The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove (21 page)

“We’re talking about guys from Palmetto,” she’d told me later that night on the phone. “They drive fast, they talk fast, and they move fast. They’re not like anyone we know.”

It wasn’t long before she convinced me to go with her to meet them behind one of their houses on the Cove. Whoever it was, it wasn’t even his main house, Sarah raved to me; it was an extra weekend house, like something only movie stars had.

We had to hitchhike to get there, our bathing suits and our cuter clothes tucked in a beach bag so no one from our neighborhood would think anything of it if they saw us on the street. It was one thing to sneak out and stay in Cawdor; it was another thing to go over to Palmetto. People might start to imagine that you thought you were above where you came from.

The boys outnumbered us. They were bigger and older, and their bathing suits probably cost twice as much as mine and Sarah’s combined. I was embarrassed about my knock-off solid-color one-piece with the racer back that made me look even flatter than I was. Sarah saw it in my face.

“I have an idea,” she sang.

Twenty minutes later, she was still waiting for me to build up the guts to take off my clothes and meet her on the dock. We were going to stand there for a minute in the moonlight, then dive in—just far enough from the guys that we’d be little more than silhouettes, just long enough that they’d get the gist.

Finally, she brushed back through the hemlock, took a hold of my shirt herself, and yanked it over my head.

“Hey,” I teased. “I thought you were into guys.”

We were both cracking up as she unzipped my jeans, and I kicked my legs free.

“About effing time,” she grinned, sizing me up as I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. “Hot. Okay, which one of the guys do you want? I’m starting with Tommy.”

“Starting with?” I laughed.

“The night is young, honey,” she shrugged dramatically. I was starting to understand why my mom and her friends called Sarah’s mom a whore, a label that took a lot to earn, especially in the type of trailer park circles Mom ran in. But to me, Sarah’s eagerness was a rush. She was the first girl I’d ever seen who actually seemed in control of what she did with her body. If she wanted something, she got it. She was almost like a guy.

I realized she was staring at me, waiting for me to call dibs on which one I wanted first.

“I don’t really know any of these guys,” I said. “How am I supposed to pick?”

“Good point,” she agreed. “Get to know them in the water; it’ll be sexier. Flash now, call dibs later, okay?”

I nodded, cracking a grin.

“Stick with me, Tal,” she said, leading me outside. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

I did, and she did. At least for a little while.

As soon as the first guy caught a glimpse of us naked on the dock getting ready to dive in, there was a flurry of splashing as the rest of them all swam out to meet us. Sarah and I held hands, raised them up over our heads, and dove into the water together.

When I came up for air, I was face to face with a blond-headed boy treading water. I hadn’t seen him before in the crowd, but without a word, he treaded closer, brushed a hand against my face, and kissed me.

“I’m Justin,” he said. “Call me J.B.”

“Natalie,” I gasped, trying to stay afloat. “Everyone calls me Tal.”

“You’ve got a pretty face, Tal,” he said. “And a pretty obscene body.”

I had only been kissed twice before, never by someone whose name I didn’t know, and I’d definitely never been spoken to like that. Now, there was this kid, who was younger than the rest of the guys by a few years—maybe my age—acting like he’d written all new rules.

“What do you say I show you my boat?” he asked. “I think you’ll like it.”

I glanced over at Sarah, who was splashing one of the guys playfully, her head thrown back in the air. She caught my eye and winked.

“Okay,” I said to Justin.

He took my hand underwater, and we swam toward a marina where a row of shiny motorboats were docked. Justin pulled himself out of the water and onto the side of the boat. I couldn’t help watching the way his body looked as he lifted up a seat compartment to grab a towel. He caught me staring, and when I dropped my head, he said, “It’s okay. Get a good look. I plan to do the same when I help you up in a minute.”

I was still blushing when he reached down and took both of my hands in his, pulling me up on the boat. I gasped from the feel of the cold air on my wet skin and from the realization that I was very naked and very alone with a stranger on the other side of town.

“Hmm, where is that extra towel?” he joked, scratching his chin.

“Oh my God,” I said, covering myself with my hands, half terrified, half ecstatic. “You’d better give me your towel right now.”

We wrestled for the one towel until I slipped, and Justin landed on top of me with a thud. He kissed me again, stroking my cheek with two fingers.

“So where do you go to school?” he said.

“You really want to talk about school?” I giggled. “Now?”

“I guess I want to get to know you. I dunno.” Now he was the one who was blushing. Water churned under the boat, making me feel dizzy. But it was a good kind of dizzy.

“Christ,” a voice muttered from behind us. “I guess we’d better warn lover boy over there.”

I jerked away, pulling as much of the towel over me as I could. Two of the other guys were standing over us, both dripping wet, both with snide looks on their faces. Suddenly, it felt anything but okay to be naked on this boat.

“These girls aren’t here to make conversation with, little bro,” the tall one said. He looked like Justin but a few years older. He must be Tommy. “They are here to screw and then go home.”

I gasped and all three of the guys turned to me.

“Aww,” the other guy said. His dark wet hair hung down over his eyes. “Trailer trash is cute when she plays innocent.”

Tommy nodded. “She might look better in the face, but she’s no different from Slutsky over there.”

I looked over to where I’d left Sarah. I could hear her having-the-time-of-my-life laugh ringing out across the water. And here was the guy we’d come all twenty miles to see, calling her Slutsky behind her back.

“Whatever,” Justin said. “We’re just hanging out, okay?”

“Turn around, trailer trash,” Tommy told me.

“Her name’s Tal,” Justin said.

“I said turn around, trailer trash,” Tommy said louder. “I want to see your tramp stamp.”

“What?” I asked.

“Every bitch from Cawdor gets the same slut tattoo right above her ass. It’s how guys like us know where to aim when we’ve got you—”

“Easy, Tommy,” the other guy said.

“If he’s going to hang with the big dogs, my little brother needs to understand a few things,” Tommy insisted. “Let’s see exhibit A.”

“I don’t have a tattoo,” I said.

“No, shit?” Tommy asked, sizing me up. “Did Slutsky bring us a baby? How novel.”

“Well, it’s only a matter of time,” the other guy sneered, fist-bumping Tommy.

He turned to Justin. “Just remember, these girls are good for three things.” As he spoke, Tommy held up his fingers. “Taking it off, taking what you give them, then getting taken back across the bridge.”

Justin looked at me then, and his eyes were different, like he blamed me for both of us being here, getting this lecture.

“Yeah,” he said coldly. “I know.”

“What?” I whispered.

“When you do get that old tramp stamp, let me know,” Justin said, earning a cheer from the older guys.

I started toward him, without a plan, just knowing that everything Justin Balmer had said to lure me in had been a lie. But before I reached Justin, Tommy grabbed my wrists.

“Ohhh,” he taunted. “Baby’s getting feisty. Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he cooed, his voice dripping condescension. Then he grabbed a fistful of towel at my waist and started pulling. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

In a panic, my eyes shot up at Justin. He looked away. Before Tommy could tug the last of my towel away, I channeled all the fear and humiliation in me and shoved it at him.

I didn’t even stick around to watch him stumble back. I dove, naked, into the lake, letting the cold, black water flush away my tears. I forgot about Sarah; I forgot about my clothes. I just wanted to swim all the way back home.

 

By the time I started freshman year at Palmetto, I’d been through a whole lot worse than that frozen moment on the dock. I had longer hair, thicker skin, the right zip code and wardrobe, and a different nickname to prove that I had fully put that past behind me.

But the first time I saw J.B. in the halls of my new school, I was right back at that marina, totally exposed, totally worthless.

He passed me in the hall, then doubled back around. “You look familiar,” he said, squinting. “Have we met?”

Epilogue

Once, you used to envision your final exit from high school, some fairy-tale ending to your story. You were so easily won over by honest trifles. You succumbed so quickly to the instruments of darkness, snapping your Juicy Fruit, thinking you were on top of the world.

 

They spent nearly a week searching for Natalie Hargrove’s body, and Dotty Perch spent that long praying for her soul. She went through box after box of tissues, flanked on either side by Darla and the Dick on the couch at the hacienda by the lake. The Dick combed through her hair with his fingers, brewed her fourth pot of decaf hazelnut coffee. He could never erase what had happened to Dotty’s only daughter. The deed was done. The battle was lost and won. But she had someone to take care of her at last, and a house built from a lifetime of coveting. She would eventually find happiness. You would, too, if you were her.

The Double D was another story. She treated Natalie’s old locker like her own personal wailing wall, her nubby fingers peeling at the poster taped across its red metal door.

The poster read:
Kate Richards, from Handmaiden to Princess. Discover Palmetto’s brightest new star.

As easily as Kate Richards filled the hole left by Natalie Hargrove, you might expect to find our bright new star on the arm of a certain reigning King. But no one at Palmetto had seen or heard from Mike since Natalie’s tragic accident. Perhaps that one-way ticket out of town got put to use after all. . . .

Back at Palmetto, Officer Parker was making a personal discovery of his own. The cops had finally gotten around to cleaning out Justin Balmer’s locker. Inside it, they’d found a football helmet, socks, jock straps. And a small zipper case.

Tucked into the case, were a handful of pictures.

Of Natalie Hargrove.

Natalie serving lemonade at the freshman fund-raiser.

Natalie by the flagpole tossing her head back to laugh, so that the sun sparkled in her long dark hair.

Natalie’s jeweled lilac dress glinting in the light from the snow globe at last year’s winter formal.

And more. Photos of Nat across all four years they’d spent at Palmetto.

Proof that there was more to J.B. than anyone knew, buried truths behind his emerald-green eyes. Proof that things aren’t always what you think they are.

 

Once, you imagined you could be anyone you wanted to be. That you could make the right guy love you and rescue you from your fate. That you could outsmart everyone and leave your past behind for good.

How hard you worked for what you wanted.

How cruelly fate betrayed you in the end.

Turn the page for a chapter from the new Razorbill series by NANCY HOLDER:

POSSESSIONS

October 28