Bound #2
Middle school was a battleground for all of this. It didn’t help that Mom bought me things from stores that I’m sure kids didn’t shop at. Make no mistake, I was queen bee at Roosevelt Junior High School.
And the biggest reason why was that I was untouchable. In fact, in middle school, boys abhorrently disgusted me.
People were having sex all the time. I knew girls who smoked cigarettes in the bathroom, got fucked behind the PE locker room after school, all types of shit. Shit that I felt like everyone was doing out of curiosity and the need to seem cooler than the rest.
In a way, Auty’s rejection of me saved me in middle school. She was the only person I wanted to seem cool to, and I knew the shit my friends were doing wouldn’t move the needle in my favor.
However, that day, hours before the first boy who made my tummy feel funny was set to “pull up” on me, I was out of my league.
I didn’t even know how old he was. How old was he to be able to “pull up” on me? Could he drive? Did he have a car?
Why did I even say yes? I talked to his brother the whole time. Would he be there too?
Locking myself in my room, I put my favorite CD into my CD player, turned up the volume on my headphones, and vibed out.
New and old R I’d been in my room until I heard him go down.
We followed them outside, into the sunset, as they loaded him up. Mom held onto me like she’d collapse at any minute, but I snatched away from her when we got to the back. I cut my eyes to her, making her flinch, before she climbed in with him, and they sped off to who knows where.
“Wynter! What happened?!”
I turned toward Turkey’s house and watched Auty run toward me frantically.
I flinched away when she got to me, and saw her eyes stretch at my face and ear. But she bit her lip, and didn’t ask the one question that really mattered to me.
“You don’t even care, do you?” My chuckle wasn’t funny. It was sad.
“Wyn–”
“Go back to Turkey’s house, Auty. It’s where you wanna be anyway.” I walked away from her, back to our house, and locked the door behind me.
The good whiskey was in the cabinet. A double shot of that, and I was warm all over. Another double shot, and I was calm enough to clean the mess Mom made.
Bandaging an ice pack to my face, I took a bath to wash the day off. It was red, and a little swollen, but I could play it off. Same with the cut on my ear. Auty didn’t ask, so I was sure Luney wouldn’t either.
By two minutes to nine, I was as clean as the house, and the remnants of the liquor kept me from being nervous.
I sat on the couch, looking out the window, waiting to see if he’d really come.
Then a green gangster car pulled up to the curb, and suddenly my cheeks hurt for a different reason.
Dressed in a hoodie, skinnies, and vans, I was ready for whatever the night brought me. Hopefully, at least, a distraction from the dumpster fire that was my life.
Besides, for all intents and purposes, I was probably leaving California, anyway. Surely, Dad would wanna leave Mom after being hit. He’d wake up in the hospital, leave her, and take us down South to be with Nana.
This was my last hurrah, with a cute boy who made me feel funny.
My smile was semi-permanent when I locked up the house and skipped to the car.
It smelled like weed and car freshener. The seats were a smooth and buttery black leather.
And Luney was gazing at me with mischief in his brown eyes, and plaits framing his pretty boy face.
“Wassup, Snow?” he asked, his voice multiplying the butterflies already in my middle.
“Buckle up.”