Going Under (8 page)

I was on the last stair heading for the
first floor hallway when I heard the door to the top floor open and
a chorus of hushed voices talking in urgent whispers. My instinct
was to move quickly and soundlessly under the stairs, so that’s
what I did.

I heard a deep male voice. “Is anyone in
here?”

I remained silent.

There was a brief pause before the low
talking resumed.

“Dude, we can totally trust him. He wants
in,” the same deep male voice said.

“How’d he even find out?” another asked. “I
didn’t tell him. Are you running your mouth?”

“No, man. He found that slip of paper with
your name on it.”

“What the hell? I told you we shouldn’t draw
names at school.”

I couldn’t make out how many boys there
were, but it sounded like three. Possibly four.

“Dude, it was convenient. No one could meet
outside of school,” the first boy said.

A new voice piped up. “When are you sending
us the score sheet?”

“Fuck the score sheet. We’re not talking
about the score sheet right now. I wanna know what Aaron knows,”
the second boy said.

“I only told him that it’s a secret club,
and that we’d have to discuss his initiation,” the first boy
replied.

“Well, if he wants in so bad, he can go fuck
that sophomore virgin on the cheerleading squad. Then we’ll
talk.”

A few chuckles.

“Man, her ass is so round and perfect. She’s
hot.”

“How do you know she’s a virgin?”

“I’ve got a spy. Anyway, I’ll have to think
about it. I don’t know about Aaron. There’s something about him
that rubs me wrong.”

“Maybe the fact that his swim times are
better than yours?”

“Screw you, man.”

“I’m only joking. Look, I know you’re all
concerned about people finding out, but I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t
bring his name up if I didn’t think we could trust him.”

“It’s Cameron, right? She’s your spy?”

“Dude, shut up.”

“Parker, when are you sending the score
sheet? I’ve got a date this weekend.”

“Man, stop deleting shit from your email.
I’ll send it when I send it.”

“
I’ll
send it,” the first boy
said.

“So it’s Cameron, right?”

“Shut up! Everyone just shut the hell up!
Let me sort this out.” It sounded like Parker’s voice. “You know,
it really pissed me off when Cal put me in charge of all this
shit.”

I listened as they walked down the stairs
and shuffled into the first floor hallway. I took a deep breath.
Secret club. Score sheet. Initiation. Sex with a virgin
.
What the hell was going on? And who could I talk to about it?

I crept out from under the stairs and pushed
open the door leading to the first floor hallway.

“Parker, grab mine, too!”

I bumped into Parker, who was headed back
into the stairwell, and he glared at me, shocked. Then his face
changed from shock to agitation and suspicion. Shit. I don’t think
I put enough time between our exits!

He pushed past me and headed up the stairs,
leaving me to wonder if I’d been found out and if my plan had just
been thwarted.

***

If I thought I could go the rest of my life
without seeing Finn again, I was living in a fantasy world. He
attended my old high school, so at least I didn’t have to see him
on a regular basis. But I worked at a fairly popular diner
frequented by people from all over town. He was tactful enough to
steer clear of my house, but I knew eventually he’d find out where
I worked and show up, all under the guise of simply wanting to
eat.

It was a slow Tuesday night, and I was on
the verge of asking my manager if I could go home. Amanda, another
waitress, wanted my section to try and make a little more money,
and I was happy to accommodate her. I was too distracted anyway.
All I could think about the entire evening was the conversation I
overheard in the stairwell.
Secret club. Score sheet.
Initiation. Sex with a virgin.
I kept repeating those words
like a mantra because I didn’t want to forget them. I also thought
that something would magically reveal itself to me if I kept saying
them over and over. I was itching to talk to someone about it, but
I didn’t know who I could trust.

I loved Gretchen with all my heart, but I
could not trust her with this. She knew nothing about Beth’s rape,
and I intended to keep it that way. Beth trusted me with that
information, and I swore to tell no one. Not even her parents,
though it pained me every time I saw her mother. Plus, I knew
Gretchen. She would start a crusade, much like I was doing, except
mine was a crusade of one. She’d want the entire world involved,
and I wasn’t prepared to go there. I wanted to be quiet and wise
about it. She’d blow the whole thing with her loud mouth.

“You’ve got someone at Table 2,” Amanda
said.

I peered over to my table and instinctively
balled my hands into fists. Amanda saw.

“You want me to take him?” she asked.

I shook my head. “You can have the rest, but
I’ve got to take this one. He didn’t come here to eat,” and she
understood completely.

I walked over to Finn and stood silent,
waiting. He looked up at me and smiled.

“You look cute in your uniform,” he
said.

I didn’t reply.

“Jesus, Brooke,” he said. “What do you want
me to say?”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I wanted to see you. I didn’t get a chance
to talk to you at the funeral.”

“You think it would have been wise to talk
to me at the funeral?” I asked.

Finn shook his head. “No, I don’t. But you
just disappeared. It took me forever to find out you hadn’t moved
to California. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t have
to tell you about my life anymore, Finn. We’re over.”

“Look, us being together had nothing to do
with Beth’s suicide,” he snapped.

“Shut your mouth about it,” I hissed.

“You love me, Brooke, but you feel guilty,”
Finn said.

I hung my head. There was a time I thought I
could love Finn. We never said it, and he made me angry when he
brought it up to Beth the afternoon she caught us. But I knew I
could never love him now. There was too much hurt. Too much guilt,
and I couldn’t do that to myself anymore.

I looked at him, taking in his soft blond
hair and brown eyes. He was cute, would always be cute. He’d just
have to go be cute for some other girl.

“I can’t take your order, Finn,” I said
finally.

“I don’t want food. I want you,” he said
softly.

“Please don’t say things like that,” I
pleaded.

“Come home with me, Brooke. We’ll just talk.
That’s all we’ll do.”

I felt the pull for a fraction of a second,
my body leaning into him remembering his mouth, his hands, all the
ways he touched me just right. But that’s all it ever was, just
touching. It was an instant revelation. No love. Just touching, and
it was easy to back away.

“No, Finn.”

He looked at me with sad eyes. “You break my
heart, Brooke.”

I shrugged and walked to the kitchen,
passing by Amanda.

“He’s yours,” I said, but Finn had already
left the table.

I don’t know why I dragged my feet about
going home. I hung around the dirty dishes instead, watching
Gregory load the machine with glasses and plates. Gregory was a
student at Wake Technical Community College with ambitions to be a
rock star. He played the drums, and from what I heard, he sucked at
it. He was the dishwasher who yelled at me my first night, and
unlike Terry, he never apologized. I thought he was a tool, and
then I realized a tool was exactly the kind of guy I needed to talk
to. I could trust him with the information because he wouldn’t
care.

“What do you want?” Gregory asked, not
looking at me. He continued shoving plates in the washer.

“I gotta question for you,” I replied.

“Well, I may or may not have an answer,” he
said.

I gave him an even look. Okay, I had a few
questions for him.

“Why do you dislike me?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Why are girls so
self-absorbed? I don’t dislike you. I don’t think anything about
you at all.” He looked at me, his facial expression asking, “What
else?”

I blinked, then smirked. “Were the popular
girls mean to you in high school?” I should have kept that smartass
question to myself as I watched Gregory load a handful of knives
into the dishwasher.

He paused and cocked his head, considering
me. Then his mouth turned up into a smirk that matched my own.
“Actually no. I fucked every one of them.”

I dismissed him with an eye roll. “Okay,
whatever. If you overheard a bunch of guys talking about secret
clubs and score sheets and having sex with virgins, what would you
make of it?”

He screwed up his face in thought.

“Just a hypothetical question,” I added.

“Well, I think you’re talking about some
kind of sex club,” he said.

“That much I figured,” I replied. “But score
sheets?”

“Maybe they score the girls. How should I
know?”

“You mean, like, how good they are in
bed?”

“Yeah. Maybe they score the girls on their
sex acts.”

“Have you ever heard of anything like this?”
I asked.

“No, but then again, I don’t immerse myself
in the kinky sex culture that you apparently do,” he sneered.

“Screw you. It was a question.”

“Go away, Brooklyn. I have work to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Thanks for your help.”

On my way out, I waved goodbye to Terry, who
asked why I wasn’t going to hang around after work and drink with
him. I headed for the parking lot.

It was instant irritation—seeing Finn. I
thought he’d gone home, but apparently he was waiting for me. What
if I had to work the entire evening? Was he planning to hang around
my car for hours?

I walked over to him. “Finn—”

He cut me off with a kiss. My instinct was
to draw back and slap him. But I didn’t. And I didn’t feel any of
the things I should have felt: outrage, shock, shame. Instead, I
let him kiss me, standing there like a statue, trying to remain
emotionally disconnected from it. That didn’t last long, and that’s
when I should have pulled away.

I pressed my lips to him harder, and he took
it as a silent invitation to open my mouth with his tongue. It was
all so familiar, sensual and frightening. I didn’t like how Finn
could make my body respond to him so easily, that I could lose all
resolve to be a better person with his kiss. I felt his arms snake
around my waist, drawing me closer to him, and I slumped against
him, letting him hold me while his mouth continued to explore mine.
Familiar sparks traveled the nerves up and down my legs. They
popped occasionally in various places along my thighs, under my
feet, and I was afraid I’d lose the strength to stand.

Get off, get off!
I screamed inside.
And then Beth’s face flashed inside my brain, and my resolve
resurfaced, fighting my sexual desire. Thank God the resolve
won.

I pushed Finn away. “We can’t,” I
breathed.

“Brooke—”

“We’re horrible people!” I cried.

“What are you talking about?” Finn
asked.

Was he really so stupid or just completely
delusional?

“We treated Beth like shit, Finn! We sneaked
around! We lied to her!”

“You’re right,” Finn replied. “I should have
broken up with her before we got together.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked. I had never asked
him before.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “She started
getting really depressed. I don’t know why, but it seemed wrong to
break up with her when she was like that.”

I knew precisely what he was talking about,
and I knew precisely why Beth was so sad. The heaviest part of my
guilt lay in the fact that Beth revealed her rape to me, trusted me
with the information, trusted me with her vulnerability, and I
continued to sleep with Finn behind her back.

“But it wasn’t fair to you to keep dating
her,” Finn continued.

I looked up sharply. Fair to
me
? He
had a lot of nerve. I recognized my guilt, welcomed it, deserved to
feel like shit, and he wasn’t going to take that away from me.

“What I did was wrong. I hurt my best
friend. No guy is worth that,” I said.

I watched Finn tense. I didn’t mean to be so
insulting, but I knew no other way to get through to him.

“So you walk away from me because of Beth?”
he asked. “She’s dead, Brooke.”

“What are you saying? That we might as well
get together because Beth’s not here to see it? What the hell is
wrong with you?”

“Look, I’m not waiting around forever,
Brooke,” Finn said.

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you felt
nothing when I just kissed you?”

“Sure, I felt something. I felt horny.
That’s it,” I snapped. “I don’t love you, Finn. I cannot be with
you. It’s wrong on so many levels.”

“You’ll continue to fight your attraction to
me because of some dead girl?!”

It was automatic. I swung my hand with all
my might, making contact with the side of Finn’s head. It was a
sloppy hit, somewhere between a slap and a punch, but it was
effective. He grunted and rubbed his temple.

“What the fuck?!”

“You’re a heartless piece of shit!” I
screamed. “She’s not some ‘dead girl’! She was my best friend!”

He stood silently for a moment, rubbing his
head.

“I feel sorry for you, Brooke,” he said.
“You’ll ruin your life because you can’t get past your guilt.”

“Ha! And I suppose by ruining my life you
mean living without you?” I asked. “Don’t worry, Finn. I have no
plans to let you ruin my life.”

“You’ll be sorry, Brooke.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“We’re through. That’s what it means,” he
replied, and started for his car parked a few spaces away.