Chapter 4

 

 

 

The next day, Debbie’s mom, Marge, took us to a matinee: The Sound of Music. I think she was trying to cheer me up, but I hated musicals, and I don’t think Debbie was nuts about them, either. Marge left the theater singing, though, so I guess she was happy.

I was still thinking about the murder victim—Mary Ann Wilson. I couldn’t get the image of her torn, exposed body out of my mind, no matter how much Julie Andrews sang and pranced about. Marge offered to take us out for ice cream after the movie, but I lied and said I wasn’t feeling well, when I really just couldn’t stand the thought of being around Marge while she kept humming those songs. I liked Marge okay most of the time—she was a small, chipper woman who smoked too many cigarettes and had bad teeth as a result—but today I just wasn’t up to her perpetual cheerfulness. I wanted to be in my bed with a pile of comic books.

When I got home, I made myself a glass of chocolate milk and was on my way to my room when I heard strange sounds coming from behind CJ’s closed door. I paused to listen, and instantly knew this was something I wasn’t supposed to hear: He had his girlfriend Vicki in there, and they were both kind of moaning and gasping. I could also hear an odd, rhythmic creaking sound, which it took me a minute to place as bedsprings.

 A jolt of disbelief shot through me as I put it all together: CJ was having sex. With Vicki. In his room. Right now.

I had only the faintest idea of what was involved with sex. For one thing, I was a little behind the other girls my age—Debbie, for example, had already been having periods for a year (I knew this because one day at school a sanitary napkin had fallen out of her book bag), and she even had actual breasts. Her breasts were big enough that the boys at school paid a lot of attention to her, and I sort of envied that. Even though Mom had bought me a training bra, I was still as flat as a pancake and didn’t wear it most days.

Mom had explained a few basics to me, so I knew that men had parts women didn’t have, and that sex started with kissing and ended with babies, but I was still kind of uncertain about what happened in between. That’s why it took me a few seconds to place the sounds coming from behind CJ’s door.

I stood in the hallway, the glass of chocolate milk forgotten in my hand, and listened, feeling both guilty and excited. I was confused, too, though—it sounded like they were hurting each other. The sounds continued for maybe another minute—their cries sharper, the creaking faster—and then it died away.

Next they giggled, and then I heard CJ saying something about going out to the kitchen. That was my cue to make like a banana and split. I started to run for my room, but then I had a better idea, and headed out to the kitchen, where I plopped myself down at the dining table just before CJ walked in.

He was shirtless and his hair stuck up in a zillion different directions, but at least he’d pulled some pants on. He literally froze for a second when he saw me. “Oh…I didn’t know you were here,” he said, as he tried to pretend to casually amble over to the refrigerator. “I thought you’d be out all day with Debbie and her mom.”

“No, I got home about twenty minutes ago.”

He tensed at that but got two cans of Coke out of the fridge. He elbowed the refrigerator door shut, then leaned against it, eyeing me warily. “So, you…uh…”

I started to moan, doing what I thought was a pretty good impression of Vicki.

It must have been a great impression, because CJ gritted his teeth in anger and then caught himself. “You gonna tell Mom?”

I took my time answering, letting him squirm a little. “I might…but I could maybe be persuaded not to…”

“What do you want?”

“A dog.” It was true; I’d been bugging Mom for months now for a dog. She always said that dogs were a lot of trouble and she didn’t think I was responsible enough to help take care of it and so on. I knew that if I could get CJ to promise to help with it, though, she might reconsider.

CJ rolled that around in his head for a minute. “A dog, huh? Would I have to help take care of it?”

“Maybe a little at first. Just long enough to convince Mom to let us keep it.”

“And you won’t say anything about…?” He jerked his head towards his room.

I ran a finger twice across my chest. “Cross my heart. Of course Mom might figure it out on her own when Vicki shows up with a baby that looks like you.”

“Not gonna happen, twerp.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a little square foil packet. It looked like candy to me. Was there a candy that could keep a girl from getting pregnant?

CJ turned then and went back to his room. I heard his door close behind him and some low giggling. But I wasn’t really listening anymore—I was already trying to think about what kind of dog I wanted.

It turned out to be a good thing we never did get that dog. There’s no way it would have survived that summer.