Chapter Sixteen
S tacey woke feeling nauseous. Her mouth was pasty and sour from the Marlboro Reds she’d hidden in the back of her glove compartment. She had Sunday off and was grateful to have no plans.
She lay in bed, knowing she should call Gabe and finally see the movie she’d promised to see weeks before. But she was afraid she would end up telling him about Jessie. She didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t ready for him to know the truth.
Instead, her day off was going to be spent eliminating every naively romantic aspect of her life.
“Time to clean up and grow up, Murph.” Stacey put her fingers on her throat, her raspy voice surprising them both.
Passing through the living room, she hit eject on the VCR and tucked The Princess Bride under her arm. In the kitchen, she filled a forty-four ounce Del Taco cup with Apple Jacks and milk, and poured a glass of orange juice. Grabbing a giant garbage bag, she took everything to her bedroom, called Murphy inside, and closed the door. She hung the garbage bag off the back of her desk chair and dropped the VHS inside.
She changed out the five discs in her CD player to Ace of Base, The Bangles, The Indigo Girls, Hole, and Sinéad O’Connor, then hit shuffle play. She slurped her cereal while surveying the room.
Murphy sat at her feet, eyes following the spoon from the cup to Stacey’s mouth and back again.
Stacey ripped the Eternity ad—with its couple rolling in the sand—off the wall, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the garbage bag. Not real. She did the same with the Teen Vogue and Tiger Beat pages she’d taped up over the past year, of floppy-haired River Phoenix and Leonardo DiCaprio, because they looked so much like Jessie. The magazine cutouts of Matthew Fox, Brendan Frasier, and Chris O’Donnell, who each resembled Gabe in different ways, also got torn and tossed.
She removed the clothes she’d kicked under the bed from her date with Jessie, shoving the whole pile into the trash bag. Never wearing those again. She rummaged through her drawers, pulling out knee and thigh high socks, plaid skirts, and every tank top with lace trim. Bye bye baby doll clothes. She dumped it all into the trash bag along with her Mary Jane platform shoes and most of her stuffed animals.
She went through her entire closet, tossing in every floral and lacy blouse and dress. She lined up her jeans, plain tees, and flannels in color-order from dark to light.
She cleared her academic awards and debate trophies from her dresser, and deposited them inside a shoebox at the top of her closet. She maneuvered the dresser to the opposite wall, and positioned the desk in the dresser’s old spot. After changing her sheets, she flipped her sunflower comforter to the solid light blue side.
Stacey looked around. Everything was purged and nudged and rearranged. The space felt clean, smart, and full of possibilities. A blank canvas. And she knew exactly what she needed to create.
In the entryway closet, she dug past the ThighMaster, ski poles, and her self-portrait. As she’d hoped, she found her old hula hoop along with a large ball of oatmeal colored yarn. Three years before, her mom had said the yarn would become a beautiful blanket, but never even completed a scarf. Another abandoned hobby.
From the back of the kitchen junk drawer, she grabbed a box of thumbtacks, a bottle of Elmer’s glue, and scissors. She headed back to her bedroom.
Murphy watched from the bed as Stacey dug through the trash bag, pulling out the discarded jeans and every lace-trimmed piece of clothing she had tossed. She started cutting fabric into long, thin strips.
She applied her geometry skills and created a three-foot-diameter denim-framed yarn-web on her wall. A giant dream catcher. Along the bottom half, she hung a dozen loose pieces of creamy-white fabric and lace embellished with concert tickets, college stickers, and movie stubs, cut and manipulated together to look like feathers.
Dragging the garbage bag and scissors to her bathroom, she cleared off her counter and threw away every pale pink and icy blue shade of makeup she owned. She Windexed the mirror and 409’d the counter and sink, then, feeling proud and accomplished, she looked at herself.
There was one last thing that needed to go.
Stacey felt different, but her reflection showed the exact same person, the girl who couldn’t tell Jessie no. Her long, straight hair hung heavy and straw-like around her face, sun-bleached, with a mossy, chlorine-green hue at the bottom.
She picked up the scissors, aligned them with her jaw, and began to cut. Each snip gave her a little jolt of excitement as she turned her face to the side and cut toward the nape of her neck. The fine strands fluttered to the floor around her bare feet.
“What the fu–,” Stacey’s mother shrieked through the open door. Her hand slapped over her mouth.
Startled, Stacey’s hand slipped. She side-eyed her mother’s reflection as she re-gripped the last lock of hair, and realigned her scissors. “I decided to cut my hair.” Snip. Stacey dropped the clump of hair to the floor.
“Are you kidding me? I thought you outgrew cutting your own hair in preschool!”
“It’s my hair. It’ll grow back.”
“I mean… yeah… I guess… but Stacey, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve been in your room all day. You almost never spend time with Gabe anymore. Now this?”
Stacey wrinkled her chin and elongated her neck, turning her face from side to side. “I needed a change. Looks cute, right?”
Her mom rolled her eyes. “I need a glass of wine.” She started toward the kitchen.
“Wait! First, can you make sure it’s straight in back?” She offered the scissors to her mom.
Stacey’s mom looked down at the hair all over the floor and the dull shears Stacey held out for her. “Not here,” she sighed. “Meet me in the van in five minutes. I have the salon keys. We’ll do this the right way.”
By Monday morning, Stacey was ready to face Jessie and Melissa. She was SO over Jessie, and determined not to let whatever their relationship was bother her. There were six weeks of summer to get through before Melissa would leave for ASU. Jessie had said he would do whatever the hell “involves a half-pipe and a guitar.” Stacey would begin senior year and start applying to colleges. New Stacey wasn’t about to spend any time pouting and miserable about them.
After pulling into her shaded spot in The Plunge parking lot at 7:55, Stacey adjusted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She ran her fingers through her choppy pixie cut, sweeping her long bangs across her forehead so they hung onto her right cheek. Her eyes were rimmed with thick, black waterproof mascara and her eyebrows were perfectly plucked into thin high arches. She applied another coat of dark lip gloss, then fluffed her hair up in the back, and grabbed her case of CDs.
Coach Bob was flipping the lights on. When he saw Stacey he did his signature “wow” whistle, the same one he offered when reading impressive sports highlights in the newspaper. “New ‘do?”
Stacey smirked and nodded. “Mind if I put on music?” She held up her Tragic Kingdom CD.
“Go for it.” Bob gave a thumbs up. “You’re the early bird today. What’s your first pick?”
“Clean the deck?”
“It’s all yours. Mark said you had a rough time with the drain in the bathroom Saturday.”
Stacey scrunched her nose. “Yeah, thankfully he helped clear it. That was really gross.”
“And you had your first save?”
She shrugged.
“Good job, Chapman.” He put his hand up for a high five. “I guess we’ll have to keep you around.”
Stacey tapped her palm against Bob’s, then pushed play on the stereo. She picked up the bucket and trash-grabber and followed him outside. Bob went to the equipment room. No Doubt’s “Excuse Me Mr.” put a pep in Stacey’s step as she headed for the bleachers.
The guard shack door banged open. Jessie carried anti-bacterial powder into the boys’ restroom. His face was stern and his head was pulled back like he was annoyed. Melissa came out of the guard shack, equally irritated as she yanked the hose into the girls’ bathroom.
Stacey made her way around the deck, taking her time to collect every loose gum wrapper and empty pixie straw, then hosed it off while doing her best to ignore them both.
An hour later, humming along to “Happy Now,” Stacey added goggles and a toddler-sized T-shirt to the lost and found box in front of the guard shack.
Jessie and Melissa stomped out of their bathrooms to the left and right, coming straight at her. Stacey backed against the window, out of their way. The heavy industrial doors slammed behind them in unison. Jessie reached for the hose in Melissa’s hand. She dropped it at his feet. The trigger hit the ground and squirted water on his shirt.
“Frigid bitch,” Jessie muttered.
“Dumb prick.” Melissa put her hands on her hips and swung her long, sleek hair over her shoulder.
“What’s up, Stace?” Jessie asked, picking up the hose and flashing his smile at her. “I like your haircut. You look so… different since Friday. It’s kinda hot.”
Stacey crossed her arms, glaring at him.
“You, too? What the… Did Melissa say something to you?”
“What makes you think I said anything?” Melissa asked. “Stacey’s smart enough to know you’re a hit-it-and-quit-it dickhead without my help.”
Stacey leaned her head back and shook her head.
“Stacey, it’s not like that!” Jessie touched her elbow.
Stacey pulled her arm away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”
“What the fuck?” He threw up his hands. “You’re both nuts.”
Bob stepped out from the chemical room on the far side of the pool. Pointing down into the deep end, he shouted across the water. “One of you needs to clean this drain ASAP. The other two, get up in the towers. We open in three minutes.” He turned back to the loud pumps and valves behind him.
“I’ve got the drain,” Melissa said. “Jessie’s not good with anything too deep.”
“Shut up, Melissa.” Jessie stormed toward the deep-end tower.
Melissa walked away, crossing one foot in front of another as if she were on a catwalk. She lifted her right middle finger over her shoulder and sang along with Gwen Stefani’s high-pitched chorus.
“All by yourself.”
Stacey smirked at Melissa’s timing. She grabbed her whistle and megaphone, then climbed into the shallow-end lifeguard tower.
Once Jessie was up in the deep-end chair, Melissa walked to the edge of the board and whistled. “Hey dickhead!” She executed a perfect jack-knife dive.
After dropping the mess from the drain on the side of the pool, Melissa came out of the water slow and sexy like Nicolette Scorsese in Christmas Vacation .
“I wouldn’t want you to ever forget what you’ll be missing,” she hollered at him.
Melissa reached her hands back to squeeze out her hair. Her wet suit clung to her breasts as she pushed out her chest, into his direct line of sight. She turned her back to him and bent at the waist, picking up the garbage slowly, her legs long and taut.
“Cock tease,” Jessie said into the megaphone. He twisted in his chair until he faced away from Melissa.
Melissa dropped the pile in the trash, then climbed the ladder to Stacey’s tower. She stood on the third rung, her mouth close to Stacey’s ear and whispered loudly, “Look, we may not be friends, and you don’t have to tell me anything. But I want you to know I’m done with Jessie’s bullshit. You should be, too.”
“You didn’t seem done with it Saturday night,” Stacey said through gritted teeth. She focused on the first few swimmers set down their belongings on the bleachers.
“Were you here?”
Stacey pursed her lips and nodded.
Melissa sat on the platform facing Stacey. “Well, I don’t know what you think you saw, but nothing happened. We were talking, then kind of kissing, and suddenly Jessie dropped his boardshorts in the girls’ showers. I was like, ‘EW!’” She put her hands up as if repulsed. “Just because Chad and Desiree have sex in the guard shack, the pool–”
Stacey put her palm up between them and closed her eyes. “WAY too much information.”
“Anyway, Jessie wasn’t taking no for an answer. He wouldn’t go to my house to watch a movie because my parents were home. He told me to drive us someplace ‘romantic’ he knew of where ‘we could watch the stars.’” Melissa used air quotes, and rolled her eyes, exhaling. “Such bullshit!”
Stacey raised her eyebrows and nodded. All of this sounded familiar, but she wouldn’t give Melissa the satisfaction of admitting it aloud.
“He refuses to have an actual girlfriend. Only wants to hook up and says whatever he has to to get laid.”
Stacey’s eyes swept across the pool to Jessie, who was watching them.
Melissa followed her gaze. She turned on the platform, scanning Jessie with contempt. “I’m not interested in being any guy’s slot machine, especially some poser like Jessie.”
Melissa’s last sentence hit Stacey with a thud. A slot machine was exactly what she felt like: Jessie’s three minutes of fun, then cast aside.
“We need to give everyone a heads up,” Melissa said, turning back to Stacey, her chin up. “No decent girl should give him the time of day.” Melissa climbed down and went inside the guard shack.
Stacey didn’t trust Melissa, but vindication washed over her. She wasn’t the only girl who had fallen prey to Jessie’s charms. She looked across the pool at him. Suddenly, he wasn’t attractive anymore. Not at all.
Everything about Jessie Thomas felt fake. His tattoo and WWJD bracelets were props. The guitar, too. Everything about him was designed to get people to think he was something he wasn’t. Even the things he shared about his family felt like they could have been a scam to get Stacey to see him as a victim, instead of what he really was: an insincere, uncaring, selfish prick. OR, as Melissa put it, a “hit-it-and-quit-it dickhead.”
Maybe Melissa was right: they should spread the word about him.
“Why should Jessie have all the power?” Stacey muttered to herself. “Who’s to say I wasn’t the one who ‘hit it and quit it?’”
Anyone who ever asked Stacey about Jessie Thomas would hear how very ‘unsatisfying’ their date was. How he wasn’t worth the gamble for thirty-seconds of lousy manhandling.
Stacey smiled to herself. Her first real smile in several days. Then she looked across the pool at Jessie and he caught her gaze. She gently shook her head, grinning coyly, and his eyebrows knit together.
Jessie would understand soon enough.