Tainted Love

by Addison Moore

  The Cabriolet Brigade has taken up all the good spots, so we park down below on the street. We spot Joel and Melissa clear across the parking lot and pass all of the requisite cliques to get there. The Charms, with their glowing white-blonde hair, cackle into the night as a group of surfers line up for their nightly tongue massage. The Journey girls smoke pot with the stoners tonight, and even the heavy metalers rock out to the Clash. It’s as if this one victory, this one final game has united us on some level, and tonight we’re not a bunch of pieces that make up the whole, but a singular entity slowly morphing into something that, come June, will be pushed out into the real world—bloody and screaming.

  Jennifer pulls me in close by the arm as we snake our way past the Barbie bitches. She’s not a fan, neither am I, but I’m definitely not afraid of them.

  “Hey, like you wanna be our friend?” a voice calls out among their midst while the others titter with laughter. “Psyche!”

  “Like real funny,” Jen whispers, embedding her nails into my arm and pulling me closer.

  “Clepto!” a girl calls out as we make our way through, and I turn to the poufy haired glob of girls, each with their metallic lipstick, their uniform of leg warmers and L.A. Gear tennis shoes, each one of them snug in their pricey Esprit sweaters, their Guess jean jackets. They’re so interchangeable I doubt it matters which one said it.

  “If you have balls, come and say it to my face!” I bury my fist in my hip and jut out my metal studded belt that screams don’t-think-for-a-second-I-won’t-whip-you-with-it.

  The entire crowd grows quiet as they giggle into their Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Amanda catches my eye, still in her Glen Heights cheer uniform, and I hate how cute she looks in it. She’s lost the ponytail and crimped her hair to perfection, creating a fuzzy halo that surrounds her head like a blonde globe at least a foot in diameter. Pressed in the center, just above her forehead, sits an oversized red velvet bow. It’s such a classic look. I don’t know what makes me think I can ever compete with someone that well-polished.

  “Like take a picture, it lasts longer.” She sneers at me, sending the rest of the Barbies into a snickering tizzy.

  Jennifer spins me around. “Let’s go.”

  “Like totally barf me out with those clothes. Maybe you should set your sights on stealing something better for yourself.” Amanda calls from behind. “Clepto!”

  “That’s it.” I break free from Jen’s stronghold and bolt straight for the queen bee herself. “Say it again, right to my face, and I’ll send you to the plastic surgeon for that nose job long before you ever hit your high school graduation.”

  Her mouth rounds out as she gasps in horror. “Did you just like threaten me?” Her eyes light up a silver shade of evil.

  “Did you just call me Clepto?” I get in her face and practically spit the words over her mouth.

  “If the shoplifting shoe fits. I heard they fired you from Orange Julius because you stole from the cash register.” She growls it out with a vindictive smile.

  Rachel steps up with her hair feathered and sprayed into perfect submission. A gold chain glitters around her neck as she zigzags a heart-shaped pendant across it. “I heard you’re not even allowed at the San Ramos mall anymore. That must be why I’ve seen your ugly mug at that hot dog stand. It makes me lose my appetite. Like I think you’re bad for business. Someone should let management know they’ve got a thief in their midst.”

  “Hey, that hot dog stand is my job,” I growl at Rachel, resisting the urge to deck her. “Some of us need to work, so don’t even think of starting rumors.”

  Amanda huffs and steps in close. “Who needs to start a rumor? The facts speak for themselves. I was there that day they arrested you at CVS.”

  “Nobody arrested me. I was accused of stealing. There’s a huge difference.”

  “Like, how can they not accuse you? Bag your face, would you? I have the sudden urge to barf.”

  The crowd breaks out into a round of laughter. I suppose that’s all I’m good for with these people.

  Amanda tips her head back, laughing the loudest, and I lose it. I give her a nice hard shove in her Kleenex-stuffed chest and send her flying back into the rest of the wannabe Beaver Brigade.

  “Let’s get out here,” I whisper to Jen as I hold my head up high. Someone yanks my hair from behind, and I fall to the ground with a body on top of mine while sharp as knives acrylic fingernails dig into my throat.

  “It’s all your stupid fault!” Amanda growls over me as I flip her onto her back. “I’m the one who should be with him, you stupid little bitch!” She pulls the back of my hair so hard my scalp burns. “He’s only with you because you’re an easy piece of trash! But you won’t land him in the end”—her hand comes up and hits the bottom of my chin, forcing me to bite the hell out of my tongue—“girls like you never do.”

  Jennifer yanks me off, and Melissa is suddenly by my side as well.

  “What the hell?” Russell runs over, panting, and the warm scent of his cologne encapsulates me. “Come here.” He pulls me in, cradling me in his strong arms, and I close my eyes, wishing that the world—all of Glen Heights—would disappear. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Russell rushes me to his car as the sound of “Purple Rain” hums softly in the distance. He parked just over the hill, so the rest of the cars, the rest of the assholes—my friends excluded—aren’t visible to us at the moment.

  “Who did this to you?” His eyes dart over each of mine, rife with worry. “What was that about?”

  I shake my head. There’s no way I want to recant any part of that conversation. “It was stupid. I guess you could say I was asking for it.” It’s true. I shouldn’t have paid them any attention when they called me Clepto. I know I’m not a thief. I shouldn’t really care what anyone else thinks.

  “Hey, no tears.” He bumps his ring to mine. “Wonder Twin powers activate.”

  “Shape of an ax so I can chop the mean girls into pieces.” My brows rise, and he gives a dark laugh.

  “Form of a bucket of bleach so I can wash clean this entire night for you.”

  “You ready to take off?” He sinks a kiss to my lips, and I melt right there under the duress of the white-hot moon spotlighting us from above.

  I give his bottom lip a playful bite before we part ways. “Ready and willing.”

  “My dad just set me up with a TV and VCR in my bedroom. You wanna come check it out?”

  “Wow, your very own setup? And a ring with a dragon’s head on it? Your dad sounds like a pretty nice guy. But I’m banished, remember?”

  “I’m unbanishing you.” The smile slides off his face, as his features grow serious. “And my dad is a nice guy, but he didn’t give me this ring.” He twirls it with his thumb, looking at it in a pensive stupor. He looks up, those navy eyes of his latching onto mine. “In fact, he’s not my dad at all.”

  Russell

  The night wears thin like a curtain you can almost see tomorrow through. I speed us out of Friendships and straight for Glen Heights, straight for home, straight for the truth. I’ve actually never spoken about my father to anyone before, other than my mother, but, in all honesty, I thought it would be my younger sister Megan I’d spill the truth to first. I figured she’s family—she should know before anyone else that I’m only partially related to her. Although, that little biological detail could never alter how much I love her and hopefully vice versa. She’s pretty special to me, and I’d like to maintain our relationship throughout the rest of our lives. Wayne, my stepfather, is pretty special, too, and even though he knows that I know the truth, we’ve never once uttered a single word about it. After the adoption was complete, and the ink was still drying on my new name, my mother laid down the law with me, and I’ve been tight-lipped about our family’s little secret ever since.

  I park on the street and lead Heather around to the back. Her fingers curl into mine as we head u
p the stairs through the rear of the property that leads to the hall just outside my bedroom.

  “Your mom is going to kill you if she finds out you’re bringing the enemy straight into the front lines.” She giggles into my ear, and her warm breath tickles.

  “Trust me, she’d survive,” I say, letting us inside and quickly encapsulating us in my bedroom. “Besides, she and my dad are in the media room.”

  “Oh my God!” Heather marvels at the full-blown entertainment center my parents purchased for me to go along with the technological discards they gifted. She runs her finger over the silver VCR. “Like did they just get another one?”

  “They bought a Laserdisc player. And since they’re moving up in the world, they parked their old equipment here with me.”

  “Sweet. Oh my God, look at all these movies! You’re like an official video store now.” She bumps a finger over the tower stacked to the left. “Nightmare on Elm Street? We have to watch this.”

  “Your wish is my command.” I pop it in, and there’s a stillness that takes over as the FBI Warning fills the room with a blue-hued threat.

  “So”—Heather shrugs into me with her eyes heavy—“what was that stuff you were saying about your dad back there?” She wraps her arms around me tight until we’re conjoined at the waist. I want to tell her. Heck, I’ve been wanting to tell somebody for so long it’s burning a hole through my heart.

  “You want to hop onto the high seas and I’ll show you?”

  “That sounds overtly sexual. Is this like a role play thing?” she teases. “Am I required to say ‘Aye, Aye, Captain’ each time we—”

  “Whoa.” My lips land over hers as we tip backward onto the waterbed, and sure enough, it feels as if we’ve landed on the high seas. “It’s actually a little less exciting than that.” I pull out that ratty old Hush Puppies shoebox sitting in the drawer beneath me that I’ve had since forever. Heather and I situate ourselves high on the bed, and she strums out a tiny laugh until the waves finally settle. “Are you seasick yet?” My hand floats to the inside of her knee, causing her to buck like a reflex.

  “Not yet, but you know what they say—It’s not the motion of the ocean; it’s the size of the—”

  “Box of letters.” I hold it up with a devilish grin. “I don’t really share this with anyone—but you mean a lot to me.” The moment grows serious, and for a second, I’m sorry I took us down this path. “You’re a really cool girl. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I really feel close to you.” My words burn right over her mouth, and she gives the hint of a nod. “What I said back there was true. Wayne James, the man who’s married to my mother, is technically my adoptive father. Not even my sister knows.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight a moment. “I hate that she doesn’t know it, and I keep saying that when she gets a little bit older I’m going to tell her the truth, but no matter how old she gets, she still feels like a kid to me. Does that make sense?”

  She gives a little nod. “I’ve got two younger sisters myself. Trust me, I know. Um, did your dad run out on you? I mean, that’s what happened to my family. My dad just sort of decided he didn’t need the headache anymore and never came back. He’s a trucker. My mom says every now and again he asks about us through mutual friends, but that’s about as close of a relationship I’ve ever had with him. My mom has pretty much moved on. She dates now and again, but that’s about it. She’s surviving.”

  “I’m glad she’s surviving. Your mom is genuinely a nice person. In fact, I feel bad she even has to set foot in my room, so I make sure to clean before she gets here.”

  Heather bleats out a quick laugh. “Well, you’re nicer to her than most people. If it makes you feel better, I have to clean my own room, too—at least my side of it. I share it with my brother, Kurt.”

  “I know Kurt. He’s a decent guy.” I pull her in close with that shoebox settled between us like a grenade.

  “So, what gives?” She runs her hand over the worn cardboard and lifts the lid just a crack before closing it again. The smell of old ink and paper seeps through like a ghost. The movie starts, but we’re both too absorbed in the moment to notice. “I told you my story.” Her arm squeezes around me with reassurance. “Do you want to tell me yours?” Those honeyed doe eyes gaze up at me. I don’t think I could deny Heather Knowles a vital organ if she asked for it. Heck, I know I wouldn’t.

  “When I was four, my dad went to prison for grand larceny—felony theft.” I watch as her eyes grow frighteningly large. “That’s probably why this house, these clothes, the car, the TV, and VCR in my bedroom, everything feels fake, plastic. It feels as if I bend everything just right, my world will snap like a candy cane.”

  “Russell.” She pulls back a little to get a better look at me. “I’m so sorry.” She dives over me once again with a hug. “I know how bad it sucks not to have your dad in your life.” Her voice breaks, and I can feel her hot tears penetrating through my shirt. She sniffs hard as she looks back up. “Have you seen him? Do you ever get to talk to him?”

  “Nope.” I give a vigorous shake of the head as if I was still pissed about it, and I am. I’m not in the mood to drag my mom or Amanda and her debutante ball into this just yet. It feels sacred like this with Heather, with this box between us, seeing the light of day so boldly with another soul in the room. “But I remember him, Russell Gates.” A dull smile pumps from me. “I remember what he looks like, and each time I look in the mirror, I’m freshly reminded. We could pass as twins—at least when he was younger.” I glance up at the screen in time to see Freddy’s finger knives screeching across the boiler room. “Each time I see Joel’s dad, I think of him, too.”

  “You totally look like Joel.” She scratches at my chest. “I’m sorry. That must make it really hard. I had no idea things were this rough for you.”

  “Nobody does. Not even Joel.” I swallow hard. “My dad’s in there for another few years. I don’t really know what’s going to happen when he gets out. He went in for insurance fraud and swore up and down he was innocent. Once they slapped him with a twenty-year sentence, he and my mom pretty much agreed they should divorce. She married one of his friends, Wayne, and he quickly adopted me—the rest is James family history. My mom asked me not to speak of it, and I never really saw a point. But these”—I pull the box closer and pop the lid—“these are the letters my dad’s been sending me. At first, my mom hid them. Then around my thirteenth birthday, I started to pester her with questions once again, and she pulled out a bag full of old birthday and Christmas cards, a few letters thrown in the mix. In each one, he asks me not to write back, not to visit. He thinks it would be too hard. He doesn’t want to mess with my life too much, just wants to let me know he cares.”

  A lone tear rolls down her cheek, creating a track over her skin like a pale scar. “He does care.” She carefully dips her hand into the box and mixes the letters around. “This box is full of love.”

  “You want to read them?”

  “Would you let me?”

  “Hell yes, I’ll let you.” A smile drifts back to my lips as I touch that pink streak in her hair. “There’s not another person I would rather share them with. You’re like my best friend—my girlfriend.” I playfully push my shoulder into hers. “I want to share everything with you.”

  Her mouth falls open as she takes in a quick breath. “Thank you. I’m honored—about you letting me read the letters.” Her face flushes a deep shade of red. “About the girlfriend thing, too.” Her chest rumbles with a laugh. “I guess that makes you my boyfriend.”

  “I guess it does.” I straighten at the thought as a dull laugh trembles through me. “You know, I’ve never gone around with anyone before.”

  “What?” Heather gives my ribs a quick pinch. “I think you’ve gone around with just about everyone; you just don’t realize it. I’ve seen you with a girl or two dripping off your arm. That whole Kelly Masterson thing?”

  “God.” I laugh, squeezing my eyes shut at the awful mem
ory. It’s true. Once Joel dumped Kelly, there was a brief moment where I banged her. Joel swore he didn’t give a shit, and, at the time, I didn’t either. And there were plenty of other girls I dated, that I’ve been with, but I’ve never considered any of them my girlfriend before. “Okay, there were a few in there, but you’re still my first—girlfriend.”

  “Oh?” She tips her head, amused. “So, I take it you’re not of the virginal variety.”

  “Nope. I like to consider myself tried and true. How about—” Shit, I almost asked. Crap. Rule number one, you never, never ask a girl about her virginity.

  “Me?” She dips her finger into her chest and laughs. “I guess you can say I’m tried and true, too—but only with one person and just the once. It was sort of a bust all the way around, my cherry included.” She winces. “Sorry about the visual.”

  “It’s okay. Was it with him? That guy I knocked out?” The memory comes flooding back, and suddenly my fist is hungry to connect with his jaw once again. “Okay, the guy whose nose I broke.”

  “That’s the guy. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him, like ever.” Her gaze falls back to the box between us as the bed rises up and down. Heather’s perfume radiates from her with a sweet floral scent, and I can’t help but lean into her hair and inhale a lungful. “You want to pick one out?”

  “Yup.” I dig inside and find an old yellowed envelope. “My favorite. It’s the first one he wrote that wasn’t a card. According to the date, he sent this one when I was about eight.” I unfurl it and hold it out between us, my father’s bright blue penmanship suddenly staring us in the face.

  Russell,

  Son, I love you. I know that traditionally that’s the way a letter is supposed to end, but my heart tells me to cut right to the chase. I’m not entirely aware of what you know about me. What your mother decides to share is her business, but I hope through these letters you might feel you know me enough that one day when I do walk free, you’ll want a real relationship. I love your mom, and I love you, but fate dealt me a nasty hand, and right now the only connection I have to either of you is these frail pieces of parchment. I want you to know I’ve made peace with the fact she’s remarried. I encouraged it. That, right there, is a lesson in being careful what you ask for, but I suppose the fact you’re still a kid, that lesson won’t apply with great repercussions until much later.