V is for Virgin (12 page)

“I wish I could,” I said. “But I’ve got to stay put until the end of the night. Got to keep spreading the virgin disease,” I teased Jeff.

“Bummer,” Stephanie said, and she seemed disappointed.

“Next time,” Isaac said with a nod. “See you later, Val.”

Who knew the popular kids could be so exhausting? I had to sit back down again after they left, but I didn’t get the chance to rest for very long, because Kyle’s song had made me quite the star.

People came up to congratulate me, and ask me how I knew Kyle. They kept asking if we were dating. A lot of those people bought jewelry whether they planned on wearing it or not. I ended up selling out that night, and earned nearly a thousand dollars for the Not Everybody’s Doing It Foundation.

Yeah, I was annoyed about the song, but I had to admit, there were advantages to the fame Kyle had bestowed upon me. At least I could enjoy the irony in the fact that by the end of the night Kyle had indirectly made himself the biggest supporter of my cause. I told myself I’d have to thank him for it if I ever saw him again.

After the Fall Festival, Eric and I weren’t ready to go home so we found ourselves at a local coffee shop. “Here’s to a very successful Fall Festival,” he suggested as he held up his hot chocolate.

It had indeed been a very successful event. With the Tralse concert, it turned out to be the most successful Fall Festival in Huntington High history.

Being the president and vice of the student council, Eric and I had been the first to arrive at eight o’clock that morning, and were the last to leave at eleven p.m.. After a fourteen and a half hour day we’d decided to hit up Starbucks for a while and relax.

After ordering, we’d flopped down onto a cushy sofa, and I was pretty sure I was never going to be able to move again. “Here’s to it being over,” I said, barely able to hold up my caramel apple cider.

“Amen to that. On the bright side, the rest of the year should be a lot less stressful.”

“Don’t forget we still have senior prom to worry about.”

Eric groaned, too exhausted to even think about that. “Can’t we just delegate that one to Olivia and Cara?”

“Sure, if we want a murder on our hands.”

“I know.” Eric sighed. “I suppose that’s why the people elected us.”

“Yeah.” I sighed as well. “We make a good team.”

“More like I ride your coattails. This festival was all you, Val.”

“What are you talking about? You did twice as much work for this thing than I did.”

“Yeah, but between your booth and getting Tralse to play, we owe most of the money we earned to you.”

“Oh, no. I wash my hands of the Tralse thing. That was all Cara’s doing.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

I groaned at the teasing tone in Eric’s voice. I knew what he was getting at so I didn’t ask what he heard, but he told me anyway. “Cara said you were the only reason the band agreed to do the show,” he probed. I still didn’t say anything so he said, “I met them afterwards, and they had one very unhappy front man. He kept grumbling about a wasted effort.”

“Good.”

“Not your type then?”

I answered Eric’s question with just a look and he laughed at me. “It was a catchy song,” he said.

I reached up to rub my tired eyes, and sank deeper into the sofa. “This has been the longest month of my life.”

“Well,” Eric said sipping his cocoa again. “It’s like you said. It’s over now. Oh, hey! Look!”

I pulled my hands away from my eyes to see what he was talking about and noticed the TV in the corner of the room. It was eleven o’clock and KTLA was reporting on the festival.

“Can we turn this up?” Eric asked and then got up to play with the volume after he’d received the okay.

I watched as pictures of familiar faces flashed on the screen and the reporter questioned several different booth attendants. They’d come around to my booth earlier that day, but I wasn’t surprised to see footage of the cheerleaders at the cotton candy stand instead of me. Cara had handled herself with all the poise and grace of a true Hollywood diva when they interviewed us, while I just blushed again and again and fumbled over my explanation of the abstinence challenge.

“But the real story of the evening,” the voice on the TV was saying when Eric managed to find the volume, “was the lead singer of the hit band Tralse.”

They cut to the clip of Kyle spouting lies about being happy to be home and helping for such a good cause.

“Tralse, whose debut album managed to receive platinum status thanks to their hit song ‘Broken Passion’, surprised the crowd with their first brand new tune in three years. The song caused quite a stir when Kyle admitted it was written for one of the students here tonight.”

“Oh, no,” Eric muttered, joining me on the couch again.

“This can’t be good.”

Sure enough, an image of Kyle shouting, “Blow off
this,
Virgin Val!” filled the screen.

I fell into a trance, completely fixed on the television as I watched what I’d only heard earlier. The song was so much worse when coupled with Kyle’s body language and facial expressions.

I was startled back to reality when Eric yelped. “Ow! Ow! Val! Your nails!”

“Sorry!” I gasped while giving Eric his hand back. I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed it, much less dug my nails into it.

“It’s not so bad,” Eric said, referring to the news report, trying to be encouraging.

He jinxed it because the moment he said it wasn’t so bad, Kyle’s face was replaced with mine, and the reporter’s voice started in again. “Huntington High’s Senior Class Vice President, Valerie Jensen, known to her classmates as Virgin Val, not only captured the attention of Kyle Hamilton, but raised nearly a thousand dollars tonight with her controversial jewelry.”

The screen cut to me holding up two different bracelets. “The V stands for virgin, and the A is for abstinence,” I explained to the camera.

On TV I was smiling, but now all I could do was hide my face in my hands. “According to a close friend,” the reporter continued on brutally, “Valerie’s boyfriend ended their relationship over her decision to remain a virgin until marriage. The resulting heartbreak has driven her to take a stand against teens having sex.”

“There is too much pressure on teenagers to become sexually active,” I heard myself say. “I’m not saying that everyone needs to follow my example and wait until they’re married, I’m just saying that people shouldn’t be ashamed or scared to admit it if they aren’t ready for sex. People need to know that not everybody is doing it.”

I risked a peek up at the television again just in time to see the reporter’s smile fill the screen. “’Not everybody’s doing it’ is absolutely right. In fact that’s the name of the foundation that Valerie is donating all of her proceeds to. If you’d like to learn more about Valerie’s quest for a proud-to-be-sex-free teenage America, the website is VIsForVirgin.com, and if you missed the song inspired by Huntington High’s own, Virgin Val, don’t worry too much. I have a feeling we’ll be hearing it a lot more often.”

Thankfully the scene cut back to the anchors in the studio and moved on to a story about a drive-by shooting in Echo Park.

I just sat there staring at the apple cider in my hand unable to drink it anymore. It was an overwhelming feeling to have my sex life be the main topic of the eleven o’clock news. Now I wasn’t just Virgin Val to the kids at school. Thanks to that reporter I was Virgin Val to the entire Los Angeles Metro Area—probably all of southern California.

By the time I was able to get over the shock and meet Eric’s gaze, he was smiling again. “Looks like the journalism department got scooped.” His smile turned wicked. “Bethany is going to be pissed.”

I didn’t want to smile, I wasn’t in a laughing mood, but I couldn’t help myself. Eric was able to cheer me up and make me laugh about the whole situation.

It wasn’t news to anyone at school anymore, and so what if all of L.A. saw the story? A drive-by in Echo Park was way more exciting than me, so I was probably already forgotten. At least that’s what Eric said before dropping me off at home that night, and I admit, I went to bed believing that he was right. My fifteen minutes were up, and really, it hadn’t been that bad.

Except my fifteen minutes were only just beginning.

It started with the emails. My inbox had been flooded overnight with notes from everyone and anyone I knew who had my email address, telling me that they saw the news or loved the song and that I was so cool or so lucky.

The email thing didn’t surprise me, but then later that day Robin tracked me down at work with news that pretty much floored me.

I was sitting behind the counter at work with Margret, drafting sketches for a V is for Virgin jewelry line—not that I had any plans to go into business. It was just another fabulously slow day in the jewelry store.

“That one’s awfully pretty,” Margret gushed. “It’s so simple and yet so elegant. You sure do have a knack for this stuff.”

“It would be fun to have my own line of jewelry one day.”

“I have no doubt you will some day. You’ll run off to New York to be some big-shot designer and forget all about ol’ Margret.”

“Never!” I gasped. “I’ll just sell exclusively through your store and make you famous with me. We’ll put Tiffany’s out of business.”

“Honey, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

I was showing Margret more of my sketches and trying to explain the whole V is for Virgin thing—Margret, like most senior citizens, eats dinner at 4:30 and goes to bed around seven, so she missed my television debut—when Robin came in toting a laptop.

“Hey!” I said, excited by the company. “How’d you know I work here?”

“I talked to your mom.” Robin glanced at Margret as she set the computer on the counter. “Is it okay that I came here?”

“Cara does it all the time.” I smiled and then said, “She usually brings me a smoothie though.”

“Hm.” Robin seemed to think unnecessarily hard about the smoothie thing. “Well, maybe we could go get one after you get off work. I hope you don’t have any plans today because we have a lot to do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you have wireless in here?” Robin asked booting up her laptop.

“Uh, I think the whole mall does.”

“Sweet, we’re online.” Robin could barely contain her excitement as she pushed the laptop at me. “Check this out!”

I had no idea what I was looking at. “Um, cool?”

Robin pointed to the graph in front of me and said “Eighty thousand hits since we went online yesterday! That’s got to be some kind of record!”

“Are you talking about
our
website?” I asked. “VIsForVirgin.com?”

Robin nodded. “Yeah, between the news last night, and the Tralse fans, V is for Virgin has been bumped up to the major leagues overnight!”

“Tralse fans?” I asked. I was annoyed at the mere mention of the band name.

“Yeah, Tralse posted videos of last night’s performance on their website. The fans are going crazy over the new song. Of course they’re all talking about the girl it was written for.”

“Okay, that song was not written
for
me, it was written
about
me.”

“Either way, you are big news in Kyle Hamilton fangirl land.”

“Oh, great.” I groaned. “I can only imagine what kinds of things the girls obsessed with
Kyle
are saying about Virgin Val.”

Robin grimaced. “Uh, yeah, that’s another thing we’re going to have to do today.”

“What?”

“We’re going to have to change the format of the site because the section we created for people to talk about their experiences has been littered with comments left by the jealous fans. I’m thinking the easiest way would be to create a forum of some kind so that we can keep all the chatter separate from the abstinence challenge responses. Oh, and we’re going to have to put some kind of profanity filter on it ASAP!”

“Profanity filter?” I repeated, shocked.

“Jealous fangirls can be quite vulgar,” Robin said matter-of-factly. “I went on a deleting spree this morning, but there’s no way I’ll be able to keep up with it.”