Truth or Dare (15 page)

     Rivka stopped on the bottom step, and Mary and Pamela piled into her.

     "What's the matter?"  Mary grabbed for the beach bag that was slipping from her shoulder.

     "Nothing.  It's so big.  And loud."  Rivka had to shout to be heard above the crashing waves.  She stood for a moment and looked.  The wind tossed her hair around her face in curling, blond tendrils, and she had to pull a piece out of the corner of her mouth.

     "And crowded."  Pamela scanned the beach.  "Let's sit over there."  She pointed to an empty spot amidst the brightly colored towels. 

     They trooped across the hot sand, and spread out their towels.  Pamela stretched out on her back with the straps of her bikini top pushed down around her arms.  "I bet you're glad you're not really at that stupid synagogue outing."  She lifted her sunglasses and glanced at Rivka.

     Rivka felt her stomach knot.  It was like a black cloud had suddenly covered up the bright sun.  Somehow she'd managed to forget about the seminar.  She'd even forgotten about her parents.  

     She rolled onto her stomach trying to get comfortable.  Her parents would never know, she reassured herself.  Pamela would drop her back at the synagogue parking lot, and Rivka would call them on Pamela's cell phone.  She'd pretend they'd gotten in early and that a friend had loaned her the phone so she could call.  Her parents would feel guilty being the last ones there to pick her up, but they'd get over it. 

     But the thought had spoiled Rivka's afternoon.  She felt restless, and the sun burned hot and brutal on her bare skin.  Kids were splashing at the water's edge, florescent colored inner tubes circling their waists.  She knew she couldn't swim well enough to go too far into the water, but surely she could at least get her toes wet.

     Rivka jumped to her feet.  "Anyone want to go down to the water with me?

     Pamela shook her head, and Mary groaned.  Rivka shrugged and began walking across the soft, powdery sand. 

     She joined a group of mothers at the water's edge and waited.  A wave broke, and foaming water rushed in, tickling the very tips of her toes. She edged closer.  The next wave crested in the distance, broke and roared in, swirling water around her ankles.  It was cold enough to numb her feet instantly.  She jumped back onto the warm sand.

     Eventually she got hot standing in the sun and ventured closer to the water again.  It didn’t feel as cold, and she watched as the water pooled around her ankles and then eddied and slipped away as if it were going down some giant drain. 

     After a few minutes, she got comfortable with the sensation and ventured in a bit further.  This time the water foamed around her knees before rushing back out toward the sea.  She almost lost her balance as the water flowed out, and she backed up a little to where it wasn't as deep.

     She was watching a line of dark gray waves rise and swell in the distance when someone grabbed her around the waist.

     She gave a little shriek like the kind her mother always made.

     “Lance!”

     He laughed.  “Surprised?”

     “Yes. Of course.”  Rivka glanced around nervously, but Pamela was nowhere to be seen.  “What if Pamela sees us?”  Rivka couldn't help asking even though she'd promised herself she wasn't going to worry about it.

     Lance tightened his grip on her waist. “I’ve told you.  I don’t care about Pammy and what she thinks.   It’s you I care about.  I’ve missed you.”  He lowered his head.

     His lips were warm and tasted like a tropical concoction of salt and coconut.  His arm was warm around her waist, too.  For a minute she forgot about Pamela, Deirdre, Mary, her parents or the fact that she was standing knee deep in the ocean. 

     “Let’s go back to the house,” Lance whispered in her ear, nibbling gently on the lobe.

     “I can’t.”  Rivka pulled away.

     “Come on.”  Lance grabbed her and kissed her again.  Long and slow.

     Waves slapped against their legs and Rivka slipped, but Lance tightened his grip and didn’t let go.

     “Come on.”  He took her by the hand.  His eyes were dark, his voice husky.  He led her away from the water.

     “Wait.”  Rivka stopped.  “I have to get my stuff.  I left it with Pamela and Mary,” she gestured down the beach.

     “I’ll meet you.”  He kissed her again. Slowly.

Chapter 15

     Pamela put up a hand to shield her eyes and watched as Rivka walked across the sand towards the steps.  The lying bitch claimed she was tired and was going back to the house to check on Deirdre and have a nap.  Pamela knew that was bullshit.  She was meeting Lance.  She'd seen them in the water kissing and fondling each other.  It was disgusting.  Lance was wearing those goofy bright orange trunks he'd insisted on buying.  They made him hard to miss. 

     Pamela's fist clenched into a ball so tightly that her perfectly French-manicured nails dug into her own palm.  She hardly noticed the pain.  She was concentrating on Rivka's departing back.  If only she could shoot laser beams from her eyes—she'd knock Rivka down on the spot and would watch, happily, as she burned to a crisp. 

     On top of that, she thought she saw that crazy lady—the one who came up to her that day in the town center.  Maybe it was her imagination.  Lately she'd been seeing her everywhere.  

     It made her more determined that Rivka was going to pay.

     Rivka and Lance went to his bedroom where he pulled the blinds closed against the scalding afternoon sun and yanked back the dark blue comforter that had been tossed over the bed. 

     He slipped out of his bathing trunks, then took Rivka by the hand, leading her toward the bed.  There was a sharp line where his tan faded to white skin flecked with bronze-colored, curling hairs.  Rivka wanted to look—desperately—and at the same time she was afraid to look.  She'd never seen a boy naked before.  He coaxed her gently onto the bed next to him, wrapped his arms around her and intertwined his legs with hers.  She felt the heat of his sun-tanned skin even where they weren't touching.

     The mattress shifted as he propped himself on his elbows, leaned over her and lowered his lips toward hers.  She was too nervous to enjoy the delicious sensations his kisses normally aroused.  He was pressing hard into the softness of her stomach as his mouth devoured hers, more urgently than usual.  She heard the bed groan as she sank deeper into the mattress from his weight.  She couldn't breathe.  She felt overwhelmed.  Claustrophobic.

     He bit her lip, and she cried out.  She felt him poking against her. It scared her.  She thought of her parents and her Bubbeh and Zayde.  There was nothing wrong with what she was doing.   

     Then why didn't this feel right? 

     It felt good when Lance kissed her.  It felt good when they snuggled and hugged and talked and teased and tickled each other.  But not this.  She wasn't ready.

     She knew lots of girls who had already had sex at her age.  Probably most of them had.  But she wasn't like them.  Maybe her mother was right—maybe she really was different.  Maybe she wasn't meant to fit in.

     "What's the matter?"  Lance drew back and ran a finger down Rivka's cheek.  "You're crying."

     "No, I'm not." The words came out choked by a sob.

     "Don't you want to?"  Lance sighed and rolled off her onto his back.  He stared at the ceiling

     "I'm nervous, that's all." Rivka touched his arm and he flinched as if she'd stung him.  "I'm sorry," Rivka sniffled.  She hated herself for being such a baby.  Why couldn't she be like everyone else?  Why couldn't she do it and get it over with? 

     "Forget it."  Lance rolled off the bed, picked up his swim trunks and stepped into them.

     "I'm sorry."  Rivka said again.  "Are you mad?"

     "No."

     But he slammed the door on the way out.

     "You two did it, didn't you?"  Pamela jumped out of the shadows as soon as Rivka opened her bedroom door.

     Rivka had taken a long, hot shower, and even though she'd toweled her hair, it was sticking wetly to her shirt in back.

She tried to edge past Pamela, but Pamela got in her face and blocked the way. 

     "What do you want from me?"  Rivka shrank back against the wall.  Pamela looked weird, and it was scaring her.  She smelled like she'd been drinking and that scared Rivka even more.

     "I told you.  I want you to stay away from my brother."  Pamela jabbed Rivka's shoulder with her index finger, punctuating each word. 

     "Don't worry," Rivka's mouth twisted with bitterness.  As if Lance would ever want to see her again.  She'd blown it big time by being such a baby.  She felt alone and desperately wanted to cry.  Pamela hated her.  Lance hated her.  She didn't belong here. 

     But she was stuck.

     She could hardly call her parents to pick her up.  She'd have to stick it out till Sunday. 

     Mary had just gotten out of the shower when she heard voices downstairs in the foyer.  She slipped into some shorts and a t-shirt, ran a comb through her hair and dabbed on some lip gloss.  Her reflection surprised her.  She’d tanned slightly, and there were blond streaks in her light brown hair.  She actually looked good.

     Deirdre's father was standing in the living room when she got downstairs. She stopped short on the bottom step, and was about to turn around, when he called to her.

     “Mary!”

     He was wearing tan trousers and an expensive looking sport coat.  His dark hair was wind blown, and there was one curl that flopped forward onto his forehead. 

     “Deirdre’s upstairs.”  Mary motioned toward the upper floor.  She felt awkward after their conversation last night and what his wife had said.

     "I need to talk to you."  He put a hand on her arm as she swept past.  "They've set a court date.  We need to sit down before then."

     "Oh."  Mary stopped in her tracks. She'd managed to put all that out of her head.  Strange.  After it first happened, and she was caught with the iPod and taken to the police station, she'd been unable to think about anything else. Even in her dreams she couldn't escape.  She kept having nightmares where she was running through the dark night with a police car on her heels, its lights blazing and siren going.

     Mike looked at his watch.  "How about dinner?  I know a great seafood place.  I think you'd like it."

     "I guess so."  Mary really didn't want to, but she couldn't afford to say no.  Maybe Deirdre could come, too.

     "Great.  I'll make a couple of reservations."  He pulled out his cell phone, and Mary could hear him talking as he went up the stairs to the second floor.

     He came back down fifteen minutes later. 

     "Looks like everything's going to be okay."

     Mary was in the kitchen with Pamela and Rivka.  Something was going on between the two of them.  Rivka kept giving her these looks.  She knew how nasty Pamela could get.  Rivka was no match for her.  She was a baby.

     "Got any scotch around here?"  Mike rummaged through the cupboards.  "I could do with a drink."

     Mary and Rivka exchanged glances.

     "Sure."  Pamela opened a door and took out a bottle. She reached into another cupboard and handed Mike an expensive-looking tumbler. 

     Mike opened the freezer, filled his glass with ice and poured in a hefty shot of Johnny Walker Black.  He took a long sip.

     "That's better."  He smiled at the girls.  He took another hefty swallow of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  "I've made reservations for 6:30," he looked at Mary.  Kind of early, but it's a bit of a drive back."

     "Is Deirdre going home with you?"  Mary asked.

     He shook his head.  "Says she wants to stay with you guys."  He looked around at them.  "That okay?"  He shook his glass so that the ice rattled against the sides.  

     "Sure."  Pamela took the lid off the pot and slid in the spaghetti. 

     Mike tipped his glass back and swallowed the rest of the scotch.  "Ready?"  He looked at Mary.

     Mary nodded.  She took her sweater from the chair and followed Mike out the door.

     She had a really bad feeling about this.

     It was awkward being alone in the kitchen with Pamela who refused to talk to her or even look at her.  Rivka made the excuse that someone ought to check on Deirdre and nearly tripped running up the stairs to the second floor.

     She stopped on the landing abruptly.  There was a noise coming from their room. She listened and realized it was Deirdre, crying.

     “What’s the matter,” she rushed in and sat on the side of the bed.  "You're not bleeding again, are you?"  Deirdre was slumped down on the pillows, her eyes red and puffy.

     “He couldn’t even stay half an hour,” she wailed.  “And the whole time he was here he was talking on his cell phone to his stupid office.”

     “Your father?”
     Deirdre nodded.  She twisted a piece of hair around and around her finger. “He doesn’t care about me anymore. All he cares about is his stupid job.”  She started to sob again.