Authors: Katie McGarry
My entire body tenses. It’s the truth. He did ask me out on a dare, but I’m not a dare
anymore. I’m not. “Wow, Gwen. Thanks for
your concern. Is this where you ask me to braid your hair and then we’ll giggle about getting to first base with a boy?”
Gwen twines her golden hair around a
finger. I should bring her over to Scott as Exhibit B for why I hate blondes. “I’m trying to be your friend, Beth.”
“If you wanted to be my friend, you
wouldn’t have tried to slip your tongue in Ryan’s mouth last Tuesday when you cornered him after baseball practice.”
Blood drains from her face and I darkly
chuckle to rub in her embarrassment. She
didn’t think he would tell me. “Do I sound like
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a dare now?”
“Why haven’t you dropped out of the
homecoming court yet? They’re going to take yearbook pictures next week, so this would be the time to leave.”
“I’m not dropping out.” I’ll be leaving soon, but I won’t drop out. Ryan wowed me and I lost the dare. I have ten days to keep my word to him.
Gwen eyes me coolly. “I thought you didn’t want the nomination.”
I shrug. “I changed my mind.”
“You’re not going to win,” she says. “Some people don’t like you.”
My spine straightens. “Do I look like I give a fuck what people think of me?”
“You should,” she says. “Because Ryan
does. If you cared for him, you’d walk away.”
Gwen doesn’t wait for me to reply. She
tosses that sickening yellow hair over her shoulder and struts away like she’s queen.
Unwanted demons race into my mind, taunting me with her words. I’m only a dare. Ryan
doesn’t love me. I’m no good for him.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s wrong.
None of it matters. I’m here for ten days and
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even if that wasn’t the case, I have a bottle of rain to prove her wrong.
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CHRIS AND I BYPASS a woman with three
screaming children and an old guy guarding the shopping carts. It’s Tuesday evening and at Chris’s insistence, I drove the two of us into Louisville so we could shop at the Super Wal-Mart.
“Do you want to tell me why we’re here?” I ask. We have a Wal-Mart near the freeway
back in Groveton, but it’s a much smaller version and thirty years older.
“We know the people who work at our Wal-
Mart. More importantly, our parents know the people who work there.” Chris swings to the right, away from the food section and toward the pharmacy.
“So?”
“You want to keep Beth a secret from your parents, right?”
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I cringe when he says it that way, but in the end, it’s the truth. I want Beth to be my girl in every aspect of my life, but I need to pick my battles. I’m going to nail the writing competition, make the decision regarding
going pro or going to college, then own up to keeping Beth. “What does that have to do with Wal-Mart?”
Chris cuts into an aisle and waves his hand at the merchandise in front of him. “This.”
Condoms. Everywhere. I scratch the back of my neck and try to think of anything to say, but there isn’t a statement that could make this moment less uncomfortable.
“You need condoms,” says Chris.
Chris and I engulf the entire cramped aisle in front of the pharmacy. The middle-aged woman with the three kids eyes us as she walks past. “I’m taking it slow with Beth.”
“Slow wasn’t the position I caught the two of you in yesterday. I’m happy you’re happy, but none of us are going to be happy if little Ryans and Beths pop out of that girl.”
Point taken. Sex may not be in the plan, but it’s best to be prepared. “What do you use?”
He shrugs. “The normal shit. Are you going
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to do it? The writing competition?”
“Yeah.” The normal shit. That narrows it
down. I survey the assortment before me.
Colored, ribbed, lubricated, and because this experience isn’t God-awful enough—they have sizes.
“We need you against Eastwick,” Chris says flatly. “We’re a game behind Northside so we need two wins in order to move into first place.
If we don’t win against Eastwick on Saturday, then it doesn’t matter if we win or lose against Northside on Monday.”
“I can’t play fully for both games anyhow.
There’s a state law about how many innings I can pitch, remember?” How the hell am I
supposed to know what size I am? I don’t go around staring at guys’ dicks. I don’t think I’m small and I sure as hell wouldn’t buy small even if I was. A guy has to have some pride.
“But you could guarantee us the win on
Saturday against Eastwick, then play the later innings against Northside. You’ve dug us out of a hole before in later innings and if we get low on Monday, you could dig us out. Get the glow-in-the-dark ones. I bet Beth’s into freaky shit.”
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My stomach clenches. “Beth is not into
freaky shit.”
“I saw her tattoo. She’s a freaky shit kind of girl. Look, I get that you don’t want to back out of a competition, even if it is writing, but I’m not going to lie. You’re scaring the team.
You’re the leader, dawg, and what does it say when our leader walks from a game? The guys are starting to question if you’re losing your edge.”
I zero in on Chris. “What does that mean?”
Chris meets my glare and I discover he’s one of the “guys.” “I’ve never seen you walk from a dare in my life and you walked from the one with Beth. You just gave up.”
“I didn’t give up. I fell for her.”
“Exactly. You could have bagged the dare by bringing her to the next party, but you threw down the white flag the moment you hooked up with her. She’s got her hooks in you and I want to make sure she’s worth it.”
Not liking the tone or turn of this
conversation, I fold my arms over my chest.
“What are you trying to say?”
Chris’s muscles ripple as he inches near me.
“You’ve changed since she’s come to Groveton
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and I’m not sure I like it. It was us and baseball—what you used to care about. Then she comes around and it’s me, you, Beth,
writing, and sometimes baseball. You never once talked about going to college and now you want to walk from the pros. Who the hell are you?”
Who the hell am I? Who the hell is the guy in front of me? I step within swinging distance and, for the first time in my life, I’m willing to hit my best friend. “I’m the same damn guy who’s led this team year after year and I’m the same damn guy who encouraged you to date
our best friend. I can’t help it you never looked close enough to see I could be more than a man with a ball and a bat.”
We stare at each other. Unblinking.
Unmoving. Until Chris flexes his fingers and gestures to a box of studded condoms. “That’s some freaky shit too.”
I pull on the bill of my hat. What the hell?
Part of me wants to punch him. Part of me wants to ask what just happened between us. I go the easy route and let Chris off the hook.
“Show me what you get.”
What if she is into freaky shit? What if she
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wants ribbed? When do you need
lubricated? I don’t even want to think about the kind that says they’ll make her tingle.
“Does she have a latex allergy? That could suck if she does. I’ve heard stories of girls puffing up like blowfish and having to be rushed to the emergency room.”
My heart stops. “Really?”
“Naw, I’m messing with you, but I’d ask
about the latex allergy before you put it on.”
Two teenage girls walk down the aisle. One sips on a slushy and twirls her hair. They glance at each other and giggle. Heat rises on the back of my neck.
“I’m not you, Ry,” Chris says after they
round the corner. “I’m not going to college and I don’t have the pros knocking on my door.
Winning state this year, that’s my dream, and I need you in order to complete it. Promise me that you won’t let anything get in the way of that.”
Since I was seven years old I’ve glanced to my right and seen Chris backing me up
between third and second. He saved plays I screwed up because of my pitch. My insides twist with the startling revelation—regardless
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of the path I choose, come graduation,
Chris isn’t going to be the guy on my right anymore. “You guys can take Eastwick without me and you know it. Northside is the team with the hitters. In the spring, we’re going to state.
The only game I’m missing is Saturday and I wouldn’t walk away if I didn’t believe that you guys have it covered.”
Chris studies me and I silently urge him to be okay with this. He’s my best friend and I need
us
to be okay. He offers me his hand and I exhale.
“Swear it, dawg.”
I clasp it. “Sworn.”
An easy grin spreads across his face. “Pick something out and let’s get out of here.”
I try one more time. “Tell me what you get.”
Chris places his hands on his hips. “I’ve never bought condoms before. Lacy wants to wait until we graduate.”
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IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT and I inhale deeply before I knock. I have three days left until I leave. Ryan deserves better than me, but tonight I can pretend I’m good enough. The door opens and my heart starts, stops, and skips over itself when Ryan flashes that glorious smile with the right mixture of warmth and dimples.
“Hi,” he says. His voice alone creates
pleasing goose bumps on my arms.
“Hey.”
I’m going to make love to you
tonight.
Feeling shy, I glance away and I want to kick myself. Where’s the girl who could frighten football players with one look?
“You’re early.” Ryan closes the door and I move straight for his bedroom. Twice, Ryan tried to convince me to hang in another room, but being anywhere else in his perfect house reminds me that I can never measure up.
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“Scott and Allison went to bed early.” I
lean against the door frame to his room and try to calm the thousands of feathers swirling in my stomach. “Chris isn’t stopping by, is he?”
“No. He knows I’m seeing you tonight and
that I have to be up early for my writing competition.” Ryan cups my waist with his hand. His thumb sneaks underneath my shirt and draws circles onto my skin.
I notice a bundle of papers tied together with two pink ribbons on the middle of his bed.
“What’s that?”
Ryan places some space between us, but
slides his fingers into mine. “A finished copy of ‘George and Olivia.’ It’s yours. So are the ribbons.”
“Cool.” Because it is. Ryan will do well at so many things when he graduates.
“Take a look at the title page.” Ryan releases me and I immediately miss his touch.
I plop on the bed, untie the bow, and blink—
Dedicated to the girl I love: Beth Risk.
My fingers skim the page as if caressing the words will make them more real. George was a short story for class. Olivia came to life because Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about the story. He
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dedicated it to me because… because he
actually loves me.
A twinge of pain flashes in my chest. I could be happy here in Groveton. Scott’s not so bad.
In fact, I kinda enjoy waking in the morning and telling him about school. I appreciate how Scott nods while I talk and when I stop, how he asks questions to show he heard what I said. I adore sitting in class next to Lacy and listening to her ramble about useless gossip. I love health class and despite what Allison said, I’m becoming fond of science. I like watching Logan, Chris, and Ryan one-up each other. I like…I like…
I run my hand over the paper again. I love Ryan. I’m in love with him. I love how he smiles. I love how he moves. I love his hands on my body and his lips on mine. I love how he laughs. I love how he makes me laugh. I love how he can smooth away the roughness and make me feel like someone worth loving.
“It’s perfect.”
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IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BED, Beth touches the title page for a third time. She likes the gift.
The queasy anxiety I’ve had all day fades. The mattress sinks when I sit beside her. Crimson stains her cheeks as I brush my fingers against her skin. It’s hard to believe she’s the same girl from Taco Bell. Beth was hard and shut down that night. The girl on my bed is open and soft.
The physical differences are obvious. I run my hand through the sleek, silky strands and she edges away. She hates what I see, but I don’t. One inch of golden-blond stretches from her roots. The blond highlights the blackness of the rest of her hair. I love the black. I love the blond. I’d hate to see either one of them go.
Somehow both suit her.
I take the manuscript from her and place it on the nightstand. Her hands shake and she
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bites her lower lip. She’s nervous and I
don’t know why. “Are you okay?”
She nods but refuses eye contact. “I wish I was perfect for you.”
“You are perfect for me.”
Beth rests her hand on my inner thigh and her fingers slowly trace the seam of my jeans.
Fire races through me and flames lick areas very close to her fingers. Beth starts again.
“No, I wish…” and stops.
Even though part of me wants nothing more than for her to keep touching me, I force my hand over hers. When Beth struggles with
words it means she’s on the verge of saying something worth hearing. Her emotions
confuse her. Maybe tonight, she’ll finally find the courage to say the words I’m longing to hear.
“I wish…” She sighs. “I wish I never had
sex with Luke. I wish I could take back so many things, but I can’t. I wish I could be someone worthy of you.”