Punk Like Me (40 page)

That’s Bee. Oh. Wye. Dee
.
Make sure you spell it right when you call Sister Clarence, you know, the principal?” I told her conversationally, then settled back in to get in a good read.

That’s the story that Kerry had heard; it must have made the rounds. I suppose it wasn’t every day that a Hill girl got into something resembling a Þ ght. And by the way? If the girl did call the school, I never heard a thing about it.

“So, you’ve decided you’re gonna be a fuckin’ hero?” Kerry drawled.

Her Þ ngertips glanced along my neck, but I shrugged myself away from her. She was out with my brother, not me, and I wasn’t going to play that game. “Whatever, Kerry,” I answered, irritated. “Look. I don’t

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PUNK LIKE ME

care what you do to me. Don’t hurt my brother, I fuckin’ mean it.” I was dead serious, looking her straight in the eye.

She stared right back, then dropped her gaze. “I get you, Nina, I get you,” she said softly to the ß oor, and then looked back up at me. We watched each other, then she glided into my zone and placed her palm against my chest.

Gently, I took her hand and moved it, and we slowly shufß ed forward in the line for popcorn and soda (extra salt and butter-ß avored oil substance with a Coca-Cola for me, thanks. Accept no substitutes).

“I’m not Nicky,” I reminded her softly, looking down into those cat green eyes, “and you’re out with him tonight.” A decision formed in my head, and I put Kerry’s hand down. I actually backed up a step or, at least, as far as I could without banging into the person behind me.

“I’m going to make this easy on you, babe,” I said seriously, and Kerry turned again to look at my eyes. “You’re out with Nicky, not me. Let’s just put a hold on this whole thing, okay? You Þ gure out what you want, and then we’ll talk about it, okay? I think you’ve got a little too much to deal with.”

Kerry arched an eyebrow at me. “Jealous?” she smirked, and reached a hand up to my collar again.

I deß ected it in irritation. I was starting to get annoyed, I can’t really explain why. But I did seriously check myself for a moment—

was I jealous? “No,” I answered ß atly and honestly. “I’m not that kind of person. I just don’t want your confusion to become my confusion.” We were Þ nally at the front of the line and waiting for the next

“customer service representative.”

“You’re dumping me?” Kerry asked me with surprise and anger in her voice.

I squirmed a bit uncomfortably. This wasn’t really the way I’d planned for the conversation to go, and I deÞ nitely did not want to have it in the crowded concession area.

“Dude,” I said, “we weren’t, you know, it’s just—”

“
Next!
” bellowed the voice of the next friendly and capable counter person, and I was saved from having to answer as Kerry went to place her order.

It was my turn seconds later, down at the other end of the counter, and when I was done, I turned to make my way to the door of the theater. Kerry took a few seconds longer with her order, and I politely

• 259 •

waited for her.

“We’ll talk more about this, after the movie,” Kerry said, peering at me over the huge box of popcorn she had precariously balanced on top of two humongo sodas.

“There’s not a lot to talk about, Maggie, and especially not tonight,” I replied, deliberately using that nickname. I don’t know what made me do that. “We can talk about this some other time.” I turned to grab the door to the auditorium with my free hand when I heard someone call my name.

“Hey, Nina! Glad I found you!”

I turned back and found a pair of smiling brown eyes shining in my direction. Wavy honey blond hair now came past her shoulders, which were covered in a varsity jacket, navy blue wool body and white leather arms, complete with swim insignia and the “C” for captain on the left breast and “Kitt” in script across the left.

“Hey, Fran.” I smiled back.

You didn’t think I was going to ask Samantha, did you? Actually, I had wanted to, but she had to go interview at some college, and besides, remember the last time Samantha and Kerry met? I wanted to leave the theater in good repair when the movie was done.

Besides, Fran was cool. Something had snapped back to normal between Fran and Samantha, and sometimes we all hung out together after Samantha gave me driving lessons. In fact, Fran actually let me drive her car sometimes, since she did live only a few minutes away, and it was fun getting to know her outside of the pool.

Kerry turned to see who it was as well and gave me an angry but amused look. “Another shark, Nina. Seems like you’ve got a bit of a bite yourself,” she murmured in an undertone as Fran strode over.

“Hey,” Fran greeted and gave me a quick hug, which I returned one-handed, “y’all got seats?”

“Yeah, my brother Nicky’s saving them for us. He’s in the auditorium.” I waved in Kerry’s direction. “This is Kerry, a friend of mine. She’s Nicky’s date.”

“Nice to meet you, Kerry. I’m Kitt.” I arched an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “But you can call me Fran.” The glance Kerry shot me was one of pure venom, which she quickly changed into a smile as she looked back at Fran. “I’m sure I’m pleased. Nice jacket.” There was that silence I’d learned to recognize, then Kerry opened her mouth again. “You going to let Nina wear it sometime?”

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PUNK LIKE ME

Ooh, was it just me, or did I feel the temperature drop? Okay, well, time to watch the movie, right? Right. I reached for the door again.

“Okay, well, let’s go Þ nd Nicky and get our seats,” and I held the door as Kerry and Fran Þ led past me.

But I heard Fran respond in an undertone to Kerry as I walked behind them. “Nina doesn’t need mine, ’cause she’s earned one of her own, complete with her own letter
C
and everything,” and at that, Kerry hurried in front of Fran to Þ nd Nicky and our seats.

Fran glanced back at me and grinned, and I grinned in return.

“Really?” I mouthed at her.

“Really,” she afÞ rmed with a nod and a smile as I caught up to her.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, a gift from the team at the award dinner next Friday. You did know you’re slated to be captain, along with Mad Max, didn’t you? The team voted the week you were out, uh…” She paused, uncertain. I’d told Fran nothing about what had happened between my parents and me, and I didn’t know what, if anything, Samantha might have said, but I do know that a lot of those bruises were visible for days, if not weeks, like my hair. “…sick, and both Coach Robbins and Sister approved the vote. Even Mad Max voted for you,” she added, her smile standing out as the lights started to dim.

I felt the grin on my own face widen. I had nothing to say, just, well, wow.

“C’mon, Razor. Let’s go sit and watch the movie. One of those for me?” She indicated the two sodas I had in a tray, over which I’d balanced the not-large-enough-to-feed-a-continent-but-large-enough-for-a-family-of-four popcorn.

“Oh yeah, take one,” I offered distractedly. Wow. I was going to be a team captain. The team got me a jacket. Just, well, wow, again.

“Don’t let anyone know it’s not a surprise, though,” Fran cautioned me. I was still in a daze. Team captain with Mad Max. Wow.

Fran ended up leading me to our seats, and as we settled down in the semidarkness, I lost myself in thought over all that had happened during the past several weeks, the changes in my life, in my family, such as it was. I didn’t really know what the future would bring, but I felt free and light somehow. I was still on my own, but I knew that some way I’d Þ nd a way through. I had friends, I had what was in my head, I had me. Hey, I was going to be a team captain, after all.

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.

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PUNK LIKE ME

So, what else do you want to know? This is the stuff that’s running through my head while I wait to go onstage for the band’s and my chance to sweat it all out and see what’ll happen, while Trace runs her hands up and down my body.

I got my driver’s license, and on the Þ

rst shot, too,

thankyouverymuch, and I went to both my junior and senior proms with Jimmy Dolings. I even went to Joey’s senior prom, along with Kerry and Jack. I couldn’t turn Joey down when he asked, and it wasn’t too bad, and no, Kerry and I did not end up making out or anything.

I cried like hell when I got home after Samantha and Fran’s graduation in the beginning of June, though I smiled and clapped louder than anyone there, happy for them both.

Samantha was supposed to go away on a trip to Europe with her uncle, and we were going to hang out when she got back in the middle of July—in fact, we were going to meet up at the annual beach party—

but after receiving a few postcards, I didn’t hear from her. The number had been disconnected when I called, and when I drove by her house, I saw a large for-sale sign on the lawn in front of an obviously empty house. I still have those postcards somewhere.

I dogged out the “living conditions” set for me at “home” during my senior year and took my SAT, with pretty good results if I do say so myself, and even though I was working full time, overtime, all the time, I made myself free to go to the “Everyone’s Birthday in July” party.

I walked down to the water before the sun went completely down and just looked out over the endless expanse, thinking about the Þ rst time I’d been there, and how different it was, I was, how much had changed, how Samantha wasn’t with me this time, but the ocean still

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was.

“She called, you know,” Nicky said softly behind me, and I turned to face him, salt spray still on my face. I said nothing, just waited for him to catch up with me, then I faced the water again. Nicky put an arm around my shoulders, and I slid one around his waist. I leaned my head on his shoulder—Nicky had Þ nally caught up with me in height.

Amazing how insightful he’d grown, too.

“Samantha?”

“Yeah, about two, maybe three weeks after she graduated,” he afÞ rmed in just as soft a tone. “Dad answered the phone, asked who wanted to speak to you, because you were working. He told her you were dead and never to call his house again. He hung up before I could pick up on another line.” His voice was quietly bitter.

A moment passed.

“I’m so sorry, Nee,” Nicky whispered, and his arm squeezed around me, “I should have told you then—I know she meant a lot to you—I just couldn’t stand to see them go after you like that again.” I knew he meant my parents and I squeezed back wordlessly; there was nothing to say. He was right—it would have started a huge Þ ght for me with my parents, because I would have been furious.

It’s funny. It had taken me a while to Þ gure out that Samantha had planned on asking me out that night after our big meet. No wonder she’d been so ß ipped out about Kerry. But now, I didn’t even know where Samantha was going to school; we’d been going to discuss it—

that and other things, like our maybe actually dating each other—when she got back. Had I known she’d tried to get in touch with me, I don’t know what I would have done, but I would have done something, and maybe, just maybe, we’d be standing in that water together. My mind spun with the pain of lost potential, and in a blank shock, I let the sun sting my eyes as it sank behind the waves.

I still miss Samantha sometimes, but I’ve learned not to think about her too much. It’s a very strange ache the thought of her brings me, and when I do think of her, it’s with a very full and warm heart.

Kerry and I Þ nally drifted completely apart over time. My music took me in one direction, and her wildness and predilection for trouble took her in another. Like I mentioned quite a while ago, I don’t do drugs and, knock wood, never will.

Surprisingly (okay, actually, not at all), she and Nicky didn’t really last past that Þ rst date, and though she and I saw each other on

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and off, things were never the same. The fact that she’d been willing to participate in the kind of lie she and the boys had concocted really rubbed me raw, even though I’d been willing enough to let bygones be bygones so Joey would have a date for the prom, and besides, what I’d told her was true: I didn’t want her confusion to become mine.

But still, we knew a lot of the same people, and I had news of her from time to time—not that it was anything ever really newsworthy, just the usual garbage. She was dating someone new, dumped a boy for a girl, a girl for a boy, cheating, drunk, or crazy.

Fran, on the other hand, I’d run into a few months ago at a club I was Þ lling in at as a DJ. Of course, one of the Þ rst things I’d asked was if she ever spoke with Samantha, and Fran told me that the last she’d heard from Sammy Blade was a letter a few years ago. A rumor had been going around that I was dead, and as far as she knew, Samantha had stayed in Europe to study botany or alchemy or history, but she, Fran, was in her last year of law school at Columbia—and could she buy me a drink? I accepted, and beyond that, let’s just say we hang out sometimes.

Yeah, I learned to really play guitar. It’s a lesbian requirement or something, but I have to say for the record, I did it before it was fashionable.

College? Me? Well, it’s a long, sad story. SufÞ ce it to say, I did get an academic scholarship to NYU (and before y’all start comparing me to someone else, let me stop you now), but I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t afford to go to school and pay rent, and with a couple of “fuck-you” moves thrown in by my ever-loving parents, I lost that opportunity.

’Sokay, I ended up at a local college. I haven’t Þ nished yet, ’cuz I Þ nally moved out and have to be my own version of a grownup—pay rent and stuff—but someday I’ll get there.

Right now, I’m a musician in a band, waiting to test the waters and enjoying my life, the occasional angst notwithstanding.

Trace’s hands work magic on my shoulders, and her lips stir my blood as she presses them against my neck. Suddenly, I’m struck with a sense of familiarity, of presence, and it disturbs me. I sit up straight, removing myself from Trace’s embrace.