Crank (9 page)

here" arcade, and amusement-park-style rides.

The day began early, ended late, and we always

* *

had a blast. So why didn't it sound inviting? I was home. Everything was the same, everything

exactly as it should be. Everything, that is, except

* *

me.

222

I

Went to Try On the Swi

msuit

Few things are quite as humbling as cinching yourself up in a completely

revealing

bikini and standing in front of a full-length

reflection, rotating like a bird on a spit, trying to admire the naked truth

staring back at you:

body slim but not

fine-tuned

boyish hips, just

barely qualifying as curves, uncertain breasts, cup size

stalled

somewhere between

A (plus) and B (minus), womanhood

223

desperately trying to escape, succeeding

once a month, like it or not, ready or not.

(At least that wasn't

currently a problem!)

224

T

he Tattoo, However, Was

It did look better, but it still didn't look good-- a bright pink, semi-heart-shaped thing, blue ink hiding somewhere beneath my skin, not an easy thing to hide in an itsy bitsy bikini.

* *

Band-aids were problematic. A little

one wouldn't cover it, but one of those big

square dudes would draw everyone's attention, guaranteed. Besides, have you ever seen a Band-aid, floating in a swimming pool? Would you want to be responsible for such a disgusting thing?

* *

And even if one did manage to stay on midst gushing gallons of chlorinated

water, what would all that wet

wildness do to the just forming

scab and retreating infection?

225

Still, I couldn't beg off.

Wild Waters Day was important to Scott's "leg up the management ladder."

It was Mom's day to strut her stuff in her own itsy bitsy bikini.

And it was always a summer hit for us kids.

* *

If I said I didn't want to go,

Mom would check for a fever for certain.

Even if she didn't find one, it would open the door for questions

I really was in no mood to answer.

* *

Questions I knew I'd have to answer soon.

226

As

I Pondered

my problem, the telephone rang.

Jake happily informed me--not to mention everyone else--it was

Adam/Buddy on the far end of the line.

* *

"Hello?"

Hey,

Gorgeous. I miss you.

Melted butter.

* *

"Oh, Adam. Me too."

I can't stay on long. Phone

bills, you know.

Hot butter burned.

* *

"Okay."

Just want you to know

I love you.

Burned good.

* *

"Me too. Always."

Lince is coming home

tomorrow. She'll be okay.

Burned bad.

* *

"I'm glad."

Bree? I've been thinking.

We're a long way apart...

Sizzled.

* *

"I know."

So I think we should give

each other permission

to see other people.

Spattered.

227

"You want

my permission?"

You have mine. Just think

of me from time to time.

Welted.

* *

"I don't need your

permission, Buddy.

And you obviously

don't need mine."

Well, okay then. Better go.

Keep in touch.

I really do love you.

Scarred.

228

H

is Idea of Love

sure didn't mesh with mine.

* *

"I love you, let's see other people.'

Interesting

sentence structure.

* *

"Lince's coming home.

Let's see other people."

Unusual

paragraph construction.

* *

My face flushed

tears poked my eyes, scar tissue twisted my heart, wrapped itself around arteries, closed tight around my jugular.

I coughed pain.

* *

I never went to Albuquerque

expecting to find love.

thought it had found me there, followed me home.

229

I never came home, expecting to lose

love in the space of one brief

telephone call.

* *

Is it always so short-lived?

230

Mom Knocked on My Door

I found that strange.

She never knocked.

May I come in?

Never asked for permission to come in. Permission.

That word again.

We haven't had a chance to talk

since you got home.

Then she looked at my face, all puffy and pissed, read

everything she needed to there.

Looks like we've got a lot to talk about.

But maybe this isn't the best time?

I wanted to talk. Needed to.

But how could I possibly talk to her? She was my mom.

I

know I'm your mom and not always

easy to talk to. But I'm here for you.

I was ready for a lecture.

Why did she have to choose

that moment to try "nice"?

231

I

want to hear all about your trip. Let

me know when you're ready.

Big girls don't cry, especially

not in front of their mommies.

But a cloudburst threatened.

I

hope you're hungry. I'm making

your favorite

--

lasagna and garlic bread.

I was hungry (somehow).

I was tired (still). I was hurting (inside and out).

And more than ever, I wanted to walk with the monster.

232

Over

Lasagna and Garlic Bread

I talked about airplanes.

I talked about lonely seatmates, third-run movies, and pretzels

(for this price!) in place of meals.

* *

I talked about Albuquerque, bowling alley

etiquette, Los Alamos-grown cockroaches, and walk-ups in decidedly bad neighborhoods

(omitting the part about my own little nighttime foray).

* *

With some prodding, I talked about Dad, his job, and (lack of) girlfriends;

I talked about his philosophy, somehow sadly yet to ripen into something resembling maturity.

* *

With a lot more prodding,

I talked about Adam aka Buddy

(omitting everything of use to anyone

interested in blackmail).

233

Considering his recent treachery, it was easy enough not to gush about his hot bod, wildcat eyes, incredibly perfect lips, and intuitive hands.

* *

And, mostly because everyone knew it anyway, I talked about how, despite his undying love, he had given us both

permission to date other people.

234

Lei

gh

Knew

there was a whole lot

more to the story, of course.

But I'd never

told her secrets, and trusted

completely she would

never betray

mine.

Still, just in case, I

never dared

mention

sex, interrupted by periods;

Lince, interrupted by drugs;

235

or my own

infatuation with the monster's

spectacular

rock and roll.

No, these

secrets

belonged strictly in my own

private closet.

236

Later

Leigh climbed into my bed, moved very close to me, her proximity strangely

unsettling.

Want to talk? I do.

I miss how we used to talk.

I recalled a time, not so long

ago, when snuggling with my big sister was comforting.

Tell me more about Adam. Is he

really your very first boyfriend?

So why did it bother me now, when I so needed the consolation of touch?

I'll

tell you about Heather. She's

not my first, but she tops the list.

Heather? Lesbians had names like

Bobbi or Jo, didn't they?

"Heather" belonged to a model or cheerleader.

237

She's a cheerleader. Well, a song

leader, and pretty much perfect.

Leigh was almost perfect herself.

If she were taller,

she

could be a model. Picture-perfect

lesbians. I had to laugh.

What are you laughing about?

Didn't

know cheerleaders were my type?

Didn't know cheerleaders could

be

that type. Which got me thinking.

What else might those peppy

cheerleaders do?

238

I

Tucked That Away

And tried to focus on my sister

going on and on about being in love with a girl: their meeting, touching

accidentally, connecting

immediately, interwoven

hand in hand, heart-to-heart.

And even though I loved my sister

had accepted her eccentricities

I found it hard

239

to listen to detailed

descriptions, abstract

ambitions, relevant

observations, hers and mine.

240

W

ild Waters Day Dawned

hot, crystal blue--perfect for watery fun.

I donned my new bikini, disguised the tattoo beneath a hot pink

gauze cover-up, and on some lunatic whim

called Sarah to come along.

* *

While

waiting in line, we ran into Trent, another longtime friend, who on his 16th birthday made the huge mistake of climbing out of the closet and waving a big hello.

* *

Of course, I was good with it. We were best buds, no matter what, and, of course, there was the Leigh factor. But

others in our school were not quite so open-minded.

* *

Since he outed, Trent

had been teased, humiliated, beaten, even

semitortured by some pickup

truck cowboys who didn't have a clue about the real meaning of masculinity.

241

So there I was at Wild Waters, trying to look extremely cool at the coolest place in town, with chatty Sarah

Baker and Trent

"the gay guy"

Rosselli.

* *

Turned into an interesting day.

242

Mom and Scott

wandered over to the group

picnic area to join the company

brownnosers and nibble.

* *

Leigh and Jake went off together, racing to see who could reach the top of Black Widow first.

* *

Trent hit the wave pool.

Sarah hit the bathroom--she always

showered before entering the pool.

* *

I opted for an inner-tube float along the Lazy River, mostly because of this

very cute lifeguard, perched overhead.

* *

And there was Bree, smiling seductively, and I swear that poster boy lifeguard

smiled right back.

243

And in that righteous moment, complete

clarity. Bree was not an invention, not a stranger.

* *

Bree was the essence of me.

244

W

hether That's Good or Bad

I can't say. I just know it's true.

* *

Bree opens doors

Kristina wouldn't dare

knock on,

* * like that cute lifeguard's--

not to mention Adam's, even if that one had recently

slammed in her face.

* *

But Bree insists on having

things all her way.

* *

So when Trent and Sarah

came trucking up, bickering and tittering and doing all those little

cutesy friend-type things,

Kristina never minded.

* *

Bree wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, go

away. Let her play.

245

For a while, without the monster

whispering sweet and terrible

nothings,

Kristina was still in charge.

* *

But Bree was watching.

246

R

ather Than Face

total embarrassment, I

told Trent and Sarah I'd

meet them at Black Widow.

* *

They looked at me, looked at what I was looking at, hard-bodied and tan on his tall tower.

* *

Trent gave me a thumbs-up.

Sarah broke out in giggles.

Then they graciously provided space.

* *

I invited Bree to take over while

Kristina took cover. She bent forward from the waist, shook her dripping hair,