Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [26]
I feel so guilty. “Me too,” I say and kiss him back. “I’ll figure something out.”
What I figure out is, I can steal pills from Mom for a couple of months. Sneaking them won’t be a problem. Mom had almost a year’s supply when Dad left and she hasn’t used them since. They’re at the back of a drawer beside the sink in the bathroom. She’s probably forgotten about them, for all I know. For sure she won’t remember how many she had. So that’s what I’ve been doing.
Taking the pill makes me less paranoid, but I’m still uncomfortable with the sex bit.
At the beginning, I worried his mom would catch us. I’d be like, “Jason, Jason please don’t,” and he’d be laughing, “Please don’t what? Please don’t stop?” As it turns out, though, he was right about her. She goes through so much “tomato juice” I hardly think she’d notice if she waltzed right in and sat down beside us.
What gets me is actually “doing it.” The kissing part is fine, but that only lasts a minute, and then he’s on top of me and I can’t even move. I can hardly breathe. A few times I tried to stop him, but I ended up with bruises, and once my blouse got ripped, which took a lot of explaining to Mom.
“I was climbing over a fence at school and it got caught.”
“What were you doing climbing over a fence?”
“What do you care?”
“Answer the question.”
“Okay, I wasn’t climbing over a fence.” I rolled my eyes, all sarcastic. “Jason wanted to have sex and he ripped my clothes off. Happy?”
“That isn’t funny,” Mom said and dropped the subject. It’s amazing, but sometimes if you tell the truth, people will act as though it’s a lie.
I guess it’s not that bad. At least it’s quick. I’m like, “Ow ow ow ow ow,” and then Jason groans like he’s constipated and says, “That was great,” and I go, “Yeah,” to keep him happy.
One time I guess I wasn’t enthusiastic enough. “All you can say is ‘Yeah’?”
That pissed me off. Before I could stop myself, I went, “What do you want? You want me to turn into the school marching band? Do a production number? Light up some fireworks, maybe? Blow the roof off?”
He slapped me.
“What was that for?”
“Watch your lip.”
That’s why I like it better when we get stoned first. Getting stoned doesn’t make me paranoid anymore. It lets me zone out. I can stare at a point on the ceiling, or the roof of the car, and pretend I’m not there till it’s over.
Why am I always complaining? Why am I such a bitch? Jason loves me, I know it, he says so. Why am I always so negative? I should think of the good stuff— riding on his motorcycle, my charm bracelet.
The other girls tell me how lucky I am. Except for Ashley. Last week, as per usual, she said juniors who date seniors are sex toys, like I’m a slut or something.
“You’d go out with Jason in a flash,” I said. “Except he’d never ask you.”
“Oh please,” she sniffed. “I’m not boy-crazy like you.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “The only reason you’re a virgin is because you’ve never had a date.”
“Well, the only reason you’re not pregnant is because you’re lucky.”
“Liar.”
“Skank.”
I pushed her.
“Girls.” It was Mr. Manley. “Is there a problem?”
“No, sir,” Ashley said.
“Then get to class. Leslie, I’d like a word with you in my office.”
What else is new? I glanced at Katie. She was looking at the floor; you’d think someone had died. My insides heaved.
Why does everything go wrong? Why am I such a failure?
Right now I’m looking at Ms. Graham. I’ll bet she asks the same things. I wonder if she’s ever been in love. I wonder if she’s lonely. I wonder if maybe being lonely is better. All I know is, since falling in love with Jason I’ve been the loneliest of all.
Sixteen
Ms. Graham’s gone berserk, and it’s only the end of October. Nicky Wicks is lucky he’s alive. Mr. Manley is supervising us right now, and for the first time in history, this room is quiet as a morgue.
The class started out pretty ordinary—a lot of bad readers and paper airplanes. We were at the part in the book where Tom is about to get lynched and Scout has the guts to stand up in front of the whole mob—and she’s way younger