CHAPTER NINE

"What are these rumors I keep hearing about you and Don?"

I hold off searching my locker for my English notes to look up at Lee with a look of disbelief. "Just rumors, Lee. Don't tell me you believe that I had hot-and-heavy sex with Don on his couch while his Dad watched. I'm pretty sure that was Maria a few months ago…"

"Doesn't change the fact that everyone knows that you spent an entire afternoon alone with Don Billingsly of all people…Clara what the hell were you thinking, he's trouble?"

Successful in my search, I add the loose sheets of paper inside my History textbook for safekeeping and slam my locker shut. Shrugging my bag onto my shoulder I give her a dark look that only last about two seconds before falling flat. "Don seems sincere, plus I asked him to just be patient. I'm not trying to rush anything right now, Lee, you know that—I've still got college applications to finish."

"Are you still applying to Columbia then?"

I jumped at the opportunity to change the subject. "Yeah, although I'm sure it's a long-shot—"

Lee snorts and follows me down the hallway as we head for our first period classes. I ignore the stares and whispers that follow me, choosing instead to focus on what LeAnn is saying. "You and Chavo are the two people most likely to get into whatever college you want. You're so damn smart it's ridiculous."

"Still…" I remark slowly, trying to hide the flush of pleasure on my cheeks, "the students that apply to Columbia are the cream-of-the-crop at these top notch high schools and with Daddy's bank account in the fine print. I'm not ruling out my chance at a soccer scholarship yet."

Lee sighs as she reaches her class first. Leaning against the doorway she turns to me and says, "Don't stress so much about college." She turns to leave before, "And one more thing!" She pins me with a stare. "Don't think our talk about Don is over."

The warning bell signals overhead and I groan in frustration before hiking my bag up my shoulder and running towards my class at the end of the hallway. The second I walk in, however, all conversation ceases and every eye turns in my direction. Thankfully, I've always taken a liking the seat right in front of the teacher's desk, so I slide into my usual spot and drop my bag to the floor, trying to ignore the stares burning holes into the back of my head.

"Slut!" Someone coughs.

I feel my ears burn hot as I take out my notebook. Snickers erupt from around me but I ignore them, flipping slowly to a clean page while mentally running through old soccer plays. It's the best and only defensive strategy I've got to blocking out the world around me, otherwise I might drown in it.

However, as the day progressed, it became clear that my sudden haste of leaving with Don the day before was clearly a judgment made rashly. Half-way through the day, I thought I was doing good, considering I hadn't vomited or burst into tears yet. I could ignore the comments that I'm, "Easy", "a Tramp", and other such words as long as I tried to focus on the lessons at hand or stared straight ahead, pretending as if the words just rolled right off me.

Seeing Stasia and LeAnn waiting for me at my locker was like a breath of fresh air, and I felt my breathing loosen. Their faces of concern were apparent, but before they could open their mouths, I waved off their discomfort. "I'm fine, you guys. Promise."

"Doesn't change the fact that I want to kick everyone's asses right now," Lee seethed, glaring at those who passed by. "This has Maria's stank all over it."

Stasia nodded as I smiled as if unconcerned. Putting in my locker combination, I shook my head and said, "You two worry too much. Maria has better things to do with her time than start the ninth grade all over—"

I open my locker and my speech falters in horror. Throat constricted, I can only stare at the multitude of condoms that had made their way into my locker and were currently falling like water to the floor, scattering around my feet in shiny waves.

"Oh my God," Stasia whispers in horror.

I can literally feel the blood drain my face as the hallway falls into a stunned silent. And just as if the Magic Man behind the prank had snapped their fingers, everyone erupted in roars of uncontrolled laughter. Absolute mortification kept me rooted to the spot, one hand still holding the locker door open, the other still hanging limply at my side. Hatred, unlike anything I've ever felt reared i's ugly head, and I almost gasped with the shock of it. And with that hatred, came a sudden wave of shame. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I prayed to a God that had clearly left me years ago or wished on a star that was never mine, I just couldn't get people to like me long enough to leave me alone.

And that's when I felt it. Felt him. Staring at me, watching me, waiting. I turned my head to the left and sure enough, there he was, standing next to Brian and Mike and seemingly frozen in shock. And the longer I stared at Don, the stronger my hatred for him grew. Why didn't he just leave me alone when I asked him to? Why did he feel the compulsion to push his way into my life until his actions resulted in my constant humiliation? Why, why, why, why, WHY?

"Come on, Clara, let's get out of here."

Any other day, surprise might've kept me from moving, but suddenly, I was more than happy to let James grip my elbow and pull me away down the hallway.

James managed to get me to the front steps of my house before I completely lost it. Suddenly, my knees would no longer support me and I felt myself crumble to a heap. Despite the warm sun, I felt a cold shiver run over my skin and I hugged myself tightly, wishing I could curl up into a ball so small that eventually I would just disappear.

James kneeled down beside me, his brown eyes the kindest I've seen them in years. I didn't really care what brought on his change of heart, but suddenly, I didn't want to be around anyone else except the one person who used to always be my confidant and best friend.

"Why d-do th-they h-ha-hate m-me so m-much?"

I gasped for air repeatedly, trying to work air into my lungs, something I've only struggled with after a hard work out. James shook his head slowly, dropping it as if my shame were his own. "I don't know, Clara. I don't know."

The last gasp for air seemed to pop the bubble that had grown in my chest. I sobbed into James' chest for what felt like hours. I could hear myself groaning in pain as if I were watching my breakdown, not actually experiencing it. Everything that had happened this year seemed to have built up: the attack at Ratliff and the diner, the beer in my face, every quarrel between James and me, Janie, Don, all of it seemed to only encourage the flow of tears. Each memory brought with it its own sharp pain that I suddenly couldn't bear.

I cried myself hoarse, the tears ebbing away as the hiccups slowly began dominating. My eyelids felt puffy, as if they had absorbed as much tears as they had shed. Sniffing, I sat up, wiping my face as best as I could. Humiliation at being caught in such a vulnerable episode gave way to irritation when, the more I hiccupped, the more James seemed to find it amusing to mimic me. I tried to shoot him a deathly stare, but just like on Lee, it didn't last. In fact, I burst out laughing, as if everything I had taken seriously moments before had just become ridiculous.

We got inside the house, James making himself comfortable on the couch while I went to wash my face, trying to rid myself of the tear stains on my cheeks and other such grime. After that, James and I talked. We had a lot of catching up to do as well as apologizing, for neither he nor I had been very…kindly (for lack of a better word) the past few years.

When a lull in the conversation finally squeezed itself in, James took it upon himself to fill in the blanks that had led us here: "So what's going on between you and Billingsly?"

I feel a torrid of emotions at his name and none of them really help me answer the question because I don't even know what the hell is really going on. He never actually asked me out yesterday, yet the setting combined with the way he kept touching and holding would tell someone couple, yet after today I'm not sure if I even want to be in the same room as him. It's nothing against him, of course, but…my life is hard enough.

"It's complicated…" James gives me a hard look commonly used when he wants me to spill more than I actually have. I fidget uncomfortably in my seat until the doorbell breaks his concentration. Jumping up from the couch, I head to the door.

"What are you doing here?"

Brian doesn't exactly look comfortable in his current position, and I'm sure it has something to do with my tone of voice which was currently more hostile than surprised. But at this rate, if the wrong person saw him talking to me, I wouldn't be surprised if I was suddenly a "two-timing hoe" or "sleeping my way through the Permian football team".

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Brian just shrugs and says, "Wanted to see if you're alright, I guess."

"Is school over?"

Suddenly he breaks out into a wide grin. "You're not the only top of the class skipping this afternoon."

I realized the irony and couldn't help but smile. "It would seem that perfect attendance record has been tarnished this year, but I see no point in you ruining yours."

"Can we talk?"

I feel my eyes narrow defensively and without thinking, I take a small step back, ready to close the door. "About?" He just gives me a knowing look and I say, "I'm actually—"

"Free to talk," James says suddenly from behind me. "I forgot I have an appointment in Midland," he adds apologetically. "Chavo."

"Boobie," Brian says politely. They both nod their heads in acknowledgement but say nothing else.

"Do you need a ride?" I ask, almost desperate. I can guess what Brian wants to talk about…or who, to be more specific.

James snorts. "I think I can walk around the corner just fine, Clara."

I blink stupidly. "Right."

With James gone, Brian and I are left standing on the front porch, quiet and avoiding each other's gazes. Not wanting to get caught by nosy neighbors leading Brian in or out my house when I'm alone, I instead choose to sit on the top stair, gazing at the empty street and still houses. Without any gesture from me, Brian sits down beside me, leaving enough space between to keep the feeling informal and friendly. Nothing more, just in case.

"Do you hate him?"

"Depends, are you asking or is he?"

"…He is."

"Then why isn't he here instead of you?"

"Because after the look you gave him in the hallway he assumed that you didn't want anything to do with him."

"Well, he's right about something."

I can't keep the bitterness out my voice, and it's so obvious that Brian sighs. "I'm sorry about what happened today, Clara."

My anger falters in surprise at the sudden apology. I honestly expected him to defend his friend first. Refusing to look at him, I focus on the street until my vision clears. "Doesn't matter," I say, my voice sounding rough.

"Clara…Don's really sorry—"

"I do not want to talk about him, okay?"

"Clara—"

"You wanna know something, Brian? Yesterday, hanging out with Don, that's the first time I can remember feeling like a normal teenager for the first time in months! Honestly, I had a lot of fun just talking with Don. And after one day—one afternoon!—where I'm actually happy for the first time in my goddamn life, I get labeled a fucking whore by the entire student body! So excuse me for wanting it to end here and not let it continue until we graduate!"

Brian looks so small, and I realize it's because I'm towering over him. I have no idea when I stood up, but once I've finished my outburst and regained my breath, my knees suddenly seem weak from shock. I lean against the porch column, facing the front of my house so that my back is to Brian. I quickly wipe my face.

Brian is standing beside me and I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

"In retrospect…you had every right to."

Something in his tone makes me look up, and seeing his brown eyes teasing and playful makes me smile. I'm forming the beginning of a question on my tongue when the absolute worst thing that could happen happens. Brian grasps either side of my face and pulls my forward. I'm sure this kiss itself lasted no more than five seconds max due to my shock and inability to think coherently, but it felt as if the world had suddenly come to abrupt halt.

By the time I figure out that I need to push him away, it might as well be too late. I kissed Brian…I kissed Stasia's boyfriend and Don's best friend. I want to cry with the unfairness of it all. Brian looks so pale, as if his body's actions just reached his brain and it couldn't compute what the hell just happened.

"Clara…I…"

I push past him and into my house, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me. Terrified that someone saw, all I can do is stand at the door, horror keeping me from moving until I here Brian's car fire up. I don't look out the window until I no longer hear the sounds of his engine.

Tears well up when I realize the damage I've done now. It's hard enough realizing that not only was my first kiss stolen, but it went to someone I hadn't wanted to take it. However, shame, unlike anything I've felt thus far, crept into my heart and nearly stopped it when I realized that, for a few milliseconds, I had kissed him back.

I'm not exactly in a rush, where I'm going. My feet carry me through town in a slow pace, my hands stuffed in the pocket of my varsity soccer letterman's jacket I received at the end of last year's season. The days might have been warm, but that didn't stop the desert nights from reminding Odessa it's nearly the end of October.

It took me all afternoon to muster up the courage to face him. Sorting through the haze of my mind, it took me hours to realize that what happened between Brian and me had been nothing more than a mistake (at least on my part). There's no denying that Brian is a great guy and a safe choice, but I wasn't going to fake the disappointment either. Lately, I had been fantasizing about the idea of Don kissing me. The very idea alone usually sent my heart racing to the point that it felt as though I had been running.

But I also had no idea how I could face him knowing I had momentarily willingly kissed his best friend. Hence, why I walked the quiet town streets at one in the morning. Bad idea? Sure it was, but I couldn't sleep until I talked to him.

I turned on what I knew to be his street and was stunned when, in the semi-darkness, he flew out of his house. I almost called out to him when another figure coming out stopped me. He grabbed Don's arm so violently that the places where I had been grabbed weeks before winced in sympathy.

"Where the fuck you think you goin' boy? I ain't finished talkin' to ya."

Mr. Billingsly voice was low, but the street was so quiet it just carried. I knew I should've turned around a left…if I got caught staring I could get into trouble. But I was transfixed at the sight before me, and I could no longer feel my feet.

"Let. Fucking. Go."

"Get your ass back in this house boy, I ain't finished—"

"Fuck you!"

Don's head seemed to snap to the side. The hit was so quick that it took me a moment to realize that his father had punched him…hard. My hands covered my mouth, fingers shaking. The sudden urge to run to him took a whole lot of self-control to fight.

"You wanna leave, fine. Leave. And don't come back, either."

He emphasizes his point by slamming the front door. Don seems to struggle back to his feet, the blow to his cheek having nearly brought him to his knees. I'm watching his retreating figure when I start jogging to catch up. He's moving quickly, and it takes me a minute to catch up to his long strides. However, I reach him quickly enough and touch his arm.

He jerks violently as if expecting the worst. Turning, I catch a quick glimpse of pure anger on his face and I blink and it's gone. Replaced by surprise at seeing me instead of whoever he was expecting. Neither of us say anything, but when I begin to lead him in the opposite direction, he follows.

Janie's working the night shift as usual, so the house is as quiet upon my return as it was when I left it. Don follows me in, his presence in my home heavy and I suddenly feel my unease kick in.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Without facing him, I shrug. I turn on the kitchen light and turn. Already a bruise is forming along the corner of his mouth where he was hit, and his lower lip is cut. "I'll get you some ice."

I fill a bag and wrap a dish towel around it before handing it to Don. He takes it slowly, his eyes lingering on me for a few seconds. "Do you need to take something? Do you want something to drink?"

He's still looking at me and I swallow a bout of nerves. I lick my lips and suddenly find myself staring at his. I look back up at him and he begins to move in, slowly, as if giving me time to say, "No" or turn my head. But I don't do either of those things, because I want nothing more than for him to kiss me. One hand clutches my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheek gently. I close my eyes.

The first touch is so soft, I barely feel it. "Don?"

Then his mouth covers mine, catching his name on my lips. He pushes himself against me, and I can feel his head tilt as he tries for better access. Eager, I push back hard. He hisses, pulling away and touching his lip. I blush. "I'm so-sorry," I stutter, excitement getting me carried away.

He just smiles and shakes his head. "I'm not."

He kisses me again, and this time I feel my heart rate spike into a zone that can't be good for my health. I can tell that Don is working hard to restrain himself, because his hands, although roaming along my arms and hips and waist, never stray anyplace else. Feeling more daring than I ever have, I throw one arm around his neck and pull him closer, my other hand holding his cheek softly so as not to aggravate his bruise.

He pulls away, but not by much. He kisses my jawline all the way back to the spot right below my ear and gently bites down on a small area of flesh before he runs his tongue over it. I know he did this to mess with me because when I let out a gasp of surprise and—I'll admit—lust, I can feel his body shake with his laughter.

"Ass," I mumble under my breath.

He snorts and lifts his face up to mine. He captures my lips, but I can feel his smile. When we pull away for the last time, both Don and I are breathing loudly, our chest moving in sync with each breath. Eyes shining and faces flushes, we both look like kids on Christmas morning. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and suddenly I fit of giggles overcomes me, and I can't help myself. I burst out into laughter, some of it nerves and some of it just adrenaline and excitement. Don stares at me for a moment, snorting in disbelief at my unexplained behavior, rolling his eyes at my uncontrolled emotions, before finally caving and joining in himself.