The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (9 page)

Anyway, when he wasn't mysteriously missing or being weirdly obsessed with the number three Will was really fun to hang out with and I knew he felt the same about me. In fact, he had even started calling me Sony, saying I was more entertaining than his Sony
Playstation
.  I looked forward to spending time with him even though it counteracted my desire for invisibility. People noticed me when I was with Will and that was not a good thing.

"So, has he drilled you with his power tool yet?" a girl said to me in a low threatening voice as I loaded my books into my locker one morning. I was so tired from cleaning the studio that at first I couldn't register who the girl was. Then it struck me. Ashley Carter, a pretty blonde senior. I only knew her name because she often helped Lauren
DeHaven
with her numerous charitable events.

I didn't quite understand why she was talking to me about power tools, but then I figured out the innuendo. She was referring to Will.  Instead of responding, I concentrated on my books and tried to ignore her. "You know that's the only reason he's with you, right?" she added.

I didn't respond.

"He's a top Cherry Picker you know. He gets extra points for virgins. And since you're like the last virgin on the planet he's
gonna
pick you." I tried to turn my back to her, but she continued.  "He's a Panty Pirate. All he wants is the booty."

Her voice was so soft yet antagonizing. Only I could hear her. And she had this sweet innocent expression on her face that completely contradicted the vicious vitriol that spewed from her mouth. "You don't believe me? Read this."

She stuffed a piece of paper in my hand.  I slammed my locker shut and swung my backpack over my shoulder. In the process, though, I accidently smacked Ashley in the stomach. She stumbled back a few steps then yelled, "You hit me. I can't believe you hit me. Did you see that? She attacked me." Then some fake tears leaked out of her eyes. She should've won an Oscar. A few students ran to her aid and patted her on the back.

"Oh, come on. It was an accident," I tried to explain, but my years of practicing invisibility had worked too well. No one recognized my existence when precious Ashley Carter was in distress. I just melted into the background then skulked away.

Class was pretty pointless that day. I couldn't get my mind off of what Ashley had said. Will was a top Cherry Picker? What the heck did that mean? Well, I could imagine what it meant, but I didn't really want to. That couldn't be why he was with me. I mean we had been seeing each other for almost two weeks and he hadn't even kissed me. I'd been dreaming of that kiss. It would be my first.

I was sixteen and I'd never kissed a boy. I'd never had the opportunity. Boys in
Venton
Heights never seemed interested in me for some reason or maybe I'd never had the time to notice. Since I was eight years old, most of my time was spent dancing. Stefan and Sean were the only two male dancers my age at Ms. Alexander's studio. They were twins and I wasn't attracted to them in any way, shape, or form.
Most of the time I couldn't even tell them apart.

For over a year I had imagined my first kiss going to David Winthrop, but in the past two weeks, I looked forward to giving that honor to Will. Now I had doubts. Maybe Will wasn't for me.

I took out the sheet of paper Ashley had handed to me and read it while concealing it with my Spanish book. It was a copy of what looked like a score sheet for the Cherry Picker game. Will's name was in the top corner above a list of girl's names with a description of the sex act followed by the number of points awarded. My eyes watered and my lungs constricted as I read in lurid detail the things Will had done to or with other girls.
Oral sex on a roller coaster, a threesome in his neighbor's hot tub, a virgin in a supermarket bathroom.
I wanted to vomit. Was this the type of boy I was with?

My suspicions of Will possibly having another girl were starting to make sense. That's why he was always late. Maybe he was with other girls to keep his points up in the Cherry Picker game while he warmed me up in order to score super, mega, bonus points or something.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.  There was no need to cry. Deep down I knew that wasn't true. The Will Maddox I'd gotten to know over the past two weeks wasn't using me for points. So why was my heartbeat accelerating making it hard for me to catch my breath? I couldn't figure out what bothered me so much. I mean, I already knew Will was promiscuous. The first two times I ever laid eyes on him, he'd just finished having sex in a public place. That wasn't the problem. It was in the past and I knew he really didn't want to be that person.  That's why he told me he didn't like himself. This boy who brought me flowers at every opportunity for the past two weeks did not want to be a cherry picking power tool anymore.

But, on the other hand, it had
only
been two weeks. Who's to say that in two more weeks he wouldn't lapse into old habits once again? How many times did my father say he'd change? And how many years had things stayed exactly the same until my mother finally got tired of it and kicked him out? I didn't want a life like that.

Ashley's revelation of the Cherry Picker game didn't make me doubt Will's intentions. I knew he wanted to change. The question was, could he?

"You miss class?  What you mean you miss class? You sick?" Ms. Alexander asked as she felt my head.  Sasha and I stopped by the studio on the way to Will's Championship game.  Sasha didn't feel I needed to explain my absence to Ms. Alexander, but I knew
I couldn't just not show up without letting her know
.  She would think I was hit by a bus or something. I hadn't missed a dance class since I was ten-years-old with the chicken pox.  I actually tried to go to class and she sent me home so as not to infect the other dancers.

"No, I'm not sick."

"No sick, no miss class. Get dressed." Ms. Alexander turned her attention back to the sound system and started flipping through CD's. 

I really wanted to see Will play.  But I couldn't lie to Ms. Alexander.  I felt trapped.  I stared at her for a few minutes trying to think of something to say.  Finally, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to attend my pas de
deux
rehearsal. 

I turned to go get changed when Sasha stepped in and said, "Ms. Alexander, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but our mother was in a horrible car accident just this morning.  We've been by her side in the hospital all day.  My sister is so committed to your dance program that she felt it absolutely necessary to tell you in person she couldn't attend and would rather be with our mother in her time of need."

"That true?" Ms. Alexander asked me.  I started nodding furiously after Sasha pinched me hard in the back.  "Why you no say that?  Get out, go."  She shooed us out with both hands.

"Oh, thank you for your understanding, Ms. Alexander," Sasha said graciously as a solitary tear streamed down her face.  I stared at her in disbelief.

"Oh, don't give me that look," she said once we were outside. "You want to see Will don't you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to lie.  What if she finds out?"

"So what if she does.  How many of your weekends have you given that woman?  You deserve a night for yourself once in a while.  Besides, it's
Will Maddox
. You can't pass that up."

She was right. I couldn't pass it up. I really wanted to get closer to him. I wanted to learn what drove him as a person. I wanted to figure out if he'd be strong enough to overcome the sex fiend personality he'd created for himself. Though we saw each other every day, I still didn't know a lot about him personally. Oddly enough, our conversations mostly revolved around opera music and fantasy basketball.

Even without him saying so specifically, I knew he had some pretty strange quirks. For instance, he always kept three green apple jolly ranchers in his left pocket, he always separated his food into three sections, he always wore the same "lucky" beat up red Converse All-Stars, he always carried his "lucky" basketball on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and if I ever asked him to turn a light off in a room, he always had to flip the switch three times instead of just once. His habits didn't bother me so much as they intrigued me. But I didn't feel comfortable asking him about them yet. I wanted to get to know him better and making the effort to see him play in the championship was an important step.

When the teams came out to warm up, Will looked around in the crowd until he saw me.  He gave me a nod of the head then shot the ball from really far away and it went in.  He smiled at me as if to say 'that was for you.'  I couldn't help but grin.  Sasha noticed it too.

"Aren't you glad you came?" she said into my ear.

I really didn't understand a lot of the game, but I did understand that Will was really good.  He was really, really good.  I mean almost every time he shot the ball, it went in.  And he shot it from really far away.   And the people on the other team must have realized it too because they kept knocking him over and hitting him and stuff.  Will just picked himself up with a smile and took his free shots which also always went in. I could see how happy playing basketball made him.   

One time, however, they knocked him down and he didn't get up with a smile. The score was Bridgeton 77, other guys 72 in the fourth quarter with three minutes to go.  Will stepped under the basket trying to get the ball when this obnoxious thug purposely elbowed him in the nose.  Will went down with a thud and rolled around on his back clutching his face.  I bolted out of my seat along with most of the audience trying to see if he was alright.

"Hey, that's not fair," I yelled.  "Sasha, are they
gonna
just let that guy get away with that?"

"No, that's a flagrant foul.  He'll get ejected," she said. I wanted to ask her to explain a flagrant foul, but I was too busy watching Will writhe in pain.  He held his nose with both hands as blood seeped through his fingers. I felt my face flush with anger at his attacker and I felt the pain of his possibly broken nose.  I blinked my tears away.

One of the other Bridgeton players lunged at the barbarian who attacked Will and within seconds, several players exchanged blows.  Referees and coaches stormed the court trying to separate the boys.  The crowd went insane. 

It took twenty minutes to calm the boys down enough to resume the game.  Six players were ejected and sent to the locker room. Even though Will didn't throw any punches, he also went to the locker room because the bleeding wouldn't stop.

Time ticked on and Will didn't emerge from the locker room.  I worried not only about his well being, but also about the score. With two minutes left, Bridgeton was down by two points.  The team needed him.  The crowd chanted his last name. Maddox, Maddox, Maddox.  But still he didn't come out.  I thought we were doomed.  Bridgeton was down by five points with 57 seconds left.  Finally, when the clock read 39 seconds Will emerged from the locker room and immediately joined his floundering team on the court.  I thought there was no way Bridgeton could possible come back with only 39 seconds, but, then again, I had never been to a basketball game before. 

Will reminded me of
Vaslov
Lopokova
of the Russian Ballet the way he covered the court with style, grace, and expertise.  I never knew basketball could be so beautiful. When the other team had the ball, Will waved his arms in their face trying to steal it.  Then suddenly, he snatched the ball away from an opposing player and made a mad dash in the other direction.  He stopped short, shot the ball and it went in.  
Three points.
  Then the other team had the ball again. 

"Why are they taking so long?  Why are they moving so slowly?"  I asked Sasha.