Maybe I am. Maybe it’s in my genes to not be quite right socially. Or maybe it’s what Mrs. Erikson said. Whenever she read anything I wrote last year in English she would say I have an old soul. But Zoey tolerates my social ineptitude. Usually.
I’d been at Marie’s since I was a few weeks old, but Zoey started there for preschool and she sort of latched onto me. She cried the second day of public kindergarten when they advanced me to first grade and told her she couldn’t come with me. I tell her more than I tell anyone else, but there are some things—okay, a lot of things—that I keep to myself. She knows I lost my virginity last summer. She just doesn’t know to who. I told her it was a guy from our rival high school and made up some random name.
I wouldn’t have told her anything, except she’s been on my case to “just do it” since she fucked Jon Fitzmeyer last spring after prom. I think she just wanted someone who’d been through it to share the gory details with, because after I told her, I heard every detail about Jon. Such as, his penis curves out when he’s hard, he doesn’t kiss while he’s fucking, and he looks like he’s having a seizure when he comes. She thinks it’s because he’s concentrating so hard.
She’s been dating Kevin since the beginning of the school year. They’ve traded oral, but that’s it.
“He’s bigger than Jon, in case you care,” she says huffily, her arms crossed over her chest. “Not longer, but thicker. I felt it stretch more.”
“I’ll remember that for when I’m fucking him,” I say, turning up the radio. It’s Caiden’s Arctic Monkey’s song from last night. Zoey pissed me off when she said Nate fucked me wrong, so she doesn’t get to dump all her shit on me now.
She glares at me. “I just thought you might find it interesting. You never really know what a guy is packing.”
I turn onto the street that leads up the hill to school. “You’ve sucked Kevin’s dick, and you’re just now discovering it’s different than Jon’s?”
“Jesus, B! What the fuck is with you today?”
Fucking Caiden, that’s what. He’s got me so hot and bothered that I can’t think straight. And talking to Zoey about having sex isn’t helping. I appreciate what Nate and I have even more now, because he’s never left me feeling this sexually frustrated.
“Sorry. I’m just in a shitty mood,” I admit, hoping she won’t ask why.
“Well, you don’t need to bring me down with you.” There’s my Zoey. Always the narcissist.
“Sorry,” I say again. “So, tell me everything.”
She does, and by the time we climb out of my car in the school lot, I know more about Kevin’s junk than I ever wanted to. But as I walk to first period calculus, I can’t help wondering what Caiden might be packing.
∞
I’m particularly vicious in water polo practice this afternoon. Near the end, I take a shot that leaves our goalie with a bloody nose.
Coach Jackson gives me a pat on the back on the way to the locker room. “Great work out there, Leon.” He likes a little blood in the water, so his comment doesn’t surprise me. “You sure you don’t want me reaching out to college coaches? It’s late for Division One schools, but there are some great D2’s that would piss themselves to sign you.”
“Thanks coach, but my plans are Stanford or Berkeley.”
“Hell,” he says, rubbing his bald head. “They’d take you walk-on, sure as shit. Let me see what I can do.”
“I really want to focus on academics,” I say, toweling off my hair. “But thanks.”
I slip through the locker room door before he can press his argument and head for the shower to get ready for my night class.
And Caiden.
On my way to Sierra State, I pull into the McDonald’s next to campus and take in my duffel. I order a Coke and a chicken caesar salad, and when I’m done eating, I take my duffel to the bathroom. I tug off my jeans and sweater and slip on a short black cotton skirt and snug white long-sleeved top. I’d never wear this at school—mostly because I’m invisible there and like it that way—but Caiden kissed me. We were so close to doing more. I pull my sweater on over my shirt, reapply my mascara, brush my teeth, then head to the car.
I tough it out for as long as I can, but knowing Caiden is just two buildings over, in the library, is enough to drive me to distraction. Professor Duncan’s an okay guy, so I feel guilty about cutting out of his class early, but as I stare at my blank notebook, I know there’s no point being here anyway. Before I reach the doors of the library, I unhook my bra and pull it out through my sleeve, then tug off my sweater and shove them both in my messenger bag. I take a deep breath for nerves, then climb the stairs to the fifth floor resource center.
Caiden is at the desk, and a blond girl is leaning on the counter, pushing her cleavage all up in his face. When I see him smile at her, flirting back, jealousy chokes up my throat. I swallow it along with the acid rising and berate myself. Jealousy is not my thing. And besides, he’s not mine.