Going Under

Beth giggled.

“I’m telling you that this guy is the one.”

Beth sighed. “Describe.”

“Okay. So his name is Finn, and he goes to my school, and he’s really tall and plays lacrosse.”

“What does he look like?” Beth asked.

“I’m getting to that. Chill,” I said. “He’s got blond hair and brown eyes.”

Beth scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know if I like that combo.”

“What are you talking about? Sandy hair and dark eyes? It’s totally hot,” I argued.

“Whatever,” she said. “Continue.”

“And he goes to church,” I said.

“So what? That makes him a good guy or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I said.

“Hold up. Why would you even bring up the whole church thing?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Beth’s face lit up with realization. “You think I’m a whore!”

“What?!”

“You want me to date this church guy because you think I’m a whore!”

“Oh my God, Beth. What have you been smoking?” I asked.

She laughed and shook her head. “So what? He’s gonna convert me or something? Make me a good girl again? I think I remember you being the one who lost your virginity at fifteen. Not me. At least I waited until last year.”

I bristled. First off, I never lost my virginity at fifteen. I lied about it because I was tired of being the only virgin Beth and I knew. Yes, there’s just as much pressure for a girl to lose it as there is for a guy. Second, Beth had a lot of nerve comparing my sexual past with hers. Maybe she waited until she was seventeen, but in those ten months since she lost her virginity, she had slept with four guys.

“Go ahead and say it,” Beth said. “I can see it written all over your face anyway.”

“You’re sleeping with too many guys, Beth,” I blurted. “It doesn’t . . . look good.” I averted my eyes.

Beth was quiet for a moment.

“Why can a guy sleep around and it gives him this awesome reputation, but when a girl does it, she’s a freaking slut?” she asked finally.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the world we live in, I guess. Some things will never be fair.” I glanced at Beth, trying to find the courage to ask. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her open palms, and I wondered if she was trying to read them. “Why have you slept with four guys, Beth?” I asked, and then added quickly, “And I’m not trying to sound judgmental.”

“What if I told you that I just like having sex?” she asked.

I grinned. “That’s really the reason?”

“Yeah, that’s really the reason,” Beth replied. “And so I guess that makes me a whore.”

“Stop calling yourself a whore. You’re not a whore,” I replied.

“You know, it’s funny,” Beth said. “Guys want a ‘good girl’ who’s pure and sweet and inexperienced, but then he expects her to be this rock star in bed. It’s totally messed up. It’s a standard no girl can live up to.”

“Who cares what guys think?” I said.

“You do,” Beth replied. “And I do, too.”

I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like it because it was true. I did care what guys thought about me. That’s why I worked hard to be pretty, to have a fun personality, to come across virginal (because I was anyway) and sweet and kind. Especially kind, and especially kind to other girls. I never wanted to be that bitchy girl who treated other girls like shit. I didn’t think most guys liked that anyway. They wanted someone with a kind heart, and even if I had to fake it, I would to find my perfect boyfriend. I hadn’t found him yet, but I knew he was out there.

“Did you give him my number?” Beth asked.

“Who?”

“This Finn guy. Did you give him my number?”

“Would you be pissed if I did?” I asked.

“I guess not,” Beth replied. She walked over to her closet and started rifling through her clothes. “I guess I have to wear something conservative on our date, huh? Since he’s a church guy and all.”

I rolled my eyes. “I said he went to church. I didn’t say he was the youth pastor.”

“I’m feeling kind of nervous about this,” Beth admitted. “What if I come across all prostitute-in-Proverbs-with-the-spiced-sheets girl?”

“That’s what you remember from youth group? I asked.

“Whatever.”

“Beth, he’s just a nice guy. I’m sorry I even brought up the church thing. You’re freaking out about it,” I said.

We were silent for a moment.

“Is it my fault?” I asked quietly. “Did I make you feel badly for sleeping with four guys? I didn’t mean to, Beth.”

“No,” Beth said. “No, Brooke. It’s not you. It’s just the world we live in, right?” Her mouth quirked up into a grin.

I grinned back. “Trust me. You’re gonna love him.”





Six

“So, what do you think?” Gretchen asked.

“About what?” I replied.

We were sitting in the food court at Crabtree Valley Mall drinking strawberry smoothies from Orange Julius.

S. Walden's books