportunity of almost two hours of uninterrupted Seth-watching is too much temptation for me to resist. Truly, it's not! I just want to watch, err... a bunch of cute football players (plural! definitely plural this time!) getting all hot and sweaty during training. Yep, that's all there is to it (and there will be no drooling whatsoever involved).

  Once I reach the bleachers, I notice that the cheerleaders and some other girls I've seen at the popular table are here as well. Darn, I even see Jessica! She throws me a hateful look, and she's not the only one. Some of the other girls with her are staring at me just as nastily. I pick a spot to sit down as far away from their group as I can.

  All of a sudden I'm suffused with warmth, which is how I know that Seth has become aware of my presence and is looking at me. More distantly, I notice that Josh has seen me too, unfortunately. I try not to let this bother me.

  For the next two hours, I watch the football practice, almost forgetting my bone-deep exhaustion. Fine, I admit it: I'm actually staring at Seth most of the time. I try to be subtle about it, but honestly, it's hard to look away from him.

  He's poetry in motion, powerful and fast and always sure of each of his plays. He can catch any ball with perfect agility and is incredibly precise when throwing his passes. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I don't mean that just in the sense that holy-smoke-he-looks-hot-in-his-football-gear!—though there is definitely that as well.

  I know next to nothing about football, I've never been to a single game in my life, but even so I have no trouble recognizing Seth's skill on the field. He's exceptionally good, and I'm not the least surprised at all the football scholarships he's purportedly been offered.

  Much too soon, practice ends and the boys get off the field, heading for their locker room. The bleachers quickly empty out as well. I need to get going too; it's getting late, and it'll take me a good long while to reach the Andersons' house on foot.

  Still, I drag my feet as I walk back to the main building. I really don't want to return to the house; it almost feels like willingly heading into hell. This actually worries me. It's only been two weeks and I already feel this way—then how the heck will I last until the end of the school year?

  I really want to stay at Rockford High until Seth graduates. After that, I'll go back to not caring about what happens; most likely I'll be leaving town as well. I never last in any place too long, and by mid-June I'll probably be due for my next move.

  Having reached the main building, I head for my locker to gather some of my stuff before leaving. My footsteps echo ominously in the empty hallways, making me uneasy. I walk faster.

  Just as I reach my locker, a hand grabs me by the hair and violently drags me backward. "Now I finally have you, you bitch!" Josh snarls. His face is contorted with rage and malice, scaring me stiff.

  Oh God, he wants to hurt me. He wants to hurt me bad.

  I open my mouth to scream, but I barely manage a squeak before his hand covers my mouth. He's released his grip on my hair, so I try to get away from him, but before I manage to take a single step, his other arm comes around me from behind, wrapping around my ribcage and immobilizing my arms against my upper body.

  I struggle desperately, but he's so much bigger than I, and I've been getting so little sleep these last couple of weeks that I have no energy reserves left. I fear that I'm going to faint. I try to kick him with my legs, but his arm around me tightens until I can't get enough air in my lungs. Lack of oxygen and the sour smell of his sweat are making me lightheaded. My heart battles in my chest like a wild bird trying to claw her way free.

  I stop kicking and he lets me breathe once more.

  He starts dragging me toward the nearest bathroom, and I begin to thrash again, but he cuts off my air supply, this time by moving the hand over my mouth a bit higher and covering my nostrils. I stop fighting.

  Oh God... oh God, please help me! I'm beyond fear; I'm in the grip of a terror so great I start to shake uncontrollably.

  "No
t so high and mighty now, huh, princess?" he pants in my ear. "Who do you think you are, turning your nose at me? Stupid frump! I've heard all about you—you're nothing but a whore! It's past time that I get to have my fun with you too."

  He manages to get me through the girls' bathroom door, and I renew my frantic struggles. He abruptly releases his hold and turns me with a vicious movement, then slaps me hard, grazing my lip and sending me tumbling to the floor.

  I'm dazed from the fall, but I try to find my voice. "Please, Josh, please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to offend you, please don't..." But I see it in his face that he has no intention of listening to my pleas.

  "Good, princess, that's good! I like the sound of your begging. I'm sure I'll be hearing more of it very soon." He smirks and starts toward me.

  I start screaming like a banshee and try to rise from the floor but don't make it before he's on me. I try to knee him in the groin, but he immobilizes my legs and covers me with his weight. I twist beneath him, but the bastard is huge and I can't budge him off me.

  He pins both my wrists with one hand above my head and tries to kiss me. I manage to turn my head, so he starts slobbering on my neck instead, making me nauseous.

  "I could've done you real fine and slow, you uppity bitch, but you don't like it fine and slow, do you? So I'll do you hard!" He moves his free hand down my body, below my waist.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God, please don't let him rape me! I'm still thrashing, but his bulk bearing down on me is crushing, and I'm still shouting, but my voice is losing its force.

  "Jessica was right—you need to be taught a lesson. Stop screaming!"

  He slaps me again, hard, bashing my head back into the tiled floor and stunning me. He lets go off my hands for a moment and pulls at my hoodie, trying to get it off, but he only manages to tear it at the throat.

  "Why the hell are you wearing this tent, you stupid bitch?!" Frustrated by the hoodie, he brings his hands to my pants fastening instead.