Disclaimer: Not mine.
Twelve-year-old River had her ear pressed to the Habitation vent, brow furrowed in a confusion that was so incredibly alien to her face. She didn't understand. Mathew Rens was a good man, a nice man. He was funny and brilliant. He had gone out of his way to include her in his research project. They'd been working together all year and her parents hadn't minded. In fact, they'd indicated on at least thirty-two occasions that they thought it was a wonderful opportunity.
Simon had been jealous though. However, after River explained to him that she was just translating genetic code he'd been less upset with her. Simon hated DNA. He was good at it—but it bored him. River didn't really understand why he thought it was boring, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he wasn't too angry that she'd been offered the position instead of him even though he was so much older.
Since then everything had been going well. Every day after school she would go to his lab. They'd work until dinner and then they went to the dining hall. There they usually ate together. River didn't have friends at that particular college. It wasn't the most prestigious university in Capital City, but it was still good compared to many others and it was the one that had offered Mathew the grant he'd so desperately been searching for.
Three days prior, Mathew had wanted to have diner someplace nicer, so they'd gone out. There had been candles on the table and gold leaf around the windows and moonlight on their table and River had very much enjoyed it. Usually when she went to such places it was a dinner party where she was expected to sit quietly and smile beautifully while her parents mingled. She had told Mathew all about that and about how she and Simon always ended up kicking each other under the table, trying to see who could make the other wince first. And then they'd draw shapes on the table with their fingers and make the other guess what it was.
Mathew had liked that story and had then told her about his family growing up, about his two brothers. One had been killed in the War, the other was getting married in a week. There was going to be a lovely ceremony on Paquin and Mathew was very excited. River could easily tell. The man had a wonderful blue quality about him, a clear sea-blue color like the undiluted lake behind her house. He was in between blue and green and when he was happy she could see the wonderfully round stones glimmering under the water.
She'd tried to explain that to him, something even Simon only barely understood. Mathew had smiled and called her a poet, praising her masterful use of both sides of her brain. She'd blushed then, pleased, and he'd ordered them dessert.
The next night he'd taken her to a different restaurant. She said she liked going out and he suggested that they start doing it all the time. She agreed that relaxation and proper nutrition helped the brain function and so they'd gone somewhere a little less fancy. There were green trees along all the walls and in some places they grew between the bricks. He'd commented, saying that he loved the architectural marvel. It was amazing how it still stood. River had nodded, recounting the place's long history (123 years). Mathew had laughed then and mentioned that the number 123 was wonderful. River hadn't understood. It was a prime number, and those were important, but one never wanted 123 of something. It was very close to 144 and that was a good number to order because it was divisible by so many things. And when working with numbers 144 was even better because it was a perfect square.
Mathew had seemed surprised and asked if she had never just looked at 123 and noticed how it was the first three digits in numerical order, the exact same number that all small children learn from their earliest primer. River had made a funny face, mentioning that she didn't remember learning to count; it had been so long ago.
He told her that she was lucky, to have grown up so privileged, smart and beautiful and with a wonderful brother to teach her things. River had agreed wholeheartedly, adding that she also had a wonderful teacher to teach her things. Mathew had liked that.
After dinner, just before they reentered the lab, he had stopped her in the doorway. He held her arm gently and pulled her close enough for her to smell his soap. The scent was mostly decayed by that point, and his own personal smell had come through much clearer. Suddenly his blue color seemed darker—less bright green in his turquoise. His hand was warm when it had taken hers, lacing his fingers between hers. And he'd leaned down and kissed her, pulling her body even closer against his until she could feel his heartbeat against her chest.
It had been her first kiss, and it matched every reliable description she'd ever read. Not those silly ones from the novels her mother read, but the clinical descriptions she'd found to sate her curiosity on the subject. When he pulled back he'd smiled and wondered if what he had just done was all right. River grinned at him. She'd liked it. Mentally she had listed the possible ways to tell him this but finally decided that the best way was just to kiss him again.
Afterwards they had gone back to work. He'd kissed her once more before they got in his Mobile to drive back to her house. It had been longer than the others and his tongue had actively explored her mouth. She'd explored his too, only more efficiently and more slowly.
The next night they didn't go out to dinner. He invited her back to his loft, the grand and spacious top floor of a nearby building. The room was yellow and bright and glowed against his blue like sand against the seashore. It was perfect.
They'd baked cookies and gotten flour all over the kitchen. River had never made cookies before and told him so. She'd watched their chef, Myra, do it a couple times, but had never joined her. Later, when her second grade class was doing a math project the teacher wanted them to bake cookies. River hadn't really seen all that much math in it but she'd been doing calculus at the time anyways and didn't join them.
Suddenly she understood that it wasn't about math it was about fun. They'd made a mess but neither of them minded. Their cookies had burned at the edges and that frustrated her until Mathew had laughed and played it off. Then she'd felt better about it. They ate chocolate chips straight from the bag and had nothing but dessert for dinner and it was deliciously forbidden and fun.
As she set a few cookies aside to bring home for Simon Mathew told her that she had dough on her nose. River hadn't felt it but he walked over and placed his mouth carefully over the place where he indicated the food to be. It had felt good and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He kissed her nose, then her cheek, then her temple and her hands wound deeper and deeper into his thick hair as his arms pulled against her lower back, pressing their hips together.
When he'd first touched her butt she'd been surprised, tensing against him. However, she'd quickly relaxed as soon as she realized what it meant. He was touching her because he liked it. He liked touching her because she was beautiful. No one had ever called her beautiful before and that wonderful, brilliant man had just implied it—which was basically like saying it. So she leaned farther into him and felt him harden against her.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
He was a bright and clear blue until he saw the blood. On him and between her and over the sheets. Then his face blanched and his movements were jerky and he suddenly stopped touching her. He steadily changed to a darker and darker blue through the rest of the evening. He directed her to the bathroom where she showered thoroughly. He told her they weren't going back to the lab that night and refused to look her in the eye. He threw away the cookies, all of them, and tossed the sheets in the washer twice. He dropped her off at home again without speaking.
River knew that something was wrong. Mathew was scared. The blood on the sheets had frightened him and she didn't understand why. He must've known that a girl bleeds her first time. She concluded that she must have done something wrong and didn't question him.
She resolved to ask Simon what had gone wrong. Simon had had sex before—with two different girls. Their parents had known he was dating the first girl, but didn't know about the sex. They hadn't known about the second girl at all because Simon had been drunk at the time and besides, they'd been so mean to that other girl whom he had sincerely loved.
Simon would understand that she didn't want to tell their parents. Technically she was breaking the law, she knew that. They called it statutory rape and it meant that a man overage (16 and a half) was having sex with someone underage. Still, she'd broken the law before. She and Simon had stolen hodgeberries from the Camdon's. At first they'd been mad but they hadn't pressed charges. When people didn't mind you breaking the law they didn't press charges. River didn't mind that Mathew was doing something illegal. In fact she kinda liked it. Her parents would mind though. That's why Simon had made River promise not to tell about the berries.
Before River told him about Mathew she made him swear not to tell. He did so—he always did. But when she told him the look on his face informed her that he was going to tell their parents. He'd been horrified. He kept saying, "When? Today?" And she'd nodded and then he'd peered into her eyes and pressed a hand against her belly awkwardly until she'd pushed him away. "Today?" He'd said again.
She'd begged him not to tell. Explained rationally why he shouldn't. When that didn't work she'd threatened to tell about the drinking and the drunken sex he'd had after. To that he'd just replied, "River," in a sad tone and she hadn't understood why he wanted to cry.
She'd tried to explain that she was happy, not hurt, that she just had a quick question, that was all, but it didn't work. Simon had finally grabbed her wrist and pulled her into their parents' bedroom.
Her mother had pulled her from the room, walking her back to the living room. River could hear her dad yelling at Simon, shouting at him to explain more fully. Normally River would feel badly because her brother was in trouble. However, he was the one who insisted on telling—it was his fault.
Her mom directed her to the couch and she sat and explained calmly to her what had happened. She made a few alterations to the phrasing she had used with Simon (obviously that hadn't been effective). Still, the changes didn't seem to make it better because her mom grabbed her and held her. She stroked her hair crying that Mathew had done a bad thing to her "baby" and that she was "so sorry, baby, so sorry!"
And so now River was squatting outside the vent listening to her parents' conversation drift up through the system into the hallway.
"He's going to jail, Reagan." Her father was insisting angrily. "And damn it, I'm going to see if I can't have him castrated as well!"
"We're going to need to find her a counselor." She stated, obviously not listening to her husband's rant. River felt very indignant. Weren't they listening to her? She didn't need a counselor! People had sex all the time! They hadn't thrown such a big fit over Simon's girlfriend, why were they insisting on making a mess out of this?
"And to get her away from that school!" her mother added, a sudden cold shock entering her voice as though she'd just thought of the connection.
"Yes!" Her father roared in agreement. "I can't believe they let my daughter near that—that—my daughter!"
River huffed to herself. Simon was going to regret telling on her.
Please review! This style is something a little different for me and I want to know what you think.