He crumbled the beer in his fist and tossed it out the window. I felt breathless, deliciously dizzy, savagely happy that my parents wouldn't approve, didn't approve. I was tired of their approval.
He leaned toward me with more lust and purpose than Randy ever had and I felt that twisting of my stomach, that feeling like you're suddenly dropped from the top of a roller coaster, the car screaming beneath you on the rails.
And he kissed me, hard. His lips pressed against mine, his tongue in my mouth. I tasted the beer we both drank and I felt his hand slide down my body.
There was no one around. No houses, no nothing. A little red dirt road out in the middle of nowhere.
He was kissing me and I was up against the door.
"Let's go in the back," he said, his voice thick, eyes half closed.
"No," I said, a whisper. But I didn't mean no. I didn't mean yes, either.
"C'mon," he said, the soft insistence in his voice, in the way he kissed me before I could answer.
"C'mon," he said again, and it was easy to give up, give in, surrender to what he wanted because I wanted it, too.
"O.K." I said.
In the backseat, roomier, the sunshine against the dusty windows like a thing I could touch, all faded and yellow and hot.
"Two bit," I said his name in a tiny breathless voice in between the kisses. His hand was under my long skirt and I could feel it going up and up.
"Maybe..." I said, not sure of what would follow maybe. Maybe we should stop? But it was easier not to say anything, and I glanced out at the deserted field, dry grass rustling in the hint of wind.
"Maybe?" he echoed playfully, somehow getting his jeans and my skirt off at the same time. Cautions flew up against my skull like black birds, each squawking a worry in a single word: pregnancy! Reputation! Parents! Future!
I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of the sun through the windows, feeling my panties being pulled gently off, feeling my breath coming in quick gasps, feeling my heart race. I forgot the worries in the burst of pleasure.
When it was done we sat on the hood of the car and smoked, like people in the trashy romance novels I couldn't help reading.
"Uh, Marcia," he said, and I heard a strange hesitancy in his voice, "um, I have a girlfriend, you know," I raised my eyebrows, flicked my cigarette away.
"Who?" But why was I even asking? It's not like we were committed to each other.
"Cathy," I knew the girl. A blond with a bob hair cut and lots of make up. I nodded, trying to look like I didn't care, trying to look like the bored aloof soc that I was, or could be.
I lit another cigarette just for something else to do, to concentrate on.
"So, any word on Ponyboy and Johnny?" I said, maybe just to bring up the sore subject. Cathy. Little blond air head with her two tons of baby blue eyeshadow and chipped pink nail polish.
He looked so sad so suddenly that I was sorry I'd asked. He shook his head slowly back and forth, looking out into the middle distance.
"Look, I'm sure they're fine," I said, though I was sure of no such thing. And if they were fine now they probably wouldn't be for long. It had the feel of a play, like we were waiting for the final act.
It wasn't time for school to let out and neither of us wanted to go back. So we drove and I watched the sky slide by through the window. Through the dust it looked like a t.v. sky, or at least one that had nothing to do with me.
I wanted to see Cherry, wanted to check on her and make sure she's o.k. I knew how she felt about Bob, I didn't know why, but I knew how she felt. I never got her attraction for that type of guy, someone who could be so cruel just because they could be. Like Dallas, Dallas was like that.
Pregnancy worries tried to creep in, it only took the one time. I imagined the baby, fresh and pink, sweet little fist wrapped around my finger. Or squawling baby, pureed baby food smeared all over everything, forced into a shot gun wedding, Two bit out drinking, two timing me with Cathy or some other blue eyed floozy.
Sky, trees, and houses traded places through the window and the radio played a staticky top 40. There'd be no baby. I knew that. My parents would get me a hush hush abortion. They'd rip that baby right out of me.
I tapped my nails on the glass, tried to make out the tune through the static, tried to smother the anger I felt because of Cathy. Cathy. God.
"I want to see Cherry. Drop me off there," I knew I sounded like a bitch, like a stuck up snooty bitch, but I didn't care.
He nodded, sheepish. Had I told him I broke up with Randy? Well, I didn't do it for him. We edged back into town and he headed for the west side.
Cherry's house. I could almost feel the sadness coming off of it in waves. He came to a slow stop.
"Marcia," he said, but nothing followed. I looked at him coolly.
"I've got to go," I said, and left without another word.
He leaned toward me with more lust and purpose than Randy ever had and I felt that twisting of my stomach, that feeling like you're suddenly dropped from the top of a roller coaster, the car screaming beneath you on the rails.
And he kissed me, hard. His lips pressed against mine, his tongue in my mouth. I tasted the beer we both drank and I felt his hand slide down my body.
There was no one around. No houses, no nothing. A little red dirt road out in the middle of nowhere.
He was kissing me and I was up against the door.
"Let's go in the back," he said, his voice thick, eyes half closed.
"No," I said, a whisper. But I didn't mean no. I didn't mean yes, either.
"C'mon," he said, the soft insistence in his voice, in the way he kissed me before I could answer.
"C'mon," he said again, and it was easy to give up, give in, surrender to what he wanted because I wanted it, too.
"O.K." I said.
In the backseat, roomier, the sunshine against the dusty windows like a thing I could touch, all faded and yellow and hot.
"Two bit," I said his name in a tiny breathless voice in between the kisses. His hand was under my long skirt and I could feel it going up and up.
"Maybe..." I said, not sure of what would follow maybe. Maybe we should stop? But it was easier not to say anything, and I glanced out at the deserted field, dry grass rustling in the hint of wind.
"Maybe?" he echoed playfully, somehow getting his jeans and my skirt off at the same time. Cautions flew up against my skull like black birds, each squawking a worry in a single word: pregnancy! Reputation! Parents! Future!
I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of the sun through the windows, feeling my panties being pulled gently off, feeling my breath coming in quick gasps, feeling my heart race. I forgot the worries in the burst of pleasure.
When it was done we sat on the hood of the car and smoked, like people in the trashy romance novels I couldn't help reading.
"Uh, Marcia," he said, and I heard a strange hesitancy in his voice, "um, I have a girlfriend, you know," I raised my eyebrows, flicked my cigarette away.
"Who?" But why was I even asking? It's not like we were committed to each other.
"Cathy," I knew the girl. A blond with a bob hair cut and lots of make up. I nodded, trying to look like I didn't care, trying to look like the bored aloof soc that I was, or could be.
I lit another cigarette just for something else to do, to concentrate on.
"So, any word on Ponyboy and Johnny?" I said, maybe just to bring up the sore subject. Cathy. Little blond air head with her two tons of baby blue eyeshadow and chipped pink nail polish.
He looked so sad so suddenly that I was sorry I'd asked. He shook his head slowly back and forth, looking out into the middle distance.
"Look, I'm sure they're fine," I said, though I was sure of no such thing. And if they were fine now they probably wouldn't be for long. It had the feel of a play, like we were waiting for the final act.
It wasn't time for school to let out and neither of us wanted to go back. So we drove and I watched the sky slide by through the window. Through the dust it looked like a t.v. sky, or at least one that had nothing to do with me.
I wanted to see Cherry, wanted to check on her and make sure she's o.k. I knew how she felt about Bob, I didn't know why, but I knew how she felt. I never got her attraction for that type of guy, someone who could be so cruel just because they could be. Like Dallas, Dallas was like that.
Pregnancy worries tried to creep in, it only took the one time. I imagined the baby, fresh and pink, sweet little fist wrapped around my finger. Or squawling baby, pureed baby food smeared all over everything, forced into a shot gun wedding, Two bit out drinking, two timing me with Cathy or some other blue eyed floozy.
Sky, trees, and houses traded places through the window and the radio played a staticky top 40. There'd be no baby. I knew that. My parents would get me a hush hush abortion. They'd rip that baby right out of me.
I tapped my nails on the glass, tried to make out the tune through the static, tried to smother the anger I felt because of Cathy. Cathy. God.
"I want to see Cherry. Drop me off there," I knew I sounded like a bitch, like a stuck up snooty bitch, but I didn't care.
He nodded, sheepish. Had I told him I broke up with Randy? Well, I didn't do it for him. We edged back into town and he headed for the west side.
Cherry's house. I could almost feel the sadness coming off of it in waves. He came to a slow stop.
"Marcia," he said, but nothing followed. I looked at him coolly.
"I've got to go," I said, and left without another word.