Something Real (36 page)

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

He places his hands on my hips and brings his lips to my collarbone. “Okay,” he whispers.

Then it’s just lips and hands and skin until the blankets tumble down on top of us and we have to hold our hands against each other’s mouths so that no one hears our laughter. It takes a while to get out from under the wreckage, and we freeze, still tangled up, when one of the kids cries out. I hear Mom go up the stairs and open a door at the end of the hall. I know it’s her because her steps sound so efficient.

“My little sister Daisy™ gets nightmares,” I whisper.

“Are they about cameras?”

“Mine are.”

When the house is quiet again, we crawl out from under the mess of blankets.

“We suck at fort making,” I say.

“To be fair, we couldn’t really see what we were doing. I’m holding out judgment on our true capabilities.”

Without warning, he lifts me up and deposits me on the bed. I laugh and he covers up my mouth with his lips, kissing me like it’s our last day on Earth. I feel light-headed, drunk with this pressing need to absorb him. If I could, I would melt myself into him so that there is no him or me, just
us
.

Moonlight fills the room, turning his skin silver, seeping into his eyes. The dark is warm and safe and hidden. I want to stay in it forever. We peel off each other’s clothing to get closer. Closer. Patrick’s lips and hands travel over my skin, and the shadows sway to the sound of his sweet nothings, which should really be renamed sweet somethings—no, sweet
everythings
.

The grandfather clock chimes downstairs, and we both jump, and I giggle into his bare chest. For a minute we just lie there, staring into each other’s eyes. He’s so
warm
. And it feels completely right to be here, right now, with him. But I won’t let this house have too much of me.

“Patrick, I can’t—”

He kisses me. “Neither can I.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Your brother only agreed to me coming over if I swore on my mother’s life not to take your virginity. And in case that wasn’t enough, he also threatened me with castration via butcher knife.”

My mouth drops open. “He told you I was a virgin?” Benny has absolutely no sense of boundaries.

Patrick chuckles. “Um. Since I was your first kiss, I thought it was fair to assume.”

I blush. “Oh. Right.”

He draws me close to him. “It’s fine. More than fine. I can’t wait to wake up next to you.”

This, I think, is a little glimpse of what life could be like without my family. Home could be a place of laughter and love, a refuge. I’m filled with a terrifying weightlessness, like I’ve jumped off a cliff, but I know that if I don’t look down, I’ll be just fine.

We fall asleep pressed against each other, our bodies intertwined, each piece of me fitting with each piece of him, like a puzzle that we finally figured out how to put together.

SEASON 17, EPISODE 24

(The One with the Diary)

“Did he deflower you?” Tessa asks, with characteristic bluntness.

“Tess!” I swat at her, but she ducks, her eyes all mischievous and
ooh-la-la
. It’s the first day back at school after break, and we’d all agreed to come early and catch up in the stairwell.

“Notice how she doesn’t answer the question,” says Mer. She licks some of the whipped cream from her mocha off her lips. “He’s good, isn’t he? I bet he’s good.”

“Okay, first—don’t speculate on my boyfriend’s being good or not. Second,
no
, he did not”—I lower my voice—“
deflower
me.” I grin. “But he did sleep over during break.”

I’d been dying to tell them, but I’d wanted it to be just Patrick’s and mine for a while.

“Shut up!” squeals Mer.

My face is ten kinds of red, but whatever. Who cares what color your face is when you’re walking on clouds?

“Details. Now,” says Tessa.

“Discretion is my middle name.” I zip my lip and pretend to go back to flipping through Mer’s
Glamour
. I close it when I come across a
Baker’s Dozen
ad.

Tessa bumps me with her shoulder. “I can’t believe it. You’re finally getting naked with Patrick Sheldon—” I give her a look, and she rolls her eyes. “Or
whatever
, and we don’t even get to hear about it!”

“I thought caffeine was bad for the baby,” Benny says, from the bottom of the stairwell.

Patrick’s behind him, and we choke on our coffee at the same time, which is actually kind of impressive.

“Oh my God, that is so not funny,” says Mer.

Tessa’s lips curl up, but she doesn’t say anything. I didn’t think it was possible for Patrick to be embarrassed, but he’s actually blushing. It feels good to joke about the tabloid, but I can’t help worrying about what the next one will say. And the next. And the next.

“Oh! Happy belated birthday, Ben,” says Mer.

We’d had a party for him and Lex over Christmas break. Lex had been thrilled about the cameras coming out to dinner with us, Benny not so much.

He puffs out his chest a little. “That’s right. I’m officially a man.”

“What he means to say is that he can buy his cigarettes without a fake ID now,” I say, glaring at him. “I should have turned your ass in to the cops.”

He sticks his tongue out at me, and I jump up and gather my stuff.

“Where are you going?” asks Tessa.

Classes don’t start for another half hour, but Mom insisted I see the Skittle Lady.

“Morning sickness,” Benny stage-whispers.

“I’m not above killing you in your sleep, you know.” I hit his arm with my notebook, but he doesn’t even wince. I turn back to Tessa. “I have to go see the school shrink.”

Mer nods sympathetically. “Secret boyfriend plus possible pregnancy equals major adult concern?”

“To the tenth power,” I say. “See you at lunch.”

“I’ll walk you,” Patrick says.

I smile as he throws an arm across my shoulders. As soon as we round the corner, he stops and leans me up against the lockers. His kiss is soft and lingering.

“Monday’s looking up,” I murmur.

“Despite all that morning sickness?” he teases.

“Not you too.”

“Do you have to go? Because we have half an hour, and I know an excellent way to spend it.”

His lips are on mine again, and his hand reaches into my jacket and slides around my waist. His fingers brush against my skin, and I shiver, drawing even closer.

“I … really … have … to … go.” It’s all I can manage between kisses.

Patrick sighs. “Okay.” He reaches into his pocket and takes something out. “Don’t get mad.”

“Um…”

“I know you said you didn’t want to take your parents to court. Which I totally understand. But what about MetaReel?”

I shrug. “I can’t really wrap my mind around that.”

He nods. “Do you trust me?”

I don’t have to think about my answer for even a second. “Yes.”

He kisses my forehead. “Good. I talked to my dad, and he got in touch with one of his lawyer friends.” He hands me a card that says MELINDA GREENBERG, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. “She works with the ACLU, and Dad said she could take you on pro bono.” The American Civil Liberties Union—Schwartz worships at their feet.

“Thanks,” I say. Even I can tell my voice sounds far away.

“You want me to keep it for you?” Patrick murmurs. I nod, and he takes it from me. “I just wanted you to know I found people out there who will fight for you.
I’ll
fight for you.”

I reach my lips up to his for a second. “I’ll think about it.”

But I already know I’m never going to ask him for that card. How could I betray my family like that? This is something Patrick just doesn’t understand.

He grabs my hand, and we head toward the main office. The halls look so different now that I’m not Patrick-less in them. Our three days of being broken up is a small weight that we’ll probably carry around for a little while longer, but I feel like there’s something deeper between us, now that we’re on the other side of it.

When we get to Diane Finchburg’s office, I slip a note in his pocket.

“What’s this?”

I smile. “Sweet nothings.”

His eyes light up. “Good luck in there.”

“
Ugh
.”

He kisses my cheek and then walks toward the gym, putting in his earbuds as he goes. I know that’s where Max and Derrick usually hang out before school. I watch him for a minute, admiring his sloping gait and the way he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He turns around and grins, like he knows I’m watching him, so I blow him a kiss, and he catches it.

My appointment with Diane Finchburg is nonthreatening, except for the part where she says that if I ditch school anymore, the principal is going to suspend me. When I told him about it later, Patrick was a bit disappointed, but considering we’re graduating in a few months, we’ll live. Throughout the day, people in the halls stared at me, and my name was on too many strangers’ lips. I heard some girls in the bathroom speculating on whether or not I’d gotten an abortion over break. I’d yelled from my stall that it was none of their damn business, and their stunned silence kind of made my day. It felt good just to say what I wanted to. One girl asked me to autograph her mother’s copy of my mother’s book. I took pity on her because she was even more embarrassed than I was. I turned in the paper on
1984
I’d had to write for Schwartz’s class over the break and he’d said, “Good to see you back, Baker.” I knew he wasn’t talking about Christmas vacation—he’d meant back from the abyss I’d been in those days after the tabloid.

“It’s good to be back,” I’d told him. And, strangely, I meant it.

*   *   *

When Benny and I get home, Mom is sitting at the kitchen table, idly flipping through a magazine. Puma Guy is stationed behind her, like he’s been waiting for me.

“Bonnie™, can you come in here, please?”

Benny shoots me a sympathetic look, then bolts up the stairs. I trudge into the kitchen and lean against the door frame. The Wild Things run past and clip me on the shoulder.

“Savages!” I yell at them. But I’m smiling, because you can’t get too mad at people whose diapers you’ve changed. I turn back to Mom.

“What’s up? I have a lot of homework.”

I know it shouldn’t matter, but I really need to remember to brush my hair and put on some lip gloss before I come home.

“We need to talk.”

I sigh and plop into a chair. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

Mom gives an imperceptible shake of her head. They’ll probably edit out my question, making me look like a willing servant of the show.
Why, of course, America, I love discussing my personal life in front of all of you!

“You saw the guidance counselor?”

I nod, my face flushing. There goes another secret I don’t need to bother keeping.

“Bonnie™, I’m … concerned about this boy.” She’d caught me talking on the phone with Patrick a few days ago, so she knows we’re together. Luckily, her book tour had kept her from having this conversation with me. Until now.

“Mom, I—”

“Don’t interrupt me, please.” She pats her hair, like she’s making sure it’s still there. “I think you might be investing too much into this relationship with Patrick.”

Don’t say his name. It sounds wrong, coming out of your mouth.

My heart gets a sick feeling. “He’s a really nice guy, from a great family. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“I need to meet him—and his parents.”

“Mom! That’s so unfair. You can’t force them to go on camera.”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”

There’s so much I want to say, all bottled up inside me, itching up my throat. Each word I’ve kept inside for all these years is straining to break out. So I don’t say anything.

“There’s something else I’d like to talk about, while you’re here,” she says.

I stare at the wood grain of the table until my eyes go glassy and the patterns run together like watercolors. She slides something across the shiny surface to me and when I see what it is, my heart stops.

It’s my journal.

I grab the leather-bound pages and hug them to my chest. They did it. On top of everything else, they finally got my soul.

Blood pumps into my fingers—I wish I had claws. I’ve never wanted to physically assault someone so much in my life. She doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

“You read it.”