“You better,” I replied.
I kicked off with Ryan holding my hand and jogging beside me. I gripped him hard, wobbling on uncertain feet as we rolled along down the street.
“Okay, Brooke. Stop,” he said.
I shook my head. “You stop.” And I squeezed hard on his hand.
Ryan stopped short, and I fell, the skateboard slipping out from underneath my feet. It rolled along lazily down the street while Ryan tended to me.
“I’m so sorry, Brooke,” he said, chuckling. He helped me off the ground and checked for damage. I think he just enjoyed running his hands up and down my recently shaved legs. “I swear I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“Yeah right,” I said, swatting his hands away.
He trapped my wrists with both hands and held them by my sides while he rained light kisses all over the front of my legs.
“Better?” he asked, looking up at me. The sun was bright, forcing him to squint, and I wasn’t sure he could see my nod.
“Let’s try again,” I said, and he went to retrieve the skateboard.
After thirty minutes I was pushing off and rolling slowly on my own. Always with my arms out, legs slightly bent, body tensed to the max. I knew I’d be sore tomorrow. Learning to turn was a disaster, and I fell forward every time I leaned into the board. I gave up and asked if we could play a video game.
“Now when you say play a video game, what are we talking about?” Ryan asked, helping me up off the street for the last time.
“I mean actually play a video game. You said you had a Wii. Can’t we play Super Mario Brothers or something?” I replied, walking with him to his house.
“Not into the hardcore blood and guts games?”
“Honestly? I’d much rather jump on mushrooms and flying turtles.”
“They have names, you know,” Ryan said. “You’ve got a lot to learn, Brooklyn.”
“Goombas and Koopas, thank you very much!” I said, satisfied.
“Wow, I think I just got a hard-on,” Ryan replied, and I smacked his arm. “I thought you didn’t play video games. How do you know about Goombas and Koopas?”
“I used to play with Beth when we were younger. It’s the only game I did play before you came along,” I replied, following Ryan to his bedroom. He stopped at the threshold and turned to face me.
“Well, I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off of you, Brooke. Goombas. Koopas. Skateboarding. Not to mention killer mind and body. You’re my dream girl,” Ryan said.
I grinned. “Don’t even think about distracting me.”
Ryan threw his hands up. “Never. We’re playing together.”
“I’m Mario!” I shouted, going for Controller 1, and grabbing it just in time.
“You don’t have to have Controller 1 to be Mario,” Ryan said, picking up the second controller and settling beside me on the floor. “This isn’t the original Nintendo system.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ll still let you be Mario. Only because I love you, Brooke.”
And I warmed all over.
***
I read the note again, shaking and sweating.
Some little bitch has been running her mouth. Happen to know who she is?
That’s all it said, but it was accompanied by horizontal scratches etched into the sides of my car by a key, no doubt. I was pissed. Pissed and scared out of my mind. I turned around and scanned the student parking lot. No one in sight.
I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to take the information about the Fantasy Slut League public immediately. I was afraid of what these boys would do next. They were pissed because they weren’t getting any and pissed at me because I was the reason. They told me to back off, but I wouldn’t listen. It started with a trip on the bleachers. It quickly escalated to a near-drowning experience in the school pool. Finally it erupted with a keyed car. What was next? I didn’t want to find out. I didn’t want to imagine. I wanted the story out, the boys disciplined, and someone to pay for the fucking damage done to my car.
“Hey, Brooklyn,” I heard from behind. I whirled around to face Parker. Where did he come from? I had just looked over the entire parking lot a second before.
“Did you do this?” I asked, pointing to the scratches in my car door.
Parker whistled low. “Damn, that’s bad news.”
“Fuck you, and stay the hell away from me,” I spat, searching my book bag for my car keys. I felt unsafe. Why could I never remember to pull my keys and have them in my hand before exiting a building?
“Calm down, Brooklyn. I didn’t key your car,” Parker said.
I didn’t believe him for a second. “Yeah? Well, who else could it be?”
“Maybe it’s someone pissed at you for meddling in business that’s not yours,” Parker said. He backed me against the car. “Have you been meddling in business that’s not yours?” he asked softly.