Chapter
3
I don’t want to still be grossly sweaty from jogging when Danny gets here, so I take a quick shower, then get into a fresh T-shirt and sweats. I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing the dampness from my hair. My hair is my best feature. I guess—thick and shiny and healthy looking, with just enough natural wave to be interesting. The rest of me is average through and through—average size, average height, average nose, dark eyes—April is always trying to talk me into getting light green contacts. You’d look way cool if you’d do that, she tells me. I’m sure! I’m hardly the type to go around sticking foreign objects in my eyes, no matter how cool April thinks I’d look.
Rocky and I don’t look the least bit like sisters. She takes after my German grampa as far as coloring goes. When I first started high school, I wished I was light, like Rocky. It seemed more glamorous. But Danny’s always telling me how beautiful my dark eyes are, and how much he loves my thick black hair, so now I’m happier with the way I look.
I reach for the lotion and rub a generous portion into my hands. At work, I’m constantly washing my hands, so my skin is super dry. Dr. Franz says I’d better plan on that for life if I’m going to be a vet.
Dr. Franz has been a kind of mentor to me. When I first started volunteering here, it was because I wanted to be around the animals. But after I saw how important it was that they be spayed and neutered, and vaccinated, I started thinking about being a vet.
Gradually, Dr. Franz taught me how to prepare animals for surgery, mix vaccines, and use the centrifuge as part of the blood testing process. On work days at the Humane Society, first I check with Dr. Franz, to see what’s needed with the health team, and, if they don’t need me, I work with Sinclair. He’s my official boss, but most of the time I’m with the health team. It’s amazing how much I’ve learned at the Humane Society.
Speaking of learning, I must study for my biology test. Biology’s pretty easy, if I concentrate, but I’m not like Phillip or Gabrielle, who can practically just glance at the cover of the book and know everything inside it. Doing well in science classes is really important to me because becoming a veterinarian is almost as hard as becoming a regular doctor. Really, there are fewer veterinarian schools in the country than there are medical schools, so in some ways it’s even harder to become a vet.
I go over the test checklist and start rereading things I don’t yet understand very well. Identification of exons and introns, and RNA processing, is still a mystery to me. I’m just beginning to get a glimmer of understanding when Mom comes to the door with the phone.
“Danny’s dad,” she says.
I take the phone from her.
“Hello?”
“Erica?”
“Yes,” I say, wondering why Mr. Lara would be calling me.
“Is Daniel with you?”
“No.”
“I told him not to leave the house tonight but the minute I turned my back he was gone.”
Mr. Lara sounds very angry. I don’t know what to say.
“Do you know where he is?”
“Not really,” I say.
“What do you mean, not really?”
“I’m not sure where Danny is—sorry,” I say.
“Well, when you see him, tell him to get his butt home. I’m waiting for him.”
“Okay,” I say, and hang up.
I didn’t exactly lie to Mr. Lara. I mean, Danny never told me where he was when he called, but I knew anyway. But if I’d said Danny was at Alex’s, his dad would have gone nuts. He’s always accusing Danny of being a lowlife and he hates the guys who hang out at Alex’s.
I go back to RNA processing, but I can’t concentrate. I’m reading the same stuff over and over again, all the time thinking about how mad Mr. Lara sounded and what big trouble Danny’s in. His dad’s already threatened to kick Danny out of the house if he doesn’t change his ways.
On Danny’s eighteenth birthday, only a few weeks after his mother died, Danny’s dad told him, “You’re an adult now—time to pull your own load. Don’t think you can keep living off me.”
I really worry about Danny. I love him so much, I don’t ever want him to be hurt, or in trouble. Danny’s dad is always angry with him because he’s not working and he hasn’t graduated from high school yet. He just quit going to school when his mom was killed, so he ended up not graduating with his class. But now he’s going to Adult School, so it’s not like he’s a dropout, like his dad claims.
After the accident, Danny was in a daze. At first from shock, I guess. Then he started smoking pot, which he’d never done before. At least I don’t think he had. And he was drinking, too. A lot. That went on for months. But now he almost never drinks more than a beer or two anymore, and I think he’s totally quit smoking weed. Because of me, he says. Because I’m there for him.
Kneeling down in my closet I reach way into the back, to the slippers I never use anymore because they’re too small for me. Feeling around in the toe of the right slipper, I pull out a foil packet that contains a condom. From the left slipper I take a can of foam. I put the can and the foil package under my pillow. We never do that stupid unprotected sex thing. From the very beginning we’ve known we wouldn’t want a baby for a very long time. And I didn’t want anything messing with my hormones, like the pill would. “That’s cool,” Danny’d said. “We’re in this together.”
I get soap from the bathroom and rub it along the window frame, opening and closing the window to be sure it will work easily, silently, when Danny gets here. What time will my mom turn out the light in her bedroom, I wonder. Is Danny already standing in the dark, back by the garage, waiting for all the lights but mine to go off?
It seems so juvenile, to be sneaking around to have sex. I’m practically an adult—in February I’ll be old enough to vote. Why should I have to sneak around? On the other hand, it’s not like I’ve ever said to my mom, “Hey Mom, do you mind if Danny comes over for sex tonight? We promise not to make too much noise.” What would she say? She’d totally flip, I know.
She’s sort of a modem mom, I guess. Even before I got my first period she’d talked to me about babies, and birth control, and protection from sexually transmitted diseases. But I still think she’d go nuts if she knew Danny sometimes comes over late at night, and we have sex in my room. I’ll bet if one of her friends at work asked her if I was a virgin, she’d say, probably not. She’s not stupid. But I can’t imagine coming right out and talking to her about how Danny and I are with each other. How would I start? “Hey, Mom, guess what Danny and I did last night in my room?” I don’t think so.
I try to get back into biology again, but it’s no use. I can’t think about anything but Danny, and his dad, and I keep wondering why Danny had to leave and go to Alex’s anyway. I know he gets really upset when his dad is on his case, but couldn’t he have just gone into his room and turned up the stereo or something?
I set the alarm for five in the morning, hoping I can study better tomorrow. Two hours would do it. I leave the clock on my desk, where I’ll have to get out of bed to turn it off. If I put it beside my bed I’d probably turn it off without even waking up. My plan is to study until seven, then shower and grab a piece of toast, and be ready for the biology test.
On my desk, next to the clock and in front of the picture of me and Danny at last year’s Winter Fantasy, is a stack of college applications. I’m applying to six different schools, but the one I want is the University of California at Davis. They’ve got a great school of animal husbandry. Even though my grades and SAT scores are good, and I’ve got all of that Humane Society experience, I still may not get in. Davis is amazingly competitive. That’s why I’m applying at other schools, too. For back up.
I pick up the Winter Fantasy picture and look carefully into
Danny’s face. He’s smiling a big, happy smile, showing his straight white teeth and the deep dimple in his cheek. He’s wearing a tux, with a red bow tie. I’m in a wh
ite satin dress that I borrowed from April and, although I’d never say this out loud to anyone because it sounds so conceited, Danny and I looked really good together that night. I hope someday again I’ll see him looking as happy as he does in the picture.
About ten minutes after my mom’s light goes out, there’s a gentle tapping at my window. I hold Kitty’s mouth shut.
“Quiet,” I say.
I let go of her mouth. Just as she’s about to bark I clamp my hand around her muzzle again.
“Quiet!”
She gets the idea and lies down, watching me. I turn off my lamp, then raise my window and unhook the screen. Danny climbs through so quietly I can barely hear him myself, and I’m standing right next to him. He puts his arms around me and kisses me, hard.
The light from the street lamp in front of our house reflects softly through my open window. My eyes slowly adjust to the near darkness. I trace the outline of Danny’s face with my fingers—his already slightly wrinkled forehead, his small straight nose, the little scar on his lower jaw, the outline of his lips.
I lean my face into his jacket and pull quickly away. It reeks.
“What?” he says, frowning.
“You quit smoking that stuff?”
“Oh,” he says, his face relaxing into a grin. “Alex brought me over and we waited in his car until after the lights went out. He and Scott were smoking out—not me—no more bud for me. I told you.”
He takes off his jacket and drops it out the still open window, laughing softly.
“It can air out down there. I’ll pick it up on the way out.”
He kisses me again, gently this time.
“We don’t want to stink up your room with that stuff,” he says. “What would your mom think about that?”
We both laugh, quietly, then sit down, side by side on the bed, arms touching. Danny leans his head on my shoulder.
“Speaking of parents,” I say, “your dad called here tonight.”
“Why?” Danny asks, sitting up straight and turning to face me.
“Looking for you. He sounded angry.”
“He’s always angry,” Danny says. “I’ve got to get out of there, get my own place.”
“Could you pay for it?”
“I’ll have to figure something out.”
“I saw some Help Wanted signs at the mall the other day.”
“Yeah, well . . . let’s not talk about that stuff right now,” he says, pulling me toward him and kissing me on the lips. I get a taste of breath mint and wonder if Danny’s being super considerate or if he has something to hide. Since I’ve been trying to get him to cut back on his drinking he covers things up sometimes.
I push back a bit. “Won’t you have to get a job if you want your own place?”
Danny sighs. “Now you’re sounding like my dad. He’s always telling me get a job. I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side. I’m always on your side,” I tell him, pulling him to me, kissing him. We sit on my bed, close, holding hands and sometimes kissing, little light kisses on the lips and cheeks and forehead, not saying much for awhile. Danny runs his hand gently through my hair, following strands that reach to the middle of my back. Then he lies back and pulls me down beside him. We kiss, tongues touching. My breathing quickens, matching Danny’s. We fumble at each other’s clothes. Danny strips off his shirt and pants. I pull my T-shirt over my head and feel his hands unfasten my bra.
The light from the hallway comes on, spreading under the crack of my closed door. Danny jumps up and into the closet, pulling the door quickly, quietly, closed behind him. I scramble under the covers, pulling the blanket over our newly removed shirts, then lie still, listening, hoping Rocky doesn’t decide to come crawl in bed with me as she sometimes does if she wakes up scared. Finally, I hear the toilet flush. The light goes out, and I know Rocky is back in her own room. I wait to be sure, then get up and open the closet door.
Danny and I ease silently back into my bed. He leans on one elbow, looking down at my face, taking my hand and guiding it to him, to where he wants to be touched. I strain upward to reach his lips with mine. The rhythms of our breathing match, faster. Hearts pounding, faster. Danny reaches under my pillow and removes the foil-wrapped packet. He carefully rolls on the condom, while I insert foam. An instant, only an instant, and then we are locked together.
After it’s over Danny cries, heaving short sobs that pass in moments. With his head on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around him, his tears wet against my skin, we sleep for awhile. Then, long before daylight, Danny gets up and dresses, kisses me on the forehead, and climbs back out my window, into the night.
Chapter
4
It’s seven-thirty,” Mom says, shaking me gently.
“Seven-thirty?” I bolt out of bed, suddenly awake. “What happened to my alarm clock?”
Mom picks up the clock from my desk. “You must have slept through it.”
“Oh, man,” I say, thinking about all the biology I didn’t study.
During English, first period, I try to review my biology notes, but Ms. Lee keeps calling on me to answer questions about Macbeth. The part I most relate to at this moment is the witch’s—“Double, double, toil and trouble/Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”
Double trouble is what I find in biology. I make all kinds of guesses, about something called reverse transcriptase, and somatic mutations, but as far as the biology test goes, I could be the poster child for “Clueless Syndrome.”
At lunch April and I go over to Barb and Edie’s. April orders one of their famous garbageburgers. I get a grilled cheese sandwich. Ever since I started working at the Humane Society, I lost my taste for dead animals.
“I’m starving,” April says as we wait for our order to come up. “I couldn’t even eat last night I got so nervous about driving.”
“How’d it go?” I ask.
“Fine. I only nearly killed us three times. I think my dad’s seeing his doctor today for tranquilizers.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad. Weren’t you driving at the race track parking lot? There’re never any cars there at night.”
“Who said anything about cars? There’re posts, and fences, and a couple of trees, plus eight admission gates. All kinds of stuff just jumps out at you over there.”
April cracks me up. She’s been trying to learn to drive since she got her learner’s permit at fifteen. She still doesn’t have her license and she’ll be eighteen soon. In April, of course. I’m glad my parents didn’t name me after my birth month. I can hear it now. February Arredondo. What a mouthful that would be. Erica Joan Arredondo’s bad enough. The Joan is after my mom’s mom. I don’t love the name, but I love my gramma, so that makes the name sound better to me.
Sometimes I fantasize that Erica Lara would be better, but that’s a long way away. I’ve got other things to worry about right now. Like I’m pretty sure I failed my biology test.
“Hey, aren’t you going to finish your lunch?” April says.
I hear hunger in her voice, even though she’s just practically inhaled a whole garbageburger and a large, meaning huge, order of fries.
“You can have it. I’m not so hungry.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, reaching for my sandwich and taking a bite in one quick move. April eats a lot for a skinny girl.
“I’m just not very hungry,” I say.
“Are things okay with Dan the man?”
“Great.” I say, remembering last night, how he held me tight and told me he would always love me, nothing could ever change that.
“Well? There’s a reason a healthy, red-blooded girl like yourself loses her appetite. Pregnant?”
“April!” I say, tossing my wadded-up napkin at her. “Get a grip on your imagination, will you?”
“Oh, yeah. Like it never happens.”
“It’s not happening to me,” I say. “That’s just stupid.”
“You ought to become a born-again virgin
,” April says. “I’m glad I did—celibate for a year now and worry free—no pregnancy worries, no STD worries—like that poor Sandra with AIDS.”
“I don’t have to worry about that, either,” I say. “We’re really careful.”
“Not only pregnancy and disease stuff. I used to worry all the time about my mom and dad freaking out if they found out I was doing the big IT.”
“April, if we’re old enough to choose the President of the United States, don’t you think we’re old enough to make our own decisions about sex?” I say.
“I suppose your parents are totally aware and supportive of the sexual activities in which you and Danny are engaged?” April asks, holding a spoon in front of my face, as if it’s a microphone.
I push it away. “I’m not your talk show guest,” I remind her, laughing.
“Be honest, though. Wouldn’t your parents orbit the solar system if they knew for sure their little girl was involved in an affair of passion?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say, remembering how scared I felt last night when Rocky got up to go to the bathroom. We were lucky the little spy went back to her own room. But what if we’d been discovered? We’re not doing anything wrong, are we—just loving each other?
“Something’s taking your mind off eating,” April says, grabbing the other half of my sandwich.
“The biology test last period—I messed up big time,” I say, as we dump our trash and walk back toward Hamilton High.
“You always think you mess up on tests, and you always end up with a big fat A, so I don’t want to hear it.”
“This time is different,” I say.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re breaking my heart. If I miss one more government assignment I won’t even graduate.”
“Don’t miss another government assignment,” I tell her.
“But it’s boring,” April says.
“Sometimes we’ve got to do boring stuff,” I say, and then I feel like washing my mouth out with soap. I hate when I sound like my mom. If I’m not careful, pretty soon I’ll be like “you only get out of it what you put into it.” Or, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
But What About Me? Page 3