Firsts (22 page)

“And?” My voice sounds a lot shakier than I wish it did.

“And you definitely live up to your reputation.” He crawls up my comforter to my pillows. I get increasingly nauseous as I watch him rifle through the clutter on my nightstand, where my laptop is sitting. When he spreads out his palm to show me, he’s holding a little silver and black orb.

“A webcam.” He curls his fingers around the orb. “I had to see for myself, so I had a friend set it up. I think you know him intimately. He might have wanted to blindfold you? And God, was there ever a lot to see.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from throwing up. “You’re joking. That’s not a webcam. It’s a trick.”

Charlie looks down at his hand and starts ticking names off his fingers. “After Juan, there was Jeremy Roth, twice. Or was it three times? And that Zach guy, but I already suspected you were doing it with him. And you finished with Rafe Lawrence. I loved that look the best. All black and those red lips.” He smacks his own lips together.

My eyes dart between the webcam and Charlie’s smirking face. I’m very aware that I’m trapped in here, trapped in my own bedroom with Charlie and all his knowledge about what has transpired in this very room. Charlie can probably read the shock all over my face, and maybe the panic there, too. So I try a new tactic. Honesty.

“What do you want, Charlie? You want me to admit it?”

He taps his fingers on my nightstand. “I want you to do the same for me that you did for them. Those are my terms. If you don’t comply, I’ll show that video to everybody, and the whole school will know exactly what you’ve been doing with their boyfriends and writing in that little book of yours.”

“But why?” I say, my voice rising. “Why do you even care what I do or who I do it with?”

“You brought this on yourself,” he says, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “At first, I just wanted to know if it was true. But then you had to go and blow my whole surprise. She knows I have something planned. She made it clear she’s not giving it up until we’re married, so I figured, why not come to you? You’re obviously ready and willing.”

My face is burning, but I try not to outwardly react, despite the way my heart is ramming against my rib cage. If he isn’t lying and there is a video, I will most definitely have to change schools. But that is a much better prospect than betraying my best friend. That is something I would never do.

When I don’t say anything, he throws his head back and laughs. The sound makes my skin crawl.

“I just don’t get it,” he says. “Why would somebody who gets laid as much as you do want to stop me from getting any? What’s in it for you?” He narrows his eyes. “Or maybe you wanted this all along. For my first time to be with you.”

“I’m not sleeping with you, Charlie,” I say steadily. “Blackmail isn’t going to work on me.” Somehow my voice comes out sounding much stronger than I feel.

He rubs his jawline with his hand and shakes his head. At first he doesn’t say anything, and I hope he realizes exactly how ridiculous his plan really is. But then he looks up, and the meanness in his eyes leaves no question in my mind.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he says, and he’s on me before I have time to react. When I try to wiggle out of the chair, he pushes it against the wall and traps me there. His knee is pressed against my chest, and he’s groping my breasts roughly with his hand.

“I know what you like,” he says. “In your words, a firm, decisive touch. Except I like to touch a bit harder than that.” He braces his hands on my shoulders. I scrabble with my free hand and manage to claw him across the face with my fingernails, deep enough to draw blood.

“You bitch.” He puts his fingers to his cheek and stares at the blood, like it’s somebody else’s. I use the distraction to try to knee him in the groin, but he just pulls me closer to him.

“You know you want to,” he says. “I see how you look at me. Stop fighting it.”

My heart is pounding and I want to scream, to hit him again, to run away. My mind races.
Go for his vulnerable spots. Knees. Throat. Nose. Eyes
. But I’m paralyzed, trapped in my own fear like a fly tangled in a web. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it. Waiting for whatever he’s going to do.

But he lets go of me and drops his arms at his sides. I crack my eyes open.
Run. Run. Run, Mercedes.

I don’t run. I’m not in control, just like I wasn’t in control four years ago with Luke. I’m the same thirteen-year-old, the one who acted like she was going on twenty.

Charlie leans in close and I duck my head and cower. His hot breath curdles in my ear.

“Don’t even think about telling anyone,” he whispers. “You tell anyone, and I will destroy you. Everybody will see that video. And I’ll have to tell Angela how you seduced me, too.”

My breath catches in my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t function. I brace myself. But he backs away from me. Each step feels like a million miles. It’s not until he’s at the door that I realize he’s leaving. The second he’s out of my room, my body starts listening to my mind and I lock the door and crumple to the floor with my hands wrapped around my knees. Protective stance, the kind they showed us in case of earthquakes.

I hear him clomping down the stairs, the sound of his boots thudding as he hits the landing. Then I hear the door slam.

My hands start to shake uncontrollably. The sound of my own heartbeat is everywhere, the sound track to my failure. Thump, thump.
Coward. Weakling.
Thump, thump.
Victim. Liar.
I told myself that nobody would ever control me, not after Luke. But here I am, in a heap on the floor all over again. Nothing has changed. I haven’t changed.

I don’t know how long I sit there for, if it’s seconds or hours. I sit on the floor until I hear the front door open. My body clenches up when I think it could be Charlie, but the
clack-clack-clack
on the tile floor could only come from Kim’s stiletto heels.

I should get up and march downstairs and tell Kim everything.

But what would I tell her? She wouldn’t believe me anyway. She would probably be on Charlie’s side. I can just picture Charlie flexing his muscles and telling her his side of the story.
She seduced me. Invited me up to her bedroom. What could I say?

I should call Angela. Angela needs to know.

This time I get up on quivering legs. My cell phone is on my desk, and I vaguely remember it was buzzing earlier, but I don’t make a move to reach it. I collapse on my bed instead and stare up at the ceiling, like I have so many times before, but this time is different. This time I see all the cracks, the spiderweb forming in one corner. The maid really should get rid of that.

I can’t tell Angela, because if I tell Angela, the whole story will come out. I’ll have to tell her why Charlie threatened to destroy me. And I don’t know whose side she would be on. I don’t know if she would believe me. Charlie is her perfect boyfriend, the one who is willing to wait until marriage. The wholesome, caring guy who gave her the promise ring. The soccer star, the jock with a heart of gold.

And I’m the girl who slept with everybody’s boyfriends.

Nobody will believe me.

All this time I thought I was in control, keeping the upper hand for myself, calling the shots, playing by my rules. But I haven’t been, not really. Because I had the chance to fight back and I froze. A deer in the headlights, just like I was with Luke.

My body goes from feeling light and insubstantial, like I’m not really here at all, to feeling like a boulder has settled in the pit of my stomach, its jagged edges extending everywhere. It was different with Luke. I was different with Luke.

Was I?

But maybe I would have deserved it all the same. I let fourteen people at our school into my bedroom for the same thing Charlie wanted from me: a first time. Did I honestly think he wouldn’t find out, sooner or later?

Nothing happened. Nothing happened. I’m safe.

But I can’t get rid of this mess so easily. I can’t push it into some dark place in the back of my head and forget about it. I tried to do that with Luke, to cover it up. To bury it. And instead it almost just happened all over again, like a sick version of déjà vu.

This time, I can’t pretend nothing happened.

28

“Knock knock, knock knock.” The voice is accompanied by a
rap-rap-rap
on my door. For the first ten seconds I’m awake, I think it’s just another normal day, albeit one I overslept for. But then everything comes flooding back to me. Charlie. His hands on my shoulders. His breath in my ear.

His threat.

“Knock knock, Mercedes. You’re late.”

Since when does Kim even know what time I’m supposed to be at school? Since when does Kim know anything about me?

Kim starts jangling my doorknob, and I’m grateful I locked it. I can just imagine her impatient, bony hand, with all her bracelets knocking against the knob.

“Honey, you shouldn’t be locking me out. And you’re going to be late for school.”

I open my mouth to shout something at her—probably would have been profanity—but nausea comes up instead. I reach for the garbage can beside my bed just in time to throw up into it. I wait for Kim to yell through the door, probably something about bulimia ruining your tooth enamel. But thankfully the knocking and jangling ceases and I hear her footsteps walking away.

I stand up slowly. My head hurts. I instinctively grab my cell phone, even though I’m scared to see what’s waiting for me. Seven missed calls and nine text messages, all from Zach. Shit.
Zach
. Our study date, the one I had been promising him for so long. I read the messages through eyes blurry with tears.

Hey, I’m coming over a bit early. Hope that’s okay! If it’s not okay, I’m bringing Chinese food so hopefully that will change your mind.

Hey, I’m in your driveway. Your Jeep is here so I know you’re home. I’m knocking. Want to let me in?

Okay, now I’m going to eat your egg roll. Can’t you hear your doorbell?

You did mean tonight, right? Not some other night? I knew I should write stuff down.

Okay, now I’m sitting on your porch because I’m getting kind of worried.

I have called enough times to officially be considered a stalker. Please call me if you get this.

This is strange—Angela’s boyfriend just left your house. Is there something I should know?

I’m still here, waiting.

I’m leaving now. I guess I’ll see you around.

I don’t call him back, even though my fingers hover over the keypad on my phone. I have lied about so much, kept so much of my life a secret that there’s no way Zach could possibly understand. If he knew the truth, he would never want to talk to me again. And I couldn’t really blame him.

I turn my phone off instead.

I consider staying home today, coming up with a mystery illness. But what would I do, and where would I go? So I stand up slowly and shuffle to my bathroom and run the shower water, even though I don’t plan on getting in it. The thought of standing up to wash my hair and rinse out the shampoo is much too complicated, and I can’t afford the time it would take to blow dry and style it after. So I run the water while I sit on the toilet.

The only thing worse than going to school today would be not going to school today. And there’s Angela. Angela is the reason I have to go to school today. I set my jaw in determination and stare at my face in the mirror, willing myself to look stronger than I feel. This isn’t about me anymore. I have to tell Angela exactly what Charlie did.

And that also means telling her why.

At the last minute, I don’t leave my room in the grungy sweatpants and oversized T-shirt I planned on wearing to school. I chose that outfit because I can’t stand the thought of anybody looking at me the way Charlie did last night. But hiding under layers of unwashed, unattractive clothing would just draw more attention to me. Charlie would have won. And putting on a smile is just about the hardest thing I have ever done, but I make myself do it. Just like I make myself put on a tight blouse, one with a neckline high enough to cover the circular marks his fingers left on my collarbones.

Just like I make myself strut down the hallway, collect my books from my locker, and stay awake for first period, even though my head feels too heavy for my body to hold up and people seem to be passing by in slow motion, like they’re part of an alternate reality. Luckily it’s not chemistry, because I don’t think I could have kept the smile on if Zach and Faye were around. Thinking of Zach makes me want to inexplicably break down. I have a burning urge to tell him everything. Maybe I inherited more from Kim than her eyes and cheekbones. Maybe I’m a cheat and a liar, too, somebody who doesn’t make relationships better but ruins people’s lives. Maybe I was felled by my own system.

Maybe I got what I deserved.

I don’t see Angela until lunch, in the cafeteria. And she’s not alone. Charlie is across the table from her, holding her hand, watching her bite into her peanut butter sandwich. Angela always has a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, for as long as I have known her. I used to find her lack of desire for variety annoying, but not today. She needs to be protected. But I can’t protect her here. I’ll have to get her alone first, and that involves making Charlie feel like there’s no chance I will tell her anything. The only way to do that is to pretend like nothing happened. I take a deep, shuddering breath. Even though the cafeteria is brightly lit and full of idle chatter, Charlie makes me want to drop my lunch tray in the garbage and run.

But I can’t run. I can’t turn my back on Angela. Not now, not when she needs me most. So I move forward, one tiny step at a time.

I walk past other people and other tables, keeping my eyes focused on Angela’s sandwich. My lunch tray shakes in my hand and the table seems a million miles away, but I make it there, on legs that feel more and more wobbly with each step. Angela and Charlie haven’t looked up and seen me yet, which is probably the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t think I could deal with Charlie’s smirk, that expression of victory he is probably wearing. I force my lips into a smile as I approach the table.
Pretend like nothing happened.