Swell (13 page)

The week between the storm drain nightmare and Hillman’s latest party was filled with homework, finishing the mural, and glimpses of Christian. He hung out at Jock Wall like nothing ever happened, and had enough time to socialize with everyone but me. That’s why I approached him that Friday, even though Hillman was standing right there with his X-ray eyes.

“Christian, can we talk?” I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and looked at me with a little smile. Hillman said nothing.

“Sure.” He stood there like a mannequin.

“Let’s talk over there,” I said, reaching for his hand. He ripped it away. I wanted to cry, but held back. I wasn’t going to let Hillman see that.

We sat on a wooden bench. The slats were full of sun-bleached splinters that poked through my pants.

“What do you want?” His voice was tense, his eyes flitting anywhere but into mine. I wanted to kiss his full mouth, put my hands under his jacket and around his waist. Instead, I sat with my fingers gripping my thighs to prevent shaking.

“Why is it that I see you spending time with everyone, when you said you didn’t have time for me?”

Christian squirmed. I hoped that the splinters were going up his ass, too. An impatient exhale came from his mouth.

“Look, Beck, I had to break up with you for many reasons. That didn’t mean I’d stop hanging out with my friends.”

“But you told me you loved me.” I lost the grip on my legs, my hands moving to push my hair off my face — all the better to show off the crying jag I was about to have. Hillman would enjoy watching it.

“I know.”

“We slept with each other, Christian. Then you went away, but you’re still here and I see you all the time and I don’t know why you can’t love me anymore.” I started crying.

He stood up when he saw my tears rolling. “I can’t help what happened. It’s just too difficult, it didn’t work, and I’m sorry.”

I looked over at Hillman who, I swear, had a smirk on his lips. When Christian left the bench and went back to the wall, the smirk had flashed to a shit-eating grin and then back to a poker face.

I had snot and tears running down my neck, as well as five minutes to drag my ass to art class.

There’s something about feeling ashamed of your behavior. Even though my intentions were justified, I was left on that bench as much the unpopular girl I’d been the year before.

I bawled from the bench to the back of campus, wishing I could go home instead of to class. Jesse was there, his usual perky self with a mouth full of beef jerky.

“Either you’re related to Santa Claus or you’ve been crying.” He was trying to joke with me, and I was not in the mood.

“Here, use this,” he said, placing a paint rag in my hand. “Don’t worry about getting paint up your nose — it’s clean.”

“Thanks.” I pummeled my face with the stained cloth and dropped it under the desk.

“Whenever I feel like you do, I get into a really good project and forget about things. And by the look of it, Stanley’s gonna assign one today.” Jesse pointed to the whiteboard outline of our next project.

“Everyone say hello to the person on your right. Be nice, because they’re your new art buddy,” cooed Mr. Stanley.

I looked to my right and Anna Carvin had already buddied with the dude next to her, and I then realized I was to the right of Jesse. A sense of glee bubbled from my wallowing pit as I turned to face the constant khaki jacket and one of the sweetest smiles I’d ever seen. He didn’t look like a typical Southern California boy. Rather, he had a Midwestern paleness and scruffy look that hinted at an adventurous nature. I bet that he liked climbing trees, running around with his dog and watching NASCAR with his dad.

“I think you’ll do.” His hand touched mine for a moment when he passed me a sheet of velum. His fingernails were a little dirty, like he’d tried to scrub them without success.

We toiled with colored pencils, sketching out ideas that revolved around a theme. Jesse wanted our piece to be about death.

“It’s something everyone understands and experiences, and it holds an element of surprise. What more could you ask for?” said Jesse, sneaking bites of smelly jerky between flicks of his pencil.

“I don’t think so.” I had other themes in mind, like depression, loneliness and drinking.

I was disappointed
when the buzzer rang, because it would be a whole weekend before I saw Jesse again. It was fun to be around someone with wit, because I never knew what he’d say next.

“What are your plans for the weekend, Ms. Ionesco?” he asked, walking me out of the classroom.

“I’m going to a party tomorrow.”

He nodded and looked down at the ground before returning my gaze.

“Do you party a lot?”

“What do you mean by
a lot
?”

“Every weekend, or whenever you can?”

Nobody had ever questioned my partying habits, and I didn’t have a response. He reached out and patted me on top of the head.

“Watch out for yourself. Drinking can take you places you never thought you’d go.”

Later, I found it
hard not to think
about Jesse as I dressed for the party, my mind in two places at once. I thought it would be nice to go climb trees with him like a tomboy. I also thought about how to get Christian’s attention and make him jealous. He’d obviously moved on, but I didn’t believe that he’d lost every single feeling for me.

Slipping a sexy camisole top under my parent-approved sweater was a start. Thankfully, my parents were never good at discipline. It seemed like whenever they tried grounding me, they didn’t have the energy to make it stick. Tonight, I told them I was going out with a new girl from school. They asked a few token questions and didn’t seem at all worried that I just might be lying.

The sweater came off in Allison’s car, prompting a long whistle from the driver.

“I didn’t even know
you
could dress like that.” She touched the black satin spaghetti strap on my bare shoulder. The top, paired with a short skirt and high-heeled sandals, made me look like the perfect high school hussy.

“Something to be remembered by,” I smirked, for once feeling the power that a daring outfit could reveal.

It worked, because I had the attention of every single boy in attendance.

Who was this dark diva? It’s Beck! No way. Wow, you clean-up nice, girlfriend!

Christian was playing Hillman’s piano and downing beers between songs. He’d seen me make an entrance, stopped for a moment longer than usual to take it in, and returned to his music. I played a little drinking game with him, even though he didn’t know about it. Each drink that Christian took, I took with him, so I was pretty good and ripped by the time I made a play for his friend, Greg Deacon.

Greg was cute in a Disney sort of way, with precision cut dark hair, lashes out to there, and a body that was lean and cut. He was also the perfect guy to give me the attention that Christian did not. Because Greg was flirting right back at me, I decided to take things a step further and pulled him outside by his pockets.

“Where are you taking me?”
His voice was excited as I guided him to Mr. Hillman’s putting green in the back of the yard. I thought it would be great to kiss Greg over the hole.

“I’m looking for a hole in one,” I slurred, thinking I was clever.

We made-out on the green, with me standing on my toes to reach Greg. He had no problem leaning over to reach my exposed waist, as my camisole had mysteriously ridden up my torso. It felt good to be touched again, even if it wasn’t Christian.

Greg wanted to lie down, and I sat on top of him as we kissed. It felt like someone was watching us, and I hoped it was Christian, his heart breaking and anger raging.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet,” I said.

Greg pressed himself against my backside as we shuffled into the house. My eyes felt fuzzy, but I could still see Christian playing the piano. I also saw Hillman watching us. Our eyes met for a split-second before I was whisked away toward something I really didn’t want to do.

Sex with Greg was brisk, rough, and anything but satisfying. It had started on a couch, and ended up in a chair, and was something I regretted the minute we were done. I felt more sober when I hopped off than I cared to be. Even though I had lured Greg into doing it with me, I felt as used as the condom on the floor.

“That was great. I never expected that, what with you and Christian…” he said, putting his pants back on.

“We’re not together anymore, so I can do whatever I want.” My syllables slurred together from trying to talk too fast.
All I wanted at that moment was get a wad of toilet paper and wipe Greg away.

“Anytime you wanna do that, let me know.” He kissed me on the forehead before leaving the room.

In the small powder room off to the side, I looked long and hard into the mirror. With my camisole top and skirt back in place, I looked like a hooker.

“Need to stop drinking beer,” I noted upon seeing my bloated face. I also noticed that my nipples looked like pegs underneath the satin top. They stuck out with determination, as if bragging about my tryst with Greg.

No matter my efforts to get Christian’s attention, though, he ignored me the entire night. Girls came and sat next to him at the piano, placing their hands on his thigh. I sat on the couch with Allison, catching Greg’s eye now and then and giving him a little smile. He’d probably told every guy in the room except Christian about us. I bristled at the thought that Hillman also knew, and noticed that he was gone.

“He must’ve crashed in his room,” said Allison, jingling her keys, signaling that it was time to go home.

The cold reality of 1 a.m. was on my face as I washed the night from my body. When I reached for my hairbrush, my eyes met with the scissors seated next to it. Christian had always loved my hair, and said it was the deepest, darkest silk he’d ever placed his face into. It was time to remind him of that.

I took a chunk of hair from the nape of my neck, put it into an envelope, and addressed it to Christian. There was nothing to identify the sender except for the hair. I imagined him opening it and touching the silky lock. Maybe then he’d think about me.

I mailed the hair on Sunday, guessed he’d get it on Tuesday, see me on Wednesday and have thoughts of me on his brain. Satisfied that I would be back in his head, I went pimping.

As I kicked back with a tall cold one, Allison called with a proposition.

“Wanna go to the kick-ass party of the year next weekend?”

/////

Allison and I arrived at Devin’s McMansion on the beach. She had a DJ, fog and light machines, and a bartender — as well as obviously loose parents.

The usual crowd was present, including Hillman. He was there for what seemed like a minute, carousing the white marble floors, hands in his skinny jeans pockets and looking for fresh meat. I tried to stay a step or two ahead of him, hiding behind Allison or whoever was closest, using bodies as deflector shields.

Christian arrived with Sarah Nelson on his arm. She looked like a model, with long auburn hair down to her tiny, tight butt. Her long legs were barely covered by a little silver skirt, her massive boobs defying gravity from underneath a thin, black top. Sarah looked like she was ready to follow in the footsteps of Cindy Beckman.

I immediately went for the hard stuff. The bartender made me a bourbon on the rocks, and then a tequila shooter. I’d already had several beers, and this was just the top-off. The last thing I wanted was to be sober enough to have to endure watching Christian and
her
.

The DJ started playing Chicago house music and I went gonzo in the middle of the living room, grooving to the beat and losing myself and my pride. The room was big enough to allow me the comfort of spinning without hitting a soul, even though I was in fact hitting them all with quite a show.

Greg started dancing with me, grinding his hips against mine. It brought back thoughts of being with him in the chair at Hillman’s. I looked over at Christian while Greg freaked away, but he was too busy talking mere inches from Sarah’s face. Here I was, practically fucking someone else on the dance floor and Christian didn’t even notice.

That prompted another visit to the bartender, two more tequila shooters, and a further slide down the spiral of awareness about my surroundings. I’d left my drink on a coffee table between dances, my only concern being that I’d pick-up someone else’s drink by accident.

I was in such a state that even getting to the bathroom in heels was like being in a carnival funhouse. The floors were moving, the walls going up and down, and the door seemed to open and shut all by itself as the knob evaded my hands. I was in there for just a minute before the door flew open for real. A blonde guy was standing in front of me as I sat on the toilet. Being that I was shit-faced, I stood up with my underwear around my ankles. I couldn’t remember what happened after that.

Chapter 15