Taken by Storm (6 page)
Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Christian, #Friendship, #Juvenile Fiction, #Sports & Recreation, #General, #Religious, #Water Sports, #Death & Dying
i can tell she’s reading the back of my jacket—
Eagle Ray Dive Club, Marathon, FL.
Everyone knows i came from Phoenix. She’ll want to know why my jacket says
Florida
. As if you can dive in Phoenix.
Eagle Ray Dive Club, Marathon, FL.
Everyone knows i came from Phoenix. She’ll want to know why my jacket says
Florida
. As if you can dive in Phoenix.
Up close, her eyes have a blue ring around the iris that turns green in the middle. Those eyes drift from my face to the river and back.
My gut muscles tense.
She bites her lower lip and draws her eyebrows together. “Wouldn’t you get sucked into the hydroelectric turbines? Didn’t you watch the film?”
My stomach relaxes. “The current probably goes down-stream.”
“Good thing.” She laughs at herself. “Those turbines looked pretty mean.”
i don’t answer. The water rolling by beneath us has claimed me again. i want to feel it on my skin, sink under it, and swim to a coral head. i need to know if it will welcome me or churn me up and spit me out. Again.
“Washington’s crazy.” Leesie folds up her lunch bag and jams it in her pocket. “We make a shrine out of that ugly concrete ruining this mythical river.”
i give her a confused look. “What?”
“Sad, isn’t it? The Columbia was this wild raging thing—a god to the Native Americans. Look what we’ve done to it.” She nods toward the wall of concrete that rises above the water. Her face is serious again like in class. “There used to be cool falls just north of here. Not Niagara—but the Native Americans who live over there”—she points at the pines across the river—“held a massive jamboree at them every year when the salmon ran. Now it’s buried under Lake Roosevelt. The Salmon People held one last festival before the reservoir wiped out their villages and the sacred fishing grounds. They called it the Ceremony of Tears. Poetic, huh? Can you imagine it? Their lives were washed clean away because of some idiot’s idea of progress.”
Washed clean away? i can relate.
“And then it got worse. Get this. You’re stuck on that reservation, smashed together with a bunch of other tribes, but it’s okay because you’ve still got the salmon. You’ve always lived off the salmon. You worship them. Then every single fish that tries to get back home to spawn dies. No locks. Seventy-five species extinct. They say it only took four years. Can you imagine all those dead fish? Pretty gross.”
“That wasn’t in the film.”
The smile is bigger this time. “Makes the whole dolphin/ tuna boat thing look small, doesn’t it?”
“Unless you know dolphins.”
That shuts her up. Maybe she’ll leave. No.
“Hey, I’m being rude. I’m Aleesa, from physics and English.” And all the rest of my classes. “Friends call me Leesie.”
Whoa. “
The
Leesie? From the wall in the guys’ john?” i take a step back so i can evaluate her award-winning feature. “This is what the fuss is all about?”
The
Leesie? From the wall in the guys’ john?” i take a step back so i can evaluate her award-winning feature. “This is what the fuss is all about?”
She whirls around, hiding the asset in question. “That’s not fair.” She blushes pinker than the stuff she has on her cheeks.
“You’re above the urinal i always use. It says—”
“I have a brother.” The pink heats to deep red. “I know what it says.”
i never would have guessed Staring Chick is Leesie, Queen of the Urinals. She’s too farm fresh. Tight enough jeans stretched across her nice butt. Incredible hair. Not too much crap on her eyes. Nothing much under that jacket, though. Not the type to inspire graffiti.
“So what’s with all the names and checkmarks?” It can’t be what i thought. Not this girl.
“I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”
Neither can i, but i want to know before i tell her to get lost.
“They pinch me, okay?” She studies the rocks.
i glance over where DeeDee and her friends loll on the grass. Since the bus, Troy and his drones ignored her. “You even beat out DeeDee.”
“I’m not like that.” Leesie pushes a loose wisp of hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ear. Even her neck glows scarlet.
“Obviously.” i take one last deep breath, hold her tropical-fruit-and-leather elixir in my head, and get ready to shamble away.
“You know”—Leesie looks up—“you could use another urinal.”
i exhale. “There’s only two. The other one’s DeeDee’s.” i shake my head. “Way more than i want to know there.”
That gets her to smile again. i decide not to shamble yet. This is my spot, isn’t it? My attention drifts back to the river. i close my eyes and listen to the falling water. “i like the sound of this. Haven’t heard anything wet since—” Belize. Isadore
.
My mom screaming. My dad trapped in the dining room, drowning with everyone else. Me helpless to do anything but save my own butt.
.
My mom screaming. My dad trapped in the dining room, drowning with everyone else. Me helpless to do anything but save my own butt.
She shifts closer to me, softens her tone. “Since what?”
My eyes drift open. i can’t go there. Not after bathroom graffiti.
She senses my tension, takes a step back. The look on her face makes me hurt. “i’m sorry,” she whispers. She barely says it—i’ve heard it a thousand times—but the breath of her words feel fresh and soothing as a cool compress held to my forehead.
Then the jerk teacher calls us back inside the visitors’ center for another film.
Leesie turns to leave, stirring up her enticing hair, and walks off. i stare at her famous backside and decide it
is
worth the fuss. i have a crazy urge to creep after her, sneak into the theater, find a place behind her, and bury myself in that hair. It smells tropical, but not coconut. Coconut would kill me right now. i want a strand to take home. i could glue it on my wall next to the crack. i search the ground. Maybe she sheds.
is
worth the fuss. i have a crazy urge to creep after her, sneak into the theater, find a place behind her, and bury myself in that hair. It smells tropical, but not coconut. Coconut would kill me right now. i want a strand to take home. i could glue it on my wall next to the crack. i search the ground. Maybe she sheds.
i glance up, and the place is deserted. The thunder of water rolling off the dam overwhelms the scent she left behind. Could i go back there—in it, under it? Isadore dragged me down again last night. i hate her. What happened to the joy of coasting along a coral wall with a white-tipped reef shark, surprising schools of juvies hiding out in a swim through, fighting the currents to explore my favorite wreck? Is it lost forever? Stolen by a freaking hurricane.
chapter 8
GROPING
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #27, BUS RIDE TEMPTATION
It gets mostly fringe and armpit—
troy’s hand as it snakes across the seat back
and slams into my chest,
searches, fumbles, finds—
sending the darers howling and me up the aisle, biting
back tears that signal another victory
for the dark side.
troy’s hand as it snakes across the seat back
and slams into my chest,
searches, fumbles, finds—
sending the darers howling and me up the aisle, biting
back tears that signal another victory
for the dark side.
laughter rolls forward, annihilating me,
as I crumple into michael’s
seat. He startles
awake, appraises with gray eyes
that turn silver in the afternoon rays.
His baseball cap tilts toward me—
You okay?
as I crumple into michael’s
seat. He startles
awake, appraises with gray eyes
that turn silver in the afternoon rays.
His baseball cap tilts toward me—
You okay?
No big deal,
I lie until the bus rolls to a stop
and the doors bang open.
I lie until the bus rolls to a stop
and the doors bang open.
I maintain glacial when troy’s leering face
blockades my escape and sprays,
Ooh, did I piss off the Mormon Ice Queen?
all over my vintage fringe.
blockades my escape and sprays,
Ooh, did I piss off the Mormon Ice Queen?
all over my vintage fringe.
I consider kneeing him hard,
but michael, tall and solid, lanky
to the rescue, rises to steady my elbow.
but michael, tall and solid, lanky
to the rescue, rises to steady my elbow.
Let her go.
Gonna make me?
Let her go.
Gonna make me?
Let her go.
I long to lean into his strength,
let him shelter me with the steel in his voice.
Kids push and holler from behind.
let him shelter me with the steel in his voice.
Kids push and holler from behind.
as I watch troy swallowed in their midst,
I remember ninth grade, before the ice,
when his nasty hand dropped Hot tamales into mine
and I strayed into spiced breath hot in my ear—
Lunch, downtown, lost in the bushes . . .
the words oozing down my neck,
making me as red as his candy-stained tongue.
I remember ninth grade, before the ice,
when his nasty hand dropped Hot tamales into mine
and I strayed into spiced breath hot in my ear—
Lunch, downtown, lost in the bushes . . .
the words oozing down my neck,
making me as red as his candy-stained tongue.
yes, I wanted to follow incredible blue eyes down the hill,
let that hand twine in mine, disappear into cinnamon lips—
But I had
Thou Shalt Not
ringing in my ears.
thou shalt Not be alone with a boy.
thou shalt Not date until you’re sixteen.
let that hand twine in mine, disappear into cinnamon lips—
But I had
Thou Shalt Not
ringing in my ears.
thou shalt Not be alone with a boy.
thou shalt Not date until you’re sixteen.
thou shalt Not make out in the bushes
with troy the boy toy Hot tamale candy.
thou shalt remember who you are and the promises you’ve
made.
thou shalt dream of your perfect prince,
short hair and white pressed shirt,
well-worn scriptures tucked under his arm,
a scuffed Ctr ring on his pinky,
who will cup thy face in his hands,
kiss thee softly,
and adore thee for eternity.
thou shalt let the spirit move through thee and say,
Gotta finish my algebra,
and walk away.
with troy the boy toy Hot tamale candy.
thou shalt remember who you are and the promises you’ve
made.
thou shalt dream of your perfect prince,
short hair and white pressed shirt,
well-worn scriptures tucked under his arm,
a scuffed Ctr ring on his pinky,
who will cup thy face in his hands,
kiss thee softly,
and adore thee for eternity.
thou shalt let the spirit move through thee and say,
Gotta finish my algebra,
and walk away.
Hot tamale temptation descended,
day after day, cruder and crueler,
until I stopped feeling
Yes,
stopped perspiring, stopped blushing,
and all I could say or think or be was
No
.
Hard and cold and oh, so determined.
day after day, cruder and crueler,
until I stopped feeling
Yes,
stopped perspiring, stopped blushing,
and all I could say or think or be was
No
.
Hard and cold and oh, so determined.
I polished my temple photo and planned my escape,
worked and saved and studied—
so close now to BYU’S beacon
beaming from Provo.
worked and saved and studied—
so close now to BYU’S beacon
beaming from Provo.
But now,
here is an aching soul standing beside me,
brave and strong and noble—
and something sweet and warm and beautiful
makes me want to whisper a soft
yes
into his ear.
Where did he come from? Why is he here?
and what, lord, am I supposed to do with this
temptation?
here is an aching soul standing beside me,
brave and strong and noble—
and something sweet and warm and beautiful
makes me want to whisper a soft
yes
into his ear.
Where did he come from? Why is he here?
and what, lord, am I supposed to do with this
temptation?
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/2 11:13 P.M.
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