Part 11 (1/2)

”What did you do? Can you even imagine the cruelty kids in school put someone like him through?”

In a bare instant, I had a series of images of Cindy Blanchard in my mind. The day I forgot to lock my locker in gym, and she snuck in and dipped my bra in the toilet while I was out on the field. Walking down the hall and hearing, ”s.l.u.t. s.l.u.t. s.l.u.t. s.l.u.t,” whispered from both sides of me as I carried my books to cla.s.s. The day I opened my locker to discover that dozens of graphic, hideous anti-abortion pamphlets and fliers had been stuffed inside. My mother saying, ”I didn't raise my daughter to be a s.l.u.t.”

Rage I didn't know I even had flared up.

”I can imagine a lot more than you might think.”

His mouth turned down into a deeper frown, and he said, ”Look. I'm sorry I asked you to come in. It's my job to protect him. And you're going to be gone in a day or two, or whatever. And I don't want him to get his hopes up that all of the sudden he's going to have someone treat him like a human being, and then have them dashed all over again.”

My voice shook as I said, ”Are you saying I shouldn't be nice to him?”

”I'm saying stay the h.e.l.l away.”

I was offended. No. I was hurt. Crank didn't even know me, he didn't know anything about me at all. How dare he judge me like that? ”I don't think that's going to be a problem.”

Crank glared at me. He was shaking. I was too. We both shut up when we heard the steps coming back down the stairs. Sean wasn't even in the room before he started talking.

I was so upset I missed whatever Sean started with, but after a moment, it was clear he was talking about the game, which was a sequel, and the design team that had made it. I wasn't prepared for this right now, and Crank obviously wasn't either. I nodded and half listened because I didn't want to cut him off. I didn't say another word to Crank as I arranged the sheets and blankets, but when Sean was finished, I said, ”Thank you for the sheets and stuff.”

”You are welcome,” he said. His formal tone and lack of contractions, not to mention the tone of voice, would take some serious getting used to. Not that I was likely to have the chance.

”Come on, Sean,” Crank said. He and Sean made their way upstairs, so I lay down on the couch, then reached out to the table beside it and switched off the light. I closed my eyes. I was exhausted, but the unfamiliar couch and my racing mind were conspiring against me.

What exactly did Crank mean by 'you're going to be gone in a day or two anyway'? What the h.e.l.l? I didn't do anything to give him any right to talk to me that way. Except apologize for wrecking his car, give him a ride home and be nice to his brother. Who obviously needed someone to be nice to him, if Crank's behavior was anything to judge by. I understood being protective, but that was so far out of line, I wanted to punch Crank right in the face.

As I finally started to drift off to sleep, though, my thoughts turned, unwillingly, to my mother. This happened sometimes, and it seemed like there was nothing I could do to turn it off. I remembered from when I was a child, so many times. That's not how ladies behave, Julia. I expected better of you, Julia.

I didn't raise my daughter to be a s.l.u.t.

My last thought before I fell asleep was Screw you, Mother.

Go get some clothes on (Crank) My insides were roiling as I went upstairs. What did Julia think she was doing? It was one thing to be polite. But the way she'd behaved, it was if she was making a promise. A promise to be friends. Sean didn't need anyone else appearing in his life and disappearing. And I'd seen enough girls like her in school. Polite to a fault. Preppy. Popular. Backstabbers.

I wasn't about to trust that she wouldn't hurt my brother. In the morning I was getting her out of here. We'd settle up the car, and that would be the end of it.

I tossed and turned for a while, I don't know how long, before I fell into a troubled sleep.

I was awakened by a loud thump and then a high-pitched, terrified scream.

I jerked up into a sitting position instantly, my mind still filled with cobwebs, but there was another scream, and then a loud thump, and I heard a male voice from all the way downstairs let out a string of curses.

I jumped up without thinking and ran to the stairs, then down them without pause, almost losing my footing in the dark. At the bottom I slapped the light on, and my eyes widened. I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself as I caught my breath. My heart was beating hard from adrenaline and shock. A second later, Sean b.u.mped into me. He'd run down the stairs at the sound of the screams too.

Dad was on the floor a few feet from the couch, legs splayed out in front of him, a look of shock on his face. He was still in uniform, one boot half-off, his gun belt and nightstick splayed out beside him. Julia was sitting up on the couch, her face reflecting shock and fear, blanket wrapped around her. Her cheeks were red, her hair a tangled mess, and a fold in the blanket revealed a long, toned leg. Her foot and ankle were small, her calf well muscled and curved, and my eyes wandered up and up.

Behind me, Sean rocked in place, and his hands were flapping. He didn't do that, except when he was deeply upset or scared. I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he stepped away from the touch.

”Ah, for Christ's sake,” my dad said, his voice loud. ”Sorry, girl, I wasn't expecting anyone to be on the couch.”

Julia opened her mouth to speak but didn't say anything.

”You all right?” Dad asked. ”Seriously, I didn't mean to scare you. I sat down in the dark without looking.”

She nodded. Her face was red, and she was breathing heavily, eyes wide. She looked panicked. ”I'm all right. It just startled me.”

My dad chuckled, then leaned forward to place his palms on the floor and push himself up. ”I guess so! You screamed like you was being attacked.”

Julia swallowed. ”I guess I thought I was.”

”Well, c.r.a.p,” my dad responded as he finally got himself upright. He reached down and picked up his belt, carefully hanging it over his shoulder. ”Sorry about that. Sometimes when I work the late s.h.i.+ft I come in and watch a little TV before going to bed. I'm Jack Wilson ... Sean and Dougal's dad.”

She looked a little puzzled-she'd not heard the first name I was born with.

”I'm Julia Thompson.” She s.h.i.+fted her position a little, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her leg, bare all the way up to her thigh.

”Nice to meet you, Julia,” my dad said and then chuckled. Julia's eyes darted over to me, and she turned a dark red color, then s.h.i.+fted the blanket and covered her bare leg. That's when I realized I was wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

c.r.a.p.

”Ah, Christ on a crutch, go get some clothes on!” my dad shouted at me.

I coughed. ”Be right back,” and stepped back in the doorway.

”Don't bother!” my dad shouted. ”Everybody go back to sleep! We'll sort this out in the morning!”

I was sure we would. Dad would pepper me with questions, no doubt about that. In five years, I'd never brought a girl around here. Forget what Julia was thinking-what the h.e.l.l was I thinking? I didn't bring women around because that would imply more than it was. That they'd be there tomorrow. That I had some reason I wanted my family to meet them. Sean didn't need people just popping in and out of his life without warning. And as I've said before, I don't do relations.h.i.+ps. I've got enough problems without that.

So now I'm stuck with the question: why did I ask her in? Why didn't we just exchange numbers when she brought me here, and then follow up in the morning to figure out the car situation? For that matter, why the h.e.l.l hadn't I screwed her in Was.h.i.+ngton? When she offered herself up like a nice, pretty birthday present all wrapped up in green and blue wrapping, which would have been a lot of fun to take off?

I wasn't one to pa.s.s up an easy lay.

As I finally drifted off to sleep again, I think I almost had it. If it had gone any further, the possibility of this being something more than one night was too clear. Or worse, if she'd really meant it, really meant that it was a one time thing-one night of fun and games and then we're done-then maybe I'd find myself in the position of ... being hurt?

For just a second, I wondered what the girls I'd been with over the last couple years felt. But I didn't want to examine that too closely, because I just might not like the answer. It's not like they didn't know what they were getting into. As I told Serena, I've never pretended to be something I'm not. I've never pretended to want anything but a fun time for the night. I've never pretended to be material for a long-term relations.h.i.+p, because all that means is pain anyway, and who the h.e.l.l wants that?

I've never wanted a relations.h.i.+p. But lately, one-night stands, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with girls I didn't know ... it just wasn't enough anymore. Lately, I'd started to realize that even though I was around people all the time, I just felt so d.a.m.n alone.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Use Your Fork Please (Julia) I woke up to the smell of bacon and fresh ground coffee, but I didn't open my eyes. That's because my head felt like a thousand pound gorilla was sitting on it, and my eyes were coated with sandpaper. Instead, I poked my nose out from under the blanket and inhaled. Oh G.o.d, that smelled good.

I've gone to a lot of different schools over the years. I've eaten in a dozen emba.s.sies and a lot of official functions, including two at the White House. Harvard's dining service, including the dining room at Cabot Hall, compares favorably. It's usually very good, filling, well done, and soul-less.

Home cooked meals? Hardly ever. Once the twins were born, my mom employed a housekeeper and cook. Sure, the food was always good. But it wasn't the same as what I miss from when I was really young: sitting around the kitchen table with my mom and dad and Carrie on Sunday morning. Some of my earliest and happiest memories are those times. My parents were happier, my mother often smiled and laughed, and Carrie and I felt loved.

That was a long, long time ago-before Alexandra was born, before my father got the first of several promotions. By the time we were on post in Brussels, I guess I was eleven or so, that warmth was all a memory. My parents were too stressed, my dad was too busy, and most of my free time was spent alone or with my guard.