Faking Normal (21 page)

“If he apologized, would you take him back?” I ask, and steal a red gummy bear.

“Lex, he
apologized
when he told me. Hell, he even . . .
cried.
But . . .”

Liz reaches out and grabs Heather’s hand as Heather’s voice starts to shake. “He told me his big
secret
after . . . after we
slept
together. In my car. So romantic, huh?”

Heather’s head hangs; tears slip down her cheeks, while she chews the remnant of the gummy bear so slowly I can barely see her jaw moving. Liz’s jaw, on the other hand, doesn’t drop open the way I thought it would. She just nods at this secret bomb Heather’s dropped on us.

I know what Heather needs, so I pull her to me until my chin rests on her hair. She cries, but there are recognizable
phrases that emerge through her sobs. Phrases I could have written.

“I’m such an idiot,” and “It hurt,” and “I thought he cared about me.”

Liz huddles around us, her arms snaking around the two of us. And then she says the one thing I never expect to hear.

“I
know,
Heather. I slept with Ray.”

We are a tangle of broken hearts.

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chapter 19

WHEN
we break apart, Heather asks, “Lizzie, when?”

“Last year. After that little boy died. You remember—”

Heather covers her mouth with her hand, but she doesn’t berate her best friend for concealing the truth for a year and some change.

“It’s why I tried so hard to warn you against sleeping with Collie,” she explains. “God, I’ve felt so guilty. So you slept with him after the homecoming dance?”

Heather shuts her eyes to answer. “He’d been acting so strange. So I thought, well, I thought if we did it, finally, after all this time of waiting, everything would be . . . okay again, you know. But then, right after, he told me I wasn’t his first. That this summer he’d slept with . . . with some girl.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry.” Liz strokes Heather’s back.

It shocks me to find myself in this new hug-and-share friend mode with Heather and Liz.

But they don’t ask about my sex life, and I don’t volunteer. Let them keep their assumptions.

“Oh, Lex; you must think we’re awful,” Liz says. “That I’m such a hypocrite.”

“No,” I say.
She’s
not the hypocrite.

“We’re stupid. That’s what we are,” Heather says.

“No,
not
stupid. Just normal. Unfortunately, lots of girls sleep with guys and wish they hadn’t,” I say. It is unfortunate, but at least it’s their choice, not something they were forced to do.

“True, and it sucks. Royally sucks. I’m glad you’re smarter than us,” Heather says.

Yeah. These lies, while they are too easy to tell, are hard to live with. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say, “so I’m not dealing with the same pressures.”

“But you will. Hayden starts
singing
to you in person, instead of writing on your desk, then it might be you crying in the fort,” Heather says. “If you aren’t careful.”

I prefer to do my crying in the closet. “Not to worry,
Hayden’s
not singing to me.”

“Look, Lex, I really think he is. The Captain, I mean. Maybe you just need to come right out and ask him.”

Liz scrubs at her mascara with the inside of her T-shirt. It looks like black watercolor on her pale cheeks. She says,
“Uh-
uh
, Heather, she can’t do that. It’s not romantic enough. We might’ve had jocks without a romantic bone in their bodies, but they weren’t the Captain. If Hayden
is,
then it’s one of those truths she just has to discover.”

“And how would I do that?”

Heather looks at Liz like this is a no-brainer. “We could plan something. A meet or something.”

“Party,”
Liz corrects. “Let’s make it a party.”

“I hate parties,” I say, and shudder at the thought of the one in July.

“But you couldn’t hate a costume party,” Liz says, and she’s on a roll. “Halloween is around the corner.”

“Oh,
yeah,”
Heather adds, getting onboard.

Evidently, the gestation period for a bad idea is about ten seconds. As soon as a glimmer is conceived, it’s a full-grown, star-crossed-lover-and-costume-magic
plan.
My head is still turning side to side, saying no, but they don’t seem to notice. Or care.

A noise. A crunching noise. In the distance.

I put a finger over my lips to shush Heather and Liz. And listen.

Another crunching noise.

Something or someone is nearby. Betrayed by dead leaves that crackle in the silence. And sound too loud for an animal.

Careful not to make a noise, I dim the lantern nearest me and stand to one side of the window to peer out. It could be
Bodee, but I don’t tell Heather and Liz that.

Then I hear a giggle.

Bodee doesn’t giggle.

Heather scoots closer to Liz. “What is it?” she whispers.

“Someone’s out there.”

When I’m quiet, totally quiet, I hear everything in the woods. Even something that’s usually inaudible, I notice. Like soil as it crumbles under a shoe. But I can barely hear anything now except Heather’s raspy breathing.

“Shhh,” I whisper, flapping my hand at them.

Heather and Liz pull Bodee’s sleeping bag up to their chins. “It’s okay,” I tell them, but they don’t buy it until we hear a slightly intoxicated, masculine voice.

“Oh, fair
Juliets . . .”
—giggle—“come down. Your Romeos
await.”

More giggles.

“That’s Collie,” Heather and Liz say together.

“I swear to God, if they were listening,” Heather says.

Oh,
no
. This cannot be good. The guys, the
sex
guys, have invaded.

I grab the lantern and Liz takes Bodee’s sleeping bag, as we scramble, hand-under-hand, following Heather to the ground. Lifting the lantern for a better look, I see four familiar faces. One with a beaming smile, and two who look fairly nervous. Hayden, Ray, and Collie. And a half step behind the Rickman High “offensive” line, Bodee stands; his face is unreadable as he looks at me.

Like a face-off, with the three of us lined up at the foot of the ladder.

“And how are you ladies this fine fall evening?” Hayden asks in a ridiculously jovial tone.

“We were good,” I say, when Heather and Liz are silent.
Were.

“What are y’all doing out here?” Liz asks, cutting to the chase, and I can see she is more uncomfortable than excited.

“Our ladies . . . ,” Collie says.

“That’s
ex
-ladies,” I say.

“Our
ladies,”
Hayden continues Collie’s sentence, and even in the minimal light and shadows, I can see the grin, “were hosting a campout, and we wanted to . . . make sure you were all safe.”

Safe.
Right.

From what I can see, Collie’s blood alcohol level might be off the charts, the way it has been since Heather broke it off.

Why is Bodee with this group?

“We’re fine,” I say.

“We’re not,” Collie says. “We got”—giggle—“lost.”

Hayden looks at me as if he can use a little help controlling his drunken buddy. “Look, Lex, can we stay awhile?” He jerks a thumb at Collie, who is swaying on his feet. “He hasn’t shut up about Heather and the fort since he found out from Ray that you girls were camping tonight.”

“Well, um,” I say, but Hayden’s already got his foot on the ladder, leading the way.

Ray is on his heels, and Liz looks at me with a shrug, as if we may as well just endure this little raid. I stand there like a chopped-off pine while Heather and Liz head toward the ladder after them.

“Will you make sure they don’t tear the place down?” I ask Bodee, since Hayden’s already hanging half out of the window, and Ray’s howling at the moon like a wolf.

Under his breath, Bodee says, “Sorry. It was a keep-your-enemies-closer thing.”

This leaves Collie, the lantern, and me still on the ground. I’m not sure what to do about Collie, who is in no condition to climb twenty feet.

In an alcohol-induced haze, he stumbles toward the ladder, tripping over his feet. Before I can get out of his way, all six-feet-two, 195 pounds of him crashes into me. The lantern flies from my hand, and off balance, I slam into the ground.

His body, like a dead weight, falls on top of me, pressing me down, choking the breath out of me. I am crushed and blinded by Collie and the dark shadows cast by the fort. Every part of him touches me. Accidentally, and then with purpose. His hands, his hot breath, his lips against my neck . . . I am frozen. A scream catches in my windpipe and has no release.

I have no voice.

“Heather,” Collie mumbles. “I
love
you,” he says, and starts kissing me.
“Heather.”

I’m dimly aware of raised voices as the lantern from upstairs casts a dim glow on our entwined limbs.

The sound of Heather’s name frees me from my panic.

“I’m not Heather,”
I whimper, struggling to push Collie away. He rolls off me as the rest of them reach the ground, scrambling like firemen on their way to a blaze.

Collie shakes his head to clear it, and looks from me to Heather, who’s standing stiffly by the ladder, hands on her hips. And realizes his mistake.

“Baby”—he’s still on his knees—“thought she was you. I thought she was
you.”
He blinks at Heather’s stormy face. “Love you. Came to tell you I
love
you,” he pleads.

“He did,” Ray agrees.

I struggle to a sitting position, elbows on my knees, while I hold back a fountain of tears.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Bodee’s cracking his knuckles to keep from slamming his fists into Collie’s face. He steps forward and helps me up.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “He just tripped and fell on me.”

“With his damn lips?” Heather spits out the words.

I can’t tell who Heather’s accusing. Collie. Or me.

“Heather, he’s pretty drunk,” Liz says. “And in the dark, you and Lexi sort of favor each other.”

Heather glares at me. Definitely, a
glare.
“We don’t,” she says, “look
that
much alike.”

But Collie’s nodding his head like an idiot.

“Hey, now wait a minute!” Hayden’s voice interrupts the escalating tension. “We came out here so he could apologize, not make things worse. Just because the dumb-ass can’t stay on his feet and tell the difference between you two when
he’s drunk, well, that doesn’t mean things have to get complicated. If anybody should be mad, it’s me. None of y’all are even going out right now.”

“Neither are we,” I mumble.

I feel Bodee’s reaction, every flexed muscle, and wonder what he’s thinking.

“I’m the one who’s going to complicate things,” a new voice booms across the clearing. “Get over here, all of you,” he shouts at the boys. “You three. Out here. Right. NOW.”

“Coach,”
all three football players yelp at the same time.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

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chapter 20

CRAIG
still has on his Rickman pullover and khakis from the game. I’ve seen him dressed this way more times than I can count, but I’ve never quite seen this expression. Anger and sympathy for his players, neither emotion trumping the other.

“Coach,” Ray says. “We were just—”

“Leaving,” Craig says for them.

“But Coach,
you
got a girl,” Hayden says.

And Collie whines, “You know what it’s like when you screw up.”

Does he ever, I think. Craig is so acquainted with the doghouse, he’s added a second floor to make the place more comfortable.

“Yeah.” Craig repositions his visor so it shadows his eyes and walks close enough to Collie to grip his shoulder. “And
I also know intoxication at one in the morning isn’t a good way to fix it.”

Hayden. Ray. Collie. Craig. The four of them together in a perfect little line. The sight causes me to sway. Bodee’s hand is an anchor. He finds my elbow in the dark, as an undertow of fear threatens to rip my legs out from under me. All my anxieties, all my silence, all my secrets are standing right there in that line of men.

Craig’s saying something, but I don’t hear him at first. Bodee squeezes my elbow, and I try to focus.

“Lex, you okay?” Craig’s asking.

But my head pounds and my lungs burn from holding everything inside. I manage a nod.

“Mr. Tanner, I’ll take care of everything here,” Bodee says.

Craig must have agreed, because he marches the boys away from our clearing in single-file silence. There’s no vent, but I start to count. One, two, three, four and repeating again, until I can’t see them anymore. They’re gone, but I can still feel him, the
ghost
of him, pressing his body over mine, apologizing while he kisses me, crying while he thrusts.

Bodee releases my elbow as Liz comes to check on me. I dust off my jeans so I don’t have to look at her. Instead, my eyes follow Heather back up the ladder. Though she’s using my sanctuary, right this minute she hates me.

She can’t hate me worse than I hate myself.

You let him. You let him.
You let him.

Liz takes my hand; the compulsive dusting off my jeans and the
You let him
fade.

She removes a leaf from my hair and tucks the loose strand behind my ears. Quietly she asks, “What really happened with Collie?”

I untuck the hair immediately, covering my neck with my palm, although there is no way she can make out scratches in the dark. “Nothing, Liz. He tripped and fell on me. Then he called me Heather and kissed me.” My answer is mechanical.

“Are you hurt?”

YES,
my heart shouts.

“No,” I say, and turn away from her.