He stops when we’re far enough to be out of earshot of most of the tables. I lean against the wall like Meryl did earlier, hoping it has somewhat of the same effect. Then I remember my crop top and cross my arms across my belly. Austin steps in closer to me, rests his hand in the spot next to my head, and looks at me with this hot intensity like he’s Channing Tatum in Magic Mike.
I didn’t know what to do after our hookup so I’ve been avoiding him. Honestly, I really don’t understand how high-school hookups work. That’s why my very random and quite awkward make-out sessions have taken place only when I’m far away in another country. This isn’t because I’m fancy. It’s just that there’s this thin line at school between sexy and slut, and I still don’t know where it begins and ends. Girls are supposed to dress, talk, and act like we want it, but if we’re actually getting it, suddenly we’re whores. Even worse is that it’s not just the other students doing the name-calling. There’s a vicious Parent Posse in this town that revels in gossiping about other people’s children.
I haven’t had enough local action to even register on the radar of the Meadowdale busybodies. Actually, I would have been fine playing celibate until I left for college, but when Austin started flirting with me at the back-to-school bash, I hit back hard. For all I knew, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
We got to shirts off and belt buckles loosened when I kind of just panicked. I don’t have a lot of experience with the mechanics of it all and I’ve never kicked it with someone I’ve been seriously crushing on. Austin is the first guy that I’ve really liked.
So I made up an excuse about my period (not my best lie but I had to think fast) and dashed out the door. I break into a rash just thinking about it. He’s texted me a couple of times since but I kinda ghosted him.
But now, standing here with his face so close to mine that I can smell the cinnamon from the Big Red gum he’s chewing, I wonder if maybe I didn’t muck it up as bad as I thought.
“I was taking a walk around our hood,” Austin begins. “I do that sometimes to clear my head when I get stuck with my music.”
I continue to inhale his scent of cinnamon, Irish Spring, and Axe body spray. Ever since Austin’s family bought a house in Fawn Ridge last year, Meryl and I have been strategizing ways for me to “bump into” him. Maybe that scheming is paying off. I hear a faint hunger moan from my belly and try to suppress it. Suddenly, nothing—even the Aiedeo—matters all that much.
“It was pretty late. I’d say about one a.m. I was going past your place.”
I try to keep myself from jumping too far ahead but I can’t help it. Is he going to tell me that he realizes I’m his muse and he has to be with me? Okay, maybe I’m going a bit overboard. These days, a guy swiping right is about as big of a declaration that a girl can hope for. Although, I remind myself, Austin isn’t like other boys. That’s what makes him so hot.
Austin takes a deep breath. “And I saw someone sitting up way high in the elm tree outside of your bedroom and watching you through your window, Violet. I yelled at the guy—”
“Wh—” Nothing he’s saying sounds like what I was expecting to hear. “What did you say?”
“Last night, V. I saw a guy watching you. He was sitting on a branch, perfectly balanced, but he wasn’t holding on to anything. And this is gonna sound even crazier—I don’t know what kind of high-tech infrared gear he was wearing, but his eyes were all lit up like a bat’s. Before I could call the police, he just disappeared. I didn’t see him climb down or anything—it was like he just vanished into thin air.”
I’m jolted out of my daze. What Austin is telling me doesn’t make any sense, but I cling to the words last night. Last night when I was fighting Dr. Jenkins and the Aiedeo. Someone saw it all. Someone else knows my secret.
“I dunno, it was so weird that maybe I don’t know what I saw. Or maybe I thought it was a guy but really it was some kind of animal. I mean, it was pretty dark out.”
I’m not hearing Austin anymore because my mind races with all the different possibilities. Each scenario makes the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach grow bigger and bigger. A wave of nausea rocks my body so hard that I feel woozy. There’s almost nothing in my belly so I don’t know what is coming up my throat, but it’s moving so fast that I can’t stop it from hurling out of my mouth and straight onto Austin.
Six
I ZIP UP MY HOODIE as a cool breeze rustles through the cornfield. A small crescent moon hangs low in the sky surrounded by a thousand twinkly stars. Everywhere I look, I see the tall, thin outlines of the corn stalks that are almost double my height and fifty rows deep.
My immediate vicinity is filled with high-school kids in different stages of inebriation. Apparently, almost all of them are trying to squeeze in the last possible minutes of fun before the one a.m. curfew.
I take a sip of beer out of my red plastic cup. I’ve been nursing it all night and now it tastes warm and bitter. Unfortunately, I don’t have a curfew, which means I have no excuse to leave.
The first football game of the season is always celebrated with a cornfield kegger. A patch of corn is cut down and kegs are dragged in. Having a party in the middle of a cornfield provides protection from cops and the nosy Parent Posse, since it is almost impossible to see from the road. However, that also makes it nearly impossible to find.
The address (which is something un-GPS-compatible, like RR5 and Highway 28) and the directions (take a right at the gravel road past the Hendersons’ farm, park your car near the ditch, walk twelve rows into the field, turn left @ the shed, et cetera) were posted on Heffers and Hos right after the football game.
I’m pretty sure that, with the debut of our new uniforms and our dismal halftime show, one of the cheerleaders will be the next Head Heffer. It might even be me.
Normally, thinking I may be singled out and ridiculed on H and H would make me go mental. But I’m already weighed down with so much shit—the Aiedeo, my mysterious stalker, vomiting on the love of my life—that I don’t have space left in my crowded head to process anything else.
I raced out of the cafeteria too fast to see Austin’s full reaction to my hurling on him. If there is anything positive about it, which there isn’t, it’s that at least I did it away from the other kids, especially the Squad.
“It’s like Kurt’s silent scream, you know?”
I’m so occupied with my own thoughts that I haven’t even noticed the pudgy guy with a receding hairline and scruffy goatee standing next to me. Since these parties are usually only for high-schoolers, we need an “eternal senior” who is old enough to buy the kegs. There are a couple in the rotation but it seems that tonight, Fat Mike is the host.
“Cobain.” Fat Mike gestures toward the portable Bluetooth player blaring out a depressing song that I don’t recognize. “If you’re into music, I’m a DJ. You should come by my place and hear me spin.” Fat Mike tries to wrap his arm around my waist but I step out of the way before he can.
“Let’s try to stay clear of the local child molester, shall we?” Meryl says as she leads me away. “I know you probably want to commit hara-kiri after what happened with Austin, but I hate seeing you like this, V.”