Jumping Off Swings (4 page)

“Thanks. This looks delicious!” I say when she puts a heaping plate in front of me.

She smiles and puts a matching plate next to Ellie. Ellie’s mom isn’t a big talker. She’s more like a server. It’s kind of weird. Also, I’ve always had the impression that she doesn’t like me very much. Probably because of my sister’s “reputation.” News of the abortion she had last year spread around town, and I guess people think that kind of thing runs in families. Jeez, I can only imagine how much she’d freak if Ellie’s mom knew the real deal about her own daughter. The woman prides herself on perfection, and not just her own.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says.

Ellie nods. “Thanks, Mom.”

We wait for her to leave before we start eating. The noodles are surprisingly tasteless. I think she must have used fat-free cheese and definitely no salt. I search the table for a saltshaker but don’t see one. Ellie moves her food around but doesn’t even bother to take a taste. I force down a few more bites and then give up.

“OK,” I finally say. “I’m not leaving until we talk this out.”

“Shhh,” Ellie says, actually putting her finger to her lips.

I look around in an exaggerated way to remind her we’re alone.

“Ellie, I’m serious,” I whisper. “Why do you keep doing this? Every time you hook up with someone, you get totally depressed after. It makes no sense.”

She’s quiet a minute, then puts down her fork.

“I don’t know.”

“Well — you need to stop. I mean, God, Ellie. I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything, but how many guys have you been with now?”

She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. A sob escapes through her fingers.

Crap.

“I’m sorry, El. Seriously. It’s not your fault. I don’t know why these guys use you, OK? Maybe it’s because they know you’re too nice to stop them. But Ellie, just because a guy is nice to you doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”

She drags her fingers down her cheeks as if she’d like to scratch them.

“You don’t understand what it’s like. How it feels.”

“Try me.”

She studies her plate as if she’s looking for an answer, but she doesn’t say anything. We sit there for what seems like forever.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and says very quietly, “I can’t. I can’t explain. I just . . . when I’m with them, I feel . . . like they care about me. I feel special. I feel like they
want
me. Not just my body but
me.
Like they could
love
me. But . . . I’m always wrong. No one wants me. No one will ever love me.”

I sigh. “Then why do you keep having sex with them?”

“SHHH!!”
She clamps her hand over my mouth.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “But . . . don’t you think you should think about that?”

She looks down at her tasteless noodles. “Yeah.”

Shoes click in the hallway. Ellie automatically sits up straighter.

“You girls all finished?” Ellie’s mom asks, coming back into the room.

I stand up to clear my plate, but she quickly takes it from me, as if she doesn’t trust me to carry it to the sink.

“Thank you,” I say. But she already has her back to me as she heads to the dishwasher.

I follow Ellie to the front door.

“Are you going to be OK?” I ask. She looks so tired and sad. I know I should say something to make her feel better, but I can’t think what.

She nods halfheartedly. “Thanks for being with me today,” she says.

“That’s what friends are for.” I give her a hug and whisper in her ear. “Forget him. Forget all of them.”

She nods again, but when I leave, I can almost feel her crumple behind me.

I take the long way home so I can walk by the park again. I get on my swing and pump my legs as hard as I can. It’s getting dark, and the wind on my face is much colder than it was this morning. I keep pumping, going higher and higher. I whiz past the swing next to me, Ellie’s swing, making it sway a little. I wish she were back here, swinging and laughing like nothing else mattered.

We used to laugh constantly. We painted each other’s toenails and traded flavored lip gloss. We teased each other about who we had crushes on and practiced kissing the backs of our hands. We talked about what our first time would be like — where we’d want to do it and what our perfect men would look like. We talked about how magical it would be.

But then Ellie went and did it for real, and it seems like sex wasn’t any of those things we’d imagined. I wish I could cling to what Ava says. How sex is amazing. But looking at Ellie, it’s hard to believe.

To be totally honest, I’ve never even seen a real penis except when I was eight and my disgusting cousin, also eight, whipped his thing out and chased me around the yard. A few years ago, my mom and dad wanted to have “the talk” with me. They even had a book to show me. I was so embarrassed that I told them Ava had already filled me in on everything I needed to know. Of course, I was dying to look at that book. But with my mom and dad looking on? Uh — no.

I stop swinging and walk over to the park’s poor excuse for a seesaw, the kind where you can’t get hurt if your so-called friend jumps off to make you go crashing down. They’ve attached these springs to the bottom so the seesaw automatically balances and you can actually ride on it by yourself.

I straddle the seat and sink slowly until both feet touch the ground, then I push off. I bounce up and come back down again softly. It’s dusk, and there isn’t anyone else around except some old lady with two little kids. She pushes them on the merry-go-round and tells them a million times to hold on tight.

She notices me watching and gives me a questioning look, like,
What are you doing out here all by yourself?
I glance around at the empty place. The slide is becoming a shadow. Ellie’s and my swings sway gently back and forth, as if two ghost friends are riding them. I get the shivers and decide I better go.

“Hey, Corinne,” a quiet voice says behind me.

I nearly fall off the seesaw.

I turn and see Caleb, looking shy, his hands jammed into his jeans pockets. My stomach does a little flip-flop butterfly thing. That hasn’t happened since last year’s crush on Brad Stevens, who made me practically faint every time I got near him. But
Caleb
?

“You scared me,” I say.

“Sorry.” When our eyes meet, I swear my stomach flutters again.

“It’s OK.” I try not to stare at him. I tried to tell Ellie he seemed to have gotten cuter this year, but she wouldn’t listen. Figures she’s not attracted to the one guy who might actually treat her right. I mean, the guy’s been crushing on her since we were kids. I can’t imagine what it would be like to get the attention Ellie gets. Just once I’d like to get one of the flirty looks she gets every day.

Caleb studies the wood chips at his feet.

“So, uh, what are you doing here?” he asks the wood chips.

“Um . . .”

What
am
I doing here? I’m sixteen and I’ve been discovered by a cute guy riding on a seesaw. By myself. In the dark. On a Saturday night. There’s really no good answer.

“Just thinking,” I finally say. “Want to ride with me?”

“Um, sure.” He walks to the other end of the seesaw and climbs on. He slowly pushes off with his feet. His curly hair looks like a fuzzy shadow in the gray light.

“I heard you were at the park earlier today. You and Ellie?”

“Yeah. Did Josh tell you?”

“Yeah.”

I don’t know how much he knows, but I assume Josh gives a lot more details than Ellie does, so he probably knows more than me. I push my feet against the ground lightly. It would be really great to change the subject right about now.

“So, is Ellie, you know, OK?”

I stop the seesaw with my legs, and our eyes meet. I wait, trying to figure out how to answer. But there’s really nothing I can say. I kick off the ground again, and we ride up and down in silence. After a while, the little old lady says loudly enough so we hear how it’s very late and they have to go home because the park isn’t safe at night.

The funny thing is, with Caleb, I do feel safe. For some reason, being here in the dark with him, I don’t feel scared at all.

T
HE FIRST BOY
made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in school. He told me I was special. That he couldn’t believe he was with me. When he held me, I felt like a present he didn’t want to share. He said it was his first time, too. But his kisses got harder and harder. And his hands moved everywhere, too fast. A noise came out of me when he ripped his way inside me. He didn’t notice. He just moaned louder.

But I wasn’t moaning. I was crying. He didn’t even kiss me good-bye when he was done.

I stayed after he left the room. I sat and listened to the party noises in the other part of the house we were in. To people laughing. I wiped my eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. I thought of the words he’d used earlier. How they filled me up and made me feel wanted and alive. But how, when he pushed his way inside me, he emptied me out again.

Pretty soon Corinne found me. She asked if I was all right. She wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know all the details. “Far, farther, or farthest?” she kept asking.

She giggled when I told her farthest. She jumped up and down on the bed.

“Tell me what it was like!”

But I couldn’t. I wanted to be able to tell her it was the way it was supposed to be. Special. But it wasn’t. And I couldn’t lie. So I just shrugged and said I’d tell her later.

When I got home and changed, I saw the blood on my panties. I was afraid something was wrong with me. I called Corinne the next morning. She said that happens when you do it the first time. Her sister told her about it. Ava said that in some cultures, they check the wedding couple’s sheets for blood to prove that the bride was a virgin. I couldn’t stop thinking about that. About someone else seeing my blood. And knowing what I’d done.

I didn’t know what to do with my bloody panties. I folded them into a tight ball and hid them way back in my underwear drawer where I couldn’t see them.

The second time, I should have known. I should have recognized the familiar lies.

You’re so hot. I have to have you. C’mon . . .

And the third time.

And the fourth.

Their hands felt so good, wanting me. Needing me. Their words made me feel beautiful. Irresistible. Even powerful for that one brief moment before it was over.

But I was none of those things.

I was nothing.

Just a smell on their hands to share with their friends.

“C
ALEB?
” Corinne pushes her way toward me through the crowded hallway at school. When she catches up, she gives me a quick semi-smile.

“Hey,” I say, grinning back at her.

“Hey. Thanks for hanging out with me at the park the other night.”

It’s just before first period, but her hair is already falling out of her hair clip. Loose curls are wispy around her face. I can’t believe I never noticed how cute she is.

“No problem,” I say. “Not that I was the best company.”

“Well, it was nice not to be alone.” She looks at her feet, then down the hall toward our homeroom.

When our eyes meet again, I take a deep breath. “Um. So. Maybe we could go again sometime.”

She nods. “Yeah. Cool.”

“Great!” I feel my cheeks get hot. “I mean. OK. Good.”

Ugh.

I follow her to homeroom. When we get there, Corinne sits at her usual place next to Ellie, and I sit in my usual place in the back. From my seat, I watch them lean toward each other to talk. Corinne reaches over and touches Ellie’s arm, as if she’s trying to comfort her, but Ellie pulls away. When she turns, I see her face. She looks like she’s going to cry. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I think I can guess.

I don’t see Josh until last period, when we have soccer. I manage to avoid him in the locker room because we’re all in a hurry to get out on the floor before the coach comes in and starts yelling at us.

We get put on the same scrimmage team, but I refuse to pass to him. I don’t even look at him.

After practice, I try to get out of there fast, but he comes rushing over to me.