Jumping Off Swings Page 3

  We used to laugh constantly. We painted each other’s toenails and traded flavored lip gloss. We teased each other about who we had crushes on and practiced kissing the backs of our hands. We talked about what our first time would be like — where we’d want to do it and what our perfect men would look like. We talked about how magical it would be.

  But then Ellie went and did it for real, and it seems like sex wasn’t any of those things we’d imagined. I wish I could cling to what Ava says. How sex is amazing. But looking at Ellie, it’s hard to believe.

  To be totally honest, I’ve never even seen a real penis except when I was eight and my disgusting cousin, also eight, whipped his thing out and chased me around the yard. A few years ago, my mom and dad wanted to have “the talk” with me. They even had a book to show me. I was so embarrassed that I told them Ava had already filled me in on everything I needed to know. Of course, I was dying to look at that book. But with my mom and dad looking on? Uh — no.

  I stop swinging and walk over to the park’s poor excuse for a seesaw, the kind where you can’t get hurt if your so-called friend jumps off to make you go crashing down. They’ve attached these springs to the bottom so the seesaw automatically balances and you can actually ride on it by yourself.

  I straddle the seat and sink slowly until both feet touch the ground, then I push off. I bounce up and come back down again softly. It’s dusk, and there isn’t anyone else around except some old lady with two little kids. She pushes them on the merry-go-round and tells them a million times to hold on tight.

  She notices me watching and gives me a questioning look, like, What are you doing out here all by yourself? I glance around at the empty place. The slide is becoming a shadow. Ellie’s and my swings sway gently back and forth, as if two ghost friends are riding them. I get the shivers and decide I better go.

  “Hey, Corinne,” a quiet voice says behind me.

  I nearly fall off the seesaw.

  I turn and see Caleb, looking shy, his hands jammed into his jeans pockets. My stomach does a little flip-flop butterfly thing. That hasn’t happened since last year’s crush on Brad Stevens, who made me practically faint every time I got near him. But Caleb?

  “You scared me,” I say.

  “Sorry.” When our eyes meet, I swear my stomach flutters again.

  “It’s OK.” I try not to stare at him. I tried to tell Ellie he seemed to have gotten cuter this year, but she wouldn’t listen. Figures she’s not attracted to the one guy who might actually treat her right. I mean, the guy’s been crushing on her since we were kids. I can’t imagine what it would be like to get the attention Ellie gets. Just once I’d like to get one of the flirty looks she gets every day.

  Caleb studies the wood chips at his feet.

  “So, uh, what are you doing here?” he asks the wood chips.

  “Um . . .”

  What am I doing here? I’m sixteen and I’ve been discovered by a cute guy riding on a seesaw. By myself. In the dark. On a Saturday night. There’s really no good answer.

  “Just thinking,” I finally say. “Want to ride with me?”

  “Um, sure.” He walks to the other end of the seesaw and climbs on. He slowly pushes off with his feet. His curly hair looks like a fuzzy shadow in the gray light.

  “I heard you were at the park earlier today. You and Ellie?”

  “Yeah. Did Josh tell you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t know how much he knows, but I assume Josh gives a lot more details than Ellie does, so he probably knows more than me. I push my feet against the ground lightly. It would be really great to change the subject right about now.

  “So, is Ellie, you know, OK?”

  I stop the seesaw with my legs, and our eyes meet. I wait, trying to figure out how to answer. But there’s really nothing I can say. I kick off the ground again, and we ride up and down in silence. After a while, the little old lady says loudly enough so we hear how it’s very late and they have to go home because the park isn’t safe at night.

  The funny thing is, with Caleb, I do feel safe. For some reason, being here in the dark with him, I don’t feel scared at all.

  THE FIRST BOY made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in school. He told me I was special. That he couldn’t believe he was with me. When he held me, I felt like a present he didn’t want to share. He said it was his first time, too. But his kisses got harder and harder. And his hands moved everywhere, too fast. A noise came out of me when he ripped his way inside me. He didn’t notice. He just moaned louder.

  But I wasn’t moaning. I was crying. He didn’t even kiss me good-bye when he was done.

  I stayed after he left the room. I sat and listened to the party noises in the other part of the house we were in. To people laughing. I wiped my eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. I thought of the words he’d used earlier. How they filled me up and made me feel wanted and alive. But how, when he pushed his way inside me, he emptied me out again.

  Pretty soon Corinne found me. She asked if I was all right. She wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know all the details. “Far, farther, or farthest?” she kept asking.

  She giggled when I told her farthest. She jumped up and down on the bed.

  “Tell me what it was like!”

  But I couldn’t. I wanted to be able to tell her it was the way it was supposed to be. Special. But it wasn’t. And I couldn’t lie. So I just shrugged and said I’d tell her later.

  When I got home and changed, I saw the blood on my panties. I was afraid something was wrong with me. I called Corinne the next morning. She said that happens when you do it the first time. Her sister told her about it. Ava said that in some cultures, they check the wedding couple’s sheets for blood to prove that the bride was a virgin. I couldn’t stop thinking about that. About someone else seeing my blood. And knowing what I’d done.

  I didn’t know what to do with my bloody panties. I folded them into a tight ball and hid them way back in my underwear drawer where I couldn’t see them.

  The second time, I should have known. I should have recognized the familiar lies.

  You’re so hot. I have to have you. C’mon . . .

  And the third time.

  And the fourth.

  Their hands felt so good, wanting me. Needing me. Their words made me feel beautiful. Irresistible. Even powerful for that one brief moment before it was over.

  But I was none of those things.

  I was nothing.

  Just a smell on their hands to share with their friends.

  “CALEB?” Corinne pushes her way toward me through the crowded hallway at school. When she catches up, she gives me a quick semi-smile.

  “Hey,” I say, grinning back at her.

  “Hey. Thanks for hanging out with me at the park the other night.”

  It’s just before first period, but her hair is already falling out of her hair clip. Loose curls are wispy around her face. I can’t believe I never noticed how cute she is.

  “No problem,” I say. “Not that I was the best company.”

  “Well, it was nice not to be alone.” She looks at her feet, then down the hall toward our homeroom.

  When our eyes meet again, I take a deep breath. “Um. So. Maybe we could go again sometime.”

  She nods. “Yeah. Cool.”

  “Great!” I feel my cheeks get hot. “I mean. OK. Good.”

  Ugh.

  I follow her to homeroom. When we get there, Corinne sits at her usual place next to Ellie, and I sit in my usual place in the back. From my seat, I watch them lean toward each other to talk. Corinne reaches over and touches Ellie’s arm, as if she’s trying to comfort her, but Ellie pulls away. When she turns, I see her face. She looks like she’s going to cry. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I think I can guess.

  I don’t see Josh until last period, when we have soccer. I manage to avoid him in the locker room because we’re all in a hurry to get out on the floor before the coach
comes in and starts yelling at us.

  We get put on the same scrimmage team, but I refuse to pass to him. I don’t even look at him.

  After practice, I try to get out of there fast, but he comes rushing over to me.

  “What was wrong with you out there? You cost us two goals!”

  I turn away from him and throw my stuff together.

  “Hey, what’s your problem, man?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “Not here.”

  “Yeah, here. What’s up with you?”

  The other guys wait for a fight like vultures. Only Dave seems uncomfortable. The three of us have known each other forever, and we’ve never gotten in each other’s faces. Never.

  “I said not here.” I turn away from him and grab my bag.

  “Party at my house this weekend,” Kyle says, walking over to Josh.

  “Cool,” says Dave.

  “Gonna hook up with Ellie again, Josh?” Ben asks.

  “Nah,” Josh says quietly.

  Dave looks toward me. “Cay?”

  “Screw you,” I say.

  “What the hell? What did I say?”

  I grab my stuff and push past them and head out to the parking lot. I’m halfway to my car when Josh catches up.

  “Hey!”

  I don’t turn around.

  He steps in front of me and blocks my way. “What’s your problem?”

  His chest is in my face.

  “What happened to you?” I say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and Ellie? Come on, Josh. You’re not like those assholes. Why do you have to talk about her like she’s a piece of meat?”

  “What? I don’t! I just — c’mon, Cay. You know it’s just bullshit. Those guys have been on my case for months.”

  “So you screw Ellie just so you can get those guys off your back?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean, then?”

  “I don’t know! God, Cay. What do you care?”

  I shake my head. “Just forget it.”

  “No way! You started this.”

  “Fine, then tell me what really happened with Ellie.”

  “You know what happened.”

  “Not the details. I mean, what happened between you two?”

  He sighs. “Nothing. We did it. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  He looks around to make sure no one can hear. “Yeah. I mean, maybe it wasn’t as great as I let on, all right? It was my first time. Why do you care so much, anyway?”

  “We’ve known Ellie since, like, first grade, you know? The way you guys talk about her . . . it’s not cool.”

  “I know,” he says quietly. “I don’t mean it. I just can’t tell them what it was really like.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it sucked? I dunno. I was clueless. As soon as it was over, I took off.”

  “Damn, Josh. What the hell?”

  “I know I’m a shit, OK? What else do you want? I screwed up.”

  His eyes are glassy, like he might actually cry.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Forget it. Just — shut up about her from now on, all right?”

  “Yeah, man. OK.”

  “You want a ride?”

  He heads to the passenger side of my car without answering and gets in.

  We drive toward his house without talking. Josh turns up the stereo and pretends to be into the music, but he seems nervous to me. Like he’s thinking about what happened that night. Like he can’t get it out of his mind.

  I MARK ANOTHER BLACK DOT on my calendar. A speck on the white square that only I would notice. Twenty-eight days from the last day it should have come. Three months in a row. I touch the dot with my finger. It smudges on the glossy calendar paper and onto my fingertip.

  Downstairs, my mother is making breakfast. The dishes clink softly. She’s humming, as if everything is fine.

  I start downstairs, but the smell of scrambled eggs sends me rushing to the bathroom. There isn’t much to throw up. My mouth tastes sour after, and the smell makes me retch again. But there’s nothing left inside me. I splash cold water on my face and bury it in a washcloth.

  Corinne said she would go with me to buy a test. To be sure. But I told her I am sure. She said she’ll help me find a place to go to take care of it. That we can take a bus to the city if we have to. She says her sister will help us. Ava knows what to do. And she thinks Josh will pay. But I don’t want Ava to know. I don’t want Josh to know. No one can know.

  I brush my teeth and go back to my room. I shut the door. Shut out the smells and my mother’s happy breakfast noises as she gets ready to fill us up on scrambled eggs and whole-wheat toast with jam. All our lives, she’s tried to stuff us with her goodness. So why have I always felt so empty?

  Way back in my underwear drawer, I reach for them. The white cotton panties I wore that first time. I carefully unfold them, like a flower opening up. But inside is the dried-up blood that proved it was my first time. It looks brownish now, and ugly. Not like a flower at all. I refold them and push them back to their hiding spot.

  I don’t know why I have to look. I don’t know why I keep them.

  “Breakfast! You’ll be late if you all don’t get down here now!” my mom half sings, like an orange-juice-commercial mom.

  My brother’s heavy footsteps thud down the carpeted stairs. My father mutters something about college behind him. His steps are quiet and careful in his dress shoes.

  “Won’t have anyone to cook for you next year,” he jokes to my brother. He’s so proud, or maybe just relieved, that Luke is applying to colleges. Luke probably rolls his eyes when my father isn’t looking. He’s probably stoned already. I think I smelled his sweet smoke when I woke up. The smell my parents are too naïve to know is not incense. Luke thinks it’s funny, how clueless they are.

  I wait in my room, afraid that if I open my door the kitchen smell will be stronger and I’ll be sick again. Just hang on, I tell myself. It will be over soon. Corinne will help me.

  “Ellie, you’re late! Hurry up!”

  I can’t imagine what she’d do if she knew just how late I was. That I have shattered her good-girl dreams for me.

  I’m not angry. I’m disappointed, I can hear her say if she found out. We don’t get angry in this house. Especially not my mom.

  And that is so much worse.

  So all I can do is scream into my pillow at night so no one can hear. I pound my fists into the soft down as hard as I can.

  I take one more deep breath, wipe my face again, and walk downstairs, as if nothing is wrong. Just me running late.

  IT’S RAINING; IT’S POURING. THE OLD MAN IS SNORING.

  I hear my own kid voice in my head as I listen to him out there, sleeping on the living-room couch. Again.

  He says the winter depresses him. No one gets their car detailed in the winter, so he has to get by working extra hours on the regular fix-it tune-up stuff, which I know makes him feel like a loser because it’s not “artistic” like the painting stuff is. And really he probably is daydreaming about getting “real” music gigs instead of playing in a men’s club to a bunch of guys trying to escape from their wives or their lives or whatever.

  One time, when my dad and mom were actually going out someplace together, my dad came into my room and asked me to check to see if I could smell any gas or grease on him. With the amount of Old English he’d slapped on, I don’t think anyone would have known if he’d stepped in dog shit, which would have been a funny thing to say to him, if he hadn’t looked so nervous.

  My mom doesn’t help, getting her nurse’s degree and making my dad feel dumb. Not that she did it on purpose, but I think he feels like now she’s better than him. Sometimes I catch him scowling at the bookshelf he made for all of her nursing books. When he finished, he was so proud of how it came out. But my mom shook it a little to test how sturdy it was. Then she said she hoped it could hold all her heavy books.
I saw my dad kind of sag when she said that.

  The snores stop, and he coughs a few times. The couch creaks. Then the snores start up again, quiet at first, then loud and steady. Rosie’s collar jingles as she resettles on the couch next to him.

  I have to get out of here.

  I grab my coat and head for the door, but just as I get there, the phone rings. I grab it before my dad can wake up.

  “Stud-man! We’re on our way over.” Dave’s voice is crackly on his crappy cell phone. I swear he got it out of a cereal box.

  “Your old man got any beer lying around?”

  “Is the pope Catholic?”

  “Be there in five.”

  I head back to my room and throw my coat on the bed. So much for escaping.

  When Dave and Caleb get here, they don’t bother to knock. As soon as I hear the front door creak open, I head out to meet them and warn them to be quiet. They creep through the living room past my dad. Dave points at my dad and pretends to guzzle a drink. He elbows Caleb and covers his mouth to keep from laughing. But Caleb looks away and pretends he doesn’t notice.

  I jerk my head toward the kitchen, and they follow without talking. Rosie lifts her head from the foot of the couch and sniffs the air. Her tail thumps a few times. Then she puts her head back down on my dad’s feet. She never leaves his side, especially when the old man’s catching z’s. My dad used to joke that Rosie was more loyal to him than my mom, but he stopped saying that when it started to seem true.

  In the kitchen I get us each a Bud, and we head to my room.

  Dave dumps himself on my bed and of course sticks those damn shoes of his right near my pillow. I know he thinks this is funny. I swat them off and motion for him to shove over so I can sit at that end. Caleb slides the chair out from my desk and sits there like he’s gonna interview us or something. We don’t start talking until we’ve had a few chugs each.

  “Something bugging you, man?” I say to Dave. “You’ve got about five new volcanoes going there.” Whenever he’s stressed out he gets these huge zits, which, being Dave, he can’t help picking.