Crank (16 page)

You aren't doing drugs, are you?

* *

What was I supposed to do--

admit it? I shook my head in hearty denial.

I

know adolescence is a time

for experimentation...

* *

Oh, yes, he knew. And my mom did

too. Dad told me all about how they

used to get high together.

but I hope you'll think twice before

you do. You've got a lot to lose.

* *

I bit my lip, filled my eyes with innocence, let it encourage tears.

"I know, Scott. I promise to think twice."

385

He

Talked at Me Awhile Longer

I smiled, nodded, apologized for my foul temper and angry

words, protested when it seemed I ought to and somehow managed to avoid

GUFN.

* *

When he left, I patted myself on the back for a game well played, snitched open the door and tiptoed down the hall to eavesdrop on the kitchen

conversation.

* *

Mom and Scott believed

they'd bitten the bullet.

Little did they know

I hadn't yet fired off the full

round.

386

T

he Next Few Days

went by in a smoky, crank-scented haze.

Robyn came through, big time. Her eight ball

looked closer to the real

deal, so I was generous with her finder's fee.

We got to be good friends.

* *

I would toot a line before school, hook up with Robyn at lunch, hop into her car for a taste of tinfoil and tobacco chaser.

stumble into classes

talkative and glassy-eyed.

* *

And just to make things

interesting, I took up part-time residence on The Avenue.

387

Other schools have them too.

You know, designated

smoking areas for kids who aren't supposed to smoke.

* *

My new friends and I were far enough gone not to care that teachers cruised by us Avenue bums, researching

potential troublemakers.

Hedging my bets, I did insist on one thing: out there on The Avenue, everyone called me Bree.

388

I

Gave Up the Bus

in favor of rides with Robyn, with a detour or two along the way to indulge in some Homework Helper.

(Like it really helped!)

* *

A couple of afternoons she had cheerleading practice.

(How could she do back flips and cartwheels without killing herself?)

* *

Those days, Chase came by to take me home and stop by the park for a good long

make-out session.

* *

I invited him to share my stash.

He took a snort or two, but declined the tinfoil routine.

389

I let him get away with it the first time.

On his second refusal,

I asked why not.

* *

He shrugged.

* *

I've set boundaries.

390

I Meant

to analyze

Chase's limits

that very weekend, to learn

just how far

I could stretch

him at the edges, to judge

how wide

I might warp his self-imposed

morality.

Don't ask me

why I felt the incredible need to test

this person that

meant so very

much to me, to fathom his most

personal thoughts, coolly dissect his psyche.

391

I only know it was on the table for that Saturday until fate intervened.

392

O

kay, the Air Races Intervened

September is Air Race month in Northern Nevada--four

fabulous days of warbirds, jets, and homebuilt aircraft, racing wingtip to wingtip, balls out, around pylons.

* *

It's a must-see event, and we'd made it a family event

every single year since Jake was a tiny baby, snoozing

soundly in his stroller, despite ear-splitting military flybys.

* *

We always went on weekends and I always begged for more, so it would have looked pretty

damn suspicious to say I didn't

want to go. Besides, I did want to go. I just wanted to go high.

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So when Mom reminded us at dinner that we'd have to get up early and dress in layers, I

cleared my throat as if to protest.

Instead I asked if I could invite

My friend Robyn to come along.

* *

Again, I'd made the perfect

preemptory strike. Mom was so happy I would participate without incident that she not

only gave her blessing, but let me ride in Robyn's car.

394

Robyn Was Game

Scott's company had box seats and plenty of tickets. Robyn got

comp tix, with a can't-beat view.

But that was only for starters.

You bet I'll go. Those flyboys

are soooooo cute!

* *

You can guess what we did on the drive north of town. We

arrived, diamond-eyed, behind dark sunglasses.

Aviator glasses. Ha! Hope those

pilots aren't as wired as I am.

* *

I hoped so, too. We sauntered down the flight line in tight

jeans and tiny tank tops, turning

more than a few heads.

You'd think they'd never seen girls

before. Maybe they think we're lezes.

* *

You thought I was a vamp!

I couldn't come close to

Robyn. Even Bree had to work hard to keep up.

395

Wanna give 'em a show?

Have you ever kissed a girl?

* *

The only girls I'd ever kissed were relatives, and only lip-to-cheek.

Lip locking another female? Never!

And in public? No way!

Come on. It's just for fun. Promise

not to slip you the tongue.

* *

OMG. If I hadn't been so wound, I would have died on the spot.

Instead, I jumped right into

Robyn's shameless game.

396

Wolf

Whistles

made me pull away, completely red-faced, but LMAO.

* *

(You do know what that means, right?)

* *

Okay, my a-double-s was still

attached, but I couldn't

quit laughing.

* *

(In retrospect, it wasn't

that

funny.)

* *

At the time, it seemed like the funniest thing

I'd ever done.

* *

(What's the funniest thing you've ever done?)

* *

Don't get me wrong.

I'm completely hetero, and that experience proved it to me.

397

(I decided that later, when I had much too much

time on my hands to think about such things.)

* *

But seeing the look on people's faces--some

horrified, some fascinated--

made my day.

* *

(How would you look, seeing two

pretty teenaged girls making out, right there on the tarmac?)

398

We

Found Our Box

took seats behind Mom, Scott,

Jake, and a couple of guys Scott

worked with. Robyn nudged me as Mom leaned over, showing off cleavage to the cute young blond.

He took a good, long look, then

whispered something no doubt funny and off-color into Mom's ear. She

giggled and flirted and carried on like Scott wasn't even there.

* *

Worse yet, Scott pretended not to notice. Or maybe, tied up in conversation about the latest

microchip technology stocks, he in fact didn't notice. He turned the tables nicely when his boss and Mrs. Boss (in a very short

skirt) joined the lineup. My parents

set an extremely poor example for us impressionable (ha ha) kids.

399

Good thing Jake wasn't sitting behind them. Clueless, he

ooh

ed at every aerial maneuver. Robyn and I observed the whole show

(including the terrestrial maneuvers in our box) with pure enjoyment. It's

always great to watch the world's

best pilots fly, and better yet to see

adults behave like juvenile delinquents.

400

Th

ree Races

and two stunt performances

later, Robyn and I excused

ourselves for a trip to the outhouse. We hustled off to the car to

"powder our noses," then hurried to pee before we were missed.

* *

As we headed back to our seats, a familiar form came striding in our direction. Brendan.

Attached, as if sewn on, was a girl, not more than 14, with a fashion doll body and child actress face.

* *

Her shorts, cut high on the thigh and low on the hips, revealed a stud in her navel. I thought about turning around or ducking into the swirling crowd but without warning,

Bree took over. "Hey, Brendan!

401

Great to see you again," she gushed.

"Raped any schoolgirls lately?"

He maintained his frosty cool as he leveled his eyes.

Can't rape the willing.

"That's what I've heard." I turned to his sidekick.

"How about you? Are you willing?"

* *

Still locked to Brendan, she quite obviously

deflated, and her face paled beneath an overdose of cover-up and cheap blush.

"Well, have fun you two. Don't do anything

I wouldn't do." I started away, calling over my shoulder, "Watch your back, Barbie doll."

402

Robyn Wanted the Whole Story

I told her, then she shared her own sordid tale:

* *

I

started crankin' to keep up with schoolwork

around gymnastics, cheerleading, student

council, and other extracurricular crap.

* *

You'd be surprised how many brownnosers

get high, and with so much around, I thought it

would always be easy to score. Sometimes it goes dry.

* *

During one particular drought spell, I was hurtin'

for certain, and went looking for a new source.

Found him in a casino arcade, cruising for fresh meat.

* *

He flashed a bindle and I followed him out to his car.

I still can't believe I was stupid enough to get inside.

He drove east of town, all the way out in the desert past Mustang.

* *

After a couple of snorts, he was all hands, all over me.

When I told him to stop, he said, "It's a long walk back,

even if you don't get lost. Anyway, we both know what kind

of a girl you are."

403

That stung, but not much. All I could do was ask for

more

crank so maybe I could halfway enjoy it. I didn't. He

was dirty.

Smelly, like he hadn't showered in days.

And after he started, he got mean.

* *

He did things to me

--

terrible things, I've still got the

scars--

things no sane person would ever do. Of course,

he wasn't exactly sane.

Afterward, neither was I.

404

N

ow, You Might Think

an experience like that

would serve as a stern

warning, make a person

do a quick about-face and sprint in the other direction.

* *

Didn't happen like that for Robyn.

* *

Didn't happen like that for me.

405

Before I Met the Monster

Life had a certain

rhythm.

An easy

downhill

flow.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, a segue of perpetual

motion.

Everything in its proper

place, at its proper

time.

Morning alarms, kitchen clatter, bus gears, school bells, teacher talk.

Locker clang, hallway

laughter, slamming

doors.

After-school

queries,

406

homework, music,

TV.

Contentment

thrived in repetition, routine, familiarity.

407

B

ut

Now

Nothing

felt

right

nothing

seemed

proper

but

getting

out, getting

away, getting

crazy, getting

high.

408

P

roblem Number One: School

Getting up in the morning, was it only moments after finally falling into a state of semisleep?

* *

Finding clean clothes

(I was supposed to put my dirties in the laundry room, but who could remember?)

* *

Sucking down coffee, nibbling a half cup of honey-sweetened corn flakes for a slight rush of caffeine and carbs.