Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones

Beth Goobie

O
rca S
o
undings

Copyright © 2002 Beth Goobie

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
Goobie, Beth, 1959-
Sticks and stones
ISBN 1-55143-213-7

I. Title. PS8563.O8326S74 2002  jC813’.54  C2002-910137-9

PZ7.G597St 2002

Summary
: After developing an unearned reputation as a slut, Jujube finds a novel way to take on her tormentors and help a group of girls win back their self-esteem.

First published in the United States, 2002

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
2002101407

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP), the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

Cover design: Christine Toller
Cover photography: Eyewire
Printed and bound in Canada

04 03 02 • 5 4 3 2

IN CANADA
:
Orca Book Publishers
1030 North Park Street
Victoria, BC Canada
V8T 1C6

IN THE UNITED STATES:
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468

This book is dedicated to the Saskatoon
Public Library Young Adult Department:
Rena, Laureen and Diane
.

BG

Chapter One

T
HE WHOLE THING
started right after I erased my left eyebrow. Not that I’d meant to. Tuesday night I’d gone into high gear plucking my eyebrows. The next day I looked like I’d leaned too close to a Bunsen burner during a science experiment. This is big-time trauma when you’re fifteen. I had to go around trying to keep my missing eyebrow covered with my left
hand. That was the day Brent Floyd decided to ask me to the Valentine’s Day dance.

There I was at my locker, dumping my books. I was on my way to the Camera Club to develop a series of shots I’d taken around home. Mom and I share a house with my friend Sophie and her mother. I had taken some funny shots of Sophie and my dog Popcorn.

“Hey, Jujube!”

For as long as I can remember, everyone’s called me Jujube. It’s because I have one blue eye and one green eye. And now — one eyebrow. I looked up to see Brent coming down the hall. Of course, my brain stopped working. It always does in a crisis. I’d only liked the guy for about a decade — not that I admitted it to anyone. And it’s tough trying to look casual with your left hand glued to your forehead.

“Hi, Brent.”

Brent leaned against the next locker
and looked at my lips. Whenever Brent talks to a girl, he looks at her lips. The hand on my forehead was getting sweaty.

“I suppose a hundred different guys have asked you out for this Friday?” he asked my lips.

When Brent’s nervous, he starts joking around. His being nervous made me nervous. My mind went blank. “Friday?”

“Yeah. Y’know — Friday? This is Wednesday. Then there’s Thursday and then Friday. The dance, remember?” he teased.

“Oh yeah — the dance.” My hand slipped and I got it back up into place.

He leaned closer. “Want to go with me?”

The guy who had his locker next to me came up behind Brent and said, “Excuse me,” very loudly. I wanted to knock him one good one with my geography textbook.

“Sure,” I said quickly before Brent moved — and changed his mind.

“Great!” he grinned, still looking at my lips.

Friday evening, Brent had to be at the school early to help the band set up. He didn’t pick me up until 7:30. Sophie had to check out “the latest,” and Mom put him through Twenty Questions at the door. She’s pretty military with my boyfriends.

“Whew! I wasn’t sure we’d get out alive,” Brent said as we walked to his car.

I grinned. “It’s called motherly love. Don’t leave home without it.”

I’d gotten used to having one eyebrow and had stopped living with a hand attached to my forehead. First dates usually give me lockjaw, but Brent’s joking around helped. When we got to the dance, the two of us were having a great time. There was the usual problem with the
slower numbers — figuring out whose hands go where, that sort of thing.

Brent liked to dance really close, closer than I was used to. Half of me wondered if we’d leave body imprints on each other. The other half wanted to start taking his shirt off.

Partway through the dance, Brent had to go talk to the band about something. I wandered over to talk to Carlos, this guy I’d gotten to know in the Camera Club. He’s the loner type and doesn’t talk much. He was in his jean jacket as usual, leaning against a back wall. I leaned up next to him and watched Brent talk to the drummer.

“So you’re here with Mr. Warp Speed.” Carlos took a drink from his Coke.

“Mr. Warp Speed?” I asked.

Carlos looked at me for a moment, then grinned and handed me his Coke. “Brent.”

I drank, trying to cover the blush I felt taking over my face. “Hey, two hours and I’m still a virgin.”

Carlos laughed.

“And proud of it,” we chanted together. Guys and girls get the same message in our sex ed classes.

“So who’re you here with?” I hadn’t noticed him with anyone and I wanted to get him back for Brent’s nickname.

Carlos shrugged. “Just came to hear the band.”

“Yeah, right. Whoever she is, you’re probably too scared to call her up,” I teased.

“Maybe.” Carlos looked away.

Brent came up to us then. “Jujube — I’ve got to get something for the band from my car. Come with me to get it?”

Carlos watched us leave without a word. Sometimes deep dark moods drop down on him like the dead of night. Then it’s like talking to someone in a coma. At
the door, I turned and waved to him. He was still watching us.

Outside, Brent took my hand and we ran through the February cold. It was minus ten — not bad if you’re wearing a jacket. Brent shivered as he unlocked the car door.

“Quick — get in. No, not the front, the back,” he said.

I dove into the back seat, thinking this must be where the band equipment was. Brent crawled in after me, then pulled the car door closed.

“God, it’s cold.” He leaned over the front seat and started the car. Then he dropped back and pulled me in against him. Suddenly, I was warm all over. In the dark, close to him like that, it was easy for things to happen. His mouth went soft as I brushed mine back and forth across it. I put my hand on his throat and felt the way his low moans moved under my fingers.

“I lied,” he whispered.

“What?” The school, the dance, the other kids had faded away.

Brent laughed into my ear. “I didn’t have to get anything. I just wanted a chance to talk to you.”

“About what?” Suddenly, I heard Carlos in my head.
Mr. Warp Speed
, I thought.

“This,” Brent said, kissing my throat. He started to fiddle with the top button of my shirt. “Let me make this very clear,” he added.

As soon as we’d started kissing, I’d known Brent didn’t have to get anything for the band. It hadn’t mattered — I wasn’t about to check out of a dream come true. But now, there was something about his tone and laugh that bothered me. It was as if Brent thought he’d pulled one over on me — as if I was some beginner he had to explain things to.

“Hey, just a sec,” I said, pulling
back a little. The good feeling was sliding away. We felt like two very separate bodies in the back of a very cold car again. I started thinking about carbon monoxide poisoning. I was too young to die… for love or sex.

“C’mon, Jujube. I’ve really liked you for a long time now,” Brent said.

“Yeah, me too.” But I was tucking in my shirt. I wanted to think. There was a bad feeling crawling around my stomach that wouldn’t go away.

“So, no prob — right?” He tried to kiss me again. The feeling in my stomach grew.

“No!”

“What are you afraid of ?”

“I’m not afraid.” And I wasn’t. There was something I knew I wanted to think about, but I couldn’t get at it.

“Girls are always a bit afraid of this,” he said.

How would you know? Have you
ever been a girl?
I thought. My voice came out differently than I wanted it to — angry.

“I’m not into diving into things at warp speed, Brent. Let’s go back in, O.K.?” I said.

Chapter Two

Before I knew it, Carlos’s nickname had come out of my mouth. Brent stared at me like he’d been hit hard.

“What’d you say? Warp speed?” He sounded as if it hurt him to speak.

I realized he’d heard that nickname before—a lot. “Nothing. It’s just, like, we don’t have to do everything tonight, right?”

That wasn’t what I’d meant to say.
I’d liked what we were doing just as much as he had. But words were coming out of my mouth weirdly and I couldn’t figure out how to fix them. It was just that everything suddenly felt wrong.

Brent stared off, his face angry in the dim light coming from the streetlights. When he turned back, the anger was wiped away, his face friendly like always.

“We’ve hardly done everything,” he said.

I flushed. Now I felt stupid.

He leaned back and was quiet for a moment. “Man, you can really make me feel good,” he said softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

We talked for a bit, then he cut the motor and we walked back to the gym. Just inside the door, he leaned over and we kissed.

“Sorry,” he said.

I could see kids watching us. I was
so relieved that things were O.K. between us again that I grinned at them. When I looked up at Brent, I saw him grinning too. The rest of the night went like that — one big grin. When Brent dropped me off at my house, we sat there looking at each other’s lips. I reached over and touched his mouth.

“I like you,” I said.

“A lot?” he murmured against my fingers.

“A lot. See you Monday.”

I watched his car drive off into the falling snow. I decided to forget that bad moment in the back seat as if it’d never happened.

I spent the weekend studying for tests and reading
The Taming of the Shrew
for English. Old Dead Lips, our teacher, was a major problem if you didn’t get your work done.

Sophie, my roommate, studies in front of the TV with a textbook open in her lap in case someone walks in. Sophie’s three years older than me. A few years back, her parents split up because her father was beating Sophie up. He went to jail for six months. Sophie had to live in a group home while her mother went into an alcohol rehab program. It was a rough year and she ended up flunking grade ten. After the rehab program, Sophie and her mother moved in with us.

“How’s your chem coming along?” I asked her.

Sophie was watching Saturday morning cartoons. She asked, “How was your date? Any good chemistry there?”

Sophie likes to tease me about sex. Her boyfriend is away at college so all she can do is talk about it.

“It was O.K.” I knew I was going red.

Sophie laughed. “Learn anything new?”

I groaned. She was really missing her boyfriend. “Brent’s got a nickname — ‘Mr. Warp Speed.’”

Sophie frowned. “Is he like that?”

I shrugged.

Sophie grinned. “If he was, you’d know by now.”

Brent didn’t call all weekend. I wondered about that, but not a lot. After all, I didn’t call him either. I was still looking forward to first period, Monday morning — English. As I walked through the doorway, I could hear Brent’s voice, the kids around him laughing.

Always the joker
, I thought.

I turned toward him and there he was, leaned back in his desk like always. He was looking right at me. I started to smile. Then I noticed all the kids around him were looking at me too. I glanced away from them, back to Brent. For a
second, he looked like he was in some sort of fast pain. Then a grin came up on his face and it was gone.

“Hi,” I made myself say.

It wasn’t Brent who answered. The guy next to him grinned and said, “Jujube — bet you feel like some new woman, eh?”

The group started to laugh. I opened my mouth to say something back, anything, but no words came. Brent wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, he had his head down, grinning sideways at the guy who’d spoken. Someone punched his shoulder.