Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (13 page)

I LOVE LENA SARDI!

With All my Love,

Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente

Nine

November 15, 1980

Dear Diary,

I’m in trouble. I’m in serious, deep, deep shit. I don’t even know if I can write about it. I’m a mess. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m a messity, mess, mess, mess.

There’s no way to say this except to just come out and say it. So I’ll say it.

Crap! I can’t say it. I can’t even WRITE it.

Crap! Why did I do it? What the hell was I thinking? I let the frigging supermodel seduce me!

Oh crap, I have no idea what to do about this! I mean… She’s my ROOMMATE! Yeah, she’s beautiful. Yeah, she’s like the most amazing girl I’ve ever met in my entire life. Yeah, it felt amazing when we kissed.

CRAP! I just said it! We KISSED! I kissed my frigging supermodel roommate! And I liked it! OH CRAP, I liked it so much! Oh my God, it was so amazing!

CRAP! I think I’m in love with my supermodel roommate! But I want a frigging MAN someday! I don’t want a frigging GIRL! I mean… I didn’t want a girl! But… I have Lenore, now.

CRAP! What the hell was I thinking? Now I’m in love with my roommate! And we’re sleeping together!

Shit! I didn’t mean that! We’re not sleeping together like we’re having sex! We’re not having sex! I didn’t mean that! We’re just sleeping together. But not to have sex! We’re not having sex!

I can’t even write anymore. This is just too weird. This is so wrong. I mean… I love her. I really do love her. An I think I’m “in love” with her, like “in love” in love with her, not just, “I love my roommate” in love with her. And it feels so right when we kiss. And it feels so right when she holds me.

But it’s so WRONG! This is wrong! Right? It’s wrong? Right? Right? This is totally wrong? Right?

Somebody help me! I’m in love with my frigging supermodel roommate! CRAP! I love Lenore! CRAP!

I’m so messed up.

Love,

Lena.

Part 3

Junior Daze

Ten

September 23, 1983

A thick coat of glossy, olive drab paint gave Paulson’s athletic complex all the retro chic appeal of a World War II Army barracks. Exposed, painted cinder block, a throwback to the facility’s mid-60’s construction, oozed “institutional.” Though the aroma of the place offered up a hint of perfume, there was no mistaking the piquant bouquet of
sweat
. Gallons and gallons of estrogen-rich
sweat
.

Crammed into a half-city block and four stories tall, it was a marvel at its opening. Two indoor tennis courts, four racquetball courts, a four-piste fencing venue, two cramped, city-sized multi-purpose basketball/volleyball courts, an Olympic-sized indoor pool (and sauna), and a 1000 square foot cross-training and weight facility kept active Paulson sisters satisfied from the pre-dawn until midnight seven days a week.

The double-doors between the locker room and main lobby swung wildly, the right-most door ripping the rubber floor stopper free. The steel handle exploded into the cinder block and folded on contact, chipping the block and leaving a large scar in the paint.

Two Paulson juniors raced into the lobby carrying their gym bags. The first, a tennis pro struggling with yet another day of maddening service practice, had changed into baggy, after-workout, gray hoodie sweats and running shoes. The second, a supermodel fresh from humiliating yet another woefully inadequate fencing opponent, wore skin-tight jeans, purple suede flats, and a waist-length, wrap-around, black leather jacket (mercifully sans shoulder pads).

“LENA! STOP! PLEASE STOP! We must talk!”

The tennis player sped toward the front door, yearning for a few minutes respite from her clingy, obnoxiously overachieving roommate.

“GO AWAY, LENORE! I just want to get out of here and find myself a goddamned cup of coffee. I just need a goddamned cup of coffee and a little time
alone
for a change! Is that too much to ask, goddammit?”

Lenore ran up and grabbed Lena short of the door, spinning her before Lena could get her hand on the breaker bar. Over Lenore’s shoulder, the student worker at the check-in desk ran to the scene of the crime and assessed what appeared to be hundreds of dollars of damage. She shouted at Lena, pointing angrily at the wall.

“HEY! YOU! Get back here! Look at what you did! This is going to cost big money! Get over here!”

Lena flipped the girl the bird and shouted back. “PUT IT ON MY GODDAMNED TAB! THE NAME IS SARDI! S – A – R – D – I! I live in 1426 Stilson. Maybe you saw my goddamned photo on the goddamned cover of goddamned Sports Fucking Illustrated! Just send me the fucking bill, sister!”

The desk clerk harrumphed and stormed back to the counter to take notes and report the incident. Lena wasn’t the first rich bitch to damage school property. She wouldn’t be the last.

“LENA!” Lenore begged. “We must talk!”

Lena shook herself free and glowered at her roommate. “NO, Lenore! NO! Not this time! This isn’t about
you
, Lenore! This is about my goddamned serve! I’m going to be on TV in
two weeks
and my serve has gone to
shit
! I just want to get away for a few minutes and be by MYSELF! You can’t help me this time, Lenore! So BUZZ OFF!”

Tears filled Lenore’s eyes, pleading, her palms open at her sides.

“But… Lena… My… My beautiful Wild Child… Perhaps… I can help? Please? Come to dinner with me. Please… Or… We could go back to the room and talk… I just want to help!”

Thrusting her finger between Lenore’s uplifted tits, the tennis pro lowered her voice and vented. “Freaky Baby, sometimes you just can’t fix things with a hug and a kiss! Sometimes you just need to know when to give a girl some space! We spend
every fucking minute
of
every fucking day
together, Lenore!
Every minute
!”

Lena glanced around the entranceway and realized more than a half-dozen sets of eyes were fixed on the cover-grabbing roomies. Looking for a safe haven, she spotted the hallway leading toward the racquetball courts.

“Come with me, Lenore…”

Lena grabbed Lenore’s bicep and yanked her toward the hallway, through the doors, and onward to a small alcove about 15 feet down the hall. Lena threw Lenore into the alcove, shoved her back against a racquetball court door, and kissed her. Furiously. Her loving tongue turned into a lance, darting in a frenzy into Lenore’s face. Gasping, Lenore patted Lena’s back, begging for a break. Lena backed up an inch and stared angrily into Lenore’s eyes.

“There! I still love you, Lenore. See? This isn’t about YOU! This is about ME! I need some space tonight! Give me some goddamned space! Don’t smother me! Don’t freak out on me! Just let me be by myself!”

“But Lena… I am… I am confused! Do you still… You say you love me, but… Your kiss… It felt so angry! Why are you so angry with me? I just want to help!”

“Goddammit, Freaky! I’m not angry with YOU! I’m angry with MYSELF! Sometimes you just can’t get in the way when I’m angry with myself! Just because I’m upset about my game doesn’t mean I’m upset with you, capiche? Don’t you get it? This ISN’T about YOU, Lenore!”

“But you sound so angry with ME!” Lenore whimpered. “What if I
show
you how much I love you? If I hug you it will help you feel better!”

“Oh my God! She’s so dense! Breathe, idiot. She’s all about black and white. She just doesn’t get it. Don’t freak out on her.”

Lena inhaled slowly, settling her racing pulse, calming her fury. She tried to put the matter into terms so simple even a diva supermodel could understand.

“Look… Freaky Baby… I still love you, okay? And I still want to cuddle with you, okay? And I’ll still be back tonight and we’ll still go to bed together, just like we always do, okay? I’m not leaving you. I still love you. I just really, really, really, really,
really
need some
frigging
time to just be alone with my own head, you know?”

Lena grabbed Lenore’s biceps and rubbed them as gently and sweetly as she could muster. As gently and sweetly as she could muster considering she wanted to mutilate and terminate the existence of the first living thing in her path. Her smothering, clingy Freaky Baby would be a good start.

“Listen, Lenore… I’m SCARED, okay? I’m scared out of my mind because my serve is for SHIT! If I don’t get my serve back Chrissy is going to K-I-L-L me! And when she kills me it’s going to be on national TV, with that asshole Collins rubbing my goddamned face in it! This isn’t like some lame ass sparring partner taking a few whacks at you with a saber, Lenore. This is pro fucking tennis! I can’t phone it in!

“So… Just… Let me be alone for a little bit, okay? I just need to be away from people for a little bit. I don’t want to hurt you, Lenore, but right now I feel like hurting something or someone. It’s safer for you to just let me be alone… You understand?”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Lenore shook her head slowly. “I do not understand, Lena. I do not understand why if you love me I cannot help you feel better. But… I love you… And… I will let you be if that is what you want.”

Visibly shaking, Lenore grabbed Lena’s hands. Amber-brown puppy dog eyes melted the rage machine. “But… Do you promise you still love me? Do you promise this is not about me? Are you telling me the truth? I did not do anything to make you angry? Please, Lena… Please tell me the truth?”

“Lenore… Look… I… I… Ohhhh… Fuck it!”

In a rash impulse, Lena pounced on Lenore. In an uncontrollable fit of anger-fueled-passion, she clamped her hand around Lenore’s chin and mauled her mouth in a tonguing frenzy. She wildly ran her hands through the supermodel’s hair and stuck her tongue in Lenore’s ear. She took a long lick up Lenore’s neck, ending by licking her earlobe. After several minutes of chaotic assault, Lena backed away, a little less anger on her face, and gave Lenore a small glimmer of peace. Lena huffed and puffed, saying nothing, a sad smile offered as her only punctuation.

Lenore panted. “Okay… Wild Child… I do not understand, but… I know you still love me. But… Please let me help! I want to help, Lena! If I can help…”

“Not right now, Lenore. Later. When I come back to the room tonight, after I have a nice, quiet cup of coffee and a nice, quiet walk by myself, you can make me feel even better, okay? By the time I come back, Lenore, I’ll be ready to make out some more. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay… I guess.”

“Look, Freaky, I’ll walk you to the dining hall.”

Lena backed up, took Lenore by the hand, and led her toward the lobby, gym bags slung over their shoulders. As the pair approached the door, the girlfriends released their hands in well-practiced preparation for a public appearance. On the other side of the doorway, Freaky Baby caught the eye of the miffed attendant and urged the Wild Child to make amends.

“Lena… You should apologize. You were quite mean to that girl.”

“Oh… Shit. Alright.”

The duo stepped up to the counter. The student worker glared at Lena, saying nothing, waiting for the apology she was due. Lena looked her in the eye, paused, exhaled in a huff, and said…

“Sorry.”

Lenore leaned over and whispered in Lena’s ear. “More…”

Rolling her eyes, Lena tried again. “Look… I’m sorry I smashed the door and wrecked the wall and I’m sorry I cursed at you. But I meant what I said about paying for it. Just tell the maintenance people to fix it and put it on my bill. I’ll pay for it.”

Then, turning toward Lenore, Lena sought approval. “Happy now?”

Lenore smiled. “Yes, Wild Child. That was better.”

“C’mon, Freaky. Let’s get out of here before I destroy something else, okay?”

“Okay, Wild Child. Walk me to the dining hall.”

At the door to the dining hall, Lena handed Lenore her gym bag and headed off for parts unknown. She retained her stretchy, wrist keychain with its attached, miniature can of mace and shoved a ten spot into her overstuffed sports bra. The street outside the cafeteria was vacant. Lena looked left, then right, and played a game of “Eenie, meenie, minee moe.”