Going Under (9 page)

“Hallelujah,” I mumbled, watching him drive
away.

***

“
I have the perfect guy for you,” I said
in a singsong voice.

“
Oh jeez,” Beth replied. “Brooke, it’s
time you face the truth. You’re not the best matchmaker.”

“
Okay, Kevin was all wrong, I admit,” I
said.

“
And Jason,” Beth said.

I shrugged.

“
And Andrew and Ian.”

“
Oh my God. Okay already!”

Beth giggled.

“
I’m telling you that this guy is the
one.”

Beth sighed. “Describe.”

“
Okay. So his name is Finn, and he goes
to my school, and he’s really tall and plays lacrosse.”

“
What does he look like?” Beth
asked.

“
I’m getting to that. Chill,” I said.
“He’s got blond hair and brown eyes.”

Beth scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know if
I like that combo.”

“
What are you talking about? Sandy hair
and dark eyes? It’s totally hot,” I argued.

“
Whatever,” she said. “Continue.”

“
And he goes to church,” I said.

“
So what? That makes him a good guy or
something?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe,” I said.

“
Hold up. Why would you even bring up the
whole church thing?”

“
What do you mean?” I asked.

Beth’s face lit up with realization. “You
think I’m a whore!”

“
What?!”

“
You want me to date this church guy
because you think I’m a whore!”

“
Oh my God, Beth. What have you been
smoking?” I asked.

She laughed and shook her head. “So what?
He’s gonna convert me or something? Make me a good girl again? I
think I remember you being the one who lost your virginity at
fifteen. Not me. At least I waited until last year.”

I bristled. First off, I never lost my
virginity at fifteen. I lied about it because I was tired of being
the only virgin Beth and I knew. Yes, there’s just as much pressure
for a girl to lose it as there is for a guy. Second, Beth had a lot
of nerve comparing my sexual past with hers. Maybe she waited until
she was seventeen, but in those ten months since she lost her
virginity, she had slept with four guys.

“
Go ahead and say it,” Beth said. “I can
see it written all over your face anyway.”

“
You’re sleeping with too many guys,
Beth,” I blurted. “It doesn’t . . . look good.” I averted my
eyes.

Beth was quiet for a moment.

“
Why can a guy sleep around and it gives
him this awesome reputation, but when a girl does it, she’s a
freaking slut?” she asked finally.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the world we
live in, I guess. Some things will never be fair.” I glanced at
Beth, trying to find the courage to ask. She sat on the edge of the
bed, staring at her open palms, and I wondered if she was trying to
read them. “Why have you slept with four guys, Beth?” I asked, and
then added quickly, “And I’m not trying to sound judgmental.”

“
What if I told you that I just like
having sex?” she asked.

I grinned. “That’s really the reason?”

“
Yeah, that’s really the reason,” Beth
replied. “And so I guess that makes me a whore.”

“
Stop calling yourself a whore. You’re
not a whore,” I replied.

“
You know, it’s funny,” Beth said. “Guys
want a ‘good girl’ who’s pure and sweet and inexperienced, but then
he expects her to be this rock star in bed. It’s totally messed up.
It’s a standard no girl can live up to.”

“
Who cares what guys think?” I
said.

“
You do,” Beth replied. “And I do,
too.”

I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like it
because it was true. I did care what guys thought about me. That’s
why I worked hard to be pretty, to have a fun personality, to come
across virginal (because I was anyway) and sweet and kind.
Especially kind, and especially kind to other girls. I never wanted
to be that bitchy girl who treated other girls like shit. I didn’t
think most guys liked that anyway. They wanted someone with a kind
heart, and even if I had to fake it, I would to find my perfect
boyfriend. I hadn’t found him yet, but I knew he was out there.

“
Did you give him my number?” Beth
asked.

“
Who?”

“
This Finn guy. Did you give him my
number?”

“
Would you be pissed if I did?” I
asked.

“
I guess not,” Beth replied. She walked
over to her closet and started rifling through her clothes. “I
guess I have to wear something conservative on our date, huh? Since
he’s a church guy and all.”

I rolled my eyes. “I said he went to church.
I didn’t say he was the youth pastor.”

“
I’m feeling kind of nervous about this,”
Beth admitted. “What if I come across all
prostitute-in-Proverbs-with-the-spiced-sheets girl?”

“
That’s what you remember from youth
group? I asked.

“
Whatever.”

“
Beth, he’s just a nice guy. I’m sorry I
even brought up the church thing. You’re freaking out about it,” I
said.

We were silent for a moment.

“
Is it my fault?” I asked quietly. “Did I
make you feel badly for sleeping with four guys? I didn’t mean to,
Beth.”

“
No,” Beth said. “No, Brooke. It’s not
you. It’s just the world we live in, right?” Her mouth quirked up
into a grin.

I grinned back. “Trust me. You’re gonna love
him.”

Six

“So, what do you think?” Gretchen asked.

“About what?” I replied.

We were sitting in the food court at
Crabtree Valley Mall drinking strawberry smoothies from Orange
Julius.

“The party tonight! God, you’re so spacey
sometimes.”

“I don’t want to go to a party,” I said.

“Brooke, you’re really starting to get on my
nerves,” Gretchen said. “Your whole life is becoming school and
work. You’ve got no friends besides me. You’ve got no boyfriend
because you’re too chickenshit to talk to that beautiful Ryan guy.
And you’d rather go to dinner with your dad tonight than come with
me to an awesome party.”

I forced a smile. “Gosh, you really have a
way of making a girl feel good about herself.” I slurped my
drink.

“Brookey! I don’t want to go alone!”

“Then don’t go,” I said. “Look, I promised
my dad we’d go to dinner tonight. I haven’t lived with my dad in
years. Hell, I don’t even know the man. Is it okay with you that I
spend a little time with him? Jeez, you’re so selfish, Beth.”

Gretchen’s head snapped up. “What did you
say?”

“I said you’re selfish,” I replied.

“No no, after that,” Gretchen said.

“Huh?”

“You called me ‘Beth’.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did, Brooke. You called me
‘Beth’,” Gretchen said, eyeing me suspiciously.

I didn’t remember calling Gretchen “Beth.”
But I must have. Gretchen’s face told me so.

“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked. “Is this
why your life blows right now? You still feel guilty so you think
you’re not allowed to have friends or a boyfriend or go out and
have fun?”

“No,” I replied. I felt suddenly
defensive.

“Well, that’s what it looks like to me,”
Gretchen said. And then she lit up like a realization smacked her
square in the face. “Are you dreaming about Beth?”

“No,” I lied. I wasn’t going to tell her
that every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed of Beth or Finn. I
wasn’t going to tell her that I woke up most mornings caked with
sweat. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that my nightmare last
night was so intense I fell out of the bed.

Gretchen tried for patience. “Beth is
gone.”

“I know that!” I snapped.

I didn’t resist when Gretchen took my hand.
“I’m not trying to sound mean when I say that. But she’s gone,
Brooke. And she wouldn’t want you to live like this. Punishing
yourself.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” I argued.

“When you don’t allow yourself to have a
life, that’s punishing yourself,” Gretchen said.

“I have a life,” I said. “I just can’t tell
you about it.”

Goddamnit. Why did I say that?

“What are you talking about?” Gretchen
asked. She looked worried.

“Nothing. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Bullshit. Don’t play games with me, Brooke.
What am I not supposed to know?”

I looked at Gretchen’s heart-shaped face
framed by thick locks of dark brown hair. Her brown eyes bore into
me, and I almost caved. The girl in me wanted to confess everything
right then and there. Tell her about Beth’s rape. Tell her about
Cal and my plans to expose him for the monster he was. The girl in
me wanted to confess because it was torture keeping secrets, and
girls like to talk. I’m no exception. But the tiny little wise
woman in me knew it would be a horrible mistake. The wise woman
said, “Brooke, Gretchen runs her mouth.”

“Okay, maybe I’m having a bit of a hard
time,” I said. “I still feel guilty about Beth. And Finn came to
see me at the diner the other night and we ended up kissing.”

Gretchen’s eyes went wide. “Are you freaking
kidding me?”

“I know!” I said. “But I stopped it. And
then I hit him and told him he was a piece of shit and we were
over.”

Gretchen’s body filled to the brim with
pride. I could see it bursting out of her eyes and her enormous
smile.

“You are
kickass
!” she squealed.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Were you ever planning on telling me this?”
Gretchen asked.

“I told you now,” I said.

“Yeah, but that’s because I caught you.”

“I would have told you,” I said. “I was just
ashamed about the kissing part.”

“He’s such a jerk. Why the hell would he
think you’d want to get together with him?”

“Beats me,” I said, finishing my drink.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finished with him,”
Gretchen said. “This is a good step in the recovery process,
Brookey.”

I smirked. “I imagine you’ll make a fine
psychologist someday.”

“Get real. I’m totally doing make-up for
celebrities,” Gretchen replied.

I laughed.

“And I’m sorry about giving you a hard time
about hanging out with your dad. That wasn’t right.”

“No big deal,” I replied.

“But if you change your mind about the
party, I think some guys from your school are gonna be there. Don’t
know if you know them, but I think they’re on the swim team or
something.”

My heart clenched immediately. “Who?”

“I don’t know their names,” Gretchen said.
“I just know they have a reputation for being pretty hot.”

That meant Gretchen would make a beeline for
them, flirt it up and possibly let one of them put his hands on
her. She was too generous with her breasts, and the amount of boys
who’d seen them and touched them was in the double digits. I
couldn’t let that number climb any higher, not when I suspected the
worst of the swim team members.

“When’s the party?” I asked.

Gretchen cocked her head. “So now you want
to go? Five minutes ago you were all about spending quality time
with your dad, and now you want to go? What? You got a crush on one
of them?”

“No, I don’t have a crush. I was just
curious what time the party was,” I said.

“I don’t know. I’m not planning on getting
there until eleven or so,” Gretchen replied.

“Don’t go without me,” I blurted. It came
out sounding like a warning.

“What is up with you?” Gretchen asked.

“I just want to go, okay?” I said. “You’re
right. I need to stop moping and being antisocial and all that.
Just promise me you’ll wait for me. I’ll go with you after I have
dinner with my dad.”

“That’s fine,” Gretchen said. “But I still
think you’ve got a crush you’re not telling me about.”

I convinced myself that Cal wasn’t the only
predator, not after overhearing the conversation in the stairwell.
The swim team was up to something. Maybe not all of them, but some
of them were participating in a devious game. A sex club, Gregory
said. And the slightly paranoid part of me thought they were
showing up at this party to find girls. Victims. And there was no
way I was letting Gretchen go alone. I made that mistake with Beth
and paid the ultimate price.

I sat in the restaurant feeling antsy and
irritable.

“So Pam says the customer expects a solution
tomorrow, and I’d like to know who she thinks is going into the
office on a Saturday morning,” Dad said. “If the customer hadn’t
screwed up the device after we told them specifically not to
activate it until clearance from the engineers, there wouldn’t be
an issue.” He shoved the pizza in his mouth.

I nodded, having no idea what he was talking
about. My mind was on other things. It raced with thoughts of swim
team members snaking their way through the crowded party, brushing
past girls and letting their hands graze intimate body parts.

“Am I boring you?” I heard Dad ask.

“No,” I lied. “I’m totally listening.”

Dad chuckled. “Why?”

I laughed. “Because you’re paying for
dinner.”

“Cute,” he replied. “You get that smartass
sense of humor from your mother, you know.”

I shrugged and watched Dad’s face fall. Any
time either one of us mentioned my mother, he turned sullen or
serious. I didn’t want to go there with him tonight. We were at a
pizza joint, after all.

“Dad, when was the last time you had a
date?” I asked.

He jerked his head up, glaring at me.

“Whoa, it was just a question,” I said. I
took another bite of my calzone.