SUMMER INTERNSHIP POSITIONS/DEPARTMENT 3 page

It felt so good; made her blood feel tingly and hot. She pressed up against him like a cat, loving the way he was making her feel. Any minute he was going to draw back and look down at her and say, I love you, just like Ryan O'Neal in Love Story.

Maybe Tully would even call him preppie when she said it back to him. Their song would be "Stairway to Heaven." They'd tell people they met while—

His tongue slipped into her mouth, pressing hard, sweeping around like some kind of alien probe. Suddenly it didn't feel good anymore, didn't feel right. She tried to say, Stop, but her voice had no sound; he was sucking up all her air.

His hands were everywhere: up her back, around her side, plucking at her bra, trying to undo it. She felt it come free with a sickening little pop. And then he was touching her boob.

"No . . ." she whimpered, trying to push his hands away. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted love, romance, magic. Someone to love her. Not . . . this. "No, Pat, don't—"

"Come on, Tully. You know you want it." He pushed her back and she stumbled, fell to the ground hard, hitting her head. For a second, her vision blurred. When it cleared, he was on his knees, between her legs. He held both her hands in one of his, pinning her to the ground.

"That's what I like," he said, pushing her legs apart.

Shoving her top up, he stared down at her naked chest. "Oh, yeah . . ." He cupped one breast, tweaked her nipple hard. His other hand slipped into her pants, beneath her underwear.

"Stop. Please . . ." Tully tried desperately to get free, but her wriggling only seemed to excite him.

Between her legs, his fingers probed her hard, moving inside her. "Come on, baby, let yourself like it."

She felt herself starting to cry. "Don't—"

"Oh, yeah . . ." He covered her body with his, pressed her into the wet grass.

She was crying so hard now she could taste her own tears, but he didn't seem to care. His kisses were something else now—slobbering, sucking, biting; it hurt, but not as much as his belt, hitting her stomach when he pulled it off, or his penis, ramming—

She squeezed her eyes shut as pain ripped between her legs, scraped her insides.

Then, suddenly, it was over. He rolled off her, lay beside her, holding her close, kissing her cheek as if what he'd just done to her had been love.

"Hey, you're crying." He gently smoothed the hair away from her face. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted it."

She didn't know what to say. Like every girl, she'd imagined losing her virginity, but it had never felt like this in her dreams. She stared at him in disbelief. "Wanted that?"

An irritated frown creased his forehead. "Come on, Tully, let's dance."

The way he said it, so quietly, as if he were actually confused by her reaction, only made it worse. She'd done something wrong, obviously, been a prick tease, and this was what happened to girls who played at it.

He stared at her for a minute longer, then stood up and pulled his pants up. "Whatever. I need another drink. Let's go."

She rolled onto her side. "Go away."

She felt him beside her, knew he was staring down at her. "You acted like you wanted it, damn it. You can't lead a guy on and then just go cold. Grow up, little girl. This is your fault."

She closed her eyes and ignored him, thankful when he finally left her. For once she was glad to be alone.

She lay there, feeling broken and hurt and, worst of all, stupid. After an hour or so, she heard the party break up, heard the car engines start, and the tires pealing through loose gravel as they drove away.

And still she lay there, unable to make herself move. This was all her fault; he was right about that. She was stupid and young. All she'd wanted was someone to love her.

"Stupid," she hissed, finally sitting up.

Moving slowly, she got dressed and tried to stand. At the movement, she felt sick to her stomach and immediately puked all over her favorite shoes. When it was over, she bent down for her purse, clutched it to her chest, and made her long, painful way back up to the road.

There were no cars out this late at night, and she was glad for that. She didn't want to have to explain to anyone why her hair was full of pine needles and her shoes were stained with vomit.

All the way home she relived what had happened—the way Pat had smiled at her when he asked her to the party; the gentle first kiss he'd given her; the way he talked to her as if she mattered; then the other Pat, with his harsh hands and his probing tongue and fingers, with his hard cock and how roughly he'd stuck it up inside her.

The more she replayed it in her mind, the lonelier and more desolate she felt.

If only she had someone she trusted to talk to. Maybe that would ease a little of this pain. But, of course, there was no one.

This was another secret she'd have to keep, like her weirdo mother and unknown father. People would say she had it coming, a junior high girl at a high school party.

As she neared her driveway, she walked a little more slowly. The thought of going home, of feeling alone in a place that should be a refuge for her, with a woman who was supposed to love her, was suddenly unbearable.

The neighbors' old gray horse trotted up to the fence line and nickered at her.

Tully crossed the street and walked up the hill. At the fence, she yanked up a handful of grass and held it out to him. "Hey there, boy."

The horse sniffed the handful of grass, snorted wetly, and trotted away.

"She likes carrots."

Tully looked up sharply and saw her neighbor sitting on the top rail of the fence.

Long minutes passed in silence between them; the only noise was the horse's quiet nickering.

"It's late," the neighbor girl said.

"Yeah."

"I love it out here at night. The stars are so bright. Sometimes, if you stare up at the sky long enough, you'll swear tiny white dots are falling all around you, like fireflies. Maybe that's how this street got its name. You probably think I'm a nerd for even saying that."

Tully wanted to answer but couldn't. Deep, deep inside she'd started to shake and it took all her concentration just to stand still.

The girl—Kate, Tully remembered—slipped down from her perch. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt with a Partridge Family decal on the front that was peeling off. As she moved forward, her boots made a sucking noise in the mud. "Hey, you don't look so good." A retainer drew the s into a long lisp. "And you reek like puke."

"I'm fine," she said, stiffening as Kate drew close.

"Are you okay? Really?"

To Tully's complete horror, she started to cry.

Kate stood there a moment, staring at her from behind those dork-o-rama glasses. Then, without saying anything, she hugged Tully.

Tully flinched at the contact; it was foreign and unexpected. She started to pull away, but found that she couldn't move. She couldn't remember the last time someone had held her like this, and suddenly she was clinging to this weirdo girl, afraid to let go, afraid that without Kate, she'd float away like the S.S. Minnow and be lost at sea.

"I'm sure she'll get better," Kate said when Tully's tears subsided.

Tully drew back, frowning. It took her a second to understand.

The cancer. Kate thought she was worried about her mom.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kate said, taking out her retainer, putting it on the mossy top of a fence post.

Tully stared at her. In the silvery light from a full moon, she saw nothing but compassion in Kate's magnified green eyes, and she wanted to talk, wanted it with a fierceness that made her feel sick. But she didn't know how to start.

Kate said, "Come on," and led her up the hill to the slanted front porch of the farmhouse. There, she sat down, pulling her threadbare T-shirt over her bent knees. "My Aunt Georgia had cancer," she said. "It was grody. Lost all her hair. But she's fine now."

Tully sat down beside her, put her purse on the ground. The smell of vomit was strong. She pulled out a cigarette and lit up to cover the stench. Before she knew it, she'd said, "I went to a party down by the river tonight."

"A high school party?" Kate sounded impressed.

"Pat Richmond asked me out."

"The quarterback? Wow. My mom wouldn't let me stand in the same checkout line as a high school senior. She's so lame."

"She's not lame."

"She thinks eighteen-year-old boys are dangerous. She calls them penises with hands and feet. Tell me that isn't lame."

Tully glanced out over the field and took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn't believe she was going to tell this girl what happened tonight, but the truth was a fire inside her. If she didn't get rid of it, she'd burn up. "He raped me."

Kate turned to her. Tully felt those green eyes boring into her profile, but she didn't move, didn't turn. Her shame was so overwhelming that she couldn't stand to see it reflected in Kate's eyes. She waited for Kate to say something, to call her an idiot, but the silence just went on and on. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She looked sideways.

"Are you okay?" Kate asked quietly.

Tully relived it all in those few words. Tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision.

Once again, Kate hugged her. Tully let herself be comforted for the first time since she was little. When she finally drew back, she tried to smile. "I'm drowning you."

"We should tell someone."

"No way. They'd say it was my fault. This is our secret, okay?"

"Okay." Kate frowned as she said it.

Tully wiped her eyes and took another drag on her cigarette. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"You looked lonely. Believe me, I know how that feels."

"You do? But you have a family."

"They have to like me." Kate sighed. "The kids at school treat me like I've got an infectious disease. I used to have friends, but . . . you probably don't know what in the heck I'm talking about. You're so popular."

"Popular just means lots of people think they know you."

"I'd take that."

Silence fell between them. Tully finished her cigarette and put it out. They were so different, she and Kate, as full of contrasts as this dark field bathed in moonlight, but it felt so completely easy to talk to her. Tully found herself almost smiling, and on this, the worst night of her life. That was something.

For the next hour, they sat there, talking now and then and sometimes just sitting in silence. They didn't say anything really important or share any more secrets, they just talked.

Finally, Kate yawned and Tully stood up. "I better book."

They got up and walked down to the road. At the mailboxes, Kate stopped. "Well. 'Bye."

"'Bye." Tully stood there a moment, feeling awkward. She wanted to hug Kate, maybe even cling to her and tell her how much this night had been helped by her, but she didn't dare. She'd learned a thing or two about vulnerability from her mother, and she felt too fragile now to risk humiliation. Turning, she headed down to her house. Once inside, she went straight to the shower. There, with the hot water beating down on her, she thought about what had happened to her tonight—what she'd let happen because she wanted to be cool—and she cried. When she was done and the tears had turned into a hard little knot in her throat, she took the memory of this night and boxed it up. She shelved it in the back alongside memories of the times Cloud had abandoned her and immediately began working on forgetting it was there.

CHAPTER FIVE

Kate lay awake long after Tully had left. Finally, she threw back the covers and got out of bed.

Downstairs, she found what she needed: a small statue of the Virgin Mary, a votive candle in a red glass holder, a book of matches, and her grandmother's old rosary beads. Taking everything back up to her room, she created an altar on top of her dresser, and lit the candle.

"Heavenly Father," she prayed, head bowed and hands clasped, "please watch out for Tully Hart and help her through this hard time. Also, please heal her mother's cancer. I know You can help them. Amen." She said a few Hail Marys, and then went back to bed.

But all night she tossed and turned, dreaming about the encounter with Tully, wondering what would happen in the morning. Should she talk to Tully today at school, smile at her? Or was she expected to pretend it had never happened? There were rules to popularity, secret codes written in invisible ink that only girls like Tully could read. All Kate knew was that she didn't want to make a mistake and embarrass herself. She knew that sometimes the popular girls were "secret friends" with nerds; like, they smiled and said hi when they weren't in school or when their parents were friends. Maybe that was how it would be with her and Tully.

Finally, she quit trying to sleep and got up. Putting on her robe, she went downstairs. In the living room, her dad looked up from the newspaper and smiled. "Top of the mornin' to you, Katie Scarlett. Come give your old man a hug."

She plopped into his lap, rested her cheek against the rough wool of his shirt.

He tucked a strand of hair around her ear. She could see how tired he looked; he was working so hard, doing double shifts at Boeing so they could afford their yearly family camping trip. "How's school going?"

It was the same question he always asked. Once, a long time ago, she'd actually answered, said, "Not so good, Dad," and then waited for his advice or comfort or something, but no such words had come. He'd heard what he wanted to hear, not what she'd said. Her mom had said it was because he worked so many hours at the plant.

Kate could have been upset by his distraction, but somehow it had made her love him even more. He never yelled at her or told her to pay attention or reminded her that she was responsible for her own happiness. Those were her mother's words; her dad just quietly went on loving her no matter what.

"Great," she answered, smiling to reinforce the lie.

"How could it not be?" he said, kissing her temple. "You're the prettiest girl in town, eh? And your mum named you after one of the great literary heroines of all time."

"Yeah, Scarlett O'Hara and I have a ton in common."

"You'll see," he said, chuckling. "There's a fair bit of life still ahead of you, missy."

She looked at him. "Do you think I'll be pretty when I grow up?"

"Ah, Katie," he said. "You're a rare beauty already."

She took those words and tucked them in her pocket like worry stones; every now and again as she got ready for school she felt them, turned them around in her fingers.

By the time she was dressed and ready to go, the house was empty. The Mularkey family bus had left the station.

She was so nervous she arrived at the bus stop early. Every minute that passed seemed to last an eternity, but there was still no sign of Tully when the school bus drove up and came to a shuddering stop.

Kate dropped her chin and took a seat in the first row.

All through morning classes, she looked for Tully, but didn't see her. At lunch she hurried past the crowd of popular kids, who were busy cutting to the front of the food line whenever they felt like it, and sat down at one of the long tables at the very end of the cafeteria. On the other side of the room, kids were laughing and talking and shoving each other; these tables in social Siberia were sadly quiet, though. Kate, like the others seated around her, rarely looked up.

It was a survival skill the unpopular kids learned early: junior high was like the jungles of Vietnam; it was best to crouch low and keep quiet. So intent was she on her lunch that when someone came up to her and said, "Hey," she practically jumped out of her seat.

Tully.

Even on this cool May day, she wore a cut-to-there miniskirt, white go-go boots, shiny black panty hose, and a tube top. Several peace-symbol necklaces bounced against her cleavage. Her hair glinted with copper streaks in the light. A huge macramé-knot purse hung against her thigh. "Have you told anyone about last night?"

"No. Of course not."

"So, we're friends, right?"

Kate didn't know which surprised her more: the question or the vulnerability in Tully's eyes. "We're friends."

"Excellent." Tully pulled a package of Twinkies out of her purse, then sat down beside Kate. "Now let's talk about makeup. You need help, and I'm not being a bitch. Really. I just know about fashion. It's a gift. Can I drink your milk? Good. Thanks. Are you gonna eat that banana? I could come to your house after school . . ."

Kate stood outside the drugstore looking up and down the street for someone who might know her mom. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

The answer was slim comfort, actually. In the day they'd officially been friends, Kate had learned one thing about Tully: she was a girl who made Plans.

And today's plan was to make Kate beautiful.

"Don't you trust me?"

There it was, the big question. It was like rolling a Yahtzee: once Tully said it, Kate lost the game. She had to trust her new friend. "Of course I do. It's just that I'm not allowed to wear makeup."

"Believe me, I'm such an expert your mom will never know. Come on."

Tully walked boldly through the drugstore, choosing eye shadow and blush colors that were "right" for Kate, and then—amazingly—she paid for everything. When Kate said something, Tully said airily, "We're friends, aren't we?"

On the way out of the store, Tully bumped her, shoulder to shoulder.

Kate giggled and bumped her back. They made their way through town and followed the river toward home. All the while, they talked about clothes and music and school. Finally, they turned off the old road and went down Tully's driveway.

"My gran would freak if she saw this place," Tully said, looking embarrassed. Rhodies the size of hot-air balloons covered the side of the house. "She owns this house, you know."

"Does she visit you?"

"Nah. It's easier to wait."

"For what?"

"My mom to forget about me again." Tully stepped over a mound of newspapers and around a trio of garbage cans, then opened the door. Inside, the smoke in the room was thick.

Tully's mom was in the living room, lying on the sofa, with her eyes half opened.

"H-hello, Mrs. Hart," Kate said. "I'm Kate from next door."

Mrs. Hart tried to sit up, but obviously she was too weak to manage it. "Hello, girl from nex' door."

Tully grabbed Kate's hand and pulled her through the living room and into her bedroom, then slammed the door shut. She immediately went to her stack of records, pulled out Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, and put it on the turntable. When the music started up, she tossed Kate a Tiger Beat and dragged a chair over to the vanity. "You ready?"

Kate's nervousness came swooping back. She knew she'd get in trouble for this, but how would she ever make friends or become popular if she didn't take a few risks? "I'm ready."

"Good. Sit down. We'll do your hair first. It needs some highlights. This is exactly what Maureen McCormick uses."

Kate looked at Tully in the mirror. "How do you know that?"

"I read it in last month's Teen magazine."

"I'm guessing she goes to professionals." Kate opened the Tiger Beat and tried to concentrate on the article ("Jack Wild's Dream Date—It Could Be You!").

"Take that back. I read the instructions twice."

"Is there any chance I'm going to end up bald?"

"Hardly any. Now be quiet. I'm reading the instructions again."

Tully separated Kate's hair into strips and began spraying Sun-In onto the pieces. It took almost an hour to get it done to her satisfaction. "You are going to look like Marcia Brady when I'm done."

"What's it like, being popular?" Kate hadn't meant to ask the question; it just slipped out.

"You'll see. But you'll stay my friend, won't you?"

Kate laughed at that. "Very funny. Hey, that sort of burns."

"Really? That can't be good. And some of your hair is falling out".

Kate managed not to make a face. If going bald was the price of being Tully's friend, she'd pay it.

Tully reached for the blow dryer and turned it on, blasting Kate's hair with heat.

"I got my period," Tully yelled. "So at least assface didn't knock me up."

Kate heard the bravado in her friend's voice and saw it in her eyes. "I prayed for you."

"You did?" Tully asked. "Wow. Thanks."

Kate didn't know what to say to that. To her, praying was like brushing your teeth before bed, just something you did.

Tully clicked off the dryer and smiled, but she looked worried again. Maybe it was the smell of burning hair. "Okay. Take a shower and rinse it out."

Kate did as she was told. A few minutes later, she got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed again.

Tully immediately grabbed her hand and led her back to the chair. "Is your hair falling out?"

"Some is," she admitted.

"If you're bald, I'll shave my head. Promise." Tully combed and dried Kate's hair.

Kate couldn't look. She closed her eyes and let Tully's voice meld into the whine of the dryer.

"Open your eyes."

Kate looked up slowly. At this distance, she didn't need her glasses, but force of habit made her lean forward. The girl in the mirror had straight streaked blond hair, parted with precision and dried perfectly. For once it looked soft and pretty instead of thin and lank. The white highlights showed off her leaf-green eyes and the hint of pink on her lips. She looked almost pretty. "Wow," she said, too choked up with gratitude to say more.

"Wait till you see what mascara and blush can do," Tully said, "and concealer for those zits on your forehead."

"I'll always be your friend," Kate said, thinking she'd whispered the promise, but when Tully grinned, she knew she'd been heard.

"Good. Now let's go on the makeup. Have you seen my razor?"

"What do you need a razor for?"

"Your eyebrows, silly. Oh, there it is. Close your eyes."

Kate didn't think twice. "Okay."

Kate didn't even bother to hide her face when she came into the house. That was how confident she felt. For the first time ever, she knew she was beautiful.

Her dad was in the living room, sitting in his La-Z-Boy. At Kate's entrance, he looked up. "Good Lord," he said, clanking his drink down on the French provincial end table. "Margie!"

Mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She wore her school-day uniform: striped rust and olive polyester blouse, brown corduroy bell-bottoms, and a wrinkled apron that read: A WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOUSE . . . AND THE SENATE. When she saw Kate, she stopped. Slowly, she untied her apron and tossed it on the table.

The sudden quiet brought Sean and the dog running into the room, tripping over each other. "Katie looks like a skunk," Sean said. "Pee-ew."

"Go wash your hands for dinner," Mom said sharply. "Now," she added when he didn't leave.

Sean grumbled and went upstairs.

"Did you give her permission to do that to her hair, Margie?" Dad said from the living room.

"I'll handle this, Bud," Mom said, frowning at Kate as she crossed the room. "The girl across the street do this to you?"

Kate nodded, trying to hold on to the memory of feeling pretty.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Well. Me, too, then. I remember when your Aunt Georgia dyed my hair red. Grandma Peet was livid." She smiled. "But you should have asked. You're still young, Kathleen, no matter what you girls want to be true. Now, what have you done to your eyebrows?"

"Tully shaved them. Just to give them shape."

Mom tried not to smile. "I see. Well, plucking is really the way to go. I should have taught you how already, but I thought you were too young." She looked around for her cigarettes. Finding them on the table, she flipped one out and lit up. "After dinner, I'll show you how. And I suppose a little lip gloss and mascara would be all right for school. I'll show you how to make it look more natural."

Kate hugged her mom. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now get started on the cornbread. And Katie, I'm glad you made a friend, but no more breaking the rules, okay? That's how young girls get into trouble."

Kate couldn't help thinking of the high school party Tully had gone to. "Okay, Mom."

Within a week, Kate became cool by association. Kids raved over her new look and didn't turn away from her in the halls. Being a friend of Tully Hart's meant she was okay.

Even her parents noticed the difference. At dinner, Kate wasn't her usual quiet self. Instead, she couldn't shut up. Story after story spilled out of her. Who was dating whom, who won at tetherball, who got detention for wearing a MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR T-shirt to school, where Tully got her hair cut (in Seattle by a guy named Gene Juarez—how cool was that?), and what movie was playing at the drive-in this weekend. She was still talking about Tully after dinner, while she and Mom did the dishes.

"I can't wait for you to meet her. She's super cool. Everyone likes her, even the heads."

"Heads?"

"Druggies? Stoners?"

"Oh." Mom took the glass meatloaf pan from her and dried it. "I've . . . asked around about this girl, Katie. She tries to buy cigarettes from Alma at the drugstore."

"She's probably buying them for her mom."

Mom set the dry pan down on the speckled Formica counter. "Just do me a favor, Katie. You think for yourself around Tully Hart. I wouldn't want you to follow her into trouble."

Kate threw the crocheted dishrag in the soapy water. "I can't believe you. What about all your take-a-risk speeches? For years you tell me to make friends, and the second I find someone, you call her a slut."

"I hardly called her a—"

Kate stormed out of the kitchen. With each step she expected her mother to call her back and ground her, but silence followed her dramatic exit.

Upstairs, she went into her room and slammed the door for effect. Then she sat down on her bed and waited. When Mom came in she'd be sorry; for once Kate had been the strong one.

But Mom didn't show, and by ten o'clock, Kate was starting to feel sort of bad. Had she hurt her mom's feelings? She got up, paced the small room.

There was a knock at the door.

She raced over to the bed and climbed in, trying to look bored. "Yeah?"

The door opened slowly. Mom stood there, wearing the floor-length red velour robe they'd gotten her for Christmas last year. "May I come in?"

"Like I could stop you."

"You could," Mom said quietly. "May I come in?"

Kate shrugged, but scooted to the left to make room for her mom.

"You know, Katie, life is—"

Kate couldn't help groaning. Not another life-is speech.

Mom surprised her by laughing. "Okay, no more speeches. Maybe you're too old for that." She paused at the altar on the dresser. "You haven't made one of these since Georgia was in chemo. Who needs our prayers?"

"Tully's mom has cancer and she was ra—" She snapped her mouth shut, horrified by what she'd nearly revealed. For most of her life she'd told her mother everything; now she had a best friend, though, so she'd need to be careful.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 748