OR THE TIGER

BY SANDEFUR

Bonnie was miserable pretty much all the time, but even for her, life had taken a sharp downturn. She was lonely, bored and frustrated by a life where no one noticed her and no one cared. She was alone again today this first weekend in August, and she wouldn't see her parents again until late tonight. They ran an organic greenhouse they pretended was profitable, but Bonnie knew where their money really came from. Her parents grew the finest marijuana available, and spent their evenings making connections in a variety of bistros, jazz clubs and coffee houses that catered to the large 'neo-beatnik' community of Arcadia.

This had been going on for years, and it was why Bonnie was left alone, unsupervised for most of her young life. It was why she had lost her virginity at age 12, and why she had the reputation she did. Every guy at Arcadia High knew if you were really desperate for sex, Bonnie was your go-to girl. All you had to do was to pretend to like her, even if only a little. Of course afterwards, they always dropped her and pretended they didn't know she existed. No, nailing Bonnie wasn't the kind of activity you bragged about to your buddies.

As bad as her life was, it had been going downhill since last spring. First she had been caught painting walls, which she called art, but the law called graffiti. And if community service wasn't bad enough, she had failed geometry and had been put on academic suspension. Now she was stuck in summer school taking geometry again. The one thing she was certain of about the subject was that she and 90 percent of her struggling classmates would never need or use geometry in their entire lives. Normally she wouldn't have cared, but her 'F' disqualified her from all extra-curricular activities. That meant she couldn't participate in the school district's art show.

She had brought the problem to her parents, and they had readily agreed to pay for a student-tutor. Her folks could always be counted on to be supportive, as long as it cost them nothing in terms of time. In a delicious twist of fate, the letter from the school confirming that her tutor had been assigned had included his name—that well known math/science geek, Luke Girardi. This opportunity for revenge was like a gift from God.

Back in the spring, Adam Rove had come sniffing around her like so many other guys-in-heat had done before. She had liked Adam. He was the only guy who had ever been nice to her without immediately expecting sex in return. Grateful for even the smallest act of kindness, Bonnie had let Adam know, in what was subtle for her, that she was 'willing' if he ever needed to relieve his 'tension.' At first she thought he wasn't going to take her up on her offer, but eventually he came around to see her.

She had been amused by the way he blushed and stammered out his problem to her, actually thinking his dilemma was unique in her experience. He wasn't the first guy to come to her because he had a girlfriend he loved, but who wasn't ready yet for sex. Only Adam's honesty about his love for Joan, and how he needed to experience sex, was unusual. Most guys would lie and pretend they had just broken up with their particular ice princess before joining her in bed. She admired Adam's honesty, and that caused her to make the mistake of starting to care for him.

After they had had a 'double-header' (one of her earliest boyfriends had taught her the sports metaphor, and it had always amused her), Adam had experienced a level of guilt that amazed her. Apparently he really did love Joan, and his guilt caused him to treat her like she was some sort of leper. Bonnie was used to being treated this way, but somehow from Adam she had expected better. For the first time in years, rejection hurt.

When she had confronted Adam that day outside of mock trial, she truly hadn't been trying to cause trouble. She had nothing against Joan, and was perfectly willing to keep the secret. All she wanted was some sort of acknowledgement, a tiny shred of kindness from a guy she knew was nice. Unfortunately, Adam was utterly inept at hiding his guilt. Even a girl as oblivious as Joan was able to discern the truth, and Bonnie had been sorry to hear of their break-up.

Bonnie would have moved on, forgetting another bitter experience, but later that day, Grace Polk had confronted her in the girl's bathroom. Grace had called her a "dirty little skank" and had warned Bonnie to stay away from her friends, "or else." Grace Polk had made it on to her list that day. Oh yes, she maintained a list of people she planned to get even with. Curiously, none of the guys she ever slept with made it on to her list. She had long ago accepted that teenage boys were just hormones with car keys.

That was why she was happy knowing Luke would arrive at her apartment at any minute now. She was ready to go all out in her planned seduction of Grace's boyfriend. She had thoroughly cleaned the apartment, and had a pleasant incense burning (there was never a shortage of that in this home). She had taken special care with her hair and make-up (normally she didn't bother with stuff like that). She wore a tight, very short skirt and a silk blouse with no bra (what was it about guys and nipples? were they never weaned?). And, she had set up their work station in her bedroom instead of at the dining room table.

Bonnie knew all the tricks that would appeal to a square guy like Luke Girardi. She would play with her hair, and give him shy glances and coy smiles. She would brush against him and let him get a good whiff of her expensive perfume, and of course she would let him know they had hours of uninterrupted privacy. She would admire his intelligence, charm and his looks. She would shyly admit a long standing crush, and a desire to act upon it. When he was properly primed and ready, she would make her move, and he would be hers.

The doorbell rang. Bonnie took a quick glance through the peephole and confirmed it was Luke. Forcing a pretty, welcoming smile on face, she opened the door...

X X X X X

Luke Girardi was miserable, and it wasn't just because of the heat and humidity as he walked along a sidewalk in an unfamiliar neighborhood. He was glad this was his last day as a certified student-tutor. The money had been good for a summer job, but he had long since grown tired of helping 'D' students raise their grades to a 'C.' At least tomorrow he would be leaving for the Arcadia Herald's annual science summer camp--although that was a bit of a misnomer. The 'camp' was actually dorm rooms and the use of the lab facilities at the state university.

Luke paused to wipe sweat from his glasses, and noticed the headlines of the city's two newspapers at a nearby newstand. Both papers were reporting the same story--the destruction of the offices of the Arcadia Interfaith Council. Last night, someone had stolen a bulldozer from a nearby construction site, and had used it to smash the building to pieces.

Most of the leading clergy of the city belonged to the Interfaith Council, which promoted peaceful harmony between the various religions of the community. The Herald was trying to downplay the story, and made no effort to connect this crime with a series of attacks on other religious targets. The Herald's tabloid rival, the Arcadia Free Press, was sensationalizing the story as much as possible. Not only did the Free Press bring up every past attack, but they blatantly pointed out that of all the people and buildings that had been attacked this year, only the muslim community remained immune. Anti-muslim hysteria was an easy sell in August of '05.

Luke wished he could call Grace to talk about this latest tragedy, but he was 90 percent certain their relationship was over. The reason of course was sex. Back in April, when Joan and Adam had broken-up because Adam was "putting it around" with some unnamed girl, Luke had been contemptuous of Adam. If Joan wanted to hold on to her virginity, that was admirable, and if Adam truly loved her, he should have been willing to wait. And yet, it was remarkanle how much Luke's attitude changed when it came to his own girlfriend.

For nearly a year, he and Grace had enjoyed almost daily make-out sessions. In all that time, Grace had had one fixed rule--no touching below the waist. Oh, she would allow him to caress her legs, but the moment he got as high as thigh level, she would guide his hands away from her. Luke got it, and respected the limits Grace had imposed. Because he loved her, he was patient and careful because he never wanted Grace to feel uncomfortable during their time alone together.

And yet, as the school year drew to a close, Luke became aware of a growing level of sexual frustration that his time in the shower could not cure. Twice he had broached the subject of entering a sexual relationship, but Grace had laughed it off each time with "No way, Geek" and "Not gonna happen, Einstein." Grace's unwillingness to discuss the problem was nearly as frustrating as the problem itself.

Summer came and Grace spent all of June and most of July as a camp counselor at a camp sponsored by her Temple. After the trauma of the burning of their synagogue, there were a lot of scared little kids who turned to their Rabbi's daughter for reassurance. Grace was nearly overwhelmed, and the little time she could spare for Luke consisted of a few text messages and a couple of hasty phone calls.

Although Luke kept busy with his tutoring job, nothing could distract him from his yearning for Grace. It amazed him how strong this drive had become, but he knew he wanted, no, needed sex. He could no longer resist this biological imperative. So, when Grace returned to Arcadia, he decided he would push the boundaries of their relationship. He would, using the sports metaphor Kevin had taught him, go for third base.

Their reunion had been at Arcadia High, where summer classes were on-going. Using his key, it had been easy to sneak into their old make-out spot, the biology closet. Their reunion was joyous and passionate, and true to his plan, Luke allowed his exploring, caressing hand to go lower than he had ever dared before...

Instantly, Luke realized he had made a monumentous mistake. Grace froze like an ice sculpture, and even her breathing seemed to stop. In her eyes was something Luke had never anticipated. It wasn't anger, or disgust or even a sense of betrayal. It was fear. Hastily, Luke withdrew his hand with an apology already forming on his lips, but Grace reacted first. She swung her fist as hard as she could and struck him on the shoulder (it had left an impressive bruise). She then hissed at him, "Bastard!" and ran crying from the biology closet.

Luke had been unable to catch up with Grace, and his calls to her merely filled her voice mail with his endless apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Text messages and e-mails went unanswered, and Luke even made the mistake of going to Grace's house. Rabbi Polonsky had answered the door, and had coldly informed Luke that Grace did not want to see him. The Rabbi offered no comment, but his stern look told Luke that he suspected the nature of the problem between his daughter and her boyfriend.

That is, if he still were her boyfriend. As days went by without a response from Grace, Luke began to realize their relationship might be over. Then, just this morning, Luke had received a short, confusing e-mail from Grace: 'All my fault. Sorry. We will settle this when you get back.' Luke must have read the short message a hundred times, and it still made no sense to him. Grace never apologized, and what did she mean it was her fault? At least he understood what she meant by 'settle this.' When he got back from science camp, there would be a formal ending of their relationship, and unlike with Joan, there would be no attempt to salvage a friendship.

Luke was sad and miserable and disgusted with himself. Even more disgusting to Luke was that his sexual frustration still hadn't faded away. Good Lord, what did it take to cool a teenage horn-dog? Luke rang the bell of the apartment where he had his last appointment of the summer. Some girl named Bonnie was having trouble with geometry. Oh well, life went on. The door opened...

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