Hero (21 page)

I opened the closet to get the photo and picked it up. It was the shot of my mother at her graduation from teachers college. Although Dad had torn it in two, you could still see Mom. She looked up at me with a sly grin on her face like we now both knew what she was smiling about. I looked up and saw Dad's old costume hanging up in front of me in its fresh dry-cleaning bag.

Seconds later I darted downstairs to the refrigerator and grabbed a pan of leftover lasagna and two jars of tomato sauce. I took the stairs four at a time as I raced back up to his bedroom. I ripped the flimsy plastic off his old costume and yanked it out by the hanger and threw it on the floor.

I opened a jar of tomato sauce and slung it at the jacket. Red sauce sprayed across the lapels as if a sword had sliced through the front, and blood and gook had gushed out of the wound. I threw the other jar on the costume lengthways, all the way down one of the pant legs. Then I dumped the old lasagna on the outfit and jumped on top of it to mash it in. When I felt like I'd ground in as much as I could, I hawked all the phlegm I could gather in my throat and spit on it.

I stepped off the old costume, pulled back, and felt my heart pounding in my chest. My mind flashed to the image of my father standing over me, his fist raised to strike, his breast heaving as he struggled to control his anger. I didn't want to be like him that way. I looked at the mess, took a few deep breaths, and carefully put the ruined suit back inside the cheap plastic wrapper and hung it in the closet.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I SHOULD HAVE CARRIED an umbrella with me. lt was still spitting rain outside, but I'd left in a hurry because I didn't want to be there when Dad got home. The patter of the rain was growing into louder thumps against the rusting green enamel of the generator. I watched a few cars come and go, then finally worked up the courage to hop off the generator and go inside the Purple Cactus.

I probably looked like death, and I really could have used a breath mint, but I hadn't thought about any of that when I left the house. I tried to block the whole day out of my mind; if I didn't go in now while I had the courage to do it, then I never would. I put one foot in front of the other, and before I knew it I was walking toward the entrance.

The direction of my feet articulated my thoughts. This was not my crowd. I did not belong here.

Maybe I should just consider lifelong celibacy, join a monastery, and I'd be much happier, all my problems solved. The rain began to come down in sheets. I started to run, but I was soaked before I even got past the first row of cars. I shoved my hands in my pockets and slowed down to a bitter, soaked trot.

I rounded the corner and almost smacked into a car as it pulled out from its space. It screeched to a halt, and the passenger-side window rolled down.

"You okay?" the driver said from inside.

"I'm fine." Jerk. He should pay better attention when he drives.

I turned to walk away, but I was surprised by what he said next.

"Need a lift?"

I looked down at the driver. He was cute. Broad shoulders. About ten years older than I was. Maybe a little stocky. Maybe a little short; I couldn't really tell since he was sitting in the car. The car looked warm and dry inside, and I was soaking wet and shivering, and it was a long way home. It seemed stupid to get into a car with a stranger, but I could handle myself.

I bit my lower lip and thought about it for a second. He reached over and pushed the door open.

"What's your name?"

Since I'd never done this before, I didn't know if it was bad protocol to lie.

"John," I said. I counted the streetlights and tried to relax.

"I'm Simon," he said. He unwrapped a peppermint and

popped it in his mouth as he drove. I think he noticed me looking at the candy longingly. "You want one?"

I nodded, and he handed me a mint.

"That place is kinda cheesy, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Like I'd ever been inside.

I looked over at Simon and noticed how pale his skin was. I bet he wouldn't get tan if he spent a whole summer on the beach. The streetlights made his skin glow even whiter, and the reflection of the raindrops trickling down the windshield gave the impression that his skin was weeping. His face looked kind but maybe a little tired, like he worked nights or something. He put his hand on my knee and gave it a light pat.

"Relax," he said. "I don't bite." He crunched on his peppermint. "So where do you live?"

In an instant I knew I had a choice to make about what I wanted to say. Now or never.

"Let's go somewhere else," I suggested.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "How old are you?"

"I just turned twenty-one last week." I was getting good at lying.

"Happy birthday," Simon said. "You look familiar. Have I seen you in there befo—"

"No." I was too brusque, and he could tell. An awkward silence followed.

"You sure you don't want me to drive you home?"

I stared straight ahead.

"We can just talk if you want," he offered, and I could tell he really meant it. That was a nice thing for him to say.

"Let's go somewhere else," I suggested again.

*   *   *

God, why'd it have to be a church. Simon explained that he'd recently kicked his two roommates out after a big fight, and they were still packing, so we couldn't go there. I couldn't tell if they were linked romantically or by business, but it was clear he didn't want to dwell on it, so I didn't. He suggested we find a quiet place to park, and I looked at his chest and muscular thighs and thought that was a great idea, but c'mon, a church?

"No one'll bug us here," he said, and pulled into the parking lot. Then a thought entered my mind: maybe he came to this church for a reason, maybe he was the preacher, or maybe he taught Sunday school or something and got off on coming here to—

He caressed my cheek. His hand felt warm and good. "You all right?"

I looked up into his eyes and nodded. My mouth suddenly went bone dry, and I really wanted another peppermint.

He leaned in and tilted his head slightly, and I closed my eyes and thought that I should really take note of what happened next, because this was my first kiss. Well, my first kiss with someone I really wanted to kiss. There'd been a lot of girls and make-out sessions once I'd hit puberty, but nothing I'd really wanted to do. Mostly it was just at the end of some stupid party and we would have paired off arbitrarily, and I'd just end up kissing them because I didn't want to be responsible in any way for their low self-esteem or future eating disorders or whatever.

I ran my hand through his hair and imagined Uberman. Simon's hair wasn't as thick or as long, but it was blond, so that gave me something to go on. That was probably a shitty thing to do. Not that I was an expert on kissing, but to think about someone else while you're kissing didn't seem right. I let the moisture of his lips soak my own. He was gentle. I was used to adolescent girls who wanted to get in as much action as they could before curfew, but he took his time. He had his thumb and forefinger under my chin and gently smoothed his lips over mine. His saliva tasted slightly metallic.

His other hand crept around my waist, and he pulled me in close. My back arched slightly at his touch. I'd never felt a sensation like that, someone else in the driver's seat, but I liked it. His hand untucked my shirttail and he began to run his fingers across the small of my back, and I could feel tiny hairs stand on their ends as he touched me. Not wanting to be one-upped, I reached my hand under the back of his sweater and ran my hand up the smooth curve of his back. I stopped short at the back of his neck and opened my eyes when I felt a strange, coarse patch on his skin so dry it was almost scaly.

He could feel me stop for a second.

"Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "Just a little eczema."

I pulled my hand out of his sweater, and he started kissing my upper lip, tiny wet nibbles, then deeper lunges with his tongue. The force of his tongue kept my own firmly in my mouth. My eyes were slightly open, enough so I could see through my eyelashes. That way, I could take everything in, and if he opened his eyes to look, he wouldn't catch me staring at him.

He opened his eyes to see if I was getting back into it, if I hadn't been too grossed out by his back. I saw the insecurity inhis eyes, and suddenly I wanted him to feel good. He'd been kind, and he was cute, and I liked the warm feeling I felt rising up in me while I was kissing him. I'd always felt like I didn't measure up, like I wasn't good enough or that I'd never be loved the way I wanted to, and the last thing I wanted to do was make someone else feel self-conscious or bad. So I leaned into him and pushed my tongue down his throat, swirled it around, deep and vigorous, so that he'd think he was the be-all and end-all of kissers, when really he was up to this point the only one I'd ever experienced. I think I must have really caught him off guard, because while my tongue wandered around the inside of his mouth I felt the edge of a sharp tooth and he recoiled, and I fell back in my seat.

"What was that for?" I landed on the seat belt, which was poking me in the back.

He wiped the spit off his lower lip like a kid would wipe away chocolate icing when he was caught sneaking a lick from the cake. He shrugged.

"It's nothing."

We sat perfectly still for what seemed like a really long time. When he finally started talking again, he pretended that he wasn't weirded out and we were just getting to know each other and maybe we should just talk. He asked me again how old I was, and I think he was embarrassed when I told him the truth. I can't even remember what we talked about, maybe he asked me about what music I liked. I didn't really notice. I did notice that his mouth had gone really dry, and when it did he had the ever-so-slight hint of a lisp.

He eventually popped another peppermint in his mouth and worked up enough saliva while he fiddled with the wrapper so that he spoke more easily. In that time, I also began to notice that he looked familiar. Maybe it was the way he nervously fiddled with the wrapper. It was on the tip of my brain. He looked a little bit like that substitute teacher from my U.S. history class. Maybe he'd pushed me away because he recognized me too. But I didn't bother asking him about it, because by that time he'd already asked me where I wanted to be dropped off and had the car in drive.

We drove in silence. I didn't like the empty space. I wanted to tell him that I'd like to take him to dinner and get to know him, and that even though I didn't have a lot of money, I'd find a nice pizza joint and we'd both have fun. I wanted to tell him to drive us straight to the beach and we could check into a motel and talk all night and walk by the ocean until the sun came up.

But I guess if you don't really feel that for someone, then you shouldn't say it. I wasn't saying it to him, and he wasn't saying it to me, either.

I had those feelings for someone else.

I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the car door. Of course he knew that I didn't live at this 7-Eleven, but neither of us was going to say anything about it.

"See ya later," I said to the guy who gave me my first kiss.

"Yeah. See ya."

I went inside to buy a Slurpee but remembered I didn't have any money. The downpour had diminished to a fine, misty drizzle, and I felt like I was moving through a cloud as I walked out of the parking lot. The street ahead was long and lonely. The only thing I could hear was the splash of an occasional car driving past a few streets over. I looked ahead and saw a tree planted firmly in the middle of the road. I thought that was strange.

The closer I got to it, I realized it wasn't a tree at all but a mannequin. Why would someone put a mannequin in the middle of the street? Maybe it was some elaborate Saturday night high school prank, and it was about to explode with firecrackers, and somewhere there was a minivan full of teenagers screaming with laughter. And wasn't that where I should have been myself, out having a fun time with friends? Not worrying about saving the world or hooking up with some guy in a parking lot? I watched my feet hit the pavement as I walked and avoided the puddles. Eventually, I got tired of walking around them and just waded through the water. I looked up and saw that the mannequin was almost directly in front of me. The students had wrapped it with black cloth. I wasn't sure how that fit into their prank.

The mannequin suddenly raised its cowl and stared at me. The glow of the streetlights reflected off the wet streets and off those piercing eyes. I stopped in my tracks.

Dark Hero shook his head. Slowly and deliberately, back and forth. Measured. Burning. Like my father at his angriest. He didn't need to say anything.

How long had he been trailing me? What exactly had he seen? Did he watch my first kiss?

I'd had it with this guy. I shot my hand out and reached for his cowl to yank it off his face.

He batted my hand away so hard that it stung.

In the split second it took for me to recover from the shock of the blow, he'd disappeared into the night. I tried to follow him, but all I heard was a distant splash in a faraway alley.

Fuck him.

It started to rain harder, and I put my hands in my pockets and continued on through the puddles. It was a long walk home.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I WOKE UP IN the backseat of Dad's Camaro with a mean crick in my neck. Apparently it was not possible for someone over six feet tall to find a comfortable sleeping position in a Camaro—a piece of information that might come in handy now that I was sure to be homeless.

My mouth was coated with morning scum and I really wanted to go inside and get my toothbrush, but if the car was in the driveway, that meant Dad was home, and I wasn't ready to see him just yet. Maybe he knew I'd spent the night in the car, and he wasn't ready to see me just yet, either. I slipped out of the car quietly, careful to close the door firmly without making a noise, and I cut through the neighbor's backyard and headed to the nearest pay phone in front of the rug store at the strip mall.

I reached in my pocket and was once again reminded that you can't do much of anything in this country without money.