Chapter 36 Jane
Jane
I twist in my sheets, can’t get comfortable. We got to the river early today—Luke, Julia, and I—before everyone else showed up, and after being out there for so long, the sun torched my skin.
I’m pink all over, hot but covered with chills at the same time, and a little steamed inside.
Luke. Mom.
At least my sunburn’s bad enough that I told him not to expect me in his shed tonight.
I get the whole free-spirit thing. And I’m a free spirit, too, but he got a little too close to Blair for my comfort. Or rather, he let her get a little too close to him.
How would he feel if I let Tommy or one of the other boys creep on me like that?
I’m mad at Blair, too, which is irrational because she doesn’t know we’re really together.
And I’m pissed about that, pissed that we have to keep this a secret.
But we do.
From Mom, from Julia.
Of course, Julia wanted to join us again today. I swear she somehow figured out that Luke and I are in love, and of course, she wants to tear that down, so there we were, Julia riding shotgun, me squeezed in the back, hot wind lashing my hair as we weaved through the backcountry roads.
When we got to the swimming hole, I dove in first, the icy water jolting me out of my heat stupor.
Julia just sat on the banks, watching me and Luke swim. He was real careful not to get near me, acting instead like we’re brother and sister, or best buds, when all I wanted to do was wrap my legs around his waist, have him devour me.
Then the rest of the teens trickled in, bringing a boom box and a cooler full of beer. Tommy even brought his bong, the sides of the glass thick with resin.
I could have ignored Julia, pretended she wasn’t watching—and grading my every move. Like how when Blair removed her bikini top, I did as well, flinging it on the deck while Tommy hooted at us.
The boys shimmied out of their bottoms, letting their parts dangle in front of us like it was no big deal. Luke took his trunks off, too, but stayed in the water. I prolly woulda strangled him if he had actually shown himself like that to Blair.
Boobs are one thing, in my mind, but private parts are a whole other.
All the more reason that I got so angry when I saw how close he was letting Blair get to him, her tits on full display, inches from him.
I hate that this is making me feel like one of those possessive girls. We might have to say fuck it and just be together, let everyone know.
But I know what a bad idea that is.
Shit.
And Nellie. Why the hell did he have to go after her, get back in his car with her? That totally grates on my nerves.
“It’s not like we did anything,” he said when I asked him about it.
We were alone by the garden, him standing there with his hands dug in the pockets of his cutoffs, looking guilty.
“Whatever,” I said, twisting away from him to water Mom’s poison garden. “But you could just, like, think about how all this makes me feel.”
“I felt sorry for her! That’s all there is to it! And I do like her, as a friend. But this is impossible. Hiding from everyone—”
“Shhh, keep your voice down. You know Julia’s always lurking—”
He moved closer so that he could talk in a whisper. “You know you’re the only girl for me, Jane Swift. And I want you so bad—I wanna do so many things to you right now—”
My anger turned to jelly. I’m always putty in his hands. The thought of us actually doing it—especially now that I’m eighteen—makes me feel like I’m a giant Ferris wheel, spinning in the sky, about to drop eighteen floors.
I love this boy so much, can’t wait for us to get the hell outta here, hop a train to New York with our suitcases and nothing else. We don’t belong here. It’s starting to make us crazy. It’s too much pressure, this hiding.
“I love you, Jane Swift,” he murmured in my ear, his breath tickling my neck, before Mom came out on the front porch, calling us in for dinner. Splitting us apart.
After we ate an embarrassingly simple meal of black beans and corn bread with a salad I made from tearing a hunk of romaine from the garden (Pa does need more clients), I stood side by side with Mom at the sink.
Soap bubbles tickled my arm as I washed dishes while she dried and put them away.
Everybody else was on the back porch, listening to Pa play his guitar.
Mom twisted the faucet, making the water hotter.
“Ouch! That’s too hot.”
“If you don’t get the temp up, you don’t kill the bacteria,” Mom said, her lips in a tense line.
Normally I would relent, but it hurt with my sunburn, so I twisted it back down.
Mom sighed.
“I’m sunburned!”
“And whose fault is that?” She gave her head a sharp shake. “Saw you being real friendly with Luke earlier in the garden.”
The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up.
“We are just friends. Just cause he’s a boy doesn’t mean there’s somethin’ going on.”
“Well, Julia said you were whoring it up down at the swimming hole earlier.” She slapped her drying rag on the counter, jammed her hands on her hips while staring me down, daring me to say something.
I laughed. “I don’t even know what that means. I didn’t even kiss anyone—” I was scrubbing a teacup with so much force, I thought it might shatter in my hands.
Mom’s palm flew across my cheek, stinging my sunburn. Felt like she held a match to my skin. What the…?
“You’re not foolin’ me, young lady. I did not raise you to behave like this!” She was shouting now, her words ringing through the cabin.
“Mom, what are you talking about?” I said, holding my cheek, which still throbbed.
“Julia! She told me that you were parading around out there topless! Like some kind of stripper or something! If you’re not careful, you’re gonna wind up like—”
Fury rose behind my eyes; I wanted to strangle Julia for tattling on me, wanted to strangle Mom for acting like such a controlling bitch. “Like what?”
A sharp laugh barked out of her. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“Like you? Pregnant at eighteen? Then again at nineteen.”
Another slap flew across my face. Hot tears bubbled in my eyes, but I stormed away from her, out the front door.
And now I’m fighting sleep. Or my body is. Mom can fuck right off. I forgave Luke to his face—and part of me knows I won’t hold a grudge, since it’s just not who I am—but another part of me is still hurt, thinking about him and Blair. And Nellie.