A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl Page 3
Shark attack.
ROCKING THE BOAT
We kiss for what seems like
forever,
which is a smart move on his part,
because now
I’m actually wanting him
to try something
else.
I move my body against his,
raising myself up off the deck
to get
a little closer.
He picks up on that signal
like he’s just tuned in to the station
he was looking for.
“God, Josie, you feel so good.”
“Mmm, you too.”
He unzips my sweatshirt jacket
touching my breasts
lightly with his fingertips.
I shiver.
“Are you cold?” he says.
“No.”
“Let me warm you up.”
His mouth is warm and wet on my skin,
kissing my mouth, chin, ears, neck
burying his face between my breasts
cold night air brushing against skin
sending tremors through me
his mouth devours me
moving back up to my
neck, ears,
mouth,
never stopping too long in any one spot
until I’m squirming
like crazy.
“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“I don’t know, don’t stop.”
His hands slide down my stomach
fingers pop open the top snap of my jeans
then unzip.
“Lift up your hips,” he says.
I do what I’m told.
He tugs my jeans down
I feel his breath on me.
I moan.
I open my eyes for a second
and catch him looking at me
like he’s waiting for me to give him
the go-ahead.
We lock eyes.
He grins.
I close my eyes again
and moan.
I’m drowning in him.
My hands wander
through his hair
over his back. . . .
He moans.
He rolls off me for a second,
I hear the crackle of a wrapper tearing open
then a zipper,
he rolls back
bare legs against mine.
He kisses me again
deeper this time
his tongue probing
we rock against each other
matching the rhythm
of the water rocking the boat
slapping against its sides in beat
with our bodies.
“Josie, please, I’ve waited . . .”
His fingers slide my underwear down
I feel him hard against my leg
cross my fingers, hope to die, swear on the Bible,
I
can’t
breathe.
In one more second it will be too late.
“WAIT!”
COLD FRONT
We get dressed
in silence
(except I hear him swearing
under his breath)
We row back to shore
in silence.
The only sound
our oars
dipping into dark water
our shoes
crunching snail and mussel shells
sand and rocks
on the way up the beach.
He doesn’t look at me once
on the drive home.
I pull my jacket tighter around me.
He pulls into my driveway.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay.
See you at school,” he says.
He backs out of the driveway
before I’m even in the door.
SUNK
I wasn’t supposed to be there.
I was supposed to be in study hall,
but I got out with a lavatory pass
and a chance to see him
so I could explain.
I wasn’t supposed to hear.
“What are you putting up with that chick for, man?”
one of his
thick-necked, detention-duty, jerkoff
jock friends says.
“You haven’t even nailed her yet!”
“I’ll get her to come around, I’ve just gotta work
a little harder on this one,” he says.
“You’re nuts, man, you’ve worked hard enough.
Time to move on.
Even if she does look like Ashley,”
his idiot friend of freshmeat fame says.
I see his face go hard, jaw clenched like before.
Who’s Ashley?
“Yeah, well, I almost did her the other night, then she
freaked. Josie’s hot and all, but the whole thing is
getting pretty old,” he says.
I feel sick.
Tumbling,
head-pounding,
veins
in
the
back
of
my
neck throbbing,
heart-racing
sick.
I used to be so strong.
I mean, for crying out loud,
when our cat got hit by a car
and my parents weren’t home
and my little sister was hysterical
I was the one who wrapped Sweet Pea
in a towel
and called the vet
and called my parents
and comforted my sister.
And that was a dead cat!
Could it really be this easy
for a guy
to make me
weak?
I run back to study hall before he sees me.
We didn’t speak all weekend.
He never called,
and even though I
really
wanted to,
I didn’t let myself
call him.
MISERABLE
Him:
“You’re taking this way too seriously, Jos.
It just didn’t work out.
We want different things, that’s all.”
Me:
“I thought you cared about me.”
Him:
“You know I do.”
Me:
“Clearly, I don’t know squat.”
OFF
It’s over.
How can a person,
any person,
even just a friend,
turn off,
snap—
just
like
that?
Lights out, nobody’s home.
Like he never even knew me.
How stupid was I
to think he cared about me,
or even thought of me
as a real, live, feeling
person, even?
Please, God, don’t let
most boys be like this.
I’ll have to become a
nun
or a
gym teacher
or
something.
KIM AND CAROLINE
“Oh, so, suddenly
we’re your best friends again?”
Caroline wants to know.
Kim’s nodding like always.
“Where were you when we
needed to talk?” Caroline says.
Kim nods.
“I mean, we promised to stick together
and you run off with Mr. Wonderful
and leave us in the dust!”
I guess they’re pretty mad at me.
“He’s not so Wonderful anymore, is he?”
Caroline’s pleased with herself.
She sure told me.
She’s right, of course.
I hav
e no excuse.
None.
I did leave them in the dust.
And for what?
I try to tell them
but the words get all caught up
in trying to explain what happened
with him
and I bawl.
Really,
all-and-all-out
bawl.
Caroline puts her arm around me.
“Don’t cry, Josie,
it’ll be okay,” she says.
Kim nods.
NEXT TIME
I hope
next time
(because, unfortunately, you know there’s going to be
a next time),
I’ll be smarter.
Oh god, please let me act
as smart as
I am.
I’ll try to remember to look for the signs.
You know, the ones that point to maybe a guy honing
in on you for reasons other than you’re a decent-
looking member of the opposite
sex.
The signs that maybe, just maybe,
he might actually like you
for
YOU.
I’m going to look for a boy
who will look at me and
at least
try
to see me.
Me.
Not a girl,
not a hot girl,
not a brainy girl,
not a funny girl,
not a dark girl,
not a pretty girl,
ME.
FOREVER
I hope I remember these feelings
forever
stupid
humiliated
foolish
stung
heartbroken
pissed off
and a little
bit
wiser.
I want to remember
forever,
so I never fall for this kind of boy
again.
It would be nice
if there was some manual
some little book where a girl could look up
what to do
what not to do
and who not to do it with.
The truth is, I want to remember the good parts
forever
too,
head spinning
mood lifting
confidence boosting
insides quivering
legs going weak
heart going crazy
body letting loose.
The whole thing reminds me
of this girl Katherine
I read about in middle school
in a book called
Forever.
I remember exactly how Katherine felt
having all this love and sex stuff happen
for the first time and
even though they didn’t end up together
forever
like she thought they would
she knew she’d remember that
grab-at-your-heart
blinding
he’s-my-whole-world
nothing-else-matters-but-him
feeling
forever.
Of course, in the actual Forever,
the boy, Michael I think his name was, wasn’t a
total jerk
so in real life, my real life,
it’s not only the good parts I intend to hold on to
but also how totally
nothing
he made me feel.
I’m hoping that by remembering that,
as much as I’d like to forget it,
it’ll help keep me from ever
letting a boy
make me feel like
nothing
again.
THE PLAN
What’s wrong with boys
like him, anyway?
I mean, he really meant something to me,
but to him
I was just
a girl to “nail.”
So disgusting.
It makes me want to shake him, shake some sense into
him, hurt him somehow, give him a glimpse of how
totally humiliated and used he made me feel,
penetrate that smug attitude.
That’s when it hits me.
I really should do something,
warn the others,
so the next girl isn’t such an unsuspecting sap.
And I know exactly how.
My weapon of choice:
Forever.
Every girl reads it eventually.
In high school,
or earlier, like me, if they’re lucky enough
to hear about it
and there’s a copy to nab.
Now every girl,
at least in my school,
will read about
him
at the same time.
Forewarned,
Forearmed.
Forever.
BEWARE
I find what I’m looking for
in the Bs for Blume, Judy.
There’s a carrel
where the librarian
can’t see me.
I open the book
to the back
where there just happens to be
a bunch of those
blank end pages (are we supposed to make notes here?)
I write:
TO THE GIRLS OF POINT BEACH HIGH: BEWARE!!
There’s a boy at this school who’s only out for
one thing.
I won’t stoop to his level and call him by name
but his initials are T. L .
(aka, Two-faced Liar, Terrible Lay
(I’m only guessing), Total Loser)
he’s on the football and baseball teams
and he never misses a party.
Sound familiar?
Don’t go out with him!
(unless you want to use him for sex
before he uses you)
Forewarned is Forearmed.
Forever.
CHECK IT OUT
It was easy to spread the word.
“Remember that book Forever?
Check it out again.
Need-to-know information
has been added
at the back.”
I was on a mission.
Every girl I passed a note to
or whispered to
or told in the cafeteria
nodded like she
got it.
HIGHER EDUCATION
Let’s recap, shall we?
I definitely lost some things along the way:
My confidence—a little bit, yeah, but it’s coming back.
My better judgment—yep, that definitely went
out the window.
My friends—that was a close one, could have been
a lot worse (although I know they know it’s going to
happen to them, which is probably why they cut me
some slack).
My virginity—nope! Still holding on to that!
I found out some things along the way too,
important things.
I didn’t cave under pressure (that virginity thing).
And I stood up for myself and fought back,
I’m proud of that.
It’s pretty amazing
to find out new things about yourself
when you think you already know every inch
of your own personal landscape.
And it’s pretty exciting
to discover that there’s probably
a whole lot more to discover
inside this person
that is
me.
It reminds me of the way the sun
hits the water in the afternoon
scattering color and light
all over the beach
revealing
little nooks and crannies
that were always there
but didn’t catch my eye until the moment
they sparkled in the sunlight,
impossible to miss.
A lucky feeling floods over me,
washing away pieces of the pain.
Wisdom stings but
ignorance is not bliss.
Nicolette
POWER PLAY
It didn’t take a genius to see it.
All the girls at my school
were always just
waiting.
Waiting
for some guy to call,
waiting
for some guy to say she was
pretty, or
nice, or
smart.
Waiting for some
guy
to make the first move.
Uh-uh. Not me.
Why should I sit around and wait?
It’s all about the power.
Who’s got it
and who doesn’t.
If I say who
and I say when
and I say what
then I
have it.
Simple as that.
Let’s just leave the rest of the
lovey-dovey crap
out of it,
okay?
I LOVE
the way my body starts to feel
when a boy runs his hands all over me,
first over my clothes,
then getting all under them,
appreciating smooth curves
and hidden places.
I love the way a boy’s body feels
when he starts to groan
from my touch,
and he squirms and shifts
and wants me so bad
and tells me so.
and I love, love, love, love
the time when you know
there isn’t any place else in the whole wide world