That Night (2 page)

I said, “No,” and stared in awe at his face, wondering how a boy could be so beautiful, the way he spoke, his voice, soft lips, dark eyes, everything so damn sexy. And I felt beautiful too, a real woman, the way he looked at me like he couldn’t believe I was there, in his bed. I was nervous, awkward, then my body just took over, pushing and pulling, grabbing at him. He moaned into my mouth and I caught my breath, holding it against the pain. Our eyes locked. I felt him move inside me, knowing that he was the only boy I ever wanted to be with, would ever do this with.

He was sweet about it afterward, asking if I was okay, bringing me a towel and a glass of water. We cuddled, my head on his chest. I traced my fingers along his ribs, the fine sheen of sweat in the candlelight, kissed the scar on his side from when his dad pushed him out of a truck, and he shyly said, “I love you, Toni.”

*   *   *

I heard laughter and looked to my left. Shauna McKinney and her girls were sitting on the tailgate of one of the guys’ trucks. I hated it when they hung out back. Kim, Rachel, and Cathy weren’t as bad as Shauna, but together they were some serious bitches, the I-don’t-give-a-crap-about-anything-especially-not-you kind of bitches. Shauna was popular and pretty, with her long auburn hair and big blue eyes, played lots of sports, and had a super-athletic body.

She always seemed to have the latest gadgets or clothes and was the first kid in our class to have a decent car, a white Sprint her dad bought her. She exuded confidence and had this way about her, like she wasn’t intimidated by anyone. She was smart too, got really good grades but made fun of teachers behind their backs so the other kids still thought she was badass.

Most of the girls in our class either feared her or desperately wanted to be her friend, which I guess was kind of the same thing in the end. Rachel Banks was her main henchwoman. Rachel used to be chubby when we were little kids and got picked on a lot, even after she lost the weight in high school, but then she started hanging around Shauna and people stopped messing with her. She was still curvy, with thick, straight brown hair, always wearing baby doll dresses with tights or short plaid skirts and knee-high socks.

Kim Gunderson was a ballet dancer and tiny, about my height. She wore a lot of black clothes, leggings with oversized sweaters and cool boots, and talked really fast. I’d heard rumors that she was gay, but no one knew for sure. Cathy Schaeffer was almost as pretty as Shauna, with long white-blond hair, pale green eyes, and a serious rack. Cathy was crazy and funny, always doing wild shit at parties. She also smoked, which was why the girls came out back.

I’d known all of them as long as I could remember, even used to be friends with Shauna. When we were twelve or thirteen, she liked this game where we’d call a girl up and ask her to come over, then call her a couple of hours before and say we didn’t want her to come anymore—sometimes we’d just take off before the girl arrived. Shauna was also really good at mimicking people—she’d call a boy and say she had a crush on him using a different girl’s voice.

When I told Shauna I didn’t want to play the games anymore, she stopped talking to me for a week. I was devastated, especially when she and our friends walked by me in the hallway like I no longer existed, whispering and rolling their eyes. I went home crying every day. Finally, Shauna came up to me after school and said she missed me. I was so relieved I forgot what had even started the fight in the first place, forgot I didn’t like how she was treating people.

Shauna was the daughter of a cop, Frank McKinney. Everyone knew him. He coached baseball teams and hockey teams, stuff like that. McKinney, as most people called him, wasn’t around Shauna’s house a lot when we were kids—he was usually at the station. Shauna’s mother had died in a car accident when Shauna was five, and her grandma looked after Shauna but she wasn’t very with it. At birthday parties she’d serve up a bunch of chips and hot dogs, put in a movie, then disappear into the other room for hours. Frank McKinney and his wife had had Shauna when they were eighteen or something. He was a big guy but not fat, just muscular and tall, and he walked with a confident swagger. He had a Tom Selleck mustache, a deep voice, wore sunglasses, and chewed gum, snapping it between his teeth. You could tell he was a cop even when he was in casual clothes by the clipped way he spoke, using short words and acronyms. And you could also tell his job was really important to him—he sent his uniform out to be dry-cleaned, kept his shoes polished, and his police cruiser was always clean.

Sometimes I got the feeling he was kind of lonely—he spent a lot of time sitting by himself, reading a book in the kitchen or watching the news. I don’t think he dated much, and the few times he had a girlfriend they didn’t seem to last long. We all felt bad that Shauna didn’t have a mother and we knew it bothered her too, the way she would talk to our moms when she was at our house, polite and sweet, helping clean up after dinner, like she wanted them to like her.

Most of us kids were kind of scared of McKinney, but it wasn’t like that for me. I just felt sad for him, though I was never really sure why. Whenever I thought about him, it was always that one image that held fast, him sitting in the kitchen for hours, the newspaper or a book in front of him, a cup of coffee, and the way he’d look up and out the window like he was wishing he was out there in his car, on patrol. Like he was wishing he was anywhere but in that house.

*   *   *

When we got to high school, I was getting tired of the way Shauna was constantly trying to play the rest of us against each other, saying one of us had talked about the other, leaving someone out of an invite, or making mean comments about our clothes and hair, then adding, “Just kidding!” The next day she’d tell you that you were her best friend and give you one of her favorite items of clothing, jewelry, or a CD she made just for you, which would make the others jealous. It felt like every week there was a flare-up and someone was upset. I was also getting tired of not being able to wear what I wanted—jeans and T-shirts, not skirts and blouses, which Shauna had decided should be our uniform.

When we were in ninth grade I mentioned to Shauna one day that I liked a boy named Jason Leroy. She told me she’d help. She threw a birthday party at her house and invited a few boys. Her dad was working and her grandma was supposed to be supervising, but she vanished into the TV room with a glass of something and a vague “Have fun, kids.” Before the party, Shauna told me she heard Jason liked me but he was into “real women.” She said I had to give him a blow job, and if I didn’t, I was a chicken—they’d all done it. I was nervous at the party, but Jason kept smiling at me and asked me to go into one of the bedrooms. After we were necking for a while, he hinted that he wanted a blow job. When I balked, he said Shauna had promised him I’d do it and that’s why he was there with his friends. If I didn’t go through with it, he’d tell everyone he had a threesome with Shauna and me.

After the party, when I told Shauna what he’d said, and what he’d made me do, she was furious. She called Jason and said if he told anyone what had happened, she’d tell everyone at school that he had a small penis. We never heard a word more from him, but later that night Shauna started giggling and admitted that none of them had ever given a blow job to a boy—I was the first one.

I was really angry that Shauna’s lies had set me up, but I tried to let it go because she’d stuck up for me. Part of me even relished my role as the now sexually advanced member of the group. A month later, though, Shauna developed a crush on Brody, a boy in my woodworking class. We’d often stay late to work on a project, and one day she walked by when we were laughing about something. I wasn’t into Brody, not like that, but it didn’t matter. After school, all the girls acted like I didn’t exist. So I asked Shauna what was wrong.

“You were flirting with Brody.”

“I was not! I don’t even think he’s cute.”

“He’s
totally
cute—and you’ve been crushing on him for weeks.”

They were all standing there, glaring at me.

I knew what she wanted. I’d have to apologize, then they’d ignore me for a while until they decided to forgive me. But I was sick of Shauna, the power trips, the games. I’d had enough.

“Screw you, Shauna. Believe whatever you want, but it’s not my fault Brody doesn’t like you. Not everyone thinks you’re hot, you know.” I walked away. Behind me I heard her gasp, and then angry whispers.

I knew she’d retaliate but didn’t realize how bad it would get until I went to school the next day. Turns out, Shauna had spent the evening spreading rumors that I’d been born with a penis—and tried to make out with her. She also told every single person anything bad I ever said about them—most of it stuff I never actually said myself, I’d just agreed with Shauna. After she was finished, I didn’t have any friends for months, endured whispers and stares. I was so ashamed of my new loser status that I didn’t say anything to my family, even when my mom kept asking why the girls weren’t calling anymore. Nicole, who was younger than me but went to the same school, knew something had happened and asked me about it, but I didn’t tell her either. My sister was the only person who talked to me at school, and if it hadn’t been for her I’d have been even lonelier.

Finally, after gym class one day I dropped my shorts in the girls’ bathroom and told them all to have a look. One of the girls, Amy, thought it was hilarious. She was a cool chick, dressed tomboyish like me—since Shauna had dumped me I wore whatever I wanted, camouflage pants and a tight-fitted black T-shirt, or big army boots with faded jeans and one of my dad’s work shirts. The next day at lunch, Amy dropped her tray beside mine and said, “I’ve always liked girls with penises.” We’d been best friends ever since, but I had a harder time trusting girls after the way Shauna had treated me—I was more comfortable with boys.

After that, Shauna moved on to other targets, made friends with Cathy, Kim, and Rachel—who instantly moved up the social ladder—and didn’t bother me for years. Sometimes she was even halfway friendly, saying hello or smiling when she walked past. But then I started dating Ryan. I found out later that Shauna had been going to the pit every weekend hoping to hook up with him. He’d given her a ride home once when she was super-drunk but nothing had happened, although she tried, and then Ryan and I connected the next weekend. She’d hated me ever since, even more than when I dissed her about Brody.

I’d only run into Frank McKinney a couple of times since my friendship ended with Shauna. He gave Ryan and me a hard time when he caught us out at the lake one night but he just dumped out our booze and told us to go home. Ryan had also gotten caught siphoning gas off a logging truck that summer. McKinney didn’t write up a report, just took him to the jail and gave him a tour, told him to smarten up, and said he’d be watching him from now on. And we knew he meant it.

I’m pretty sure McKinney didn’t know what Shauna did with all her free time after her grandma died, probably thought she was home studying. She must’ve done enough to keep up with her grades, though she didn’t have to try that hard, which pissed me off, but mostly she was hanging out with her friends or partying.

The girls were all watching me now from their perch on the other truck, whispering to each other, giggling.

I snuggled closer to Ryan and pulled his head down for another long kiss. I got really into it, wrapping my arms tight around him, loving that his hands were on my butt, smiling against his lips when I thought of Shauna watching.

When I looked back up, Shauna and the girls had left.

*   *   *

The next day after school, I was in the parking lot, waiting for Ryan by his truck and having a smoke, when a car pulled up so close it almost hit me. Shauna, in her white Sprint.

“Hey, bitch,” she said as she got out. Cathy and Kim climbed out of the backseat, Rachel from the front. They all circled me.

“What’s your problem?” I said.

“You’re my problem,” Shauna said. The girls laughed. I glanced over at them. Rachel had a mean scowl on her face, and Cathy had one of her big stupid smiles. Great. Nothing like being a chew toy for some catty bitches.

“I haven’t done anything to you,” I said. “Not my fault Ryan doesn’t like skanks.”

She got right in my face, so close I could smell her perfume, something fruity, like tangerine.

“You better watch your mouth.”

“Or you’ll what?” I said.

She reached out and gave me a shove. I stumbled into the truck.

I dropped my smoke and pushed her back, hard. Then we were going at it, fists flying, pulling hair. I could hear kids yelling as they ran over, cheering us on. The girls were screaming, “Kick her ass, Shauna!” Shauna was bigger than me and had the upper hand, but I managed to get free and was about to punch her in the face. Then an arm was around my waist, lifting me up.

“Cut it out,” Ryan’s voice said in my ear.

I was still spitting mad, wiping hair out of my face as he sat me down on my feet. Another guy was pulling Shauna away. Her friends were shouting insults at me. Ryan hustled me into his truck, threw my packsack in the back.

He started up the truck and tried to reverse out. Shauna was still standing by her car.

“Why don’t you let Toni finish her own fights?” she yelled.

He yelled out the window, “Shut up, Shauna.”

She gave him the finger.

*   *   *

We went back to Ryan’s place. His mom was working another night shift and his dad, Gary, as he told me to call him, was sitting bleary-eyed in front of the TV.

He glanced up as we came in. “Hand me another beer, Ry.”

Ryan gave him one and said, “We’re going to my room.”

His dad winked. “Have a good time.”

That made me cringe, but it was nice not to be hassled, not that his dad didn’t give Ryan a hard time about other shit. Most of Gary’s arrests had been bar brawls or stealing stuff when he was drunk. Ryan said his dad didn’t have sticky fingers, he had whiskey fingers. When he was really drunk, he’d get rough with Ryan. They’d come to blows a few times this last year—now that Ryan was bigger and tougher, his dad seemed to want to take him down even more, prove he was still the man. Gary had a job as a logger, which was seasonal, but Ryan did all the chores around the house and helped his mom out. I don’t know why she didn’t leave Ryan’s dad. Her name was Beth; she seemed like a nice woman, worked a lot but was still caring, always smoothing Ryan’s hair back, asking him if he’d had enough dinner, needed money for school. And you could tell she really liked her son by the way she laughed at his jokes and looked at him proudly.