“We’re gonna be hanging out on the dance floor,” I said. “Thanks for getting us those waters,” and I dragged Gretchen away before she had the opportunity to make another flippant remark.
“What is wrong with you?!” I hissed, trying to find the rhythm to the song while running the conversation over in my head. I wasn’t good at multi-tasking.
“You look like a retard, Brooke,” Gretchen replied, shaking her hips like a belly dancer.
“Gretchen, keep your mouth shut for the rest of the evening,” I demanded. “Got it?” I stopped altogether and closed my eyes, concentrating on the beat of the song until I thought I discovered it. I started dancing again, and Gretchen burst out laughing.
“Can you move away from me, please? Cute boy over there is eyeing me up, and you’re totally killing my mojo.”
I rolled my eyes and gave up. Usually I was a good dancer. No, not good. Great. And usually I had someone tiptoeing around me within the first ten minutes on the dance floor trying to get my attention. Tonight I looked stupid. Just plain stupid, like someone who doesn’t get out much. I knew the problem. I was wound up like a top, terrified of spinning out of control because I was trying to be braver than I actually was. I put the sole responsibility of taking care of strangers on my shoulders, and the party was so packed I feared I wouldn’t even find them until it was too late.
“I’m going to do some rounds,” I said. “See if I can spot Melanie and Taylor.”
Gretchen became serious like she suddenly remembered why we were here.
“You worry about Melanie,” she said. “I’ve got Taylor.”
We made a plan before we arrived. I showed Gretchen Taylor’s picture from last year, made her study it, commit every detail to memory so she could track her at the party. I did the same with Melanie. The goal was to intervene in any activity we thought looked sketchy. Taylor was a player on Aaron’s team, and I wasn’t sure about him yet. Melanie was one of Tim’s drafts, and I knew he was trouble. If he had the opportunity to take advantage of her tonight, he would.
Cal arrived with our bottled waters before we started. He wanted to talk to me some more, and suddenly I realized he planned to stay close to me all evening. Gretchen slunk away to start investigating, and I felt helpless, trapped.
“So, are you liking Charity Run?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
“I noticed you’re not involved in any sports,” Cal said. “Amazing considering you have a nice figure.”
And we’re back to idiocy.
“Thanks, I guess,” I replied.
“Any reason why you don’t do sports?”
What was up with the weird questions?
“Just not really sporty, I guess. I mean, I try to work out some,” I said, scanning the crowd for Melanie.
“Well, you should definitely do active things,” Cal said. “If you want to keep that body.”
I ignored him as I continued searching the room.
“Looking for someone?” Cal asked.
“No, just people-watching.”
He took another swig of his Heineken.
“So, I thought I’d invite you to a swim meet,” Cal said.
“Why?”
He looked at me funny.
“I mean, when?” I laughed. “Did I just say why? I meant when. Good grief, my brain is mush. When is your swim meet? I’d love to go.”
Bad recovery, but hopefully it would work.
“Well, not ‘til the spring actually,” Cal replied.
“Thought you’d seal the deal early?” I asked lightly.
He grinned. “Yeah, I guess. We’ve gotta practice in the off-season, you know.”
“Uh huh.”
“And we’re practicing Friday afternoon. Care to swing by and take a couple of shots for the yearbook?”
This was interesting. Ryan and I weren’t officially dating, but we talked at school all the time. Sure, we didn’t touch each other—we weren’t into the whole PDA thing—but it was obvious we were interested in each other. And Cal didn’t care. He caught me in the hallway on more than one occasion chatting it up with Ryan, and he simply didn’t care. I would venture to say he was more interested in me because of it. And a week or two ago, I would have reveled in that realization, welcomed the opportunity to trap the son-of-a-bitch. But I was changing. I wasn’t sure I liked that plan anymore.
Once I accidentally told Terry, everything shifted. He was a reflection staring back at me, mouth agape in disbelief and disgust, and I saw for the first time how messed up I was. How the guilt had twisted me into a monster and a victim. I wanted something better for myself now. I still wanted justice for Beth, but I didn’t think I could make myself a sexual sacrifice anymore. The fact that Cal was still interested in me, though, made me doubt my decision.
“Uh . . . sure, I guess.”
Cal looked pleased. I imagined he had plans to show me just how ripped and awesome he was. “Okay. Practice starts at 3:45. So—”
“Dude, Collin’s got the game set up.” It was Hunter who interrupted us, and thank God. I had things to do.
“Interested in beer pong?” Cal asked.
I held up my water and shook it.