earthgirl (19 page)

Besides, who was he to talk? Aside from playing in some crappy band at a protest gig here and there, I didn't see him
rescuing crash test bunnies or saving any trees. As if he was some big front-line cutting-edge radical!

“I bring you to my special place, tell you my secret plans and you're slamming me?” I said, surprised by my own anger. I couldn't believe it. We were having our first ever fight.

“You should've brought me here for sex,” he half laughed.

“You can leave anytime you like,” I snapped.

“That's probably a good idea,” he said, pulling on his hat and sliding his bum toward the entrance. “Best you've had today, actually.”

“That was just plain mean,” I yelled as he backed down the ladder.

“I'll call you later,” he called back across the yard, over the
crunch-crunch
of his boots. “After you calm down and realize I'm right.”

“I'm perfectly calm,” I shouted back at him.

The jerk.

e a r t h g i r l
[ Jan. 20th | 5:16pm ]
[ mood | #@&+!^* ]
[ music | Rockstar Boyfriend — Tuuli ]

Rule #5. Ridicule is a very potent weapon in the radical arsenal. It infuriates and embarrasses the opposition.

This is apparently extremely true. Astonishingly actually. However, it's important to remember, the *organizer* is not
the *opposition.* Shocking though it is, sometimes radicals get a bit confused that they're all on the same side. Maybe it's the pressure of being on the leading edge.

So remember fellow radicals, united we stand, divided we are royally screwed. And get bruised feelings.

link                                                                                      read 3 | post

Vague-a-bond 01-20 19:02
What's up bean? You don't read like the usual bubbly you. Hope there's no trouble in your paradise of *truth* and love. Big Hugs, Ms. C.

e a r t h g i r l
[ January 20th | 07:09pm ]
Whoa, Cassie! Are you a witch (Glinda-good-witch) or psychic superpower mind reader or something? Little blip confirmed, but nothing that won't resolve shortly. Me thinks. Me hopes anyway!

To say Vray's response to my genius idea was not the reaction I expected would be the understatement of my life. Even though I was absolutely furious, I found myself crying uncontrollably when I took a bubblebath to calm my jangled nerves. My hot tears dripped onto the mountains of suds, melting holes to the tepid bathwater.

I felt so defeated and so frustrated I felt defeated.

After my soak and sulk, I calmed down. I realized my idea was undercooked and yes, okay, maybe babyish. A
germ instead of a virus. Paper and glue? This wasn't an arts and crafts project. It was a powerful, radical statement. More like spraypaint and smashed windows (without actually smashing windows). And maybe Vray's reaction was just his way of pushing me without being pushy.

I mean clearly he had been involved in some defiant things before he met me. How else to explain the superhero confabs with Finn and Eric. From hearing them play it obviously wasn't for the band to practice. Maybe it was all so extreme and subversive, he didn't tell me or include me because he loved me too much to put me at risk.

Still, he didn't have to laugh at Project U-SUX. But rather than wallow, I decided to study for tomorrow's math test. So I hunkered down at my desk and tried to concentrate and pretend everything was normal. That trigonometry was the balm for my bruised heart.

“Hey there,” Mom said with that annoying cheery mom voice as she suddenly appeared in my space despite the partially closed door. “What's going on?

“Math test,” I mumbled.

“Then you could probably use more light,” she said helpfully as she unhelpfully turned on the light, making me flinch from its brightness.

“Not a good time,” I said, hoping she'd retreat before she saw my puffy red eyes.

“Never is with you,” she sighed as she sat down on my bed.

How is it parents had that uncanny knack for appearing and annoying you at the most inopportune moments?
Was it genetic? Radar? Some kind of weird embedded chip?

“Honey, I need to talk to you. I mean, we need to talk,” Mom said.

This was definitely going to be a doozy so I didn't even bother to look up from my book. As if that would stop her. Ha!

“I don't want you to feel like I'm barging in on you or ambushing you, but we never seem to talk any more,” she said, clearly aware that she was doing both those things, but not seeming to care. “I'd have called or texted but your cell is always off, which isn't a bad thing though it's a bit odd.”

“First you complain I use it too much. Now you complain I don't use it enough?” I was so not in the mood for this right now. Agh!

“You're right. It's just you've just been so remote lately. You do know we can talk about anything.” Mom emphasized the word
anything
and for a fleeting moment I wondered if she'd been going to parenting-your-teen talks.

“Okay,” I answered, suspecting this could definitely be the dreaded sex talk we'd mercifully managed to avoid all these years. “I get it and no, I'm not on drugs and yes, I'm totally fine, thank you.”

“We know that. It's just I couldn't help but notice how close you and Vray have gotten recently,” she continued, trying to sound like my pal. “And we've respected that and given you space and trusted you to have good instincts and make good choices.”

I nodded and bit my tongue and tried to pretend her
concern was cute and endearing and not as annoying and intrusive as it actually was. Especially at this particular moment in my life, given that my relationship (if there still was one) was now hanging by a thread.

I could feel my tummy tighten.

“I'm not going to ask if you've done it or even what you've done because I really don't want to know,” she insisted, talking quickly enough for me to notice she was probably almost as uncomfortable as she was making me. “That's private between you and Vray.”

“Good,” I sighed, as I put my face in the book I was not reading.

“It's just I remember what it was like to be young and think everything was so urgent and important,” she stormed on like a tornado in a trailer park.

“Vray is important,” I said, immediately regretting that I was buying into her baiting. And suddenly feeling like I wasn't going to hold it together. Plus I'd forgotten how effective the silent treatment was in situations like these. Dum-dum me.

“I know,” she said. “And I've told you we think he's lovely and good to you.”

“Glad you approve,” I snorted, even though I could care less if they did or not. Like they even understood me at all. Like they even had the first clue.

“I just hope you're being responsible about birth control and sexually transmitted diseases, not to mention your emotional needs,” Mom said with the formality of a well-practiced speech, even though she was trying to act all casual.
“Your emotional well being is as important as the other stuff, you know. More important, maybe.”

Yeah, tell me about it, I thought, doing my best to keep myself from crumbling into a sobbing mess while willing her out of the room.

“Aw, Mom, do we have to talk about this?” I groaned instead. At this very moment when I may have just had my heart crushed and stomped on by this boyfriend you're telling me is so lovely and amazing.

“Yes,” she nodded a bit nervously.

“No, we don't,” I said emphatically.

“Okay, then,” she said, sounding as relieved as I was. “But if you want to talk, about anything at all, you know where I am.”

Yeah, yeah, I thought, nodding and waving her away. Just don't expect me to come looking for you any time soon.

It had been almost twenty-four hours and I still hadn't heard from Vray. Nada, by phone, email, text or carrier pigeon. I was shocked and heartsick. And I felt silly and ashamed of how far I'd fallen. Suspended on the surface only to crash to the hard, frozen ground beneath.

I wasn't sure what to do besides pretend everything was normal and cross my fingers and toes it actually would be again. I suppose I could have just caved and called him, but that would make me like every other stupid girl who groveled her way back into the cuddleship. Plus I wasn't the one in the wrong.

I wasn't the one making fun of him and his plans. His ideas. His integrity and commitment.

After school I took the bus to the co-op for my shift, happy to be busy and not waiting by the phone. But when I walked past the notice board where Vray and I had first met and mind-melded, it felt like a punch in the gut.

Something I had to recover from pretty quickly when Tom spotted me.

“Sabine, Natalka went home with the flu so there's a dozen boxes for the body aisles. Sorry to swamp you, but it's
gotta get done,” he said as I marched solemnly toward the stockroom to ditch my coat and backpack. “Hey, you okay? You look a bit pasty yourself.”

“I'm fine,” I nodded. I mean, technically from a physical health standpoint, I was. From a mental health perspective, not so much. Plus I doubted a slight dose of lovesickness counted as a real illness.

“Take it easy and do what you can,” he said. “Can't afford to have everyone around here knocked out.”

Tom was a nice guy and a good boss. Concerned and conscientious without being bossy or nosy. He trusted you to do what he asked without much fuss. I bet he was a great dad to his little twin boys.

For a nanosecond I considered asking him what to do about Vray before realizing how immature and silly, not to mention inappropriate, it would sound asking my boss for boyfriend advice.

So it was me and the teatree shampoo and verbena conditioner for the night. And some weird tribal music CD I might enjoy at any other point in my life. I wished Ruby was around but she'd gone to Costa Rica with Hayley on a last-minute deal. That was both a good and bad thing. Bad because I couldn't solicit her advice. Good because I wouldn't be dragging her into my drama, which was probably only dramatic to me anyway.

Surprisingly, the shelf stocking was very soothing. Meditative, even. Before I'd even realized, Tom lowered the front lights, a sign the store would soon be closing. Four hours had disappeared in a blink.

I finished up the row I was working on, closed the last half-empty (half-full?) carton of body lotions and carried it to the stockroom.

“Your boyfriend's here,” Tom said, leaning into the back where I was pulling on my jacket.

For a second I didn't know what he was talking about, but then Vray poked his curly head through the storeroom door.

“Car's out front, I'll meet you there,” he said normally. Like I'd seen him five minutes ago and everything was absolutely fine. Or like I'd just woken up from a coma or a bout of amnesia or something. “Thought you'd like a ride home,” he smiled, heading back out, the door swinging in his wake.

Vray was in his mom's silver hybrid, pulled up to the curb in the No Stopping zone. He reached across the seat to get the passenger door from the inside, reminding me how polite and thoughtful he could be.

When he wanted to be. The hypocrite.

“Your mom said you were working,” he practically chirped. “Figured I'd surprise you.”

“I thought you never drive in a car alone,” I said, wondering if I should have walked past him to catch the bus. If getting in was giving in, or simply my desire to hear him out like the civilized person I was.

“I'm not alone,” he beamed, leaning over to kiss my cheek. I pulled away, practically bumping my head on the window.

I glared at him.

“What?” he asked, huffing into his cupped hand. “Bad breath?”

“Bad manners,” I snorted.

“Am I missing something?” he asked as he pulled out and started driving.

“I'm sorry,” I answered flatly.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely mystified, which left me more than a bit mystified.

“Didn't we have a fight?” I asked, now wondering if I had imagined the whole thing.

“Why? Because you told me some big secret plot and I pointed out it was half-baked?”

“Well, it's evolved since then.”

“Oh yeah, to what?”

“Spraypaint,” I announced, surprising myself with the big announcement. Not to mention how quickly all was forgiven.

“Nice,” he nodded as he signaled and pulled into a church parking lot. “Not quite what the guys and I had in mind, but closer.”

“You told them?” I was floored. “That was private. What else did you tell them about us?”

“Relax,” he said softly as he ran his hand up my arm. “I said you had an idea and we started jamming and came up with a way to seriously pull it off.”

I just stared at his hand, which was now wrapped around my wrist like a bracelet. My breath came loudly out of my nose as I yanked my arm back.

“You're unbelievable. First you make fun of my idea.
Then instead of apologizing for being rude and snippy, you betray me to your friends.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But come on, Sabine, you wanted to put stickers on cars like a little girl,” he said calmly. “So last night me and the boys looked at the lot you mentioned. And you're right. No cameras, not to mention some sketch lighting out back. So we started thinking, why go for kiddie shit when we could really fuck ‘em over by torching a few cars.” His eyes were practically twinkling in the dark as he talked. “Same effort really, but much bigger effect.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

“The E-L-F took down a Hummer dealership in California and got away with it. No reason we couldn't do the same thing here.”

“Those cars, that dealership, that's someone's business,” I said, matching his even tone.