Storiesonline.net ------- Heroes by Don Lockwood Copyright© 2005 by Don Lockwood ------- Description: Ginny's brilliant. She's also rich. With her brains and her family's financial resources, her future is unlimited. So, why did she just try to kill herself? Codes: mf slow rom 1st teen cons safe ------- ------- Part 1 I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can beat them, just for one day We can be Heroes, just for one day --David Bowie ------- One I woke up, and moaned. Woke up? I wasn't supposed to be waking up! I looked around--a hospital room. I was in the fucking hospital. Unless I was in hell. But I didn't think hell would have me plugged into all those monitors--that is, if I believed in hell in the first place. Which I didn't. So, this must be the hospital. I looked down--sure enough, there were bandages on my wrists. Fuck. Who found me? My name is Virginia Klusse. I'd say "Ginny, to my friends," but I didn't have any friends. I preferred Ginny in any case. I'm 16 years old, just started my junior year in high school--and I tried to kill myself. And, damn it all, I'd failed. As I was lying there in my misery, the nurse walked in. "Ah, you're awake." "Yeah. When is it?" I said. "It's noontime on Wednesday." "Ah. So I was out for, what, 15 hours or so?" I said. "Yes. You lost a lot of blood." "Not enough, apparently." She shot me a look. I ignored her. "Do you know who found me?" "Your mother." "And where is she?" I asked. "Well, she and your father apparently had to go to work today. We're to notify them when you wake up." "Typical," I snorted. "Well, they do have to work, don't they? I mean, they can't take time off because some spoiled brat decided to make an elaborate plea for attention," she spat at me. Jesus Christ, I fail at killing myself and I end up with Nurse Ratched. Could this get any better? "Plea for attention, huh? Let me get my hands on another knife and you'll see how much of a plea for attention this is," I snapped. She actually looked taken aback. Then she recovered, shook her head, and left. My mother showed up at 4:30. Which was frighteningly early for her. Of course, it was also over 4 hours after they'd called her to tell her her 'precious' daughter was alive and awake. And her law firm was two blocks away from the hospital. And, of course, her first words were, "Virginia Leigh Klusse, what were you thinking?" "Hello, Mother. Nice to see you, too." "Don't give me that. What the hell did you think you were doing?" "Killing myself. Obviously, that's gone straight to hell, because I'm still here." "Damn you, Virginia, how could you pull a stunt like this?" A stunt? Fuck her. Just fuck her. This was completely hopeless. I just turned my head away from her and ignored her. She kept going. "It's a damn good thing that I forgot the tickets to the play, or I wouldn't have found you in time. Then what would you have done?" "Died," I said. "Exactly," she said smugly--talk about not getting it. "Right. I would've died. Which was what I was fucking trying to do in the first place! This wasn't a stunt. This wasn't a plea for attention. I had no idea you forgot the tickets. I didn't expect you and Dad home until long after I'd be dead. That was an attempt at me getting out of my miserable fucking existance. The only reason I'm still alive is a fluke." "Virginia, spare me the drama," she hissed. "I don't need your attitude." Fine. I just gave up. I let her prattle on about how horrible I was, and I didn't even care. Finally, she left. After warning me that my father would be along later, and he wasn't happy, either. Oh, goody. Then, at suppertime, it got worse. No, not the food, although that was bad enough. It was the guy delivering the food. Craig Tolland. I knew him, he was in school with me--in fact, he was my lab partner in Chemistry last year. "Hey, Ginny!" he said as he walked in. "Craig? What are you doing here?" "I work here. Food service gopher," he laughed. "What are you doing here? Accident or something?" I didn't say anything. But he looked down--and saw the bandages on my wrists. "Oh, God, I forgot this is the psych floor," he said. "Ginny? You didn't! You, of all people?" I was not going to discuss this. I was not going to give this asshole--any of the assholes in my life--the statisfaction. I glared at him and said, "Get out. Go away. Leave me alone." He backed out, in a hurry. Somehow, I didn't think that was going to be the end of it. I figured that he'd be back. I also figured that the whole school would soon know that Ginny Klusse tried to off herself. Damn. That means they won. Of course, they would've won if I'd succeeded, but I wouldn't be around to deal with it. The day ended with my father berating me for spoiling his night out at the theater. Damn. I wondered if I could re-open the wounds. Nah--they had me hooked up to so many damn monitors that something would've beeped if my blood pressure dropped. Besides, the night nurse came in and shot me up with something to make me sleep. Yeah, keep me drugged--that'll make it all go away, right? Fuck. Can't even kill myself properly. ------- Two I woke up the next morning and my mother was there. Today was the day she decided to be conciliatory. She brought me the newspaper--I'm a newspaper junkie--and was there when they delivered breakfast. She decided to be Caring Mom today--no outbursts about what a horrible kid I was. It was like living with a chameleon. Of course, the next person in my room that morning was predictable. I had tried to kill myself, right? So, of course--in came the shrink. The shrink was a she. Her name was Dr. Kingsley. I'd never seen a shrink, but I was just naturally suspicious of them. This one I could see right through right away--she was playing the 'calm and sympathetic' bit. You know, getting the fly with honey. I saw right through it immediately. Sometimes, being the smartest person in the room is a curse. Actually, it almost always is. Yes--that's what I said, smartest person in the room. Just about any room, unless Stephen Hawking comes to one of my parties (yeah, right). I break IQ tests. I've never seen anything less than an A in my life. I took the PSATs last year and maxed them--and I have no doubt I'll do the same with the SATs. That's me, The Brain. And if you've got a problem with that--well, join the club. Everybody has a problem with it. Anyhow, here I was with Dr. Kingsley, she playing the sweet, sympathetic listener. I decided to tell her the whole unvarnished truth. That ought to shock her. After the introductory small talk, she went right for the jugular. "So, Ginny, any particular reason why you tried to kill yourself?" I shrugged. "Well, I figured I had a choice. I could either off myself, or re-enact Columbine." Bingo! I heard her gasp and saw her shoulders stiffen. "Of course, if I re-enacted Columbine, I'd have to start at my house before I went to school. And, to be honest, if I wanted to take out all the people that bugged me, I'd probably have to build a thermonuclear device and set it off in the middle of town." She looked at me like I had four heads! But, then I softened my tone. "But, you know, I'm reallly not a sociopath. So I figured instead of removing the situation, it was easier and cleaner to remove myself from the situation." "You think you could do that? Columbine, I mean?" she asked, still stunned. "No, I probably couldn't, which is why I didn't. As much as I sometimes fantasize about it, I don't think I could pull the trigger. Trying to kill myself was far easier." "I still don't understand what your motivation was." "OK. You been to an amusement park? You ever try a new ride, one you don't know about, and when you get on you find it's a far wilder ride than you thought, and you get dizzy and sick to your stomach?" She had a little hint of amusement on her face. "Yes, that's happened a couple times. I'm not one for wild rides." "OK," I grinned. "So, what do you do? 'Stop this ride, I want to get off!' Right?" "Right." "Well, Doc, welcome to my life. Stop this life, I want to get off." "OK, but what I don't understand is why you feel this way." "Feel? You're asking me how I feel? I'm not allowed to feel," I snorted. "I'm allowed to think. That's it." "Are you considered bright?" she asked. "I passed 'bright' about 50 IQ points ago." "Ah," she said. "And that isolates you." "You got it. And I'm just tired of it." We talked for a while longer, and then she left, promising to be back the next day. Oh joy. The day passed like molasses. I needed some books--I couldn't watch the mindless crap on TV. I called my mother--who was in a meeting or court or something, of course--and left her a message. Hopefully, she'd bring me something to read, if she was still in her conciliatory mood. Then, at supper, Craig came back in. I really didn't want to let it all out. But he pushed it. "Look, Ginny, I just don't get it," he said. "I'm sorry, but I just don't get it. Why would you want to kill yourself? You have everything in the world going for you!" He said the wrong thing at the wrong time. And, unfortunately, I used him as a stand-in... for everybody. "Everything in the world? Where on earth did you get that idea?" "You're so smart!" he said. "You could do anything you wanted to. You're the smartest person I've ever met. Shit, I got a B in chemistry last year--I probably would've flunked if it weren't for you." "Right," I said, building up steam, "and what did you do for me in return?" He just looked at me. "Remember your big sixteenth birthday party last year? I remember it, because I had to hear you talk about it for three weeks before; and then I had to hear you talk about how fantastic it was for two weeks after. Did you even think of inviting me? Did that even cross your mind for a second?" He blinked. "Well, I didn't think you'd want to go." "Why not?" "Because you never go to any parties or gatherings or anything." "That's because I never get invited, you jackass! I watch you in the lunchroom. You eat with all your pals. You know who I eat with? An empty chair. I have no friends. I've never been asked out on a date--because I'm too smart and because I'm overweight. I spend my entire life alone. You know how you treat me? Like a computer with legs. Not like a human being. You and every other fucking person in that school, and my parents. "Why did I try to kill myself? Because I hate you. You, and every person in that school, and my parents, and everyone. I hate every single fucking one of you. And it was easier to kill myself than to blow everyone else up. "Why did you just assume that I wouldn't want to go to a party? I'll tell you why. Because you didn't know how to deal with the freak. Nobody knows how to deal with the freak. So, the freak is tired of it--and the freak wants out." He stared at me for a good two minutes while I picked at the poor excuse for food he'd brought me. Then he finally left. I felt bad. But only a little. We'd gotten along in that chem lab--I thought maybe I'd finally found something approaching a friend. And then he broke my heart. Maybe he should know what he'd done to me. ------- Three My mother came back the next morning, still playing conciliatory. She brought me some books. Plus my laptop. Of course, she had to say, "I thought you could use this to keep up with your schoolwork." Fuck that. I could play The Sims and write depressing poetry. Fuck my schoolwork. I love The Sims. It's the closest thing I have to an actual life. Anyhow, the shrink came in again. I talked to her for a while. Then she gave me the kicker: "On Monday, I want your parents in here." I laughed. She looked at me. I asked her for a piece of paper out of her notebook, and her pen. I wrote on the paper, and then handed it to her. "Here you are. Here are their names and numbers at work. Good fucking luck." "What, you think they'd object?" "Of course they'd object. Having their daughter take precious time out of their all-important careers? Mom's a lawyer. Dad's some kind of executive. We're very rich. And that's really all they care about. I had a nanny growing up, until I was old enough to stay by myself--which, in their estimation, was something like 13. They don't want to be bothered." Dr. Kingsley--well, Shannon, as she'd asked me to call her--was dumbfounded. "But you just tried to kill yourself!" "They think it was just a bid for attention. And they don't understand why I need attention, considering I'm smart and they buy me shit." "Ah," she said. "I'm the school brain, and we're well-off. Why on earth would my life not be perfect, right?" "But it's not. Ginny, when was the last time anyone hugged you?" That question just about knocked me right off the bed. Damn, she was good. I stared at her, stunned, for a couple of minutes. Then I thought about what she had asked. "I don't remember," I finally said. "Probably my grandmother before she died--and she died 8 years ago." "That's what I thought." But then she moved on to other things. I thought about that one for most of the day. At supper, Craig was back, with the food again. He didn't say anything--in fact, he could barely look at me. Finally, after he had gotten my food on the tray, he stood and stared at me for a minute. "What?" I finally blurted. "Look," he said. "You're right and you're wrong." He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair. "I was up all night thinking about this. I feel horrible. I mean, to think that I was in any way responsible for that," he said, pointing at my wrists. "Craig--," I started to say, but he interrupted me. "No, let me finish. I know that wasn't all of it--at least I hope it wasn't." "Call it a symptom," I interjected. "Just one small piece of a very large puzzle." "OK," he continued, "but it was a piece. And I truly am sorry. I think you're a remarkable person, Ginny. The world would be a lesser place without you." I blinked at that one. It actually sounded sincere. He went on. "But you were a little wrong--it's not that I thought of you as a walking computer, or however you said it. It's that I thought you were above such things as a silly birthday party." "Above such things?" I snorted. "Well, yeah. You're so serious. Look--that party. We smuggled booze in, listened to bad dance music, and whoever found someone of the opposite sex willing made out. It was teeangers being silly." He grinned. "I got sloppy drunk and threw up all over my mother's coffee table. Got grounded for two weeks." I had to laugh--he laughed right along with me. Then he went on. "You just always seemed so above that. Almost like you were too adult for that shit. Last year, when we got paired up, someone asked me what you were like. I said you were cool, and generous with the help in lab--but that it was like being in school with a 30-year-old, or something. Look, a lot of people that don't know you think you come off as the queen snob of the school, that you think you're way above us mere little people. I knew from chem lab that you weren't a snob. But you did seem like you were completely uninterested in, you know, anything your average 16-year-old might be interested in." I was rather flabbergasted at all this. "People think I'm a snob?" "To a point, yeah. I mean, come on, Ginny. You're brilliant, and you have money. The smartest girl in school, drives to school in a freakin' Range Rover, and you're, I don't know, I guess aloof is the best word. Like I said, I'd figured out you weren't a snob, but you still seemed, I dunno, just different." "It's not being a snob," I told him. "And it's not being aloof. It's being caught up in my own misery." "Well, yeah, I see that now." I thought about that one, then asked him something completely different. "Who have you told? At school, I mean." "Nobody," he told me. "That's not my place. It did get out that you were in the hospital, and people know I work here, so I did get asked. But I just told anyone who asked that you had an accident and that you'd be fine." "OK. Thank you," I said. "You're welcome. However, you know you're just delaying the inevitable." "Yeah, as soon as I go back to school people will figure it out. Ah, well," I sighed. "I guess I'll just have to find a way to finish the job before I go back to school." "I really, really wish you wouldn't do that," Craig said in a low voice. I looked up. I'd almost forgotten he was in the room when I said what I said. "I know I can't talk you out of it all by myself, but I really wish you wouldn't." "I absolve you of all guilt," I said. "That's not it." "Then what?" "It's what I said earlier. The world would be a poorer place without you in it." Before I could say a word to that, he disappeared out of the room. ------- Four Monday morning dawned. Shannon somehow got my parents to come in to the hospital for a meeting. Of course, she must have twisted their arms real hard. "I have court in two hours," was the first thing my mother said, "so this needs to be quick." "And I have a meeting I can't miss in two and a half," Dad chipped in. "And another thing, this whole situation is an awful inconvenience. When is Virginia getting out of here? I see no reason to keep her here any longer." I shot Shannon a look. She shot me one back, but played it cool with my parents. "Please sit down, Mr. and Mrs. Klusse. I'll try to get this done quickly for your schedules, but this is your daughter's health we're talking about." "There's nothing wrong with her," Mom said. "She tried to kill herself. This isn't a cold," Shannon told them. I was going to get to talk sooner or later, but I let Shannon go with it for now. "A bid for attention," Dad said dismissively. "You know what?" Shannon said icily. "Considering what Ginny's told me and how you've acted to me, both here and on the phone, I wouldn't blame her if this was a bid for attention. But it wasn't. I'm convinced of it, and I've done this for a long time. Ginny genuinely intended to kill herself. And if I let her out of the hospital now, she's going to try again. And she's going to keep trying until she succeeds. Your daughter has a potentially fatal condition right now. It can be fixed--but it's not fixed yet." "What, depression or something?" Dad said. "There's drugs for that, aren't there?" "Ginny is not showing the typical symptoms of clinical depression," Shannon said. "At least, by my expertise she's not. Most suicidal youngsters do--Ginny is not. She's not depressed in the commonly understood sense. She's angry. And she's tired. I may prescribe her something, yes--anyone who's suicidal has some depression, so I may prescribe her a mild antidepressent--but that won't save her, not all by itself." "Angry?" Mom spat. "What on earth do you have to be angry about? You have everything! You're very smart, we have money. Any little thing you want, you get. Now you're going to get all prima donna on us? Angry, my ass." Before I could say anything, Dad tried to be a bit more conciliatory. "Ginny, I'm sorry, I just don't get it. Why would you want to kill yourself? With your brains and our financial resources, you can be anything you want to be!" That's when I finally spoke up. "I can? Really? That's news to me. Anything I want to be, huh? So, tell me, Dad--can I be pretty? Can I be popular? How about sexually active--can I be that? Well, unless you count playing with yourself, you need a partner for that, which leaves me out. Loved--there's another one. Can I be loved? I'll answer those for you. No, I'll never be pretty. As for popularity, everybody hates me because of those brains you're all so fucking proud of. I'll probably die a virgin. And, as for love, that's completely beyond me. And don't tell me you love me." "How on earth could you say that?" Mom said. "We give you everything!" Shannon said it before I did. "When was the last time you gave her a hug?" That absolutely floored them. It was beautiful. Finally, Dad spoke up. "I've never been great at that kind of affection." "You've never been great at any kind of affection that doesn't involve purchasing something," I told him. "Virginia," Dad said, with a real look of pain on his face, which floored me. "I do love you. Both of us do." "It's easy to say that. But you've never made the slightest bit of effort to understand me. What I can't figure out is why you had me in the first place." "How can you say such a thing?" Mom piped up. "It looks pretty easy from my point of view," Shannon interjected. "I mean, your daughter's in real trouble--and the first thing you talked about when you walked in this room was your job." "My job is very important," she sniffed. "More important than your daughter?" Shannon asked. "No!" "Sure it is," I said. "Both of their jobs are more important than me--always have been. And, don't let Mom fool you--she's a corporate attorney. It's not like she's prosecuting criminals--or getting innocent people off. She's a lackey." "My job is important to the people that pay my salary," Mom sniffed. "Not important in the grand scheme of things." "Is that what this is about?" Dad asked. "You're embarrassed that your parents are 'lackeys'?" "No, that's not what it's about," I said. "Your jobs don't embarrass me. Not anything I'd want to do, but I'm not embarrassed by them. I do resent the hell out of them." I took a deep breath. "Do you know how fucking tired I am of eating supper alone every night?" "What?" Mom said. "I'm tired of it. I come home to an empty house. I eat in an empty house. I do my homework in an empty house. When you do come home, all you ask me about is grades. As if I ever get anything less than an A. Then I go to bed. And I wake up. To an empty house. Then I go to school, where everybody hates me because I wreck the curve. I'm so lonely. I'm so damn lonely, and I just can't take it anymore. I want to die, I really want to die." I tried to hold the sobs in. I wasn't successful. Damn. They looked at me, while I was weeping, for a good solid minute. Finally, Dad said, "You always seemed so self-sufficient." "Because you forced me to be," I sniffled. "I am self-sufficient. That's not the point. It's not that I can't take care of myself, you know that. I can. It's that I'm tired of doing it." I took a breath. "A guy I go to school with works here. And he knows what happened. And I laid some of the blame on him the other day--said that everyone at school treats me like a computer with legs. He came back the next day and told me that I had it wrong--that he didn't think of me that way. But he did think of me as sixteen going on thirty. And he's right. It's like I'm thirty--and a spinster at that. I feel like an old woman locked in a house with nobody to talk to but her cats. If I had cats, that is. I'm not supposed to feel this old, and alone, and beaten up. I'm just not." "Look, Ginny, I had a rough adolescence too..." Mom tried to start. "Rough adolescence?" I snorted. "You were a fucking cheerleader, Mom! You were runner-up for homecoming queen! You went out with the star quarterback! I'm sixteen years old and I've never been asked out on a fucking date!" "OK," she admitted, "but I had other problems. I had problems with the schoolwork." "Huh?" I said. "You're an attorney! You got through law school." "I figured out a few things in college," she said with a wry smile. "But high school was a big struggle. My grades were good, mind you, but I had to work my ass off to get them. You might think it's impressive, all that homecoming queen crap, but I remember high school as endless hours bent over a textbook, killing myself for grades." Before I could say anything to that, Shannon spoke up. "And you're jealous that Ginny doesn't have to do that, aren't you?" Mom looked shocked for a minute. Then she shrugged and said, "I suppose I am." I was flabbergasted that she admitted it. "You are?" "Yeah. Somewhat. And it bugs me a little, Ginny, that you seem to take it for granted." "I do take it for granted," I admitted. "I remember what you once told me about looks, Mom. There was some actress or something on TV. I was 11 or 12 or something. And I said something about how pretty she was. And you commented that it wasn't anything, she was born that way, nothing to be overly proud of." "Right." Mom said. "Well, that's the way I feel about my brains." "I see your point, but brains are a much bigger deal when you get older, Ginny." "Are they?" I said. "Mom, you're much better looking than I am. You don't think that helps when you're standing across from a jury?" "Not as much as you think," she said. "It's not really basic looks that would impress a jury the way you think--it's the way you present yourself. And you're not nearly as bad-looking as you think you are. That's presentation, too." "What do you mean?" I asked her. "You know, you'd look a lot better if you ran a comb through your hair once in a while," she said, but with a smile. "Put some makeup on. Wear something other than baggy sweatpants. That sort of thing. That's what I mean by presentation." "Makeup?" I said. "I wouldn't know what to do with it!" "Huh?" Shannon said. "I've never worn makeup in my life. I wouldn't know how to put it on, and I wouldn't want to look like Bozo the Clown, you know?" "You never taught her to put on makeup?" Shannon asked my mother. "She never asked," Mom said, shrugging weakly. "Besides which, my mother never did either. I learned from girlfriends, and from trial-and-error." "I think we've established I have no girlfriends," I said bitterly. "And Ginny wouldn't be comfortable with trial-and-error. Because of her grades, she feels overly conspicuous at school as it is," Shannon said. "All you had to do was ask," Mom said. "When?" I snorted. "Sometime during the seven seconds a week I actually see you?" Before Mom said anything, Dad butt in. "Look, Ginny, let me say something before this gets any worse. Your mother and I truly love you. We do want what's best for you. What you've seen as neglect--well, I think it's just that your mother and I made some erroneous assumptions about what your life was like. I know that's the case with me. And you haven't ever spoken up." "How would you have reacted if she did speak up?" Shannon interjected. "You didn't react well to a suicide attempt, for goodness sake!" "That's because she scared the living daylights out of us," my Mother said softly. My eyes just about bugged out of my head. "And it's not just that," Mom went on. She turned towards Shannon. "Speaking up isn't the same as slashing your wrists," she told her, then turned back towards me, building up a head of steam. "Your father is right, we made erroneous assumptions about your life, and I'm sorry about that. But you didn't ever say anything--the first indication I ever get that anything was wrong was finding you with a pool of blood underneath your wrists. Dammit, Ginny, I carried you in my womb for nine fucking months! I watched you come out! And now you want to throw that life I gave you away? Do you have any idea how pissed off I am at you?" "Honey..." Dad started. Shannon interrupted him. "No, Mr. Klusse. This is the time to get it all out." I couldn't say anything--I just stared at Mom in disbelief. And Mom had something else to say. "Maybe you don't realize what your body language says," Mom told me. "Maybe you don't realize how you come across to other people." "How is that?" I asked softly. "'Hands off, leave me alone, stay away, I don't need you.'" Mom said. "Your body language has been screaming that since you were ten years old. Your father and I didn't question it. We knew you were isolated--though not to the degree you are--but we thought you preferred it that way." I thought about that for a minute. Then it occurred to me. "The guy at school that works here--he said something similar." "You see?" Mom said. "Yeah, but it's a defense mechanism," I said. "You said ten years old--I was already pretty miserable by then." "What?" Mom said, astonished. "This shit started in first grade. I remember the teacher making me read to the rest of the class, because I was the 'best reader'. I've been singled out as the class brain right from the get-go." "You never told us any of this," Mom said. "I tried to, though not as forcefully as I might have. At that age, it was more confusing than anything. However, while I am trying to understand what you might have been seeing, there is one thing about you that I absolutely resent and think has been very detrimental. Especially you, Dad." "What?" "Dad's parents were both teachers," I told Shannon. "So, Dad--and Mom to some extent--have way way too much faith in teachers. I could never complain about teachers growing up." I turned to Dad. "If Gramma and Grampa were great teachers, they were in the minority. I've spent eleven years largely being taught by people who had no idea what to do with me. They all singled me out. Even when I got older and tried to hide, they wouldn't let me. Remember my fifth-grade teacher? She was a sadistic asshole. She singled me out every single chance she got, because she was openly jealous of my brains. I did try to tell you about her. You pooh-poohed me." "Maybe you're right. I just never thought a bright girl like you would have trouble with teachers, so I thought you were overblowing it," Dad said. "I read a study," I told them. I turned to Shannon and smiled. "I'm a newspaper junkie, I read all kinds of shit." Then I turned back to all of them. "This study was at the state colleges in Massachusetts. And the study said that, on average, students at those colleges majoring in education had SAT scores a hundred points lower than the average students there. And the Massachusetts state schools aren't exactly Harvard to begin with. I blow my teachers away, most of them--and they're damn jealous. I know some smart people go into teaching because they love it. I've had a few. But it's very few. Most of my teachers are teachers because they're not capable of doing anything else. My history teacher this year basically makes me teach his class because I'm better at it than he is. And my fellow students, as you can probably guess, just love that." "A month into school?" It was the beginning of October. "And he's doing this already?" Shannon asked. "Word about Ginny The Brain gets around," I said. "Did you ever think about putting her in private school?" Shannon asked. "We did," Dad said, "but we didn't think it was necessary. This school system is considered the best around." "Yeah, Dad, of course it is--this is an upper-middle-class community," I said. "We all know it's all about money. Besides which, we all know how that 'best around' stuff is judged--test scores. So, when I take the SATs this spring, and get 1600--which I will--that'll count for how wonderful the school system is. Even though the school had nothing to do with it." "I see your point," Dad said. "Though I don't think private school would've helped. What I should've done was skip a few grades. You know, be one of those kids that goes to high school at 10. At least then I would've been the school pet or mascot or something--the cute little kid taking trigonometry. That would've been better." "I don't know if it would've been," Dad said. "Well, maybe, now, I see it might have. We discussed that. And we discussed it with you, and you didn't seem to think it was a big deal." "You're right, I didn't, this is hindsight talking," I said. "Is there anything we can do now?" Mom asked softly. I just goggled at her. She was offering to help? "I don't know. Let me think about that." "I have a suggestion," Shannon said. I looked at her. "Talk to the administration at school and see what you can test out of. My guess is it's a lot. And, instead of attending classes at the high school, pick up some credits at the community college. That'll give you a nice head start." "They don't allow that until senior year," I said. "Bullshit," Mom said. "Now we're getting into someplace that I can help, thankfully. Ginny, you can test out of almost everything you're taking this year. I know you can test out of pre-calc, and physics. History, probably. You can do it in time to take classes at the community college spring semester." "But, I said they don't allow..." She interrupted me. "Virginia," she smiled. "I'll go down there to the school and make sure it happens. And for once, you'll be glad I'm a lawyer." I couldn't help it. That got a big grin out of me. "Well, if you want to throw all that lawyerly weight around on my behalf, I'm not going to protest." "Good." "Thanks," I said softly. She just smiled. "Look, I know you have to get to court. I know that's something you can't blow off." "It isn't," she said. "I wish it was." "I think we've done all we can today anyhow," Shannon said. "But I'd like to ask you something, both of you. Do you have any vacation time coming?" "Sure," Dad said. Mom nodded. "I never take all of mine," Dad continued. Mom said she didn't either. "Is there any way you can take a week next week?" Shannon asked them. "Probably," Dad said. "I'll have to check my schedule but it's not a critical time for me." "I don't know if I have court next week, I'll have to check," Mom said. "If I don't have court, I can probably swing it. Why?" "If I release Ginny on Friday, I'd like you both home for her. Even if you just work part-days while she's in school. I want you home when she gets home from school." "Oh, I can definitely do that," Dad said. "Even if I have to go in for a few hours, I can promise to be home when she gets there." "In my case, yes, unless I have a late court appearance," Mom said. "You'd do that?" I asked, incredulous. "Yes," Dad said firmly. "Ginny--our jobs are not more important than you. OK?" I didn't know what to say. Shannon talked to them about coming back to the hospital later that week--it was arranged for Wednesday afternoon. Then they all left. ------- Five I'll admit it--I was a bit shaky after that. I didn't know what to think. Dad came by again late in the afternoon. "How are you?" he asked. "OK," I said. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I've really let you down." That just floored me. "Look, I'm not a very emotional person. Neither is your mother. And for years we thought you were a lot like us. Especially considering we always assumed you could think your way out of anything. And I'm very ashamed that I didn't see the signs before you did something as drastic as slashing your wrists. Because I should have. I'm not a very passionate person, most of the time. I should've noticed that you are." "You're not? What about your job?" "I'm an executive," he said. "There's no passion in that. It's all logic and numbers." "But the money." "I'm not all that passionate about money, Ginny. It's nice to have, don't get me wrong. But it's a means to an end. It makes your life easier--but not necessarily more fulfilling." "What about Mom?" I asked. He grinned at that. "I did say I wasn't passionate most of the time, right? Your mother's the exception. Though that only comes out sometimes." I grinned at him. "I think you can stop right there," I said. "Good," he grinned back. "You know what I'm talking about." "Only in the abstract, but yes," I laughed. He laughed back. "Your mother will kill me for telling you this, but when we were walking out of here today, we talked. We went across the street for a cup of coffee before she went to court. We talked about ways we might be able to help you. We're still discussing that. And most of them were serious." His grin came back. "But your mother did say that you desperately needed to get laid." I was completely thunderstruck. "She said that?" "Yep. I know your mother told you about the birds and bees. And we both told you about being careful and all that. We haven't shirked that responsibility." "No, you haven't," I agreed. "But what your mother always said was that you'd have to find out for yourself what it was really like. I think she hoped you'd do that long before now. She was 14 her first time. I was 15, by the way." "Wow," I said. "And when we met in college it was like Mount St. Helens erupting." "Oh, jeez! TMI, Dad." "Oh, I'm not done. Your mother always says that she's never had a bad mood that couldn't be cured by good sex." I burst out laughing at that one. "I never would've suspected Mom was a sex kitten." "It's generally not something you tell your daughter," Dad said with a wry grin. "But I decided to, because I thought you needed to know that your parents aren't the cold, unfeeling people you think we are. It just comes out in different ways." "Uh-huh," I grinned. "Not something either of you can help me with, though. That'd be illegal." "GINNY!" he exclaimed, but he was laughing. "Actually, your mother can help you. And keep your mind out of the gutter," he said, still laughing. "Don't worry, I'm not into girls at all," I laughed back. "Oh, Jesus," he moaned. "Seriously, she can help you with that whole presentation thing she was talking about earlier." "I might just take her up on that," I said, "but mainly to feel better about myself. Let's face it, Dad, no matter how well I present myself, it'd take a special guy to have anything to do with me. There are few guys around whose precious male ego could put up with a girlfriend who's a megagenius." "Ginny? There's more than you think." "Really," I said sarcastically. "Yes. But what you have to do is help them along." "How?" "Don't let being a megagenius be the sum total of your existance. This is what we were talking about this morning, about how you come off to people. I know you resent your brains--but you also use them as a crutch." "I do?" "Yes, honey, you do." "Hmmm." He left after a while, and I was still pretty shaky. I guess I started crying. I just couldn't stop it. It had been an emotional day. I guess I'd gotten slapped upside the head a few times. Look, my parents were oblivious--but in some ways, I was too. And it just all came out in tears. It was all right, actually. It wasn't big huge wails or anything--just a bit of a sob. It was actually a bit cleansing. Until Craig walked in with supper. I did not want him to see me sitting there crying like a baby. But I couldn't help myself. And I couldn't stop. "Ginny, are you OK?" he asked. I nodded yes--crying the whole while, which kind of made the nod yes look ridiculous. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked. "Call a nurse or something?" I shook my head no to the nurse thing. And then I said it. I did not mean to say it out loud. I was thinking it. I wasn't going to say it. I didn't think it was fair to him. But, somehow, it got said. "I need a hug." Before I barely realized I'd actually said it, he pushed my tray table out of the way, sat on the side of the bed, leaned over, and wrapped his arms around me. I was so shocked I just about peed my pants. After I got over the shock--and returned the hug--I decided that this felt real nice. And I even managed to stop crying. He broke the hug after a couple minutes and moved away from the bed. "Thanks," I managed to croak. "Better?" "You have no idea," I admitted. "And I didn't even mean to say that out loud!" "Any time," he said. Jesus, don't tempt me like that! "I have to go deliver the rest of this food," he said. "How much more do you have left?" "The rest of this floor, and the one above." "Hold on." I beeped for the nurse. She came it. "Is there any way I can get disconnected from all this shit? I want to take a walk." "Ginny, you're still on suicide watch," the nurse said. "Oh," I replied. Well, it made sense, I suppose. "I think she just wants to walk around with me while I finish my deliveries," Craig said. "We know each other from school." "Yeah," I said, laughing, "I figured I follow Supper Boy here around like a puppy for a while." Craig grinned at me for that one. "Wait a minute," the nurse said, and left the room. "Ginny, let me go finish delivering this floor and I'll stop back in," Craig said. Craig came back in in a few minutes, followed by Shannon and the nurse. "What's this about you wanting to take a walk?" Shannon asked. "Damn, do you ever go home?" I asked her. "Occasionally." "Ginny and I are friends from school," Craig told her. "I work here, I'm delivering supper, Ginny wanted to tag along." "My legs need a stretch," I told her. 'Unhook her," Shannon said. "I'll authorize it." The nurse started taking out all the machines I was hooked up to. So, I followed Craig around, then we went down to the cafeteria and he bought me a coke. We sat there for a while, chatting. It was actually very nice. I told him a bit about what had happened with my parents. He's a very good listener. Wish I had figured that out last year. I wish I had figured out a lot of things before now. Ah, well... ------- Six Shannon came in the next day. She hit me with it right off. "So, I thought you didn't have any friends at school?" she said with a little knowing grin. "Yeah, so did I," I laughed. "Actually, we were kind of friendly last year." I told her about the talks I'd had with Craig in the hospital, and about what had happened last year. "You dropped a lot on his head," she told me. "Yeah, I know. The funny thing was, last night. When he came in to deliver supper, I was crying. Not too bad, it was just kind of a reaction to the day, but I was crying. He asked me if anything was wrong, and I blurted out without thinking that I needed a hug. So he gave me one, to my complete shock." "Good for him." "Then we went for the walk, and we ended up talking in the cafeteria for an hour and a half. I had to call up to the nurse so they wouldn't send out a posse," I grinned. "Good thinking," she said. "So, I'm going to send you home on Friday. How are you going to deal with school?" "That's a good question." "You're going to need outpatient therapy." "I figured that," I said with a wry little grin. "I think I'm going to do two different things with you. One-on-one therapy, for sure. But I also think I want to get you into group." "With you?" "Yes. Is that a problem?" she asked. "No, not at all, but I thought you worked in the hospital." "No," she smiled, "not really. I'm affiliated with the hospital. My office is in the medical building across the parking lot. There's four of us there, we have an office together, so we're the ones the hospital calls for inpatient help. But I have an office and I do most of my work there." "Oh, so you were over there when they called you last night when I wanted to go for a walk." "Yes. This ward has my office number. If I'd not been there, you'd get one of my associates." "Oh," I said. And then I remembered what she had said. "Wait a minute. Group? You mean a whole bunch of us in there together?" "Yes. All suicide survivors." "I don't know if I want to hang out with all the freaks." "They're not freaks, Ginny," she said in the sternest voice I'd ever heard her use. "They're good kids with problems. You'll find that out. And maybe when you do, you'll figure out that you aren't a freak either." With that, she walked out of the room, leaving me open-mouthed. Anyhow, the week went. My parents came back in on Wednesday, and it was good. They were both going to be there for me the next week. I went with Craig on the end of his rounds Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, when he came in, he told me he'd stop by when he was done instead. He came back in about an hour later. "So, you're going home tomorrow?" "Yep, and back to school on Monday. Joy." "You gonna let anyone know?" "I don't know. I'm going to play that by ear." "Can I say something?" he said. I nodded. "Look, Ginny. I think it would be a little easier if you tried to open up a little. Around people in school, I mean. If people get to know you, they'd like you." "Yeah, right," I snorted. "Even if that were true before--well, now all they're going to see are the ugly scars on my wrists. Let's face it, by doing this and not succeeding, I made things worse." He was going to say something, but I held up my hand and kept going. "Besides which, I let you get to know me last year, and you still thought I was a snob." "No, I told you, I found out you weren't a snob. I thought you were aloof and guarded to a degree, yes, but I realized very early you weren't a snob, and even told other people that." "But you still didn't like me." "Wait a minute, I'm not done," he said. "The other thing I was going to say is that because you were guarded, I didn't get to know you all that well. I've found out lots of things about you talking to you the two weeks you've been here that I had no idea about last year. And not like you? Are you kidding? I sure did. Shit, do you know how many times I came this close to asking you out?" All I could think about that was, WHAT? "Shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud," he said with a sheepish grin. "But it's true. I didn't because I figured you'd never say yes." "I'm completely stunned," I said when I found my voice again. "It's true," he said, still sheepishly. I took a breath. "Look, I don't know if you still feel the same way. I think you'd be nuts to," I said, pointing at my wrists. He started to say something, but I interrupted him. "Wait, let me finish." I took a breath. "I need to get back to school. I know it's going to be a rough go, especially the first few days. I need to get through that. I'll be honest, I need to see if I can get through that without going completely out of my gourd. However--and I don't want you to say a word right now--however, if you still feel the same way after I get myself through those first few days--well, I won't say no." He started to say something. "Don't say a word, please, Craig. You need to see if I can make it through those first few days before you decide, OK?" "OK. Can I have your phone number in any case? I figured I'd call you Sunday night and give you a pep talk." I had to laugh. "I think I'd like that a lot." ------- Part 2 Seven Monday morning. Jesus, I wasn't looking forward to this. My parents had really rallied. They'd been amazingly great all weekend. Wonders never cease. And Craig did call Sunday night, and had me in stitches with his pep talk. He also, seriously, reminded me that he was in my first class Monday morning. That would be a help. What wasn't going to help was that it was history, with that asshole. His name was Mr. Ellis. Hopefully, since I'd been out two weeks, he'd give me a fucking break. So, I got up, dread in my heart, and got dressed. Yeah, I decided to hide them. I wore a long-sleeved shirt. Hey, it was mid-October, in Rochester, Michigan. It wasn't exactly balmy outside. I could definitely get away with long sleeves. The school had been informed that I was 'injured'--that was all, at my request. I knew Craig had told people I'd been in an accident. I knew the truth would come out sooner or later--but I was going to control when, where, and how. It turned out that I didn't take very long at all. I walked into history. Craig, who sat a couple rows over from me, passed me entering the room and gave me a little pat on the shoulder. That was all, but it meant a lot. Then the class started. And, dammit, that asshole Ellis wasn't going to cut me a bit of slack. "Well, Miss Klusse! So glad to see you back all recovered," he started. I just gave him the fakest grin I could muster. He went on. "Since I know you've read the assignments while you recuperated from your accident, I'm sure you know we're studying the Constitutional Convention. I haven't had anyone to lead the discussions as well as you do, so would you start for us by summarizing the reading?" "Sorry, didn't read it," I said. "Excuse me?" "I haven't picked up a schoolbook in two weeks. I've had other things on my mind," I said, picking up steam. And then I did it. "I wasn't recuperating from any damn accident." I roughly pulled up my sleeves, and then held my hands up for all to see. "I slashed my wrists." The gasps were audible. I went on. "So, you can see I've been preoccupied. And you can also see I'm not exactly the most mentally stable person in the world right now. And one of the reasons I'm not is that I'm sick of being a circus freak." I had the rapt attention of everyone in the room, including Ellis. "So, I've made a decision. I'm going to sit in this class, and take your tests, and ace them as always. But the days of me being the one to always speak up in class are over. If you call on me again, I'm going to sit here like a mute. I'm tired of always being picked on because I'm smart, especially by teachers. You get no more freebies from me. You're the damn teacher, you teach this class." Ellis looked at me like I had four heads. He wasn't the only one--pretty much the whole class did. Well, except for Craig--who shot me a grin and a thumbs-up. Finally, Ellis cleared his throat and said, "OK, the Constitutional Convention." And he didn't call on me again. I considered it a victory. Yeah, everybody knew, now--everyone in that class, and it would surely spread--but it was a victory. It happened twice more--and that was before lunch! In pre-calc, and in physics. I gave similar speeches in both. The pre-calc teacher reacted the way Ellis had, but the physics teacher got pissed and sent me to the office. To see the principal, good ol' Mr. Egermont. Eggy--as we all called him behind his back--was a fraud. Kept up this big hi-how-ya-doin' facade, while, deep down, he was a prick. The man had the phoniest smile in the greater Detroit area. I'd never had a run-in with him before--I was the class brain, after all--but I hated his guts anyway. He called me into the Inner Sanctum, and bade me sit down. "Virginia," he said with that simpering fake smile, "I hear you've been a disruption in some of your classes this morning." "Yup," I said agreeably. "But why?" he said, fake smile still in place. "You've always been our best student. And your teachers always tell me how helpful you are in class." "Because I'm forced to be. Not because I want to." "But, Virginia, class participation is part of your grade. Your grades are stellar, I'd hate to see them drop." "That's bull," I said. "Angela Cressey's grades are almost as good as mine are, and she doesn't say a bloody word in class, because she's shy." "But you're not shy." "No, I'm suicidal." He looked at me and snorted in disbelief. So, I showed him my wrists. Which finally wiped the fucking smile off his face. "I wasn't in an accident two weeks ago. I slashed my wrists. It's a fluke I was found in time. And, I'll be honest with you, I'm still not quite sure that it was a good thing that I was found. "One of the reasons I am suicidal is that the teachers in this school, and every school I've attended, have helped paint a big huge sign on my forehead that says 'Class Brain'. I am tired of it. I won't put up with it anymore. If I keep getting singled out in class--which makes my classmates hate me, by the way--you will be attending a funeral. Got me?" He was as pale as a sheet. Finally, he managed to say something. "Are you in counseling? We have some good ones here." "Yes, I'm in counseling, of course. And not with one here. Are you kidding? I wouldn't trust a counselor affiliated with the school. They'd probably make the ol' Class Brain regurgitate the collected works of Freud, or something." "Virginia, has it really been that bad?" he asked. Since he seemed almost sincere, I answered the same way. "Yes. It's really been that bad." "Then I'll put a stop to it." "Thank you." "Virginia, brains are nothing to be ashamed of." "I'd trade 'em for looks," I grinned. He grinned back. It wasn't as fake as his usual. "You say that now, but in ten years, you'll be a Harvard MBA and be able to buy and sell half the kids in this school." "Harvard MBA? No thanks," I snorted. "Not my career goal at all." "What is your career goal?" I leaned on his desk and grinned at him. "Well, Eggy, I figured I'd be a high school principal. Or a Vegas showgirl, one or the other." To my surprise, he absolutely roared with laughter. "Please, Virginia. Don't be a high school principal. You think you've got problems now?" He shook his head. "Don't be a high school principal. And if you think I didn't know about that nickname, you're sadly mistaken." "I figured," I said, still grinning. "So, you don't think Vegas showgirl's a bad idea, then?" He was still chuckling. "Get out of here. And, Virginia? That was a good line. I didn't know you could be funny. And I'm betting your classmates don't, either." "Can't be Class Brain and Class Clown. I'd be hogging all the good spots in the yearbook," I smirked. "Go on," he said, still laughing, "get out of here. It's your lunch time." So I did. Well, I have to admit--that went a whole lot better than I expected. Eggy can be a prick, but he dealt with that well. At least I got a rise out of him! I felt a lot better walking into the cafeteria. Of course, once I got there--I didn't feel great at all. I don't care how low you think you're whispering--when I'm standing three feet in front of you in the lunch line, I can fucking hear you, OK? And I can hear you from three feet in back of you in the lunch line, too. And when I walk by your table. The upshot? Oh, now I wasn't just the freak, I was the crazy freak. Well, I guess I expected that. I got to my usual out-of-the-way sit-all-alone table. And I was surprised, ten seconds after I sat down, to not be alone. It was the aforementioned Angela Cressey. "Can I talk to you?" she said quietly--she said everything quietly. "Sure," I shrugged. Talk to me? Angela Cressey could talk? News to me. If I had valedictorian all sewn up--which I pretty much did, if I lived that long--then Angela was in the clear lead for salutatorian. I figured she'd throw the game sooner or later, just so she wouldn't have to get up at graduation and make a speech. Angela Cressey making a speech was almost as ludicrous as me being a Vegas showgirl. Anyhow, if she wanted to talk, that was fine by me. She settled into her seat, and rummaged around her food. Then she blinked seven times. Took a deep breath. Rummaged around her food again. See what I mean? This is what Angela does when she's working up to say hello. But she wasn't working up to say hello. She pointed at my wrist, and said, "What did it feel like?" I was surprised, but I answered her. "Hurt like hell," I said with a wry grin. "How long before you passed out?" "I don't know," I said. "I'm guessing a half hour or so. I know I felt, I don't know how to describe it. I guess floaty. I felt floaty for a while, then, the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital. The worst pain was right when I did it. I went numb fairly quickly." "Who found you?" "My mother. My parents were going to the theatre and forgot the tickets. They got out of the restaurant, then came home to get the tickets." "So, it was a fluke you got found." "Yeah." She blinked a few more times, and sighed. "How close was it?" "Oh, they figured if the ambulance was maybe a half hour later, there would've been no saving me." "So, you planned for it to work." "Yes." "Where did you do it?" "In the bathtub. Didn't want to get blood all over my bed, as silly as that sounds." "Oh." Did you ever get a creeping chill running right up your spine? I was getting one, believe me. Full blast chill. Because I had a very very bad feeling about why she was asking all this. Just then, in a bit of stupendously bad timing, Craig came over to the table. I would've been glad to see him, but not now. "Hi," he said to me, grinning. "Hi, Angela," he said with a bit of surprise. Angela looked horrified he was there. I got up off my seat, made a 'wait a minute' motion to Angela, and led Craig away from the table before he could sit down. "Listen, can I talk to you later?" "OK," he said, a bit confused. "I am not blowing you off. You know Angela never talks. Well, she's talking to me, and I think it might be important. Very important. If you come over, I'm afraid she's going to clam up, and I think that would be bad." "OK," he said. "I'll tell you later. Call me after school, OK?" "Will do," he said, grinning. Then he was off. I went back and sat across from Angela again. "Did you have any more questions?" I asked. "Are you going to do it again?" she said softly. "I'm working very hard on not wanting to," I told her. "Hm," was all she said. I looked at her for a minute. Angela was a porcelain doll. Long blond hair, big wide blue eyes, button nose, very pale skin, the whole bit. She even wore dresses all the time, most of which would be more appropriate for a ten-year-old. She was like a little doll. Including being silent and trying to hide in the corner. But she was smart--as I said, close to me smart. She was as much of an outcast as I was--maybe more, at least I wasn't shy. I dreaded what was coming. Then I took a deep breath, and just said it. "Angela. You've thought about it, haven't you?" That porcelain doll face just crumpled. I could see the tears in her eyes already. And she confirmed it. "Just about every day," she got out in a near-whisper. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. What do I say? WHAT DO I SAY? Shit. What am I going to tell her, don't do it? How can I say that? I'll admit it--it's been in the back of my mind. I was trying to not want to, but I still knew that I could always take another whack at it if things didn't get any better. No, I wasn't 'cured'. I was still shaky as all hell. I damn well knew it. So, what the hell do I say? Dammit, I wish Shannon were here. That's when I got one of my patented brilliant ideas. Well, in hindsight it was obvious. I rummaged through my pocketbook and found Shannon's business card. I needed that--I had only one--so I grabbed a piece of notepaper and wrote her name and number down on it. I slid it towards her. She looked at it, the tears still running down her face. "Angela? That's my shrink. She's been a big help to me. She's really cool. I think you should call her." She looked up at me in horror. "Oh, I could never do that!" "I think you need to." "I can't. You don't understand." She took a deep breath and tried to control herself. "My parents are older. They tried for years to have a baby before they finally had me. They absolutely dote on me. I'm their perfect angel daughter." She sniffled. "They have no idea how I feel. They have no idea how unhappy I am. I could never tell them why I think I need a psychiatrist." I took a deep breath. "My parents don't dote on me--in fact, that was part of my problem. They love me, but didn't know how to show me. That's getting better. Anyhow, they had no idea what was going on, either. If I'd told my parents I needed a psychiatrist, they might have freaked, too." I looked her right in the eye. "But I know for damn sure that my mother would've preferred that over finding me in the bathtub unconscious and covered with blood. Wouldn't yours?" I pushed the paper towards her again, but she shook her head. "I can't. I just can't!" she croaked--and then got up out of the chair so fast it made my head spin. Before I could say, "Hey, Angela!" she was gone. Shit shit shit. Now what do I do? I had a few minutes left in lunch, so I whipped out my cell phone and tried to call Shannon. No luck--it was her day off. They offered to let me talk to one of the other shrinks, but I didn't want that. If it had been for me, I would have--but for this, I wanted to talk to Shannon. This was for advice, not therapy, and I trusted Shannon. But that left me again wondering what to do. Then I got another brilliant idea. It was devious. It was underhanded. Angela would probably hate me for a very, very long time. But if I saved her damn life, it'd be worth it. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Eggy must've gotten the word out to the teachers. After my last class, I flew out of there in record time, and waited. I wanted to see Angela. I did. She took a bus, poor kid. I followed it. I waited until she got off, then followed her to her house. Keeping from being seen in the car while trying to follow her at walking pace wasn't easy, but I did it. I waited until she went in the house, waited 10 more minutes, and then knocked. An older woman answered. "Can I help you?" she said. "Are you Mrs. Cressey?" She nodded. "Hello, I'm Ginny Klusse--I go to school with Angela." "Yes, you do," she smiled. "Everyone around knows who Ginny Klusse is." I managed to stifle my grimace. "Were you looking for her?" "No, ma'am, I wanted to talk to you. Preferably without Angela around." "OK," she said, with a quizzical expression, and led me over to a seat on the porch. "Angela came up to me at lunch today. She had some questions to ask me. You see, Mrs. Cressey, I attempted suicide a couple of weeks ago." I showed my wrists again. I was getting used to the gasps by now. "This was my first day back at school. "She was asking me all kinds of questions about how I did it and what it was like. This worried me, so I asked her if she'd ever thought about it. Mrs. Cressey, she said that she thinks about it almost every day." Oh, God. The expression on that poor woman's face will be etched on my brain until the day I die. But I knew that I had to do this. "Angela... wants to kill herself? But why? What did I do?" she whimpered. "From talking to her, I don't think it's you," I said. "She said you dote on her and she loves you and her father. It's a lot of the same reasons that I did, actually. The problem is her brains. The only person in the junior class smarter than your daughter is me," I said with a little grin. "It's very isolating, believe me, I know. Kids treat you like some kind of freak. And in Angela's case it's compounded by how shy she is." "She's very shy, we've worried about that. But being smart? That's a bad thing?" "Oh, you have no idea." "Ginny, what do I do?" I got that piece of paper out again. "I tried to give this to Angela but she wouldn't take it. Said she couldn't tell you about all this--which is why I'm here. Anyhow, this is the name and number of the psychiatrist I've been seeing. She's very good. I know she's not in the office today but she will be tomorrow. I think Angela needs to see her." "I'll make sure of it. I'm going to have to talk to my husband about this, and that's not going to be easy. And it'll be even harder talking to Angela. But I'll make sure of it." She gave me a watery smile. "Thank you for doing this," she said, and then reached over to give me a hug. Two hugs in a week. Unbelievable. "You're welcome. And I'm glad you're grateful because I think Angela is going to hate my guts." "No, she won't. She might at first, but I'll make sure she knows it was better to get it all in the open." I drove home, worried, but feeling good about what I'd done. I got home and Mom was holding the telephone. "You're a bit late," she said--a bit worriedly, which was understandable, considering. "I know. Don't worry, there's a reason. I'll explain." "OK, but first you have a phone call." She got a little conspiratory smile on her face and stage-whispered, "It's Craig." I gave her the same smile back and said, "Good, I'll take it upstairs." It was a nice conversation. Craig told me he thought I'd done the right thing. Then we kind of chatted about school. He loved what I had done in History. He also loved, after I told him about it, how I had handled Eggy. After we got off the phone, I went down and talked to Mom. We were sitting on the couch together. I told her everything--about the thing in History class, about Eggy, and then about Angela. She actually told me she was proud of how I'd handled myself in the classes. She laughed with what I told her about Eggy. "You actually called him Eggy to his face?" "Yeah, and he just laughed," I said. When I told her about Angela, she just listened, a concerned look on her face, until I was done. The next thing I knew, she was hugging me! I'll admit it, I almost broke down with that. I managed to stop it. "I'm so proud of you," she said in the middle of the hug. Then she broke the hug and leaned back. "I'm a little surprised, though." I just looked at her. She went on. "I'm a little surprised you were so adamant about helping Angela, because you obviously consider suicide a viable option." She took a breath. "Look, I know well enough. I know that if I asked you to tell me that you were absolutely certain that you'd never try it again, you wouldn't be able to do it." "No, I wouldn't," I agreed. "But, think of it this way. I'm also not planning on doing it again. I'm here, I'm OK, and I'm not trying to figure out where you hid all the sharp objects. And that is a big huge step from where I was two weeks ago. When I woke up in that hospital, all I could think about was doing it again and getting it right the second time. So, it's progress. I'm not OK, but I'm better. "And there are reasons for that, and yes, you and Dad have helped," I said. "But one of the biggest reasons is Shannon. She really has helped, a lot. I didn't tell Angela not to kill herself. I didn't go into the whole trying to talk her out of it. All I did was tell her she should talk to Shannon. Because that did help me." "You wish you had talked to her before you tried it." "Oh, hell yes." "Well, that's progress, too," she smiled. "You did the right thing, Ginny." "Yeah. Angela will probably hate me for a while, though." "She won't eventually." "That's what I'm hoping." "So," she said with a grin, "you were talking about people that helped you out. So, tell me, where does Craig fit in to all of this?" I smiled back. "That's a good question." I told her about what he'd confessed about wanting to ask me out last year. "Well? Has he asked you out now yet?" she said. "I told him to hold off after I got through the first couple of days at school, to see how I reacted. I did tell him that if he decided after all that he still wanted to, I wouldn't say no." "Good. Ginny's going to have a date." "Now, Mom, let's not count our chickens before they cross the road, hm?" I pointed down to my wrists. "This is enough to scare anyone off. This, plus the reaction in school." "I don't think it will scare him off. I mean, he called today, right?" "Ah, he only called to find out why I blew him off at lunch to talk to Angela." Mom was still smiling. "He would have called you anyway, I'm betting. And he went to eat lunch with you, right?" "True. We'll see, I guess." "Do you like him?" she asked me. "Yeah. He's very sweet, an excellent listener, easy to talk to. He's also cute." "Good," she laughed. "So, where's Dad anyway?" "I sent him out," she told me. "We had some errands that needed to get done, and I told him to get dinner. Chinese." "Oh, goody!" "I knew you'd agree with that. Anyhow, I sent him out. I wanted this afternoon to be just us, is that OK?" "Sure," I said. Her face got all serious just then, and she looked down at her hands. "I wanted to help you by myself today," she said quietly. "I figured maybe that'd help the guilt. Because it's bad." "Oh, Mom," I said, not knowing what else to say. "It's OK, Ginny," she said, visibly composing herself. "Do you have homework?" "A little." "Why don't you do it before your Dad comes home with the supper?" "OK," I said, and went upstairs. Good thing my homework was pretty mindless, because I wasn't thinking all that great at the moment. ------- Eight Tuesday at school was better. The teachers pretty much ignored me, which is what I wanted. I passed Eggy in the hall and he asked how things were going to day. "A lot better, Eggy, thanks," I told him. There were a bunch of kids around, so they were all tittering that I had actually called him Eggy. He just laughed. OK, so maybe that happy-go-lucky act wasn't completely an act. Anyhow, it was OK. There was still a lot of pointing and whispering, and I saw a couple people staring at the scars. One guy that sat next to me in English actually stared at the scars, then moved his desk over six inches, like it was contagious or something. Ah, well. None of that really surprised me. And I wasn't surprised to see Angela completely shun me. In fact, when ever she saw me, she looked daggers at me. Ah, well. I could only hope she'd understand one day. After school, I had my first session with Shannon. This was the one-on-one; the group was on Thursdays. I walked in and waved to her. She had a big smile on her face. "I got an interesting phone call this morning." "Oh, yeah?" I said, guessing what it might be. I guessed right. "The call was from a woman named Ellen Cressey. She was calling on behalf of her daughter Angela. Your name came up in the conversation." "I'll bet it did," I grinned. "I'm seeing Angela tomorrow." "I'm very glad, but let me warn you. It might be a frustrating hour. Angela might not talk. That girl takes shy to a whole new level. I was amazed that she talked to me." "What exactly happened?" Shannon asked. So I told her. She knew some of it, but not all. When I got done, Shannon was beaming. "You know, Ginny,. what you did was very healthy. All of it. It was a healthy reaction." "If you say so." "I say so. because you acted as if Angela's life was worth saving." "Well, yeah," I agreed. "And if hers is, isn't yours?" "C'mon, Shannon--you know that shit's always easier to see from the outside." "Yes and no. I think you see more than you realize." "You're the Doc," I grinned. Two days later, I was back in her office, for my first group session. I still wasn't quite sure about this, but I'd promised Shannon I'd give it a shot. They'd only started meeting a few weeks ago. Since it had just started, Shannon had no porblems with me joining in instead of waiting for the next one. I was the fifth. Two boys and two other girls. Shannon said, "This is Ginny. She'll be joining us starting today." Then she asked the rest of them to go around and tell me about themselves. Zoe went first. She was a sophomore from the next town over. She was dressed like a Goth chick--all in black, dyed black hair, black fingernail polish, mulitple piercings, the whole bit. She was the one that had the hardest time articulating what she was going through. I guess she was very clinically depressed, and there'd been some trial and error with the medication. (Shannon had put me on a mild antidepressant. Don't know how much it hepled, but it couldn't hurt!) Anyhow, with Zoe, a lot of it was brain chemistry gone haywire. And she couldn't easily explain it. She talked about feeling like she'd been buried alive--she couldn't breathe, her mouth filled up with dirt, the weight was crushing her--but it was all in her head. The funny thing was, she said she liked group so far, because nobody laughed at her while this outlandish-sounding stuff came out of her mouth, but saying it out loud in a setting like this made it sound ridiculous to her. She said that helped, especially now that they seem to have gotten her medication figured out better. Seth was next. He was a junior from a town about ten miles away. Seth's story was easy to grasp--he was gay. And was severely harrassed about it, both verbally and physically. He tried to deal with it--he described himself as mostly mellow--but one day he just snapped. So he was trying to deal with a suicide attempt, but also trying to deal with a suicide attempt that was very impulsive. Next was Karen. she was the same age and from the same town as Seth. I guess they didn't know one another well in school, but had kind of been leaning on one another since they met in group. Karen was shy. Not Angela shy, but she had trouble getting her story out. Of course, that was partially due to the story itself. Because Karen's story was the most horrifying. She had a brother 4 years older. When she was 12--the brother 16--he started raping her. This went on for 4 years. He was in college now, and would come home on weekends that he knew their mother wouldn't be home at night, just to rape Karen. What was worse was that Karen had told her mother--who hadn't believed her. A month ago, after another rape trip home by the brother, she'd had enough. She swallowed pills. The only thing that saved her was that her father came looking for her--her parents are divorced--and found her unconscious, with an empty pill bottle besdie her. Also naked, with spunk dripping from her pussy. And he found the note she'd left, clearly blaming all of it on her brother. DNA testing at the hospital had proven it was her brother's semen. They arrested him--and the upshot of that is her mother won't speak to her. Unbelievable as that sounds, the bitch chose her rapist son over her violated daughter. Jesus. She's living with her Dad. Everyone in school knows her brother was raping her, which is bad enough--damn media--but plenty of people question how it could've been real rape if it happened for four years and she never reported it. Idiots. It was like horror piled upon horror. She was even having problems with her boyfriend. He'd not judged her at all, unlike some other people, but was hurt she'd never confided in him in the six months they'd been going out. "He says he would've helped me, and I know now he would've, but I was so scared," Karen said. "It's a miracle I trust him at all, and it took a while for him to understand that." And she'd also never had sex with him, for obvious reasons. He was patient, but part of her was afraid she'd never be able to. And another part of her wanted to--because, even though her brother was raping her and her mind was horrified, her body sometimes responded, especially as she got older. Karen got all this out in a voice that swung between almost-in-tears, and completely numb. That poor, poor girl. And I thought I had it bad. I didn't know what to say. Luckily, Shannon, before I even had a chance to say something, moved on to the last person in the room--Sam. Sam Raleigh. He was the only one that went to my school, though he was a sophomore, a year behind me. As Sam's story spilled out, I found myself nodding in recognition. Because, you see, Sam was the sophomore class's answer to me. Class brain, isolated, picked on, singled out by teachers, the whole bit. It was a little different--the good part was that he'd never doubted his parents' love for him. The bad part was that he was small and weak and quiet, so he got the 'wimp' and 'pussy' taunts thrown at him as well, and even the odd beating. "We discussed this last week," Seth interjected. "Even though Sam's not gay, he gets a lot of the same type of gay-bashing as I do because they think he's a 'pussy'." After Sam had finished, Shannon said, "OK, Ginny, it's your turn." "Well, for a lot of my story, just push rewind on Sam's and listen again," I quipped. They all laughed at that, including Sam. "We even go to the same school, though I'm a year ahead of him." "Wait a minute," Sam said suddenly, "are you Ginny Klusse?" "That's me," I said. "I hate your guts," Sam muttered bitterly. "HEY!" Zoe shouted. "That's not nice!" "Sam, it's not very nice," Shannon agreed. "Why on earth?" I said. "I've never even met you until today." "Because that's all I hear," he said, still sounding bitter. "Even when the teachers are singling me out as the class brain, and telling me how much smarter I am than everyone else--they also tell me that Ginny Klusse would've done better. I think all my teachers taught you last year. I'm constantly being compared to the uber-brain Ginny Klusse." Shannon looked like she was going to say something, but I held my hand up. "Sam," I said, "how is that my fault? Listen to me. You're doing the same thing they do to me. And furthermore, you're doing the same thing to me that they do to you." Sam thought about that for a minute. "Oh," he said. "I never thought about it that way." "Well, there's something to think about," Shannon said. "While you do that, Ginny can go on with her story." "OK," I said. "As you might have guessed, it's the whole class brain thing." I went on to describe what that was like a little bit. I talked about my parents some. Everyone just listened, so that was cool. When I got done, I said, "So, that's the story of why Ginny tried to kill herself. Of course, after listening to what Karen went through, I feel like a Grade A schmuck." Karen just smiled and shook her head, disagreeing with me. "People have different tolerance levels," Shannon said. "Besides which, how do you think I feel," Seth said pleasantly. "Oh, woe is me, poor little queer boy. Sometimes I want to slap myself!" "You shouldn't," Karen said. "Look, now that I've gotten to know him a little bit," she said to all of us, "and sometimes hang with him in school, I see what they put him through. It's not pretty." She must've never said this, because Seth was looking at her in gratitude. "If you go through similar shit, it must be pretty bad," she said to me. "Yeah. I think Seth and I have as much in common as Sam and I do," I said. Shannon and Seth looked at me in surprise. "I mean, we're both dissed because of who we are. I can't help being smart any more than Seth can help being gay. And we both just want to be left alone to be who we are--and we're not." "Good insight, Ginny," Shannon said. "Of course it was, I am the class brain," I joked, mock-preening, which cracked everyone up. "Everybody sees labels, not people," Zoe said. "They don't see Ginny, they see 'brain'. They don't see Seth, they see 'fag'. In my case, it's 'the insane chick'." "You get shit as well?" I asked. "In my case, it's a bit different." Zoe said with a wry grin. "I like being isolated. It's hard to be lonely with 87 voices inside your head." That one got a chuckle. "So, yeah, since I prefer to be left alone, I use the crazy girl thing to my advantage. Anyone bugs me, I yell 'OOGA BOOGA!' at them until they run away screaming." That got us all laughing. Then Zoe got serious. "The problem is, I feel less that way than ever. Getting my meds straightened out some has made me more willing to interact. But now I'm Crazy Girl which makes it difficult." "People understand mental illness even less than they understand homosexuality," Seth interjected, to which we all agreed. "A lot of it is fear of the unknown. In Ginny and Sam's case, it's that and jealousy." "Fear of the unknown is right on," Karen agreed. "I'd never known a gay person--well, a person that I knew was gay--until I met Seth. I don't think I was exactly homophobic, but I guess I was, I don't know, squeamish. And then I met Seth, and he's one of the coolest people I've ever met." "You are too, you know," Seth told Karen. "It's putting a face on it," I said. "If you don't know any, it's just an abstract. Like you said, it's a walking stereotype, and one you don't completely understand." I grinned. "Not a problem I've ever had in this particular case--my Aunt Jennie has lived with her girlfriend since I was two, so I grew up with it." "That's an advantage," Seth said. "Yeah, but I didn't," Karen went on. "So it was something that was just an abstract that I didn't understand until I met Seth. And it wasn't just me. He's met Aaron, my boyfriend. Aaron also didn't know what to make of him, until he met him." "How is it that you're the healthiest person in the room?" I laughed, pointing to Karen. She just smiled. ------- Nine When I got home, I talked with Mom. Dad had to stop in at the office. "You liked it," Mom said. "You didn't think you were going to." "You're right on both counts," I laughed. "I feel so bad for that Karen girl, though," she said. "Oh, I know. I have to tell you, I was always kind of upset I never had any siblings. Jeez, now I think I'm grateful. At least I don't have a brother like hers." Mom got quiet all of a sudden. "You wanted a sibling?" "Kind of, yeah," I said. She got quiet again. "I guess there's things I should've told you. You don't have any brothers or sisters because I couldn't." She looked down. "I had a massive hemmorhage four days after you were born. I almost died. I had to have a hysterectomy. We'd never planned to have only one, but I couldn't have any more." I felt all the color drain from my face. "You almost died? From having me? And then I tried to... oh GOD!!!" There's was absolutely no way to stop the tears at that point Mom grabbed me and pulled me into another hug, believe it or not. "No, Ginny, no! That's not why I told you this. Do you think I blame you for what happened? God, no. I had a weakness in my ueterus. Shit happens," she shrugged. "I don't blame you or anybody. The only reason I told you about it was to explain why you're an only child." "OK, I sniffled, and ducked back out of her arms. "It's just kind of shocking to hear, especially at 16 when you never knew about it." "I should've phrased it better." "I don't know if there's a better way to phrase that," I said wryly. "Did you guys ever think about adopting?" "We discussed it," Mom told me. "But you were like five, six at the time we felt comfortable in discussing it. And by then we figured that you were enough." She grinned. "And I meant that in a good way." "Uh-huh," I said. "How did we end up like this?" Mom said suddenly. "Hm?" "God, Ginny, you were all I ever wanted," she said. "Even when I had the hemmorhage, my first thought was, at least it'd happened after you were born so you weren't affected. That's all I cared about. Your father and I wanted you so, so badly. You were the apple of our eyes. How the hell did we get to the point where you thought it would be a good idea to kill yourself?" It looked like she might start to cry. Shit, I didn't know if I could handle that. "It really wasn't mostly you, or Dad, you know. It really wasn't." "Enough of it was," Mom said, composing herself. "This is not an excuse, just an explanation. You will find out when you get out in the working world--but it can consume you. There's always someone wanting one last thing, or one more document looked at, or one more phone call, or one more appearance in court. That's the problem with having a high-level career in something like law. The problem is, you get afraid that if you don't do everything that's asked, you'll have problems with your career. And when it's a lucrative career, you get used to the lifestyle. I have seen lawyers who start pushing work aside for family. They're usually not lawyers anymore after a while. Maybe I put too much importance on that. "And you. You seemed--and I know now I was wrong in assuming this, but you seemed so undemanding. You know Jill Boros," she said. I did--Jill was another lawyer in her office. She was married to a doctor and had a couple of kids a few years younger than me. "There are days when Jill's two daughters call her every ten minutes," Mom smiled. "She used to tease me about it--she wished she had self-sufficient undemanding you for a kid. She doesn't joke about it anymore." I thought about that for a minute. "Look," I said. "One thing I've figured out--well, I don't think I'm really very good at doing what I have to do to make myself happy. I know what I want, most of the time, but I don't know how to make it happen. You know what I mean? And rather than facing that, it's easier to blame everyone." "Don't take too much responsibility for it," she said. "It's not all you. I should've been asking." "It's not too late. For either of us," I told her. "It almost was," she said sadly. "Almost doesn't count except in horseshoes and hand grenades," I quipped. "That one's older than I am," she smirked. "Hey, they can't all be gems." Just then the phone rang. I picked it up. It was Craig. "I'm going to take it upstairs," I told Mom. She smiled and waved me up. "So, how was group?" he asked. "Good, better than I thought," I said. "That's good. Uhm, I was wondering." "What?" "Well, has it been a few days? For you to settle in at school, I mean," he asked. Was he really going to? "Yes, it's been a few days," I said. "Good. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?" "Not a thing." "Good, because I still want to go out with you. And don't argue with me. I don't care about the rest of it." "OK," I said happily. "Where are you taking me?" "Well, I had two ideas. The first was the football game--the team is home this week. I go to a lot of the games. But I know you're not a school spirit rah-rah type, so we could to go a movie instead. And a burger afterwards." "I'd love to go to the game," I said, surprising him. "I actually like football. I don't go to any of the high school games because I don't want to go by myself." "Well, now you won't." "Great. But I still want the burger afterwards," I laughed. "You got it." We discussed pick-up plans and the like, then I got off the phone. When I got downstaris, Mom was cooking and Dad was in the kitchen with her. "Would you like some good news?" I said. "Sure," Mom replied. "Tomorrow night, your daughter has her very first official date." "Oh, that's great," Mom said enthusiastically. "Of course, I'm not shocked, considering he calls you every night." "Yeah, ain't it great?" I laughed. "By the way, Mom, I know you think I should get laid, but don't expect it on the first date. I don't need to add School Slut to my reputation," I smirked. Mom looked at me in shock, then turned to Dad. "You told her!?!?" "Yes he did, you sex maniac you," I teased her. "YOU!" she shouted, and threw a dish towel at Dad. She couldn't hold it, though--the grin was fighting to break through. "Don't blame him, Mom, I'm glad he told me. Made you two seem a little more human and all." Mom laughed and said, "I know you have to be careful nowadays, but I also felt bad that you were missing out on all that." "You're fault, you know," I said. "You cursed me." Mom looked at me. "Well, you did. You named me, didn't you? Take the last two letters off of 'Virginia' and what do you get? I'm cursed, I tell you." They both cracked up. "Ginny, you were named after your great-aunt, and I was not thinking of that when you were a day old, you know?" "I figured it out pretty quickly," Dad said. "Why do you think I started calling you Ginny?" he smirked. Mom threw another dish towel at him! ------- Ten He picked me up at six. He'd already met the folks, at the hospital, so he didn't need to go though the traditional first-date grilling. Shit, I don't think he would've anyway. My parents were so thrilled I actually had a date I think if I had walked into the house and said, "Mom, Dad, this is my date, Jack the Ripper," they would've just told me to have a good time! We drove to the high school, and the football stadium, chatting about nothing. When we got there, he said, "You have a choice. I usually sit with three of my friends, but we don't have to." "Oh, sure," I said. "I wouldn't mind meeting your friends." I hesitated a bit. "Uh, but, well, how much do they know?" "A lot," he admitted. "They know that you are who I'm bringing. And the whole junior class pretty much knows about, you know..." "Yeah," I said. "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound." "Really, Ginny, we can sit by ourselves." "No. No way. I want to meet your friends, even if they don't want to meet me." "They actually do," he grinned. "My friend Cap said, 'You're going out with Ginny the Genius? Ooooh, how do you rate?'" I smiled back, a big one. "Good. Let's go." We started walking to the ticket booth. "Your friends--three guys?" I asked. "Two and one. Alex and Cap are the guys. The third is Alex's girlfriend, Johanna." "Hm." I said. "Problem?" "Yes and no. It might be cool having another girl there--but, frankly, I've gotten more shit from girls over my school life. Girls resent me more than guys, usually, for some reason." "Not Johanna. No way. Trust me." "OK," I said. We were a bit early, and there weren't many people in the bleachers. Craig took us over to get something to drink, then we went up to a spot. "We usually sit right about here, they'll be able to find us here," he said. After a few minutes, a tall black kid approached Craig. "Yo, slimeball," he said jokingly. "Glad you showed up, jerk," Craig laughed. "Cap, this is Ginny. Ginny, Cap." "Nice to meet you," Cap said. "Nice to meet you too, er, Cap," I said. He laughed. "Cap is his nickname, short for Captain," Craig told me. "Cap is a sailor." Craig grinned. "When we were in middle school, he had this stupid little captain's hat, so that's what we nicknamed him." "I still have it," Cap grinned, "I just keep it on the boat instead of wearing it to school." He turned to me. "My real name is Desmond--Desmond Roberts. Now you know why I go by Cap." "Uh-huh," I laughed. "Well, if you're a sailor, it fits anyway." "Cap could spend days on the water," Craig said. "I love it. I even spent all summer at a camp for yachting, in San Diego. First time I'd ever been sailing on the ocean. It was great." "That's really cool," I said sincerely. "Yep. By the way, Craig, you suck, you know that?" "What did I do this time?" he grinned. "You brought a date to a football game. Jesus." She turned to me. "Have you met The Couple yet?" "Alex and Johanna, he means," Craig laughed. I shook my head no. "Oh, wait. You just wait," Cap said, rolling his eyes. "Moonin', cuddlin', smoochin'--you're gonna get the whole works. Those two are joined at the hip. And the lip. When Craig here was coming stag, at least I had someone to commisserate with!" Craig and I both started laughing. I liked Cap already. "Don't worry, Homie," Craig said, "this is our first date. So I'm not going to attack her or anything--I think we can save the making out for some time when you're not around." "Oh, if we must," I joked--getting me a big huge smile from Craig. "Really?" Cap said. "I don't believe you. Shit, look, you're already holding hands." Which we were. It was very nice. "You could hold my other one, Cap," I joked, batting my eyes. "Oh no he CAN'T!" Craig bellowed, cracking us all up. It went on like this for a few minutes. It was fun. And it was so easy. How the hell was it this easy???? After a few minutes, I saw Craig wave to two blond kids, one guy and one girl. They headed up to where we were sitting. Oh, hell. Johanna was Johanna Sullivan? Shit. I'd known her since grammar school. She was one of the Princesses. You know the type. The one who always had the birthday parties with the clowns and the in-ground pool and the catered lunch that always had the entire fourth grade invited except me. Craig introduced us. Alex seemed nice, shook my hand, said it was nice to meet me. Johanna said, "Nice to see you again, Ginny." She told the rest of them, "Ginny and I went to the same grammar school." "We did," I said tightly. Johanna didn't say anything else, and luckily she was sitting far away from me, on the other side of both Craig and Alex. Cap was on the other side of me from Craig, and he kept up a steady stream of quips, which was cool. The game started. Our football team sucked bad this year, but I still enjoyed watching. As I said, I like football. Dad is a Michigan grad, and when I was younger we'd make sure we got to Ann Arbor at least once a year to see a game. I missed that. I should ask Dad if we could do it again this year before the season ended. Anyhow, the first half ended. The guys volunteered to go get refreshments. I asked Craig to get me another Coke. "Hot dog?" he asked. "I'm saving my appetite for the burgers," I laughed. "If they've got popcorn that'd be cool, though." "They do. No problem," he said, and the three guys headed off. Which left me there alone with Johanna. Shit. Well, she was way over there. So maybe I didn't have to talk to her. Well, she blew that all to hell in about seven seconds--as soon as the guys had vacated the bleachers, she slid her way right over next to me. "Hi," she said. "Hi," I replied, gritting my teeth. "I'm so glad Craig finally asked you out," she said. "He's liked you since last year." "Yeah, he blurted that out to me last week," I laughed. "I had no idea." "He's a real sweetheart. I'm glad you said yes, it made him very happy." She took a breath. "So, how have you been?" I just looked at her. "I mean, we all know what happened. You know," she said, waving vaguely at my wrists. "I was just wondering if it had gotten any better." Well, knock me over with a feather. "Yeah, it has, some," I managed to get out. "Good. That's good," she said quietly. "You know, Craig will help you, if you let him." "I know," I said. "He already has." "Good." She took another breath. "You know, I wasn't surprised." "Hm?" "When I found out what you'd done. I wasn't shocked. I found it sad that you thought you had to do it, but I wasn't really surprised. I mean, I've known you since third grade. I saw what you went through." Her voice dropped a bit again. "I probably even participated in it somewhat, though I assure you it wasn't intentional." A feather? Knock me over with a good gust of wind! "I don't remember you doing anything," I said, half-lying. "Oh, you know who I hung around with back then. The Cool Kids. I'm sure I did something." She took another breath. "I changed a lot when I met Alex. He asked me out in January of Freshman year, so it's been almost two years now. "He wasn't one of the Cool Kids. He can be shy and quiet. He wasn't who I was supposed to go out with, you know?" She grinned. "He still makes jokes that he was amazed he had the courage to ask me out in the first place! He wasn't supposed to ask me out any more than I was supposed to go out with him. But when he asked me out, something in my head just clicked. It was immediate. My brain said, this is the guy for you. And I was right, you know. "But some people didn't understand it. Some people who I'd been friends with since first, second grade turned on me. It was a wake-up call. "So, the thing is--Craig will help. I know he will. But if, you know, you're having a bad time, and you need a girl to talk to, well, I've been told I'm a pretty good listener." God, my throat was dry. "I'd like that," I managed to croak out. "Good," she said. Then the guys returned and I didn't have to say anything else. Thank God. Everyone slid into their respective places on the bench, Craig replace Johanna next to me. But I guess I was just preoccupied. "You OK?" Craig asked. "Fine," I said almost mechanically. "Johanna didn't say anything to upset you, did she?" he whispered. "No," I said, waking up out of my reverie, smiling at him. "Not at all. Just the opposite. I'll tell you later." "OK," he said. "I worry about you." "Which is very sweet," I smiled, "but I'm fine. Really. Better than fine. I'm very glad I'm here with you," I told him. "Me, too," he said, squeezing my hand. Anyhow, the game went on. We lost big, but who cared? Afterwards, we headed for the burger place--all except for Cap. "I'm sailing early in the morning on the lake. Want to get it in before it's too cold." "Isn't it already?" I laughed. "I'm rugged," Cap said, cracking us all up. "I'll see you all later." Alex and Johanna met us at the burger place, which was fine with me. But I got a glimpse of what Cap had been talking about. We were munching on our burgers, and Craig and I were discussing something-or-other. We were paying attention to each other. Until we looked around. and saw Alex and Johanna in a liplock. Craig and I just grinned at each other. Then Craig went, "A-HEM!" The two of them broke the liplock and looked sheepishly at us. "Oops. Ginny's not used to us," Alex said. "Cap warned me about you two," I laughed. "See?" Johanna said. "She knew it was coming." "Well, yeah, but it's their first date. We wouldn't want to make them uncomfortable with all this kissing," Alex laughed. Craig and I were grinning, and we just looked at each other when Alex said that, still grinning. Suddenly he wasn't grinning. Then I wasn't either. Because his lips were pressing up against mine. It just happened. My eyes opened wide in complete shock--but only for a second. Then I just melted. It was amazing. We were sitting there side-by-side in this booth in a damn burger shop. And I felt like somebody had set me on fire. His hand was at the back of my head. Mine was on his shoulder. His lips pressed into mine--and, believe me, I was responding with equal fervor--and then my lips opened. Just a bit. And I felt his tongue bump up against mine. And then burrow into my mouth. Jesus! I groaned, I know I did. Damn! Nobody told me about this! I don't know how long it lasted. Could've been a minute. Could've been three and a half days. I have no clue. Because that big massive all-powerful brain of mine just shut off. It was stupendous. Suddenly, through the fog, I heard Alex mimicing Craig from a few minutes ago, with a very amused throat-clearing. Craig--very reluctantly, it seemed to me--broke the kiss. And as he pulled away, our eyes caught. And, the look in his! We were still looking at each other as we--very slowly--pulled away. Somehow, extremely distracted, I kind of fumbled for my burger. God, I was foggy. And I didn't mind at all. Somehow it penetrated through the fog, just a little, that Alex and Johanna were very amused. "I guess they're not all that uncomfortable at that," Alex laughed. Uncomfortable? Shit. I think you could've dropped me on my head right about then and it wouldn't have been uncomfortable. Shit, I don't think I would've felt it! "Look at her," Johanna laughed. "She's all glassy-eyed." I just kind of smiled. I think. I was definitely not coherent. Johanna said something else, I have no clue what, and I just went, "Hm?" She cracked up. "Boy, you are definitely out of it," she laughed. "It's like it was your first kiss or something!" "Uh, well, actually..." I grinned. "Really?" Johanna laughed. I nodded. "SHIT!" Craig burst out. I turned to him. "I should've realized. Shit. I'm sorry, Ginny, it was an impulse." Why was he upset? "I mean, if I'd realized it was your first... I mean, it shouldn't have been here." Oh, that. "Craig, it's fine. Really. Better than fine. I didn't mind at all." He still looked unconvinced. I leaned into his ear and whispered, "It was very romantic." That convinced him. He beamed at me. "You know, this is better entertainment than the football game," Alex teased. I just blushed, but managed to say, "That's because our team sucks rocks." "I think it still would've been better," Johanna said. I just kept blushing. Luckily, after that, the conversation turned to more normal subjects. Craig and I didn't say much on the way home, we just kept shooting these little smiles at one another. We got to my house and he walked me to the door. And, yes, he did. Boy did he ever. It might've been better than the first one. "Please tell me you'll go out with me again," he groaned after he broke the kiss. "Wild horses couldn't stop me," I whispered. I got another nice beaming smile for that one. When we finally stopped kissing--not that I wanted to, but I think our lips were getting numb--I went back in to the house. Mom was waiting up. That was fine. I was kind of surprised she wasn't peering out the window. Taking pictures, even! "Did you have a good time?" she asked. "I had a great time," I told her. We chatted a little bit. I went and fetched a Coke and we talked for a few minutes--about the game, about our shitty team, about re-encountering Johanna. I think she was glad. "I'm going up to bed, I'm tired," I told her after a bit. "OK. Good night, honey," she said. "Night, Mom." I headed for the stairs and got up the first two, then I turned back to her. "You know, Mom, in all that joking about me needing to get laid and all--funny how you never mentioned kissing." Mom looked at me, blinked, then burst out laughing. "That good, huh?" "Mmmmm," was all I said. Mom's laughter followed me up the stairs. After I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed, I took stock a little. I'd gone out on a date with a guy I really liked. I went to a football game surrounded by my classmates. I made some new friends. I got kissed senseless. I hadn't felt this completely blessedly normal in... well, in forever. It felt really, really good. ------- Part 3 Eleven Craig called on Saturday. We were on the phone for a couple hours. It was great. He gave me a big smile when I saw him in school on Monday. Monday, at lunch, I got a nice surprise. I had just started digging into the meal, when there appeared Angela. "Hi," she said. "Hi," I responded tentatively. "I owe you an apology," she said. "You were right." "Thank goodness, I thought you would hate me forever." "I was really mad at first," she said. "But my parents were a lot more understanding than I would've guessed. Very worried, but understanding. And Shannon really is great." "That she is," I agreed. We chatted a bit, and then we were invaded. Craig, Alex, Johanna, and Cap all came over to the table. I introduced them all to Angela. I thought she was going to freeze up, but she didn't. Well, mostly she didn't. She was all right. Craig helped--as did Johanna, who was sitting next to her and deliberately including her in the conversation. Including Angela Cressey in a conversation is no small feat, let me tell you, but Johanna was dogged. I threw her a smile of gratitude. Which she caught. This kind of set the pattern for the week. We all ended up at lunch together. On Tuesday, a couple of Johanna's friends started joining us. Two of the types that I would've considered Princesses--these must've been the ones that didn't diss her when she started dating Alex--but they were actually very nice. Even to Angela. Then came Thursday. We were all at lunch. Angela, after watching us moon over each other for almost a week, finally got the gumption to ask Craig and I, "Are you guys dating?" "Couldn't you tell?" Craig laughed. "We just started, actually," I said. "This past weekend was our first date." "And it feels like it was our millionth," Craig said, "and I mean that in a good way." Oh, he was getting me all warm-and-fuzzy. And then I blew it. "Yeah, for some reason Craig must have a thing for overbrained fat chicks." I said it as a joke. Craig knew better. He knew that underneath the joke was, pretty much, how I felt. And he got mad. He turned to me with a look on his face I'd never seen before. "Oh, stop it," he said, loud enough to interrupt conversation at the whole table. He grabbed my face and turned it towards his. "You listen to me," he said, luckily a bit softer--I think only Angela heard. "There's no such thing as overbrained. You're smart. That's a good thing. You should be happy about it. Stop apologizing for it." I was stunned. And he wasn't done. "Furthermore, you are not fat." He put his hand on my stomach. "There's nothing wrong here. No, it's not sixpack abs, but who cares? It's not fat. It's just soft, and curvy. Girls are supposed to be soft and curvy." He then very obviously looked at my boobs. "Like those. Just perfect." "Well," I said, trying to--I don't know what I was trying. To save face or something? Anyhow, I said, "It's mostly my hips. And my ass." I turned to poor Angela who was trying not to get involved. "My ass is so huge it stops weather systems." Craig grabbed my face and turned it towards him again, and leaned in close. "You silly little fool," he hissed, low and soft, "how can somebody as smart as you be so damn stupid? Listen to me, Ginny Klusse, the only thing your ass stops is traffic!" And on that flabbergasting note, he very deliberately turned away, and very very deliberately started talking to Alex. Poor Angela. She was staring at me after all this, desperately trying to think of something to say. And we all know that thinking of things to say isn't Angela's strong suit. I took her off the hook and changed the subject. Craig studiously avoided me for the last fifteen minutes of lunch. But he wasn't done. As we were leaving the lunchroom, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me over into a quiet part of the corridor. "Ginny, this is the thing. I like you. I like you a whole hell of a lot. And I like you just the way you are. So when are you gonna start?" And then he walked away. It's a good thing I can navigate my classes on autopilot--because, for the rest of the afternoon, I had no choice. I had group after school. I kind of wished I'd had my private with Shannon, but today was group. I did tell everyone I'd gone on my first date--and gotten my first kiss--which they all were happy about. I didn't tell anyone what had happened today, though. After supper, I was in my room, and the phone rang. It was Craig. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. I was way, way too hard on you." "I don't know if that's true," I said. "It is. I was," he insisted. I heard him sigh from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry. This is harder than I thought it was going to be." "What is?" "Look, I knew I liked you. I liked you last year, I told you that. I wouldn't have asked you out if I didn't like you. I guess it kind of hit me suddenly on Friday night exactly how much." "Oh," I said, thrilled, and scared out of my mind, all at the same time. "That wasn't my first kiss. I haven't done much more than that, mind you, but I have kissed, and I've made out with girls. A number of times." He took another breath. "But never, ever like that." "Oh, God, I thought it was just me," I said with a nervous little chortle. "Not hardly," he said, and I could almost hear the smile over the phone. "Not even a little bit. It took my breath away." "Mine, too, but my mother said that's because I need to learn how to breathe through my nose." He lost it. "You're something else," he said when he stopped laughing. "By the way, I can breathe through my nose just fine and I still almost passed out on your porch." "Oh," I laughed. "Anyhow, it's quick. Quicker than I thought. I really do like you a lot." "I feel the same way," I said softly. "Good." His voice got a little strained. "But it's hard. And sometimes you don't make it easier. When you were running yourself down at lunch, it kind of hit me. I'm rapidly becoming crazy about a girl who, not so long ago, tried to kill herself. If I told you that that didn't scare the living shit out of me, I'd be lying." "Oh. Damn, Craig, I don't know what to say." "I want you to promise me something." Oh, God, I thought, don't. I can't promise that. I can't. Not yet. "What?" I asked him hesitantly. "I want you to promise me that, if you feel that way again, you'll call me. Just call. Give me a chance to talk to you about it. Please, just promise me you'll do that." My heart went right into my throat. "Yes. I can do that. I promise to do that." "Good," he said with a huge sigh of relief. No bigger than mine! He asked me something I was capable of--that came as a great relief. "And Ginny? Stop running yourself down." "That's going to be harder. Uhm, do you really think my ass could stop traffic?" He laughed. "Ginny, I like to think I'm a gentleman. I try to be, anyhow. If I weren't I think I would've left handprints." "Oh, God," I croaked through the giggles. "That sounds, er, intriguing." "Uh-huh." ------- Twelve I vowed to try. If this guy liked me, there was a reason, right? Maybe I'd figure it out. We went out that weekend--in fact, we went out twice, both nights. Friday we went to the movies. Saturday we went out dancing, to a teen dance club nearby. I am an absolutely horrible dancer, but I went. It was even fun. "I know you don't like me running myself down," I said to Craig during a break, "but let's face it--I suck at this." "But you're having fun. That's what counts." "It is fun. As long as I don't think about what I look like!" He didn't say anything until we got back on the dance floor. When there, he steered me to a mirror on the wall. "Look. What do you see in there?" he said. I looked. I actually looked half-decent tonight. Mom had helped me with the makeup and it looked good. My hair--which was reddish-brown and straight--was in a ponytail. First time for that in years. I'd been in the habit of hacking it off to get it out of my damn face, but I hadn't cut it since before the hospital. I had to admit, it looked better longer. I was wearing a nice blouse, and a knee-length skirt that at least made my ass look like it was in a single zip code instead of three. "What do you see in there?" Craig repeated. "I'll tell you what I see. I see a pretty girl having a good time. For one thing, she's a lot prettier than she thinks she is--and she's having fun, which makes her absolutely beautiful. So what if she's not going to be winning any dance contests any time soon. She can keep up with the beat, she's not embarrassing herself, and she's having fun. In fact, to me, she looks happy." He spun me away from the mirror to look at him. "Ginny," he smiled, "happy is good. Go with it." "OK," I smiled back--and we started dancing again. God, he was right. I was happy. How the hell did that happen? I got even happier when we got to my house. We went out back of my house, where there was one of those big porch swings--though we had it on the lawn and not on a porch. We sat there for a while, making out. After a while, he said, "I need to ask you something and I'm not asking it to piss you off. I'm asking because I need to know, OK?" "OK," I said, curious. "Do you like me because you like me or because I was the first one to ask you out?" I grinned at him. "What are you grinning at?" he asked, obviously a bit confused at my reaction. "Nice to know I'm not the only insecure person in this swing." "No, you're not," he laughed. "Good. As for your question--I'll be honest. I've thought about it. I'm pretty vulnerable to any kind of sweet-talking and I know it." "Did I sweet-talk?" he chuckled. "More like actions than talk in your case. Anyway. I thought about it. And I guess I realized something. I never would've been able to admit it, not even to myself, because I buried that kind of shit back then--but I liked you last year, too." "You did?" "Yeah." "Oh," he said, looking insufferably pleased. I couldn't complain--I was, too. "You mean before I dissed you with my birthday party." "Yeah, before that," I laughed. "Don't worry, you're invited this year. It's in February." "I'll mark my calendar," I deadpanned. "Oh, and I hope you like older women. Mine's New Year's Eve." "I think I can live with that," he laughed. "Anyhow, you're sure?" "I'm sure," I said. I looked at him. "You really are insecure. You spend so much time pumping me up I didn't realise." "Part of it is because this is really quick." I nodded agreement--it was, but it felt right. "The other thing is, well, I know I'm nowhere in your league." I looked at him blankly. "I mean, I'm not a dummy, but you..." I interrupted him by pointing at my scarred wrist. "I should be living vivid proof that brains are not all they're cracked up to be." "I understand that part, but that's not what I meant." "OK, let me explain to you what a high IQ is. Did you ever hear the polite euphemism for kids that are lower-than-average?" He looked at me blankly. "It's slow. I mean, you've heard that. 'So-and-so is a little slow, ' right?" "Yeah," he said. "It's accurate. And I say that because I am fast. Look, I understand different people have different talents, but I'm going to speak in generalities here. There is not a thing that I am capable of learning that you are not. Anything I can learn, you can too. Almost everyone can, speaking again in generalities. "What the difference is, is this. If it takes you an hour to learn something, I can do it in twelve minutes. I won't learn it any better than you. Just faster." "I see," he said. "Of course, where the difficulties come in is that while I'm taking the extra forty-eight minutes to learn Task One, you've moved on to Two, Three, and Four. And I'll never be able to catch up." "Oh, I'm not nearly that diligent," I laughed. "While you're taking the extra time, I'm not learning Two and so on, I'm wasting time playing The Sims." He chuckled at that. "There are things I'm interested in. And there's things I'm not. That is a little easier, because I can get history studying over with quickly. And since I hate history, the less time spent, the better. That's an advantage. Things I like, especially if they're not the same as the things you like, I'll stay ahead of you. But if you like history, you'll pass me in no time." "Not particularly," he grimaced. "What do you like?" "Two things, and I'm eventually going to have to pick one. High-level math and physics and that sort of thing. That's like breathing to me. Pre-calculus is like second nature. The other one is languages." "You mean like spoken languages?" "Yeah. I'm reasonably fluent in five." "FIVE?!?!?!?" "Yeah," I laughed, "but that counts English. The others are German, Russian, Spanish, and Japanese. I'm probably best at Spanish, I started learning that when I was like three. German is the least fluent, because that's the one I'm taking in school." "School really slows you down, doesn't it." "Yeah, and that's what makes me stick out like a sore thumb more than anything." "I can see that." He thought for a minute. "Five freakin' languages. Jesus." "That kind of stuff I'm incredibly fast at." "Is that what you want to do?" "I was leaning more towards the other thing. I think I want to do something with science. Engineering or something. Or maybe even theoretical physics or the like." "Yeah," he said. "And in this whole global economy, speaking all those languages can only help you. Even if you go into research in something like theoretical physics, you'd be communicating around the world." "Exactly. I'm going to do Chinese in college because that's going to be an important language. Anyhow, what do you want to do?" He smiled at me. "Well, we sort of share an affinity for math, but not the same type of math. For me, it's figures. I'm taking accounting this year and I love it and I'm good at it." "So, you're thinking along those lines?" "Yeah." "That's cool." "Look, I know this is quick," he said. "We already decided that," I laughed. "Yes, but I'm about to get quicker. I was wondering if, you know, you'd like to make this a steady thing. You know, us. Exclusive." "Craig Tolland, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" "Well, yes," he grinned. "Then, yes," I grinned back, and leaned over and kissed him. "Was there every any doubt?" "There's always doubt." "Not in this case." Then I realised something. "What I promised you Thursday meant a lot to you." "Yes, it did." "Good. Look, I would never ever put the burden on your head of saving my life or anything stupid like that. I'd never do that to you. It wouldn't be fair." I took a breath. "But you help, OK?" "Good," he said. "And I mean it." "God, I really am crazy about you, Lyubovnik." "Same goes," he said. "Lyu-what?" "Lyubovnik. It's Russian. It's your new pet nickname. If we're going out, we have to have pet nicknames for one another, right?" He looked at me and cracked up. "God. Remember when you were in the hospital and I told you that last year I thought you were part 16 years old and part 30?" I nodded. "Well, apparently I missed the part that was, you know, ten." "Oh, her. I had her locked up. She's just escaped recently." "Good, she needed to," he said. "So, what's that thing mean, anyway?" "Lyubovnik? Hmm. Maybe someday I'll tell you," I smirked. "Oh, jeez. Forget engineering, you should go into the CIA. International Woman of Mystery." "Klusse--Ginny Klusse," I deadpanned, then cracked up. "Doesn't quite roll off the tongue like 'Bond--James Bond', does it?" We snuggled and kissed and cuddled for a while after that, until it was time for him to go. He walked me to my door and kissed me again. I watched him go back down the walk. When I went in the house, Mom and Dad were sitting there, watching a movie on TV. "So, how was your date?" Mom asked. I couldn't help it--I screamed it. "GINNY'S GOT A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!" ------- Thirteen Shannon was ecstatic for me in our session on Tuesday. Then came group on Thursday. That was interesting. One of the things Shannon always had us discuss was our successes and setbacks. So, of course, Ginny having a boyfriend came up. They were all happy for me. Of course, Zoe had to say something. It'd come up in previous sessions that Zoe was no virgin. "Good, maybe now you'll get laid," Zoe said. "Well, not right now," I laughed. "I'm going to have to play a little bit hard to get. But I'm looking forward to it." "Sex isn't all it's cracked up to be," Karen said. "How would you know?" I asked her. "You've never had sex." She looked at me incredulously. "You haven't. I might not be a shrink, but I know enough to know that rape is not sex." "I tell her that all the time," Shannon said. "But, it's different," Karen said. "I mean, I responded. A couple of times I came!" "Oh, that don't mean shit," Zoe said. "All that is is physical. It's a part of your body that responds to stimulation getting it. That's all it is. Look, if you rub my clittie a certain way, I'm gonna have an orgasm, and whatever else is going on is irrelevant." "That can't be true," Karen said. "It is. Look, one of my many talents is that I give an absolutely hellacious blowjob," Zoe said, cracking us all up. "It's true. I'll make you forget your damn name. "Anyhow, Seth is gay. Not attracted to girls at all. I'm guessing that if I stripped naked right now, Seth's Little Head wouldn't even twitch, am I right?" Seth laughed and nodded agreement. "Right. But if I ripped his pants down and got my mouth on him, I guarantee it would twitch. It'd be like steel in a second, and I'd having him cumming his brains out before he could say 'Wait, I'm gay!' Absolutely guarantee it. Because it'd all be a physical sensation." "Don't you think sex is mental?" Shannon asked. "Sometimes. Not always." Her voice dropped a bit. "Look, I can tell you guys this. When my brain was more haywire, I slept around. And I mean a lot. I'm not even sixteen years old, and I'm over 50. Guys, I mean." She took a breath. "Sex shut up the voices. The ones in my head, I mean. If I was having an orgasm, they weren't there. "Anyhow, I have, a couple of times, slept with guys I absolutely could not stand because I'd heard they knew their way around a girl. At least twice I had to do it with my eyes closed so I could ignore who I was with. But I came. It was all physical. I've also slept with older guys--in some cases, the proverbial old enough to be my daddy. And I'm not particularly attracted to older guys. But they're experienced and usually good. Hey, I slept with a balding pudgy guy in his forties. He wasn't attractive at all, and he was a little too enthusiastic about bedding a fifteen year old, if you know what I mean. It was disgusting, if you think about it. He was a fat old pervert. All of which doesn't change the fact that he made me cum so hard I saw stars. " "It's better when there's emotions involved," Shannon said. "I have no doubt about that," Zoe agreed, "though I can't quite say I have any experience in it. I've had sex with friends, and friends is better than, you know, pickups--but I've never been in love. I'm pretty sure I wasn't capable of love up until recently anyway, not that kind of love. "But my point is you can get off without emotion. I mean, is there anyone here that doesn't play with themselves?" "I used to... before... but I haven't in a while," Karen said. "Yeah, but you used to. So you know what it is. And it's completely physical. I'm not having an emotional relationship with my right hand, right?" We all cracked up at that. "It's the physical stimulation of a pleasure center. Yeah, I know, fantasizing can help get you off a bit quicker. But it's still almost all physical." Zoe looked right at Karen. "And that's all it was with you, too." Karen looked positively grateful. Damn, Zoe was cool. "Zoe, does it now bother you?" Shannon asked. "Being that active, I mean, and with so many partners." "Somewhat. Because I'm past it, but that's my reputation, you know? Now that I'm feeling more like an actual human being, I want what Ginny has. But at school I'm the Designated Slut and the crazy chick that tried to off herself." "Well, I've got the latter, plus School Brain, and I found someone," I said. "You got damn lucky. And don't you forget it," Zoe laughed. "Just keep looking, girlfriend. Hey, Sam's available." Zoe shot a speculative look at Sam. "Hmm. That's an idea. He's cute--and sweet, too." Poor Sam just blushed crimson! Zoe wasn't done yet. "So, Sam. You want me to teach you what I know?" "Uh, well, um..." "Shit. This is the offer of a lifetime," Zoe teased. Poor Sam just squirmed! ------- Fourteen It was November now. The month passed normally. Well, normally for me, anyhow. Which was more normal than I used to be but not quite, you know? Craig and I just got closer and closer. We still hadn't done much physically, but that was OK. He'd confessed that making out was as far as he'd ever gotten--with the odd grab of a boob through a shirt and bra, but that was it. He was a virgin, too. I think that made me feel a little better. So, we were kind of working up to things. That was fine. I did notice that we'd gone to a school dance in November and he kept playing grab-ass every time we slow danced! "OK, so you do have a thing about my ass," I said to him. "Guilty," he grinned. I was still in therapy, and still in group. And group was working out well, because I considered those people friends. Zoe really was a hot shit. We'd traded phone numbers and talked a couple times a week. Then, after group one day, Seth came up to me and asked me to go get a cup of coffee. I did, and we were just chatting. In the course of the conversation, he mentioned a place. "It's kind of a club, but it's not advertised. I just found out about it a couple months ago, and now I go there almost every weekend. It's for teenagers, no booze. There's a coffee bar and couches and tables and stuff in the front room, and a dance floor with a DJ in the back. So you can chat--or make out on a couch," he grinned, "or you can go dance." "This is for gay kids I take it?" I asked. "Mostly. What they call it is gay-friendly. In other words, straight kids are welcome as long as they're not going to have a problem with two guys or two girls making out in the corner or dancing with each other." He grinned. "You do see some stuff there, though." "What do you mean?" "One of my best friends in the world is a girl named Catherine. In fact, she's the one that told me about this place. I knew her from a camp a few years ago. We still talked, but she didn't know I was gay--she didn't find out until after my suicide attempt. That's when she told me about this club. I didn't know that she was bi. "Anyhow, she's bi. She has a boyfriend Tom, and a girlfriend Stephie." "That's gotta be confusing," I laughed. "Oh, it gets better. Stephie is also bi and has a boyfriend, Rich. Tom and Rich are also bi. You can figure out the rest." I cracked up. "I've heard of a love triangle, but a square?" "That's pretty much how it is, though the two unconnected couples--that'd be Rich and Cath, and Tom and Stephie--aren't completely hands-off either. The love is along the square, as you called it, but the others really like one another. You see, the parents involved know about the hetero couplings. And are pretty cool with them. They have no problem with the two couples going off for a weekend or something. So there's been moments where all four have had the opportunity to be in the same place with some privacy. From what they tell me, it's basically your big pile of orgasming body parts." "So it's like this big foursome?" "Yeah. They quote double-date unquote," Seth laughed. "Evidently there was one night at the drive-in where it started with the two hetero couples making out, one in each seat--but it ended with guys in front, girls in back, making out." "It's lucky it worked out, though. I mean how do you arrange something like that?" "Very carefully," he deadpanned. "Seriously, it started with Cath and Stephie, they've been lovers since they were 12. They always knew they were bi, though, so guys were always an option. When Cath met Tom, they fell pretty quickly--and Cath felt she had to tell Tom about Stephie. Tom not only had no problem with it, but confessed he was also bi. They went actively looking for a guy to complete the square after that. They actually met Rich at the club. They noticed he was looking at Tom and Stephie. And Tom and Stephie were both checking him out. So they reeled him in." "That's great," I laughed. Then I twigged onto it. "You're telling me all this because you want me to come to this club, aren't you?" "Yeah. Look, Ginny, I consider you a friend. I like going out with my friends, and this is my favorite place. It's also safe--and that means for you, too. You know that gay and lesbian teenagers have a ridiculously high rate of suicide, or attempts, or suicidal thoughts." I nodded. "Well, the reasons might be different between a depressed gay person and a depressed brain like yourself, but the impulse is similar. The ostracism in school is similar, too. People there that see your wrists will commiserate, not judge. Karen and her boyfriend have actually come a couple of times. Karen loves it--and Aaron thinks it's cool as well." "Karen and Aaron--I get a kick out of that, rhyming boyfriend and girlfriend" I laughed. "Anyhow, I think I'd like to. I have to convince Craig, though." "I bet you you don't. I bet you all you have to do is ask him." Seth was right. "Sure," Craig said the minute I asked him. "You sure you won't feel uncomfortable?" "No. I'm open minded. And I might feel uncomfortable if we just wandered in there out of the blue, but not if Seth is there to introduce us around." "You've never met Seth," I laughed. "But he's your friend, so you'll introduce him to me and then he'll introduce us around. I want to meet him, to tell you the truth. Karen, too." "As long as you're sure." "I'm sure, as long as you're not going there to satisfy your secret urge for girls," he laughed. "Not hardly," I laughed back. "I'm completely straight." "Good." So we went, a couple Saturdays before Thanksgiving. Seth met us there and led us in. It was as lot of fun, but it was also very very interesting. And educational. I learned a lot that night. First of all, I found out that everybody likes Seth. He's the life of the party. Everybody came over sooner or later. Which was cool for Craig and I, being the newbies, because we got introduced to everyone. But Seth was in his element. He was a people person. It must be especially tough on a people person to be ostracized--here, he wasn't. "This place must've been like a godsend to you," I said to him at one point. "Yep," he agreed happily. At one point, I saw him talking intently to a good-looking guy. He came back grinning and said, "That's Adam. We're doing The Dance at the moment." "The Dance?" I asked him. "Oh, you know--the little looks, the eye-lock, the shy little smile. All that shit you do right before you ask someone out." "Go for it. He's cute," I said. "I know," Seth agreed. So, I liked seeing Seth here. And then there was Karen. I think part of it was the place--she seemed very at ease and comfortable there. But that wasn't most of it. Most of it was Aaron. I'd heard her talk about him, of course. And because of what she'd been through, the way she talked about him sounded almost like they were in a relationship between two scarred people that were hanging on by a thread and didn't know if they'd ever be able to get past the scars. But, damn, that's not what it looked like. It looked like two people so hopelessly in love with each other that they wouldn't notice if a bomb dropped on their heads. It was very, very nice to see. In group, Karen is Miss Angst, even when she talks about Aaron. When she's with him? No angst at all. There was one point where we were on a couch. Seth was on a chair facing us, and we were talking, but the rest of us were on a couch. I was sitting, quite happily, on Craig's lap. But Karen and Aaron were completely curled up together in a little ball. Karen looked like a well-fed cat sunning herself--completely, utterly content. And Aaron just doted on her. I know the hell she'd been through had affected their relationship--but he was just a complete rock. I noticed it immediately. What I really noticed was the touching. Not sexual touching--just rubbing her shoulders or brushing her hair out of her face, stuff like that. Aaron did that constantly. Karen basked in it. I'd been worried about Karen since the minute I met her. I was a lot less worried after that night. Anyhow, we had a good time. We danced, drank coffee, talked. At one point, we were just standing around, and we heard, "Jesus, Seth, you brought more breeders in here?" "Oh, shaddap," Seth said, but he was grinning. We looked and saw this short, cute, but very butch girl approaching the table. "Terri, this is Ginny. She's in group with me. And this is her boyfriend Craig." "Nice to meet you," Terri grinned, shaking our hands. "I was just kidding with the breeder crack." "I know," I laughed. "So, Seth, another from group? You gonna get them all in here eventually?" "There's only two more. I don't know if I could get them to come," Seth said. "Oh, Zoe would come," Karen said. "Zoe would come just for the hell of it." "She might come for other reasons," I laughed. "We talk on the phone, and she once told me that she was ninety percent straight and ten percent curious." "Sounds like a fish waiting to be reeled in," Terri laughed. "What about the other one?" "Sam? No, no, never, no," Seth said. "Sam would be scared shitless coming in here." "Sam's scared of everything, the poor kid," I said. "Including his own shadow." "And Zoe," Karen laughed. "What about you?" Terri asked me. "Are you ten percent curious?" "I am a hundred percent straight, and a hundred and ten percent his," I laughed, pointing at Craig. "OK, OK," Terri laughed. "It's a damn, shame, though, Girl, you have a hell of an ass." Oh, GOD. I did not want to look at Craig. I did anyway. I was right--complete self-satisfied shit-eating grin. And then the bastard said to Terri, "Tell her that again, please." "What? That she has a grade A ass? She does." She looked back at me. "If you weren't straight and taken I'd love to get my hands all over it." "Thank you," Craig laughed. "I missed something," Terri said. "You just confirmed what I've been telling her for two months," Craig laughed. "She keeps saying it's fat. I keep telling her it's delicious." Terri looked at Craig, then looked at me, and said, "Keep him." And then walked off. Craig couldn't stop laughing. "Now I'm gonna think everyone's looking at my ass all night!" I said. "Ginny, I look at your ass every night," Craig said. "You are in big trouble, Lyubovnik." "I can't wait," he grinned. ------- Fifteen School was good. And bad. The good part was I wasn't alone. The bad part was that the vultures seemed to be coming out of the woodwork again. A lot of the whispering and catcalls and insults were back. I tried to shrug them off. I guess the 'novelty' of my suicide attempt had worn off. And although the teachers weren't pinning me down in class much anymore, they found other ways. Ellis graded a damn essay test on a curve, and made sure the whole class knew who exactly was perched on the top swoop of the curve. Me, of course. Look, I don't care how thick your skin is. And I don't care how useless you might think certain people are. When you hear one of those useless people refer to your own suicide attempt and say, "It's just too bad that they found the bitch in time," it hurts. Overall it was probably a lot less, but I was right--the suicide attempt gave them new ammunition. People yelling, "There's a knife--hide it from Ginny!" and the like. And I wasn't any better at standing up for myself. Some people badly needed a loudly delivered, "Oh, fuck off, you stupid git!" And I just didn't have that kind of thing in me. The good part was lunch. Because I wasn't eating alone anymore. Craig ate with me every day, of course. Johanna and Alex joined as well, as did Cap. And there was one other--Angela. God, I did a good thing. Can I say that? Fuck it. I did a damn good thing. Because something had happened to that girl. I don't know how 'close' she really was. Thinking about suicide is not exactly uncommon in teenagerdom. Trying it is another kettle of fish, of course. But thinking about it--lots of kids think about it. She may have never tried it. I don't think she ever got really close to trying it. The fact that she was confident of her parents' love might've kept her from actually trying it. It was a low-grade hum in the back of her mind, but she'd never attempted it. That's a roundabout way of saying that I'm not by any means taking credit for 'saving her life' or any of that shit. But Shannon was clearly helping her. And I forced the issue. That I will take credit for. To say that she 'blossomed' or 'burst out of her shell' would be a ridiculous overstatement. But she was at least peeking her head out of the shell and taking a look around. I mean, she actually talked. She even smiled once in a while. I'd even seen her walking the halls without hugging the wall like she wanted it to suck her in or something. I mean, when we were eating lunch together, there were six people at that lunch table--not five people and one mannequin. She talked to us. Now, she didn't talk as much as Johanna--nobody talks as much as Johanna--but she interacted. This was big, big progress. So, I was a bit dismayed to see her approach me one day after school. She looked like the old Angela--downcast eyes, chewing on her bottom lip, all hunched over like she wanted to curl up into an inconspicuous ball. "Can I talk to you?" she said in that tiny little voice. Uh-oh. Last time she asked me that... "Sure," I said, faking being chipper. "Why don't I give you a ride home? That way we can talk, and I'll save you from the horrors of the bus." At least I got a little giggle. We got in the car, and I started it up. "So, what's on your mind? I said. "Cap asked me out." Didn't expect that! "That's great!" Then I looked over at her--it was still the old miserable Angela. "Wait a minute, isn't it great? Did you turn him down?" "I told him I'd tell him tomorrow." "Do you want to go out with him?" "Oh, yes!" "So what's the problem?" "My parents," she said miserably. "I don't know how they're going to react." "They're kind of overprotective, aren't they?" "No. Yes. Well, they kind of are, but I don't think that's the problem," she said. "It's not me going out on a date. I think they'd be OK with that." She took a breath. "I just don't know how they're going to react to me going out with someone who's Black." "Oh," I said. That was a toughie. "Are they prejudiced?" "I don't know. They've never come out and said, but there's the odd comment. If there's something on the news about bad stuff happening in the city"--Detroit, she meant--"they'll make a comment about 'those people'. I don't know at all what's going to happen." "You won't know until you ask." "Yeah." "Do you have any problem with it?" "God, NO!" she burst out. Ah, I think I got it now. We had gotten to her house, and I waited until I pulled over and stopped the car to ask. "You really like Cap, don't you?" Boy. When that girl blushed it was like a sunburn. A three-day sunburn. "Yeah, I really like him," she admitted. "God, Ginny, he makes me laugh! Great big belly laughs. Nobody's ever made me laugh like that! Plus, he's really sweet. And he's interesting. I can listen to him talk about sailing all day long, and I've never even been on a boat in my life." "Good, you like him. Look, Angela, if you like him that much--it's worth standing up for." "You mean with my parents?" "Sure. Look, if they forbid you to date Cap only because he's Black, what would you think about that?" "Well, I'd be very upset of course." "That's not what I meant." "What did you mean?" "Angela, it'd be wrong. Very wrong for them to do that. You'd be in the right, they'd be in the wrong. Remember that." She took a breath. "You have a point, but there's another. Look, this isn't 1964, but I'm not stupid. Interracial relationships still get a hard time from some people." "True. But it wouldn't stop you would it?" "No! I don't care what people think." "Then you tell your parents that, too. Angela, when I came over and told your mother you were thinking of suicide, I scared the crap out of her. They want you to be happy. If they're worried about you--and not just being bigots--they will give you a chance to convince them this is what you want." "Hmm. That makes sense." She smiled, finally. "Thanks, Ginny. You're the best." "No problem. Good luck." ------- Sixteen It all worked out--for Angela, I mean. Angela told them she got asked out, and they were thrilled. And then she told them he was Black. Evidently, they were very good about it. They were kind of worried about what Angela had talked about, that people would give her and Cap a hard time. Once they realized that she didn't care, they let her go. So, November passed into December. One cool thing was that my parents actually offered to make Thanksgiving dinner. I turned them down, but the offer was nice! We'd always gone to a restaurant, at least for the last 10 years or so. Mom couldn't be bothered with cooking--and, of course, I'd never said that it bothered me that she didn't. This year, she told me she would. Things at home had been, well, OK. Once the immediate crisis with me had passed, Mom and Dad did go back to the old habits a bit. Their work hours started getting ridiculous. But not always, and not as much. They were trying for a balance. And one of them--usually Mom--called me every day after school. And if I even hinted that I'd like supper at home with both of them, it happened. They made sure they were home at least a couple nights a week for supper, and they stopped the early morning working and were always there for breakfast. It wasn't perfect, but it was a good change. I knew they were trying. When Mom actually offered to do the whole Thanksgiving turkey thing, I really knew they were trying. The problem was, a couple days before, Craig had offered to have me go over his house! I'd only just met his parents a week or so before that. I guess there was a bit of a problem there. His parents weren't thrilled we were going out. That first couple days that I was in the hospital, his Mom had noticed he was preoccupied, and asked why. He ended up telling her. And then we ended up going out. I'm sure she was apprehensive--her son was now dating the whacko that slit her wrists. I'd noticed that he'd never asked me over there to meet his family, but I didn't say anything. I figured that was his business. I found out about his parents' worry afterwards. I guess after a month or so of us going out, his parents figured it wasn't going away. So, on a Friday night a week and a half before Thanksgiving, we were planning on hitting another football game, when he told me his parents wanted me to come over for dinner. As I said, I only found out exactly what his mother had been thinking later--but I could guess. He seemed very nervous--uncharacteristically so--about this supper invitation. But I easily accepted. I didn't want to have to hide 'us' from his parents. So, I was bound and determined to make the best impression that I could. Neurotic Ginny had been banished for the duration. Sweet Happy Loving Ginny was the only one invited. Now I just had to find her! Craig picked me up and brought me to his house. Damn, he really was nervous. I got led in, and introduced to his parents. They were friendly, but obviously guarded. Craig also had a sister, he'd mentioned her once or twice. She was 13, her name was Laurie. I met her, too. She seemed very nice. Kind of quiet. Not Angela quiet, but somewhat. I wondered how much she knew. We sat in the living room while the supper was finishing. "So," his Dad started, "you guys are going to the football game?" "Yep," Craig smiled. "Kind of cold out there tonight," Mr. Tolland said. "Well, that just means it's a good excuse to cuddle," I said. "God knows we're not going to see our horrible football team. I'm just giving him no choice but to keep me warm." I grinned at Craig. "And that includes copious hot chocolate, Lyubovnik." "Your wish is my command, Princess." "Ooh, Princess. I think I like that one." "What did you call him?" his sister Laurie asked. "Lyubovnik. It's Russian." "What's it mean?" Laurie asked. "Well, I'll let him tell you just as soon as I tell him. For now, it's a secret." "You're such a brat," Craig said. "You know it." It went well. It seemed it was going well. I was loose and relaxed, and Craig seemed so as well. His parents were fine. So, we ate. Mrs. Tolland is an excellent cook and I told her so. We'd eaten a fine meal and now we were having apple crisp for desert. The only problem I'd seen throughout the the meal--and a bit beforehand--was that Laurie kept staring at me. She didn't say much, but kept looking at me. I guessed she had something on her mind. Then, in the middle of the apple crisp, she said it. "Ginny? Did you really try to kill yourself?" "LAURIE!" her mother and Craig shouted simultaneously. Laurie looked at them, not happy. "Nobody tells me anything!" she spat. "I hear all this whispering. Or conversations that end the minute I get in the room. What am I, six? The little kid that doesn't know what suicide is?" She looked at Craig. "I've gotten teased in school about this!" "What?" Craig croaked. "A couple kids in my grade have brothers and sisters in the high school. They know what's going on. 'Hey, Laurie, I hear your brother's going out with a nutcase!'" I think we were all completely pale at that point--I know I was. "So," Laurie continued, to me, "did you really try to kill yourself?" "Yes, I did," I said. "How?" she asked. So, I pulled up my sleeves and showed her my wrists. She visibly blanched at the sight of my scars. I knew what was coming next. "Why?" she asked. "That's complicated," I said. "I'm not stupid, I can understand complicated," Laurie spat. "I have no doubt you can, but if I tried to explain it all, we'd miss the football game," I said with a grin--which at least got a hint of one from Laurie. "The short version is lonliness. Lonliness and being ostracized and pressure." "What made you so lonely?" That was from Craig's mother, who decided to get in on the conversation. "Oh, I had no friends. I mean zero," I said. "And I know now my parents love me, but I didn't then. They weren't very great at showing me. That's getting better." "Why did you have no friends?" Laurie asked. "Most of the kids in school hate me," I said. "Why?" Mrs. Tolland asked. "Just things about me. I didn't help, but I didn't realize that at the time." "I don't understand," Laurie said. "You seem nice to me." "Well, thank you," I grinned, but didn't say anything more. "You're not going to say it, are you?" Craig said to me. I just shrugged. "You know, that's what I hate the most about this. Those jerks in school have made you ashamed of what you are. That just sucks. Well, if you're not going to say it, I am." He turned to his family. "The reason kids in school hate her is jealousy. You see, she's the smartest person in school. Heck with that, I think she's the smartest person in Michigan." "Let's not get carried away," I laughed. "Wouldn't surprise me," he grinned back. "She's never gotten anything less than an A in her life," he continued to his family. "She wrecks the curve in every class. She's a whiz at math and science. And she speaks five languages." "FIVE?" Laurie spat. "That's what he said," I laughed, pointing to Craig. "So, that's why they pick on her. Sheer jealousy," Craig said. He turned to Laurie. "So, squirt, any time any of those kids tease you about your brother going out with a 'nutcase', you just tell 'em, 'No, my brother goes out with a genius!'" Laurie grinned at that one. Craig sat back and put his hands behind his head. "Hell, I figure if we ever get married, I won't even have to work. I'll just stay home and raise the kids and let her beautiful brains make me rich!" We all laughed at that, me most of all. "Well, sweetie, maybe if I go into engineering," I told him. "But theoretical physicists don't generally get rich." "Engineering it is, then," he proclaimed with a little smirk. I just whacked him on the shoulder. After the laughter died down, Laurie asked the kicker. "You're not going to do it again, are you?" I took a breath and gave my standard answer. "I'm working very hard on not wanting to." "What does that mean?" Mr. Tolland asked, a bit roughly. "Dad..." Craig said. "Look," Mrs. Tolland interjected. "Ginny, this isn't easy for us. We worry about Craig dating someone..." and she faltered. I finished for her. "Unstable? I can understand that. Look, Craig and I have talked about this, you know. It worries him, too." "It does," he agreed, "I won't lie about it. But I couldn't help falling in love with her, so we deal with it." My heart skipped a good three beats at that. He'd never said he was in love with me before! This wasn't the time to deal with that however. Make no mistake, though, I basked in it! "Anyhow, as to what you asked, Mr. Tolland," I said, "this is the way my therapist talks about it. Suicide isn't a disease, it's a symptom. You don't cure suicidal thoughts. You cure what's causing them. That's what I'm trying to do." "She made me a promise a while ago," Craig told them. "She promised that if she ever felt that way again, she'd at least talk to me about it. We'd talk it out before she did anything foolish. I'm gonna hold her to that promise." "Things are better?" Mrs. Tolland asked. "Lots better," I said. "My parents and I are working things out, I've made some friends, and I've got this guy," I said, grinning at Craig. "Things aren't perfect--most of the school is going to hate me right through graduation--but I'm insulated from it somewhat due to Craig and the friends I've made." "But what if Craig is the problem?" his mom asked. "What if he breaks up with you? Are you going to threaten to do it again? That's what we worry about, putting that kind of burden on Craig." I took a breath around the lump in my throat. Yes, I've thought of this, as much as I don't want to. "I'm not going to lie--if Craig broke up with me, it'd be tough. But I have other places to go, people to turn to, if that should happen. I'm not making any promises, but I think I'd get through it. I told him once that I didn't ever plan on ever forcing him to be my savior, and I meant it." "Besides which, why the heck would I ever break up with her?" Craig asked with a smile. Oh, thank you, sweetie, I thought to myself. "She's just about perfect for me." "You never know," Mr. Tolland said. "Kids fight." "We don't really," I said. "Yeah," Craig agreed. "The closest we ever come to fighting is when she has one of her days when her self-esteem is in the toilet. And that's not really fighting, that's me lecturing her." "True story," I laughed. "But there's things you might not have thought about. Things that come up with teenagers dating," Mrs. Tolland said. "I mean, what about sex?" "Mom!" Craig yelled. "Well," Mrs. Tolland said, "it's an issue that breaks up a lot of teenagers. I know Craig is a good boy, but he's a boy. Boys push things. What would you say, Ginny, if Craig tried to put his hand up your shirt at the football game?" "MOM!!!" I was trying very hard to keep my laughter in. "Well, if he put his hand up my shirt at the game, I'd probably screech." I turned to Craig. "It's ten degrees out, those hands are gonna be freezing!" "Good point," he laughed. "Anyhow, Mother, I am not going to discuss my sex life with you, but rest assured I'd never push Ginny to a place she didn't want to go. Ever." "I trust him," I told them. "I trust him more than I've ever trusted another person in my entire life. And that's because he's earned it." They looked pretty happy at that, at least. Luckily, it was time to go to the football game. "That must have been tough for you," Craig said quietly in the car. "I'm sorry." "Don't be," I said. "I have things to answer for. And I'm so sorry your sister's been affected by this." "It's OK. It'll work itself out." "You think?" I snorted. "I realized something," I told him. "They're never going to go away, you know." He glanced over at me. "The scars. They're never going to go away. As long as I live, I'm going to have a reminder; one I can't hide or ignore." "That's true," he agreed. "So, you can take it two ways. You can get down about it. Or you can make it work for you. You know, as kind of an early-warning system." "I see your point, but I was more thinking along the lines of explaining them. I'm going to have to do that forever." "No, you're not," he said. "Look, I was trying to save you from explaining it tonight--but Laurie had a point. However, this was your boyfriend's family--your boyfriend's sister. That was different. But there are going to be people who ask--and it's most of them--that you can justifiably say 'None of your fucking business.'" "I suppose you're right. I guess I had a flash of twenty or so years from now having to explain the scars on Mommy's wrists to my kid." He turned and grinned at me. "Honey, you're getting better." "Why do you say that?" "You just talked about twenty years in the future. And having children, even." "I guess I did," I smiled back. "And, let me tell you something. If you live long enough to have children--if you don't try this again--you will be able to put it in a place where you can explain it and it doesn't bother you so much." "Yeah," I agreed. "I hope." "You will." We went to the football game. We had a good time. I was able to put it in the corner. Afterwards, he said, "We have a few hours before our curfews. You want to do something else?" "I want you to take me home," I said. Before he could get upset, I grinned. "I figured we could watch TV and make out or something." "Good idea," he grinned back. "Won't your parents be there, though?" "If they are, we'll go up to my room." "They wouldn't mind?" "No," I laughed. "Believe me, no. You don't know my parents." "OK," he said. We got to my house, and my parents were in fact there. We chatted for a bit, then I said, "Craig and I are going to go up to my room and watch TV." "OK, have fun," Mom smiled. We got up there and Craig looked at me. "Your parents know we're not going to be paying much attention to the TV, don't they?" "No doubt," I laughed. "I told you." I got on my bed, lying down on it, looking up over at him. "Now get over here and kiss me!" "Don't have to ask twice," he chuckled. We got into it, a nice make-out session sprawled all over the bed. Boy, he could kiss me all day and I wouldn't even complain about the chapped lips! We made out for a while, and then he pulled away, a little impish look on his face. "So," he said, "what would you say if I tried to put my hand up your shirt?" "The bra unsnaps in the back, sweetie. And after that I figure it'd just be your basic moaning." He blinked. "You're serious." "Dead serious. Close your eyes." "Huh?" "You heard me, Lyubovnik. Close your eyes, and no peeking!" When he did, I quickly stripped off my shirt and bra. Why play games, right? "OK, open up," I said. He did--and his eyes just about bugged right out of his head! "God, you're beautiful," he croaked. Then he leaned in to kiss me again. As he did, his hand reached out and touched my bare boob. Oh, it was wonderful. His hand felt so good there, I was basking in it. His kisses drove me wild in the first place, but with the added stimulation, I was flying. I broke the kiss after a few minutes, though. I had to say it. "Craig? I love you, you know." "I love you, too," he grinned. "I was working up to saying it. I figured I'd have to say it first." "You did," I grinned back. "At your house." "I did, didn't I? I meant to say it to you first!" "I didn't mind at all." And then I went back to kissing. He kissed me for a while, then he broke his lips away from mine, and started kissing down my neck. Well, whaddaya know? Wasn't that fun! A little nibbling on the neck made me feel like a bowl of jello. Amazing. But Craig didn't stop at my neck. He kept going. Before I knew it, he had a nipple in his mouth. And I thought kisses on the neck were thrilling! Oh my Jesus. I guess there were noises coming out of my mouth. I didn't really realize it until Craig pulled off my boob and said, "Yup, you were right about the moaning," and then went back to it. I kept moaning. I was a little torn. Part of me--most of me--figured that this was a good first step, that going at a steady pace was good, and I was enjoying the hell out of it anyway. But part of me wanted to strip his clothes off and jump him! I didn't. We didn't have unlimited time, anyhow, and I didn't want to rush that. So, I just enjoyed what he was doing with his tongue on my nipples. Boy did I enjoy it. No, I didn't have an orgasm. I'm sensitive but not that sensitive. But I was getting there--it wouldn't take me long after he left to get myself off! He broke off after a bit and moved back up to kiss me. I was so wound up I think I pretty much shoved my tongue down his throat! He wasn't complaining--and he still had a hand curled around my boob. I broke the kiss and hugged him, tight--trapping his hand right where it was. "I love you," I said again. "I love you too." I got a glimpse at the clock. "I hate to say this--I really hate to say this--but your curfew is in fifteen minutes." "I know," he said, sighing, untangling himself from me. I sat up. "Where's my shirt?" "Don't put it on yet," he said. "Well, I was going to put it on to walk you down." "No. I know my way out. I want you to stay right like that until I leave. I want that image burned into my brain." "I think I like the sound of that," I said. "Because I know exactly what you're going to be doing the minute you get home." "Oh, God," he hissed. "Well? What do you think I'm going to be doing the minute you leave?" I wrapped my arms around him again and leaned in. "Next time we'll have to start this a bit earlier, so I can help!" "God, Ginny, what you do to me," he hissed. "I have been trying very hard not to push this." "You haven't. At all. No worries on that score, love," I told him. "I still don't want to push it," he said, ever the gentleman. I leaned into his ear again and whispered, "Can't rape the willing." I think his eyes about bugged out of his head on that one! "But, unfortunately, Lyubovnik, now you have to go. All I need is for you to get grounded." "Good point," he laughed. He reluctantly climbed out of the bed and stared at me--lying there grinning up at him--for a full minute. "Night, love," he said. "Sweet dreams," I giggled. "Oh, you betcha." And then he was gone. I just stayed right where I was, reclining on the bed, naked from the waist up. I was going to do exactly what I'd said, but I was in no hurry. I was too busy reliving his hands all over my boobs. There was a knock on my door. "Ginny? Is everything OK?" "Fine, Mom, why do you ask?" "The way Craig got out of here. And you didn't come down with him. I thought you might have had a fight." "He was coming up on curfew," I said. "And he didn't want me to walk him down." "Why not?" Hmmm. Well, Mom was open, right? "You can come in, Mom, but you're going to get an eyeful." She opened the door--and saw me there. And cracked up laughing. "He wanted to remember me like this, that's why he didn't want me to walk him down." "I'll bet," she laughed, closing the door behind her. I was remarkably unselfconscious about sitting in my room with my boobs hanging out talking to my mother. She really could be cool. "Your first time for this sort of thing?" "Yeah. And we kind of ran out of time, so this was all we did. That's the other reason he was in a hurry--to get home and, you know, take care of himself." That just made her laugh harder. "What about you?" "Well, you interrupted me." "Sorry," she said, still laughing. "No biggie, I was in no hurry." Then I got an idea. "Hey, Mom. Since you're so open-minded and all, you want to help me give my boyfriend a naughty present?" "What?" "Over on my computer desk. Grab my digital camera." "Ooo, you little minx!" she said, cracking up. "But it's nice to see you really are my daughter." She grinned at me. "In my day, of course, it wasn't digital cameras. It was Polaroids. Taken with a self-timer in my dorm room. I think your father still has them." "Unbelievable," I grinned. She had the camera. "Wait," I said. I stood up and started shucking my pants. "You're going full-nude? Honey, he might like to see that in person first." "No. I'm keeping my panties on. Plus I'm gonna cover up a bit." I arranged myself in bed, with the blanket suggestively draped over my hips and ass and naughty bits. You could clearly see my bare legs though. "I just want to give him a hint." "Good idea," she laughed. She got the camera, and I got into position. "Smile big," she said. I did. She snapped off a few. "Mom, I wish I figured out before, you know, how cool you were," I said, meaning it to the bottom of my heart. "I wish I'd shown you better," she said. I got up, grabbed the camera from her, and hooked it up to my computer. "Email?" she said. "Of course," I grinned. "Do you trust him that much?" "Yes," I said firmly. "Good." I extracted the photos and emailed them to Craig as fast as I could. That done, I reached for my cell phone. "Hello?" he said. "Hi, honey, you home yet?" "Just pulling into the driveway. Is something wrong?" "Nope. Just this. When you get up into your room--and when you're absolutely sure you're completely alone up there--check your email. Love you." Then I threw a kiss and hung up. Mom was still laughing. "Good show. He'll love it. Anyhow, I'll leave you alone now," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Thanks," I said. She left. And I was right. Didn't take me long at all. And it was the best I'd ever given myself, and by a lot. Right after I stopped quivering, my cell phone rang. "Hello?" I said. "You are unbelievable, and I've never cum that hard in my life." "Ditto," I laughed. "I'm glad you liked them." "God. You surprise me," he said. "What was that, a self timer?" "Actually, my Mom took them for me." "WHAT?!?!?" "She really is very cool." "Good. And I'm glad you found that out," he said. "So am I. Almost as glad I found out how cool you are." "Same goes, honey." ------- Seventeen I ended up going to Craig's for Thanksgiving. I talked it over with Mom and Dad. I made sure they knew I was thrilled with their offer. But when they found out Craig had invited me, they told me they'd not be upset at all if I went over there. I'd told Mom about some of the stuff that had happened with his family. "Then that's good they invited you," she said, "they want and need to get to know you better." "That's what I figured," I said. "And, I'll be honest--I would've gladly made turkey if you wanted me to, but your father and I really would rather go to the restaurant." "Good!" I laughed. So, I went there. It was fine. A lot more relaxed than the first time, even though there were grandparents and aunts and uncles and all there. I made sure I talked as much as I could with Laurie--she needed the reassurance more than anyone, I think. It was good. And, yes, the Saturday after Thanksgiving--Dad got tickets for the Michigan-Ohio State game. For all four of us, meaning Craig as well. We had a blast and the Wolverines won. So, November got into December. I got a phone call on a Sunday early in December. It was from Zoe. She had news. She'd actually gotten Sam to go out with her! "And we had a really good time," she said. "We spent all afternoon and evening together yesterday. He opens up more one-on-one. It was nice." She sighed. "He's what I need--a nice, sweet guy who knows what I'm really like and the problems I have. I knew I liked him before the date, but now I really know." "Did you jump him?" I laughed. "NO! Shit, Ginny, I finally got him to stop being scared of me, I don't want him to start again!" "I know, I was just teasing," I laughed. "I did, however, give him the kiss of his life. Which he liked a lot, I could tell." "Good for you!" So, things were better. My friends seemed happier. Even Cap and Angela had somehow, very quickly, become near-inseperable. And Angela told me that her parents loved Cap. Five minutes after she brought him home, they were instantly at ease about their relationship. That was good to hear. Craig and I hadn't had a chance to get any further--physically, I mean--but that was fine, we had time. All those "I love you" murumurs while we were kissing was the important part. My parents were rallying nicely still. School wasn't perfect, but fuck it. For once, I had more good things in my life than bad things. By a lot. And then it all curdled. It happened two days after that phone chat with Zoe. It being a Tuesday, I had therapy with Shannon. I'd been doing so well she was talking about going down to every other week with our individual therapy, but we hadn't yet. So, it was Tuesday, so there I was. I walked in to Shannon's office. She had her head down looking at her desk. "What's up, Doc?" I chirped. Then she looked up. She looked like death. "Ginny, sit down," she said in the gravest voice I've ever heard her use. I went and sat in front of her. Oh, shit. This was bad. This was really bad. I was right. "Ginny... sometime this morning... Sam somehow got a hold of a gun." "NO!" I shrieked. But I knew. Shannon was crying. Then she said it. "Ginny, he's gone." ------- Part 4 Eighteen We were both crying. "Oh, God, Oh, God," I kept wailing. Sam. Not sweet, scared Sam. I just couldn't believe it. I thought he was getting better. I thought he was happier. I thought Zoe... oh SHIT!! "ZOE!" I said to Shannon. "Does Zoe know?" "I don't know. I don't see her until tomorrow. I just found out. I knew you were coming in but I was going to call the rest of the group." "You need to call Zoe now, before she finds out some other way. And you need to get her in here. Don't tell her over the phone--or we're going to lose her as well." Shannon just looked at me. "Shannon, Zoe and Sam went out Saturday. On a date. Zoe even gave him his first kiss. She called me Sunday and told me it was wonderful. She really liked him." "Oh, God," Shannon said, and quickly reached for the phone. She got Zoe on the phone, and then her mother. They were on their way. "Ginny, can you stay for this? I think Zoe might need a friend." "OK," I said, dreading it but not willing to duck out. "This is just--I'm in shock." "I know you are. Ginny, the statistics aren't pretty." "What do you mean?" "Between forty and fifty percent of kids who try suicide will try it again. That's the grim reality," Shannon said. "When I sat down with the five of you in group, I knew the odds are high that two of you will try again. And the odds of succeeding are far higher for boys. Did you know that ten times as many girls attempt suicide as boys? It's true--but boys are have twice the fatalities." She sighed. "And Sam, unfortuately, is a good example of why. Boys are far far more likely to use a gun." "That must be depressing as hell, for you I mean." "Therapy helps the odds," she said. "But Sam is not the first patient I've lost, nor will he be the last. That doesn't make it any easier, mind you. It's like any doctor--you don't want to lose any patients. But you do." Just then, Zoe walked in. "Hey, Shannon. Hi, Ginny. What's up?" "Sit down," Shannon said. Zoe did, planting herself next to me, in the second chair facing Shannon's desk. "Zoe, there's no easy way to say this," Shannon said gently. "Sam killed himself this morning." I have never seen a person's face look the way Zoe's did at that moment--and I hope I never ever have to see it again. Heartbreaking doesn't even start to cover it. I can't describe it. It was horrific. She just crumpled. Her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Her eyes looked like they'd seen a ghost. It was just--God. God damn. Shannon and I got her out of the chair and over to the couch. We practically had to carry her. When we got over there I just pulled her into my arms and hung on for dear life. That's when the wails came--deep, pitiful wails. I could barely stand it. Shannon was bawling her eyes out and making sure Zoe didn't see. It didn't matter--Zoe wasn't in the room, really, not mentally. She was off in hell somewhere. God damn it. A fifteen-year-old kid shouldn't have to go through this. None of us should--Sam most of all. I guess her mother heard the wails and peeked her head in the door. The poor lady, seeing Zoe completely fall apart like that. Shannon pulled her back out into the hall, apparently explaining what had happened. Her Mom came back in, crying as well. Zoe had told me her mom had been a real trouper, putting up with Zoe's scattered mental state and doing her best to get Zoe the help she needed. The poor woman--just when Zoe'd gotten the right meds and was making progress, now this. Zoe calmed down a bit after a while. She sat on the couch, me on one side of her, her mother on the other, holding her hands. "I thought I helped him. I thought it helped," she half-whispered. "The date?" Shannon asked. "No. Well, I know that helped. We both had a good time. I talked to him Sunday and he was happy. We both were. We were planning the next date." She sniffled. "I'm talking about yesterday, when he called me. I thought I helped." "What happened yesterday?" Shannon asked. "He called me last night. He went into school yesterday morning. He told me it was the best mood he'd been in going to school in forever." Her voice got laced with bitterness. "Evidently, some asshole didn't like seeing Sam happy, because he got the shit kicked out of him. Again." "Oh, shit," I hissed. "Black eye, bloody nose, the whole bit. He didn't even go to the nurse--just went home. Hid the damage from his parents. But he called me." Zoe took a breath. "I told him. I told him to report these assholes, but he was scared to. But I told him it was OK. I told him I'd help him." Her voice dropped again, and the tears started back up. "I told him they didn't know what they were missing. I told him how cool he was. I told him how much I liked him." "I thought he was OK. Oh, God, I thought he was OK..." The wailing started up again. Shannon looked at her, then came over to me and asked me to wait out in the waiting area for a bit. I did so, feeling lost and upset. And pissed. Those bastards. They ruined a smart, sensitive, sweet kid. They did it. The ones that tormented him. Bastards. After a while, Zoe and her mom came back out. Zoe could barely walk. Shannon called me back in. "I'm having Zoe admitted to the hospital. For observation, at the very least," she told me. "Not a bad idea," I agreed. "Unfortunately, this isn't atypical," Shannon said. "What happened to Sam. The problem with happy moments when you're recovering from a suicide attempt is that it magnifies the low moments so much more." "In other words, you have further to fall," I said. "Exactly. I didn't say that to Zoe, because if I did she'd start blaming herself. And she's not to blame." "I know. Damn. I'm worried about Zoe." "Yes. But how are you?" "Depressed. Sad. Very pissed off." "At the people tormenting him," she said. "Yes." "That's not a bad thing, Ginny, if you use it the right way." "Right now it feels like it's going to eat me up inside," I admitted. "Don't do anything destructive, Ginny. Should I admit you as well?" "No," I said. I managed to get off a bit of a sad grin. "I think I'm just going to go find my boyfriend and get a cuddle." "That's a damn good idea," she said. That's what I did. I called Mom from my cell phone. She was upset of course, and told me she'd be heading right home to meet me there. "Well, actually, Mom, I think I'm going to go find Craig first," I said sheepishly. "Of course you are," she laughed. "I'll be here anyway." "Thanks, Mom." I got to Craig's house. His mother answered the door. "Hello, Ginny. You look awful!" Then she gulped. "I'm sorry, that sounded horrible. You look upset, though." "It's been a bad day. Is Craig here?" "Yes, he is. Come on in and I'll go get him." He came downstairs. "Ginny! I didn't expect to see you this afternoon." Then he saw my face. "Honey, what's wrong?" "Come sit with me," I said. He sat next to me on the couch, and immediately wrapped his arm around me. His mother was there, as was his sister. "I don't know if Laurie needs to hear this," I said. "It's OK. I'll listen. Even if it's bad. You look awful," she said. In other words, in her awkward 13-year-old way, she was offering to help--which touched me like you wouldn't believe. "OK. It's about Sam. He's a kid in my group therapy. He was the one that went to the same school as Craig and I, though he was a sophomore." I took a breath. "This morning he found a gun and blew his brains out." "Oh, God," Mrs. Tolland gasped. Laurie turned as white as a sheet. Dear sweet Craig just pulled me closer into him. God, I needed that. "The worst part is it never should have happened," I said. I told them the whole story, about Zoe, the date, the beating, all of it. "My God," Mrs. Tolland said. "It still amazes me that kids can be that cruel." "They can be, believe me," I said. "How's Zoe?" Craig asked. "A complete mess," I said. "Shannon had her admitted to the hospital for observation. At least there she'll be watched over." "Yeah," Craig said sadly. "I'll make sure I check in on her when I do my food rounds tomorrow." "That'd make me feel better," I admitted. "Zoe Watchell is her name. Just say you're Ginny's Craig, I talk about you enough, she'll know." "That must have really scared you," Laurie said. I just looked at her. "I mean, Sam, he had a... what do you call it? I mean if someone goes backwards?" "A relapse?" I surmised. "Yeah. He had a relapse. That must've really scared you." Damn, this kid was smart! And sympathetic, too. Little eighth grader--unbelievable. "It did a little," I told Laurie. "But I'm in a better place than Sam was and I know it." "That's good," she said, standing up out of her chair. "My brother really loves you, you know." And if her saying that wasn't enough of a shock, she came over to the couch and hugged me. "I'm sorry about your friend," she said--and then walked out of the room. Everybody watched her go. Then I pointed in the direction she'd gone and said, "That is one of the coolest people in the universe." Craig turned and looked at me. "You are really lucky to have a little sister that awesome. I hope you tell her that." He blinked, and said, "Not enough. Not nearly enough." And then he scrambled off the couch and headed in the same direction Laurie had. "Right, there's my good deed for the day," I told Mrs. Tolland--I even managed a bit of a grin with it. "Yes it was," she agreed. "They actually get along very well for siblings, but they can use a push now and again." After Craig came back in the room, he offered to go to my house with me. We drove over in my car. "I went and told Laurie how cool she was, and that that was from you and me, and she almost started blubbering." "Good," I said. "That kid should think about becoming a shrink when she grows up, you know." "Hm. You might be right about that." "She's got good insight. I just hope she wasn't too shaken up." "She's a pretty cool cucumber about stuff. She's worried about you, though, I know that much." "All these people worried about me. I'm really not used to it." "Is that good or bad?" "It's good," I said. "I guess I like being worried over. At least at this point in my life." "I try not to be overbearing," he said. "You're not at all," I assured him. I guess that little conversation stuck with me, though. I don't know if I got suspicious, but it did seem like a whole lot of people were worried about me, and awfully suddenly. Like Mom, waiting there for me when I got home. I even got another big hug. After I'd told her the whole story, and Craig got up to use the facilities, I said something. "I'm glad you're here, Mom. Surprised, but glad." She laughed a little. "You've been surprising me for a couple months now. Don't think I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, mind you, but it's like living with a different person. Sometimes I don't know how to take it." "Well, it's what I told you. You scared the shit out of me." She took a breath. "Call it a wake up call. Call it a slap in the face. Whatever--that's what it was. You got a drastic turnaround because I didn't feel I had a choice. I didn't tell you this but after that first meeting in the hospital with Shannon--well, I came here. After court, and my court appearance was thankfully brief. I came here. And I cried for an hour straight." "Oh, Mom," I said. "Something in my head said, 'Change or lose your daughter. It's that simple.' I chose not to lose my daughter." "It's not all you, though. It was never all you. I mean, Sam never talked about having any problems with his parents--and he did it." "I know it wasn't all me, Ginny, but I also know I wasn't helping. Are you OK?" "As OK as I'm gonna get, today, anyhow," I said with a wan smile. "Dammit, I'm going to miss him," I said. "I liked him." "In a lot of ways, he was kind of a kindred spirit, wasn't he?" "Yeah." ------- Nineteen Craig stayed with me for a good while that night. I really appreciated it. Shannon called. The wake was Thursday, the funeral Friday. The wake would be right after group Thursday, so she proposed we all go together after group. I agreed. Of course, 'all' was just three of us now, plus Shannon. Zoe would probably still be in the hospital. And Sam was gone. I slept, although fitfully. Got up the next morning and trudged to school. And found myself in the middle of a zoo. The media was there. The freakin' media! Of course, I should've expected it. Why on earth would a kid in a wealthy town like ours attending a 'great' school like ours ever want to kill himself? Just that there made it a 'story'. Fucking vultures. What was worse was all the kids wailing and crying. Jesus Christ, did they want to get on fucking TV that badly? It made me sick. And, of course, the vultures with the microphones ate it up with a spoon. The Six O'Clock News would be filled with all kinds of reactions from Sam's distraught 'friends'. Of course, that ignores the little fact that Sam had no friends. The closest thing he had to a friend in this school was me. And the one time I had a microphone thrust in my face, I threatened to shove it up the guy's ass. When I got in the school building, it got worse. Instead of class, they had us all attend an assembly. To 'discuss' the tragedy. Counselors were available to help any distraught 'friends' of Sam, of course. It all pissed me off like you wouldn't believe. When we got into the auditorium and were getting seated, I found Eggy. "Mr. Egermont," I called him deliberately, "I'd like to get up and speak at this thing." "Did you know Sam?" "Yes, I did. We were in group therapy together." "Is that what you want to talk about?" "Sort of." "What does sort of mean?" I took a breath and told him the truth. "Mr. Egermont, I think there are some people in this room that need to hear a few hard truths." He thought about it, and said, "No singling out." "In a lot of cases, I wouldn't even know who to single out--not by name, anyhow." He looked at me. "How are you, by the way?" "OK. All things considered." I took a breath. "Sam had a date this weekend, his very first, with another girl that's in our group. And she is in the hospital, under observation. I was there when she was told--I think 'nervous breakdown' would be accurate." "Oh, God," he hissed. "OK, Ginny, say what you have to say." "Thank you." He talked, and they had one of the shrinks talk, and there was all kind of sniffling and whimpering from Sam's poor heartbroken classmates. It disgusted me. Craig sat next to me. I told him what I was going to do. Told Angela, too, who was on the other side. Craig hugged me and Angela squeezed my hand. Finally, Eggy called me up there. "My name is Virginia Klusse," I started. "I'm a junior here. And I wanted to talk to you about Sam, because, two months ago, I attempted to do what Sam did yesterday." And I showed my wrists. "When you try to kill yourself, naturally they put you in therapy. In my case, I'm in one-one therapy and a group session, with other suicide survivors. That's where I met Sam, in group. He'd tried suicide before as well, a few weeks before I did. "So, I got to know Sam pretty well. He was very shy, even in group, but I got a good idea of him. "There are many reasons for attempting suicide as there are people who try it. There are different people in my group and we all had different reasons. I've heard stories that would curl your hair. Though I surely can relate to the impulse, the reasons were different. "That wasn't quite true with Sam. "We had quite a bit in common. We both went to school here. Anyone in the junior class knows I'm the quote class-brain unquote--Sam was the same for the sophomore class. We both had trouble making friends. "We weren't exactly alike of course--not even here. Sam got beat up, which I never did." I think I heard Eggy give a little gasp at that. Sometimes principals and the like are completely clueless. I went on. "And Sam was a lot shyer than I'll ever be. But there were similarities. And though there were different reasons we both wanted to kill ourselves, there were some that were the same. "And the biggest one that was the same for both of us? Well, that was you," I said, and pointed my finger straight out and swung it across the room. "You people in this room, in this school. Students and teachers." Well, I surely had their attention. I don't think anyone expected this, not after all the happy sympathetic talk from the shrinks. I saw a few smirks directed up on stage--but mostly it was rapt attention. I softened the blow a wee bit. "Not all of you, of course. Not all of you. But enough. A significant number of people in this room had a big part in making my life so unbearable I wanted to end it. And in making Sam succeed at ending his. "I don't know. Do some of you people think I'm deaf? Do you think I didn't hear the comment about it being too bad I was found in time? Or other similar comments? Or do you think because I'm smart I don't have feelings? Nothing could be further from the truth, let me assure you." I took a breath. The auditorium was utterly still. "I want to tell you about Sam. Sam was smart, yes, and very very shy. But he was also sweet and kind. "Sam was scared. Of just about everything. There's a girl in my group named Zoe. Zoe's brash and bold and says what she thinks--and at first, Sam was scared of Zoe, too. "But Zoe convinced him not to be scared. And this past Saturday, they had their first date. It was, I understand, Sam's first ever. Afterwards, on Sunday, Zoe called me. She was flying on air. She'd had a great time and evidently Sam felt the same way. "And then, from what Zoe told me later, Sam came into this fucking school on Monday and one of you bastards beat the crap out of him. Again." That time I know I heard a gasp from Eggy--and he wasn't alone. "Realize what I just told you. He was happy. Then he got beat up. Less than twenty-four hours later, he was dead. "I hope whoever beat him up on Monday can live with themselves. "It wasn't the first time. They were endless. What you people have to get through your heads is this shit adds up. All the slights. All the comments. All the being singled out in class by teachers that have nothing better to do--which creates more slights and comments. All the days you eat by yourself. All the parties you don't get invited to. In Sam's case, all the beatings. It's cumulative. "And for what? Why is my friend dead? Why is my other friend Zoe in the hospital on suicide watch? Why? "Are you all really that jealous? Come on. It really makes a difference to you if I ace a test, or if Sam did? Enough to torment the shit out of us? "I'm smart, very smart. So fucking what? I was born this way. Why is it the smart kids? Look around you. Find the guy in your class that can throw a football 40 feet on a line--do you give him shit? The girl who can hit a contested jump shot automatic from 18 feet--do you give her shit? "One of the people who's befriended me since my suicide attempt--and I'm forever grateful to her for it--is Johanna Sullivan. All the juniors know who Johanna is--she's the class artist. She's very good. She blows away all of you in art class the way I do in physics. Me, too-she's practically a genius with a drawing pencil where I can barely manage a straight line. Does anyone give Johanna shit? No way. Not only does everyone ooh and aah over her drawing and painting, she's just in general one of the best-liked kids in this school. And she should be. She's an excellent person. "But, you know what? So am I. And very few of you have ever even bothered to try to figure that out, because you're too hung up on the fact that I got a higher grade than you on some test or other. "And because brains are somehow treated with a stigma around here--when no other talent is--another excellent person that I was happy to know put a bullet through his yesterday morning. "So, you need to think about this. You need to think about what you're doing to other people. You might think it's harmless. You're going to tell me 'but I didn't want for him to kill himself or anything!' But he did. And I tried. "One of the counselors brought in talked before I did, and she talked about all of us 'coming together'. You know what? I'm not sure I want to do that. I'm not sure at all I want to 'come together' with a bunch of people who tormented a poor kid into digging his own grave. "Because you have to understand. It's not just me. It's not just Sam. And who it is besides me and Sam... you don't know. You might never know. Until someone else does it. "I have another friend, I won't mention who. This friend has been on edge. Hasn't tried it yet, but has had thoughts. It seems like they are doing better. We got this person some help. This person is adapting better, making friends, in therapy--even has a significant other. "But there's still a danger zone. And I do not want to do this again." That's where the tears started, and I couldn't stop them. "I don't want to sit in another one of these fucking assemblies and discuss another dead friend, dead by his or her own hand! I can't!" I got out between sobs. "You think about it. You think about what you're doing to your classmates." That was it. That was all I had in me. The tears were coming non-stop. I put down the microphone and got the hell out of there. Off the stage, out the side door, into a deserted corridor where I slumped up against a row of lockers, and just cried and cried. I heard the auditorium door slam, but I didn't look up. However, before I knew it, Craig was sitting beside me, holding me while I cried. The rest of them soon followed--Johanna, Alex, Cap, Angela. They were all hugging and touching me. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen," Johanna said. "Hope you don't mind me bringing you up," I sniffled at her. "Why would I? You said I was a great artist and an excellent person. Very accurate." She was trying to get me to smile. She succeeded--at least a little. After we'd huddled there for a while, the door opened again. It was Eggy. "Ginny," he said. "I have to tell you, I don't know if you just made things easier or worse for yourself." "I know," I said. "At least I got it all off my chest." "Do you have any idea who beat Sam up Monday?" "No. I don't even think Zoe knows. She doesn't go to school here so it would just be a name to her anyway." "OK," he said. "You guys better get to class." ------- Twenty So, we headed to class. My class right now was Physics. Unfortunately, none of my friends were in that class. I would've liked to have one of them there. Because I was getting stares as the halls filled up, and I wasn't sure what kind of stares they were. It happened all morning--the stares, I mean. Though nobody said anything to me, positive or negative. I got to lunch with the usual crowd--and then something happened that surprised the hell out of me. We were eating, and all of a sudden there was a guy standing there. I knew who he was--his name was Joe Adair. I could've been talking about him when talking about all the school heroes who had something other than brains--if I had talked about hockey. Joe was our star hockey player. That's a big deal in Michigan. Joe was a BMOC, no doubt about it. So, I knew who he was, but don't remember ever having a conversation with him, good or bad. He nodded and said hi to Craig, then turned to me. "Hey, Ginny, I was wondering if I could talk to you." "Sure, Joe," I shrugged. Craig was there to back me up if Joe was going to be a jerk, so I didn't mind. I was curious as to what he wanted. And he didn't seem like he was going to be a jerk anyhow. He pulled up a chair, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Look," he said, "after what you said in assembly, I have absolutely no idea how you're going to react to this. But I have nowhere else to turn. I'm desparate. When you got up there talking about being the class brain, it reminded me. But if what I'm going to ask you pisses you off, just tell me and I'll go away." "OK," I said, really curious as to where he was going with all this. "You're a math whiz," he said--but not in scorn. "Pretty much," I grinned. "I know you took trigonometry last year, but I'm guessing you still remember all of it." I nodded. "This is the deal. I'm in trig this year, and I am not getting it. I'm not a dumb jock, but math ain't my thing, and trig is really throwing me. We have another exam on Friday--and if I flunk another one, it's going to really put my grade in a hole. Possibly bad enough to get suspended from the hockey team. "So, I was wondering, if you would, you know, possibly think about helping me out?" I was flabbergasted. This might be hard to believe, but I'd never been asked. Never. You'd think some people would've at least come up with the idea to use the class brain for help--but nobody ever had. Which might explain my reaction. Yeah, I was sick of having Class Brain stuck to my forehead--but being asked for help? That wasn't being scorned. That was different. Yeah, there was a bit of using involved--I understood that--but he asked nicely, and the whole thing was just different. I liked it. A lot. That must've not shown on my face right away, though--since I was so surprised--because Joe started backing the chair away, saying, "Damn. I'm sorry, Ginny, I really didn't mean to piss you off." "You didn't," I laughed. "You just surprised me. I'd be glad to help you out." "You would? That's great!" "Sure. But a test on Friday, huh? Two days from now? You don't give a girl much time." "I know," he laughed. "I didn't know what the hell to do. But when you were speaking at assembly, I remembered how good you were at math. So I had to take a shot." "Well, we'll do what we can. You free after school?" "Yeah. We practiced early this morning, before school." He smirked. "You know, take the ice time whenever we can get it. And we don't have a game until Saturday." "Good." I tore out a piece of notepaper from my notebook, and wrote my address on it. "Come on over about three." "Thanks, Ginny. You're the best." "Don't thank me until we figure out if I can help you," I laughed. "There's no possible way it can hurt, so thanks anyway," he laughed back. He got up and left the table. I looked at Craig. He'd watched this whole exchange with interest. "I'm very proud of you," he said, making me beam. "And more than a little surprised." "Hey, nobody's ever asked," I explained. "For some reason, I liked it." "And Joe's one of the good guys," Johanna butt in. "I've known him since grammar school, and he's not one of those types whose ego is bigger than his slapshot!" So, Joe came over. I got us a couple Cokes and we went into the living room. We'd just spread out the trig all over the coffee table when Mom came home. She walked in. "Hi, honey," she said--then looked over at Joe, clearly surprised to see me sitting there with a boy that wasn't Craig. "Hello," she said. "Mom, Joe Adair. Joe, my mother." She came over and shook his hand. "Joe's our star hockey player, and he asked me for some study help." Joe laughed. "Your daughter's going to try to save my butt in trigonometry so I can continue to be the star hockey player." "That's good," Mom laughed. She left us alone, and we got to it. He was right--he wasn't any kind of dumb jock. Rather smart, actually. My problem was, I knew I was going to have to dumb myself down for anyone--as I've said, math to me is like breathing. I pick it up on an almost instinctive level that I can have a hard time explaining. So, I made a conscious effort to, you know, slow myself down. Apparently, though I worried about being able to explain it--I was a hell of a lot better than whatever teacher it was Joe had for trig. Because he was getting it. I hammered cosigns and tangents into his head for about an hour or so. He was doing fine, but after that hour, he groaned and said, "My brain hurts." "Study break, then," I grinned. He grinned back. "I can't thank you enough. It's already helped." "My pleasure," I said sincerely. "I'm really happy to do it. Besides which, I like hockey. If we're gonna contend for the state championship, we need Joltin' Joe Adair." That was his nickname--courtesy of his thundering bodychecks and his wicked slapshot. Yeah, it was a ripoff from DiMaggio, but it fit! "Damn right," he grinned. He leaned back on the couch. "You're the talk of the school, you know." "Figured as much," I said, resigned. "Look, Ginny. You know there are some people that are going to be assholes no matter what." "No doubt," I snorted. "But there's people that aren't. And you made them think." "Really?" "No doubt," he said. "Look, my sister's a year behind me, so she was in Sam's grade. And, I have to tell you, she is really shook up. She thought Sam was sweet--but never told him. And she's not feeling great right now." "We can't bring Sam back. I know that. But if it makes your sister just say 'hi' to the potential next Sam--well, then, I made my point." "Yeah. And she realizes it. So. You're going out with Craig Tolland?" "Yeah," I said, smiling at the thought. "Good. Craig's a nice guy. He keeping you from doing anything else stupid?" he said, pointing to my wrist. "Uh, he helps," I said, stunned. "Good. Hey, I got a better idea of why you did it today at assembly. But, Ginny, it's still stupid." Nobody'd ever been that blunt about it to me before. And, again, I suprisingly liked it. Don't ask me why. I appreciate bluntness, I guess. And Joe was clearly being blunt out of concern, not scorn. I couldn't let that one go by unanswered, however. "Funny, I figured stupid best applied to people who were flunking trigonometry," I said with a huge grin. He grinned back, and said, "And Klusse ties the score at one with a wicked wrister from the left circle." I cracked up. He laughed with me, and then got serious again. "I thought it was stupid when I was going through it, though I didn't quite put it that way to her." I looked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. He took a deep breath and told me. "I had to talk Toni out of it last year." "What?!?" Toni was Antonia Caldwell. She and Joe had been an item since eighth grade. Which was kind of sweet when you think about it. But Toni was one of those Perfectly Put-Together Princess types. Toni Caldwell had a moment of angst? Unbelievable. "Really? Toni?" I said. "Yeah. It's like you said at assembly, there's lots of reasons, and sometimes people don't know," he sighed. "Toni's parents' divorce last year was rough. I mean, real rough. They were downright brutal to one another, and poor Toni was caught smack in the middle. I remember spending four solid hours on the phone with her, talking her out of swallowing the bottle of sleeping pills she was staring at. And I wanted to hang up the phone and go over there, but I was scared to death she'd do something if I hung up. And I didn't have a cell phone at the time, so trying to talk her down while going over there was out." He sighed. "And I understand a lot of what you said today, because while I was trying to get my girlfriend to not kill herself, I wanted to kill them. Her parents. Either or both." "Yeah. Well, I thought my parents were part of the problem. Well, they were. But it wasn't intentional. It was missed communications and signs not being received." "Not the case with Toni. I was there." He sighed. "I guess their marriage had been one of clipped tones and invisible scorn for some time. But her mom caught her dad shtupping the secretary. That's when all hell broke loose. They fought over everything--house, money, posessions--Toni. They treated her like the damn big-screen TV. Since she was sixteen, the judge figured she was old enough to voice her opinion. So, right there in court, he asked her who, if given the choice, she'd choose to live with. And she said 'neither of them'. And she meant it." "Did that wake them up?" "Not hardly." He sighed again. "And what makes it worse is both her parents hate my guts. Because I went over there one day and found them going at it in the kitchen, full fury--with poor Toni curled up in a ball crying her eyes out. And I ripped both of them a new one." "Yay for Joe," I smiled. "Toni told me later, that's when she realized that I was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with," Joe said in almost a tone of awe. It really was sweet. "But we've had a problem or two. Her mother really hates me. Besides the whole me ripping her a new one--she hates me more because, well, I'm male. Since she caught her husband, who she hated anyway, shtupping the secretary--well, that means all men are evil." "God. Maddening displays of illogic that bad give me a headache," I said. "Yeah, they would, wouldn't they?" he grinned. "Anyhow, even though Toni can't stand her mother, that is who she lives with. And her mother hates me so much--well, that kind of conditioning can sink in. It's not too bad, but there's been a moment or two. She really does trust me, deep down, but... well, I know I'll have to spend a few minutes on the phone tonight making sure she knows that you and I were only studying trig today." "Oy. Too bad she couldn't get away from both of them." "Well, it's a little better. One of Daddy Caldwell's gambits in the never-ending Battle For Toni was to buy her a car this past summer. Figuring, of course, that she'd use it to sneak off and see him more often. Nope, she uses it to escape to my place. She stays at my place as much as she can get away with. And my parents are great, and love her to pieces, so that helps." "That's good." I grinned. "And if you need cover for your studying alibi, have Toni see me. I'll back you up." "Thanks," he grinned back. "Anyhow, that's why I got what you were saying today. Would you ever guess that Toni had been suicidal?" "Not for a second." "Right. That's because nobody but me knows the whole story." He grinned sheepishly. "Well, now, you do." "Don't worry, my lip is zipped." "Never doubted it. Damn, Ginny, you're a good listener." "Thanks," I said, almost blushing. "Anyhow--we'd better get back to this." "I suppose." After Joe had left, I told my mother about the whole day. She was amazed--but proud--about my little speech in assembly. And she liked the whole Joe story. "You've learned some very important things about yourself, you know," she said. "I have?" "You sure have. First of all, you like to help people. Second of all, you're easy to talk to--and you know what to do when people talk to you." "What do you mean?" "Well, when Angela talked to you a couple of weeks ago, she needed advice and you knew it. You knew it so well that you shoved your advice down her throat when she ignored it. But Joe, today, didn't need advice--he just needed to get some stuff off his chest. So you just let him, and listened." "Wow. You're right." I talked to Craig after supper. He'd seen Zoe in the hospital and introduced himself. She was very glad to meet him. "She doesn't seem bad, all things considering," he told me. "We had a nice chat." "That's good news," I said. I told him some of the talk Joe and I had. He was glad that Mister Hockey looked like he might pass trig. But after some of the things he'd said about Toni, I guess I had to make sure. "You weren't upset, or jealous, were you?" "God, no," he laughed. "I'm not generally that way. I didn't have a reason to be, did I?" "Not in a million years, Lyubovnik," I laughed. TWENTY-ONE The next day, Thursday. I wasn't looking forward to this day. Group had been my solace since I'd gotten into it. It wasn't going to be the same. And afterwards was the wake. Craig, bless his heart, told me he'd meet me at the wake. And the day didn't look like it was starting out too good. No sooner had I pulled into the parking lot when Toni Caldwell came barrelling over at me, looking none too pleased. "Joe said he told you everything?" she moaned without preamble. "Yes." "God. Why would he do that?" "Toni, I think he needed to get it off his chest, that's all." I gave her a wry grin. "And I guess he figured he could tell me, because I'm obviously in no position to judge anyone about something like that." "Oh," she said, slightly mollified. "Toni?" I said. Then I looked right in her eyes, and made the 'button my lips' motion. "Oh. OK. Thanks," she said, smiling slightly. "I'd rather the whole world not know. That can be embarrassing." "Tell me about it," I sighed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way!" "That's OK," I laughed. She smiled a little back. "I knew what you were talking about yesterday, though. People don't know. I was lucky in that I don't get harrassed here. If I did, piled upon what my parents were doing to me--well, Joe might not have been able to stop me. But it's funny--people get an image of you, and they just don't know." "Absolutely. I have to confess, when Joe told me, I was shocked. Because he told me that he'd had to talk you down before he explained why. I was like, 'Toni? Really?'" "Yeah. Well, it was the same when I found out about you. Ginny 'Most Likely To Own The Universe' Klusse slit her wrists? No way! I understand better now, though." "Oh, you should've seen Craig. Stumbling in on me in the hospital with bandages covering my wrists. What made it worse is the next day, when he pressed me on why, I used him as a stand-in. For everybody." Remembering what Joe had told me yesterday, I dropped my voice a bit, and said, "I think it was when he came back to talk the next day, and then kept coming back, even though I'd blasted him--I think that's when I realized he was something special." "Yeah, I know what you mean." We shared a smile. Then hers dropped. "I really gave Joe an earful on the phone last night when he told me what he'd told you. Now I feel really bad about that." "Well?" I grinned. "Don't tell me! Go find the hockey puck and tell him! Git!" She smiled, big and wide. "Good advice, Ginny. Thanks." And she was off. Damn. Just then Seth popped into my head--Seth as I'd seen him at the club. And I thought, Jesus, when the hell did I turn into a people person? Maybe I should chuck the whole physics-and-math thing and go be a shrink myself. I could open an office with Craig's insightful little sister! Then I thought, no. I could never deal with what happened to Sam as well as Shannon did. Never, ever, ever. Not that she was dispassionate--she wasn't--but she had a place she could put it and still move on. If I were her, I'd never be able to do that. Nope, the cold logic of calculus was much more up my alley. It was nice to be able to say the right thing to someone every once in a while, though. I got through school. And I guess Joe was right. Because I had a few people, people that had never acknowledged my existance, say, "Hi, Ginny." Just a few. But it was still stunning. Anyhow, I got through the day, then made my way to group. I smiled at Karen and Seth and said hello, but it wasn't all that cheerful. For any of us. There was no ignoring the big hole in the room. Two, actually, though one was, hopefully, only temporary. Shannon came in, not looking much better than any of the rest of us. After she sat down, I asked, "How's Zoe?" "Zoe's OK," I heard from behind me. I turned around, and there she was, walking into the room. She looked... OK. I was glad to see her. "I didn't expect to see you here," Shannon said. "They were going to kick me out tomorrow anyway," she said, disgusted. "Stupid insurance. They wouldn't let me stay for more than three days unless I actually attempted it again. Morons. Anyway, since they were going to boot me tomorrow, I said I wanted to leave now. I wanted to be here. You guys are my salvation. Even without..." She just sighed, thinking no doubt of Sam. "Plus, I'd rather go to the wake with you guys." "I'm glad of that," Shannon said. "Let's talk about it. I understand Ginny gave quite a performance in front of her school assembly yesterday morning." "Heard about that, did you?" I said. "Yup." "So did I," Zoe said. She turned to the rest of them. "I met her boyfriend yesterday. He works at the hospital and introduced himself." She turned back to me. "Craig gave me a rundown of what you'd said." Then she blinked rapidly and her voice broke. "Thanks," she croaked. "From Sam, too." I didn't know what to say to that, so I just smiled sadly. Ginny had me give a brief rundown of what I'd done. She'd heard about it but not exactly what I'd said. Karen and Seth didn't know at all. So I told them. Seth loved it--of course he did. I'm sure he'd wanted to say similar things to the bigots in his own school. Karen wasn't so sure. "Is all that anger healthy?" "Depends on what you do with it," Shannon said. "Ginny used the anger productively." "How do you do something like that when the anger is directed at your own brother and mother?" Karen asked plaintively. "Write a letter," Shannon said. "To each of them. It's not necessary to send them. You can decide afterwards whether to send it, or rip it up, or frame it to remind yourself, or whatever. It's the writing that's the therapuetic part. And it's a good idea for you, Karen, because that's the one thing you haven't dealt with at all--your anger." "I know," she said. "It's bottled up. I think it's affecting things. I think it's affecting things with Aaron, especially." "Oh, stop worrying about Aaron," I said. Everybody looked at me in surprise. "I met Aaron, at Seth's club, the other week," I said. "I saw them together. Karen, if you could step outside your body and see what Aaron and you look like together, you'd never worry again." Karen just stared at me. "What do they look like together?" Shannon asked. "Like the love story of the century," I laughed. Karen blushed. "You should see it. We're in a crowded room and it's like they're the only two people there. Karen, that boy adores you." "You know, when she puts it that way, she's right," Seth agreed. "And you should see her," I said, pointing at Karen. "When she's with him, her whole body language changes. That whole stiff-as-a-board thing she's showing us right now completely goes away." "It does?" Karen said, surprised. "Yep. And Aaron completely dotes on her." "He does," she agreed, finally smiling. "He really does." "Good. So stop worrying about Aaron!" I repeated. "Maybe I should," Karen smiled. Then she took a breath. "And I'm going to write those letters. I might even send them." "Good," Shannon said. Group was OK. Even Zoe loosened up a little. The wake wasn't OK. It was devastating. Because of the way he died, the casket was, of course, closed. All there was to 'see' of my friend was a picture sitting on top of his casket. It was tough to say goodbye that way. It was tough to say goodbye in the first place. And if it was tough for me? Poor Zoe. Damn it all to hell. Thank God for Craig. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't been there, his arm around mine, the whole time. The only good thing was when we went outside. Zoe pulled Craig and I out of there, and we stood outside waiting for the rest of them. "I wanted company," she said to us, "and I need a ciggie. I'm trying to quit, but not today." We nodded. "Hey, you were right," she said to me. "Karen and Aaron." Aaron had also met us at the wake. "They're like two peas in a pod." "Yep," I agreed. The old Zoe peeked out a bit just then. "She really ought to just give it up and sleep with him," she cracked. "Might do her some good. Like you told her, sex isn't rape. I know she wants to, but she's scared." I nodded agreement to the last bit. Then something hit me. She wasn't the only one who wanted to sleep with her boyfriend. And I wasn't scared. What the hell did I have to be scared about? With Craig? No way. What was I waiting for? Oh, the 'proper' time. Hell with that. It had been a brutal week. It needed some good in it. We'd been together two months--it was time enough. I needed to show him exactly how much I loved him. And, of course, vice-versa! The Brain kicked into gear and I mentally made some plans. ------- Part 5 Twenty-Two My parents had had plans to go away for the weekend. They offered to cancel them. I know they were worried about me, because of Sam. I assured them I was fine. I don't know if they were quite convinced, but when I told my mother my plans, she laughed and agreed. Friday Craig picked me up for a date. "My parents are going away for the weekend," I told him. "Ah," he said. "So, I was wondering," I continued. "I really don't want to be in that big house all alone all weekend." Craig laughed--I was pouring it on thick and we both knew it. "So, how about you staying over tomorrow night?" We had gotten to a red light. Craig turned and looked at me. "Do you mean stay over, or stay over?" "Whatsoever do you mean?" I said, grinning. "I mean, are you going to show me to your guest room?" "Not on your life, Lyubovnik." He had to drive again, so he waited until we got to the next red light. "Are you sure?" "Yup. How do you feel about it?" "I'm getting a woody just thinking about it," he laughed. "Good answer, Lyubovnik." "I've been fantasizing about it since our first date. I just didn't want to rush you." "You haven't. But I want it, and I want it bad," I admitted. "And only with you." "Good." He sighed. "My problem is, you said stay over. I have a curfew." "Leave that to me. Take me to your house after we eat." "OK," he said warily. What I was about to do next might be considered strange. But I'm not a huge fan of sneaking. I understand some people have to do it--some parents are just ridiculous. But my parents knew what I was going to be up to. And I didn't think Craig's parents were going to freak. If we're old enough to make love, we should be old enough to deal with this in a mature manner, right? Yeah, I know--Craig would say my 30-year-old side was peeking out again. But I really didn't like sneaking. Craig had a curfew. I didn't want him to lie to get around it. And we wouldn't be out carousing past his curfew, we'd be home. Just not his home. The problem was--I knew it was his mother I was going to have to get by. And mothers and sons don't talk about sex all that easily. So, I figured I was going to have to be the one to bring it up. And, to be particular about it, it wasn't really about sex. We could have sex at any time. We could be having sex right now. It was about breaking his curfew, because I didn't want him to have to finish up after our first time and then hit the road. Though I knew that you-know-what would come into the conversation. So, we went over his house. And I cornered his mother in the kitchen. "Mrs. Tolland? I'd like to ask your permission for Craig to break his curfew tomorrow night." "What for, Ginny?" "I'm alone in my house this weekend. I'd like Craig to stay over and keep me company." She was leaning into her refrigerator, not looking at me. "You have a guest room at your place, Ginny, or you going to make him sleep on the couch?" she said with a grin I could hear. I waited to answer that, until she'd straightened up out of the refrigerator. Like I said, no sneaking, and I wanted to see her face when I answered that. I looked right at her and told her the truth. "Yes, Mrs. Tolland, we have a couple of guest rooms. But Craig won't be using any of them." She looked right back. "Are you asking me permission to have sex with my son?" "No," I said, and told her what I'd thought earlier. "We could do that without breaking curfew. We could be doing that this moment if we wanted to. No, I'm asking your permission to keep him there overnight afterwards." I gave her a little smile. "It's going to be my first time. I want the full-night unlimited cuddle afterwards." "You are an extremely unusual girl, Ginny Klusse." "Well, that's a given," I grinned. "Do your parents know what you've got planned?" "Yes. Well, Mom does. She's very open. I'm sure she's given Dad a heads up as well, but she's who I talked to about it." "OK." She took a breath. "Craig has a curfew, mainly, because we don't want him out driving late at night. He's only had his license for a short time, his judgement may be impaired when he's tired, and all the nuts and drunks are out late at night. If I give him permission to break his curfew, I want your guarantee that neither of you will be out driving past eleven." "You've got it." "Good. I'll tell him later." "Thanks," I grinned. He called me the next morning. "OK, what the hell happened?" "Hm?" I said. "My mother just told me she knows I'm not coming home tonight and it's OK with her. What the heck did you tell her?" "Don't worry about it. She said it's OK, right? I just told her I needed company tonight." I wasn't going to embarrass him! "OK," he said warily. "And you're coming for dinner. I'm cooking." "Woah. The full works!" His voice dropped. "Uh, do I need to stop at a drug store on the way?" "Nope. Got that covered. All I need is you." "You got it." ------- Twenty-Three He got there about five. I cooked. I'm not bad at cooking certain things. I made Boeuf Bourgingon, something I'd known how to make for a while. It came out great. I'd asked my Mom if I could pull a bottle of wine out of the wine cellar, and she agreed. A good red wine goes well with Boeuf Bourgingon--hell, there's wine in it! We each had a glass with supper, then took the bottle into the living room with us. We watched TV for a bit. Then I grabbed the wine--there was still quite a bit left--and the two glasses, and stood up. "Let's finish this upstairs," I said. "OK," Craig replied. I led him to my bedroom. We sat on the bed. I poured us each another glass. You know, enough to get us relaxed, but not tipsy or anything. We ended up sitting in my bed, up against the headboard, still clothed, drinking the wine. "You OK?" I said. "Yeah. Nervous," he admitted. "That makes two of us. That's what the wine's for," I giggled. "This is actually the first time I've ever had wine. You know teenaged boys, when they get their hands on something to drink. 'BEER!'" I laughed. "I actually hate the taste of beer. I like wine, though." "It's good," he agreed. "Especially with that dinner you made. Much more refined than beer." "That's the idea." "How long have you been planning this?" he asked. "Two days," I grinned. "Dinner, wine, empty house, no curfew for Craig--all in two days? That's pretty impressive." "Well, I didn't have time to cover the bed with rose petals, but the rest worked OK. So far," I said impishly. "You know, this big brain of mine comes in handy sometimes." "It does, huh? Well, I guess that gives me my marching orders for the evening." He drained the rest of his wine. I followed suit. "What marching orders are they?" I asked. "That big brain of yours?" he said, as he pulled me into his arms. "I'm going to try to short-circuit it." "Oooh, won't that be fun!" He kissed me then, long and deep. "Not nervous anymore, Lyubovnik?" "Yes. But turned on. And in love, so it balances out." "Ditto. To all of those. Kiss me again." And so he did. Damn, I felt so comfortable with him! He broke the kiss again and his hands went to the buttons on my blouse. I grinned up at him. "So, do you have any specific ideas of how to short-circuit my brain?" "I have a few," he said. "If you get stumped, I might have some." "Listen to us," he laughed. "The two blushing virgins, going on like we're Casanova." "I may be a blushing virgin, but I do read. I've done my research." "Yeah, now there's a shock," he chuckled. "However, I need to tell you, Brainiac, that I also did my homework." "Goody!" He had my blouse completely unbuttoned by now, and I sat up a bit to help him get it off. Then he went for the bra. "You know what?" he said. "The wine worked." "Yup," I said. "What my mother always says is, 'Not so much that you get drunk, but just enough to get a glow.'" "You glow anyway," he said. Damn, my heart skipped a beat at that! Mercy me. That was just the type of thing, a casual tossed-off compliment, to get me right where I live. If you pour it on too think, I question your sincerity. But something like this? Completely gets me. Jesus! How did this guy know me so well? By this point, I was naked from the waist up and he was playing with the ol' tittie while he kissed me. Then, he kissed his way down. As I've said, it wasn't the first time for that bit. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, I loved it. But it not being the first time for that probably explains why I was still so relaxed. Being relaxed is not my thing. But I was plenty relaxed at the moment, sighing happily while he sucked on my nipple. Then again, the wine did help. And it's a good thing. I was wearing a skirt, you see. And one of his hands was rapidly crawling up my leg. And then a finger swiped its way up my panties. Boy, didn't that feel nice! It didn't take long before Craig was tugging at my panties, trying to get them off. I raised my ass off the bed to help him. While he was getting them off my feet, I reached around and unsnapped my skirt. When he looked back up, I was stark naked. OK, so I was nervous. I think I've established that I wasn't thrilled with my body. I should've known better. Craig's eyes were locked onto me--all of me. "God, you're beautiful," he gasped. I don't know if I'd ever agree with that, but it was nice that somebody thought so! He also looked like he was about to pounce! Which was a nice thought, but there was some unfinished business. "Your turn," I said, and started tugging on his shirt. He laughed and got the picture. Between the two of us, we managed to get his shirt and pants off. He stood up and took care of the boxer shorts himself. Uh... well... you know, I'd thought I was fully prepared for this. I wanted it, I was sure of that. I'd been dreaming of it since puberty--which, for me, was at about eleven--and I definitely now wanted it with Craig specifically. I'd prepared myself. And I wasn't kidding about the research. I was a voracious reader anyhow--adding 'naughty stuff' to my reading repertoire was something I'd done some time ago. Not only that, but I'd read all the 'instructional' stuff, too--for me, that was just more education. Well, mostly. And I wasn't above peeking at pictures or the odd video on the internet. So, I was ready already, right? Well... shit. As soon as Craig dropped his undershorts, I quickly realized my mistake. Apparently, even your basic oversized porn star dick looks small on a seventeen-inch monitor. Seeing one in the, er, flesh was completely different. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Don't ask me size, I didn't have a ruler handy, and had no basis of comparison. But when I saw that... thing sticking out from my boyfriend's groin, I had two thoughts. One was 'God, I want him!' The second was, 'How in hell is that thing gonna fit?' As Craig lowered himself back next to me on the bed, I unwittingly verbalized the latter. Craig just laughed. "Hey, your equipment's designed to let a baby out. I think it can take me." "Babies hurt," I said pedantically. He got a solemn look on his face. "Well, from what I understand, this won't be painless, either. You know I'll be gentle, but..." "Well, I don't have a hymen," I told him. "Don't know what happened to it, but it's not there." I looked down at his dick. Somehow, my hand had involuntarily wrapped itself around it. "But you're so big!" "Just average, from what I can tell." "Coulda fooled me!" I exclaimed. He reached out and grabbed my ass. "Damn, you're good for my ego," he laughed. "Anyhow, it's gonna fit. I promise. I'll just have to work you up first." He looked down at my hand, which was still--with no real input from my brain--tugging on his dick. "Of course, I think that's working the other way around at the moment." "You want I should stop?" "Not necessarily. But do you want me to cum all over your hand?" "Well, I read that if you cum first, you'll last longer inside me. And since you're sixteen, I'm counting on a quick recovery anyhow." He broke up laughing. "Figures. I get to have my first time with the most analytical and logical teenager in the universe." "You complaining?" "No," he said, but then he grimaced. "Something wrong?" "Uh, well, when I do myself, you see, I usually use something. Hand lotion or something." "Oh," I said, and pulled my hand away from his dick. I reached over him to open the drawer in my night table, and withdrew a tube of KY. "Something like this?" He chuckled. "Analytical, logical, and prepared. You did go to the drug store." He peered in the open drawer. "Didn't you buy anything else?" I quickly twigged onto his meaning. "Don't need those. We're both virgins, so disease isn't a worry. As for the other thing, I'm on the pill." "OK," he said. I put a dab of the KY on my hand, and reached back down. "Oooooh!" he moaned. "Better?" "Heaven," he said. His hand went back to my ass. "God, I've wanted my hands on your bare ass for over a year." I couldn't help but giggle at that. Now that I'd gotten going, I was enjoying it. His dick was hard but still soft, and nice and warm. I liked it in my hand, a lot. And I found out I really liked his hand on my ass! As for him, I do believe he was enjoying himself, what with all that moaning and groaning. His other hand--the one that wasn't on my ass--was clutching a boob, which was also fun. It didn't take long at all before he yelped "GINNY!" and my hand got very, very wet. I reached down behind me on the floor for a towel. Yes, I'd had some handy--I'd read about wet spots and this was my bed, after all! This one I just used to wipe off my hand. Then I looked at him, still flushed and breathing heavy. "You gonna live?" I asked. "Most definitely." "You gonna recover?" "Eventually," he laughed. He flipped over so he was facing me, and kissed me, long and deep--while his hands roamed all over me. He broke the kiss and said, "I think I'll have to play a bit while I recuperate." "That sounds like fun," I grinned. He grinned back, and quickly lowered his lips to my nipple. My arousal, while never completely disappearing, had gone to a low hum while I was jacking him off. It was fun, and sexy, but I was concentrating on him and my arousal had kind of gone on the back burners. Well, no more for that. His mouth on my nipple was working me back up, and he had a hand lazily cupping my pussy. Not doing much, mind you, just making contact. It was warm, and very nice. Oh, and arousing. Definitely that. Then he kissed my stomach! Well, who the hell would've guessed that? It made me jump, even. Especially when he kissed my belly button! And then he kept going. And I quickly figured out where he was headed. Now, of course, I'd read about this--but didn't expect it, not tonight especially! But I wasn't going to turn it down. In fact, when it looked like he'd stopped the forward progress, I stifled an impatient groan. But stifle it I did--I didn't want to be a demanding bitch or anything--and I was glad I did when I realized why he'd stopped: he'd seen the towels on the floor, divined their purpose, and was reaching for one. "Raise your hips, honey," he said. I did. Next thing I knew I had a tongue on my pussy--and boy did that feel fantastic! It was unbelievable. His tongue seemed to hit, just right, every nook and cranny of my labia. Then he stuck it into my opening, and wasn't that a trip! After a bit of that, he went for the clittie. I think I jumped five feet in the air. "Too much?" he asked. "N-no," I managed. He swept down my pussy again, then back up. I managed to confine the jumping to a couple of feet that time. "God," I gasped, "you sure you've never done this?" "Nope," he said mildly. "Told you--did my research." Then he went back to his tongue on my pussy. That's when it hit me, right upside the head. It all added up, right in that minute. I'd gotten hints the whole time we were going out. Hell, I'd gotten hints last year, in Chem lab. Craig didn't have my grades. Of course, nobody did. He did well, but he wasn't going to be valedictorian, and I was. He himself had made remarks about being 'nowhere near my league'. I'd kind of dismissed them, though I'm sure the egomaniac part of me agreed with them to a certain extent. The egomaniac part of me was wrong, dead wrong. Because that's what I finally realized--Craig was a thinker. Yeah, grades, and IQ and all that--but that went back to what I told him earlier, it just being a matter of speed. That's not having the thinking mindset. The thinking mindset is knowing you're going to end up in bed with your significant other at some point in time--and doing research on it. The thinking mindset is using psychology--and that's just what it was--to talk your girlfriend down from a bad self-esteem day. Seeing the towels on the floor and instantly knowing what they were for. There were other things. It all added up, finally. Shit, I'm Example Number One--here I was with my boyfriend doing extremely wonderful things to my pussy with his tongue and my brain is racing a mile a minute with this shit! Well, I knew that about myself--who else would've been logical and analytical about suicide? Stupid, maybe, as Joe told me--but logical and analytical all the same. But that was me. Realizing Craig was a true kindred spirit, in more ways that I'd realized, was astounding. This all ran through my head in less than a minute, mind you. And it was a good thing. Because Craig was giving all that research of his some excellent real-world application. And all that application did exactly what he promised to do--fried my neural synapses to a crisp! Just as I came to this whole 'great minds think alike' realization, he upped the ante on my clittie. And that was all she wrote, temporarily anyhow, for Ginny The Brain. My GOD. It was like explosions. Yeah, explosions in my pussy--sure, I expected that. What took me by surprise was the explosions upstairs. It was like sticking my brain in a box of fireworks. Including, after a few minutes of him sucking on my clittie, the traditional Grand Finally. I think they heard the screams three towns away. Jesus. By the time he was done, and had crawled up next to me--hugging me, which was about the only thing that let me know I was still in this world--my brain had turned into a throbbing pile of mush. And I didn't mind one little bit. "Boy, it's nice to know I can make Miss Logical scream," he said with a chuckle. I opened my eyes and grinned at him. "Funny, I felt the same way when I saw Mister Research get all glassy-eyed when I jerked him off." He blinked twice, figured out exactly what I meant--I saw that in his eyes--and grinned. And then he kissed me. Look, we'd already had the meeting of the hearts. This was the meeting of the minds. And we both knew it. And only I would figure out something like that in bed! However, that wasn't the only thing I was figuring out. I was figuring out the answer to something I'd said to Shannon way back, on that first day we'd met. The thing about just being allowed to think, not being allowed to feel. Craig allowed--no, fuck that, Craig encouraged me to do both. When I got around to telling him--which I would--what had been going through my mind over the past ten minutes, from the analysis to the fireworks, he'd crack up and make a comment about how that was 'just like me'. I knew it. And that might've been the greatest gift of all. We were still cuddling. I was still sort of in my post-orgasmic deadassedness, but was beginning to join the Land of the Coherent slowly but surely. And I wasn't quite sure I wanted to. Not yet. There was still one more thing. And, God, I was ready! I reached down and found what I'd hoped. "You're recovered," I said. "Basic male biology, Sweetie. You think I'm gonna not recover while doing what I was just doing?" he laughed. "You're such an ass," I said, with absolutely no heat whatsoever. "You love me anyway." "You're right." I tugged on not-so-Little-Craig. "Let's see if this thing will fit." "I guarantee it," he said. Then he climbed up on top of me, and proved it. Without a doubt. Yeah, it took some effort--I was a virgin, after all, even without a hymen--but he got it in like it belonged in there, and without an ounce of pain. "Oh, Lyubovnik, this is heavenly," I told him when he hit bottom. "No pain?" he said. "None whatsoever," I assured him. "You can start moving anytime." "Give me a minute," he said, not without strain. Whoops. I had to grin at that. "Recite the periodic table in your head," I told him. He snorted out a bark of strained laughter. "Seriously, Lyubovnik. Go for it. I already had one. And if you go off too soon--well, we do have all night, right?" He didn't say anything. He just started moving--slowly at first, which was best for both of us. I groaned, and brought my legs up around his hips. He leaned down and captured my mouth with his. Hot damn! After five or so long, slow, unbelievable strokes, he stopped again. "You OK?" I asked him. "Yes," he said. "I've decided on the alphabet backwards." I cracked up, which produced rather interesting sensations--laughing with a dick all the way up inside me! "I'll teach you the Russian one, it's got seven more letters," I teased. "I need more than seven," he said ruefully. "Craig. Really. It's OK. If you knew how good this felt you wouldn't worry." "Not just for you," he said. "I don't want this to end." "It won't be an end, just a break. Now kiss me!" He smiled, kissed me, and started moving again. I had my hands on his shoulders. I guess the backwards-alphabet thing worked, because I felt the strain in his shoulders go way down. This time, he kept going. And I was hearing fireworks again. A bit in the distance, but they were getting closer. "Go faster, Lyubovnik," I told him. "Just a little." He recaptured my lips with his and picked up the pace. Just a little. But it was enough. Rumble... rumble... BOOM! "God!" I murmured into his mouth. "Oh, God, Craig! God!" We were still kissing but kept missing each other's mouth. Who cared? This was... WOW! "Craig?" I gasped after a couple minutes. "Oh, baby, faster, 'k?" "If... I'm gonna..." "It's OK, baby, take me with you," I said. He went faster. And he took me right with him. Ka-BLAM!!!! I shook. I screamed. I stuck my tongue down his throat. A dead man wouldn't last through that--and Craig didn't--but it didn't matter. He took me with him, in a big way. I just came apart at the seams. All over the pillow. Little bits of Ginny-brain leaking out my ear, all over the pillow. Had no doubt of it. And it was glorious. He rolled off of me--worrying about crushing me, like I gave a shit--but took me with him, so we ended up side-by-side, cuddled, our lips still all over the other's face. We'd covered hearts and minds, right? This was souls. Well, yeah, bodies too--but not just that. I felt like I'd found the other half of myself. We came down from it sloshing all over each other like two kinky amoebas. Even after Little Craig slipped out, I still wasn't sure where I ended and he began. Wow. After the odd aimless kisses and punch-drunk murmuring, I told him. "It means lover," I whispered. "Hm?" "Lyubovnik. It means lover." He just hugged me tighter. It was the last thing I remember before I fell asleep. ------- Twenty-Four It's kind of strange waking up at three in the morning in any case. Waking up disoriented and with a full bladder only makes it stranger. Disoriented? Well, yeah. I'm not used to waking up snuggled into a guy's chest with his hands on my ass! Not that I was complaining, mind you. The full bladder, that I was complaining about. Because it necessitated that I unwrap myself from said guy and go take care of it. At least I had a bathroom right there, attatched to my room. I went and did my thing. I also wet a washcloth and used it on my thighs--I was a bit, er, sticky. When I came back out, that guy in my bed was on his side, as awake as I was, grinning at me. "My turn," he said. "You know, there's another bathroom down the hall," I said. "And miss seeing you saunter back in here naked as a jaybird? Perish the thought." He waited until I got back in the bed, kissed me, then went to do his thing. When he got back, I was wide awake. He leaned over and started kissing me. One hand went right to the boob, the other one started on my ass. Before long, it was between my legs. "You trying to get me going again?" I asked. "Yup. Is it working?" "Definitely." "Are you sore?" "Not at all," I assured him. "Good. You see, it did fit." "Yes it did," I agreed. "Evidently, fucking violates all the laws of physics." "You're forgetting the elasticity factor." "Really. You got a formula for that?" "You're asking ME?" he roared, cracking up. "Who's the brain around here?" "Both of us," I said pointedly. "OK, be that as it may, who's the physics brain around here?" "OK, touche," I laughed. "That and the Russian brain. That reminds me. How do you say 'gorgeous ass' in Russian?" "I have no idea," I laughed. "Google it." "I can't read that alphabet!" "You Google, I'll transliterate." God, his hand on my pussy was making me very, very wet--again. "It's just more research. Which reminds me--anything you discover in your research we haven't tried yet?" "Lots," he said. "Blowjobs, for example." "Was that a request?" I twinkled. "Actually, no," he said seriously. "I'm sixteen, but I'm not unlimited. If we're going for number three in one night, I can't guarantee a fourth, even with the few hours sleep in between, and I have better places to put number three." "I agree." "Plus I want to try to save one for the morning." I just looked at him. "We need to christen your shower." "Oh, Lyubovnik, now there's an idea! I must admit, I was surprised blowjobs was your first response." "Really?" "Knowing you, I figured it'd be anal." "Not that I didn't think of it, mind you, but that's the advanced course, Sweetie." "True. Glad I bought the big tube of KY." "You're something else." "So are you," I said. "Of course, you knew that. I'm running like a river already." "Yeah, I noticed we didn't need the KY for that. Should I do something about you running like a river?" "I think so," I teased. "We should probably do something about this, too," I said, tugging on his very hard dick. "You know what? I did my research as well." "Ah, yes. You mentioned that. Did you find anything interesting?" "Well, there's this girl-on-top thing," I said impishly. "That sounded like fun." He grinned, and spun away from me, off of his side to end up lying flat on his back with his dick sticking up in the air like a flagpole. "Don't let me stop you!" Well, what do you think I did? Straddled him, of course! And I was right. It was fun. I do think I got him a little deeper like that. The fireworks were even more intense. Problem was, he'd discovered some stamina since he was going for number three, and I left him hanging. The minute the fireworks went kablooey my poor overworked brain forgot how to work my legs. Luckily, he quickly sized up the situation--not difficult since I was flopping all over him like an uncoordinated walrus--and flipped me over. That finished him off. And got me another one--a wee bit smaller, but very very nice. Smaller was probably good at that point, since by then I think I'd forgotten my name! We nodded off to sleep again quickly after that, still wrapped up in one another. And, yes, when we woke up at about nine we went for the knee-trembler in the shower. We were just close enough in height to make that one work. Then we got to wash all the residue off one another, which was almost as fun! The funnest part, though? When he washed my hair for me. Sigh. How romantic! I made him breakfast, of course. Then we hung out, mostly cuddling and kissing, until Craig had to leave about two in the afternoon. I did homework, still tingling to myself. When the parents got home, Mom tried the ol' third degree. "So, did you have a good weekend?" "The best," I grinned. "Really?" she said. "Oh, yeah," I said. "If you're fishing for details, you ain't gonna get any," I said, to laughter from both of us. "Let's just say it was better than I could've even dreamed." "Good," she said. I went to bed that night happy as a clam. You know the expression, "I could die happy tomorrow"? I'm a suicide survivor. I'm not going to say that. What I could say was that I could wake up alive tomorrow happy. That was even better. ------- Twenty-Five The problem was, I didn't. And I couldn't figure out why. When I woke up Monday morning, all I could think about was what Zoe had said about herself. You know, the feeling like you were being buried alive thing. I felt the weight of something on me. And I didn't know what, and I didn't know why. When I got to school, it got worse. It especially got worse in my first period class when I sat down next to a grinning Craig. It got even worse when I sat down in front of him at lunch. I think I faked it well, but every time I saw him, I felt... I don't know what! It was like a tug-of-war I couldn't figure out. Part of me wanted to run screaming every time I saw him. The other part wanted to stow away in his backpack, pretty much forever. I couldn't make heads or tails out of it. Shit, maybe my brain was fried. But it left me at a loss. Like I said, I analyzed suicide. Oh, we can argue about whether or not my analysis was flawed, sure. And it wasn't completely unemotional--Shannon was right about the anger. And one could certainly make the point that I was working from badly flawed data. But I did think it through. I couldn't think this through. It wasn't thought--it was all feeling, and feelings I couldn't get a grasp on. Every time I tried to pin it down, I felt like a dog chasing its own tail. It was driving me out of my mind. That wasn't the worst part, though. The worst part was that people were starting to notice the mental merry-go-round I'd hopped onto. Now, I fooled Shannon, in our one-on-one and group. And I think I had my parents mostly fooled. I couldn't fool Craig. I'd been blowing him off, plain and simple. Saying I had things to do at lunch. I begged off the Friday Night Date with a fictional tale of family plans. Told him to call Saturday to see what was up that night. When he did, I told him I was sick. I just couldn't deal with him. I was having a hard enough time just dealing with the slippery whirlygigs that kept bashing through my cerebral cortex. I just couldn't get a handle on this. I thought I'd fooled Craig with the sickness thing. I was wrong. A half hour after I hung up the phone, my Mom was calling up to me. "Ginny! Craig's here, I'm sending him up!" Shit! He walked in to find me sitting on the bed. "Hi, honey," he said. "I figured that if you were sick I should come over and play nursemaid." He looked at me pointedly. "That is, if you're really sick." I just looked down. He came over me and sat next to me at the bed. "Ginny, what's wrong?" I just shrugged. "You've been avoiding me all week." I didn't say anything. "I thought you wanted it," he said softly. "I thought you enjoyed it." "I did!" "Then what's wrong?" I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. That's when he lowered the boom. He took my hand, and stared at me until I looked up at him. His eyes locked on mine. "Ginny, a couple of months ago, you made me a promise. I'm holding you to it." It took me a minute to realize what he meant. When I did, I reacted in horror. "God, Craig, no! I'm not thinking about..." "Yes, you are," he cut me off. "Or, if you're not exactly at this moment, you soon will be. Ginny, you're depressed, don't deny it. I'm scared of where that might lead." "So am I," I admitted in a whisper. "Did I do something wrong?" "No. Not at all. It's just..." I trailed off. "OK, then I'm keeping you to your promise. You need to talk to me." "I can't." "Why not?" "I don't know." He was going to say something, but I held up my hand. "I don't know what's wrong, that's the problem. OK. You're right, I did make you a promise. But I can't do this alone, because I'm confused." "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." "I know. I have an idea," I said, just as it popped into my head. "Come with me Tuesday to my session with Shannon." "OK. That's a good idea. I'll do it. I'll have to get the day off from work, but that shouldn't be a problem. We'll go see Shannon. As long as you promise, absolutely swear to me, that you will not do anything stupid between now and Tuesday. I want your solemn word." "Yes. I swear." "OK. I love you, you know," he said with a small smile. "I know. I love you too." "You want me to leave you alone today," he said. It wasn't a question. I answered it anyway. "Yes. I'm sorry." "It's OK." He squeezed my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and then he was gone. I felt... drained. Horrible, in fact. But at least I'd made a damn decision. ------- Twenty-Six Craig drove me to Shannon's office on Tuesday in silence. I know Shannon was a little surprised to see Craig there--she'd met him at the wake, so she knew who he was. "I have a problem, and I'm not sure why. Craig's here because I promised to talk to him if I was getting, you know, down again. But I need you here because I'm confused." "OK," Shannon agreed. "Start from the beginning." I told her the whole thing, including what had happened a week and a half ago, that we had made love. And I struggled trying to explain the aftermath. "So, you made love--and it was fine," Shannon said. "A whole lot better than fine," I grinned, with a glance towards Craig. "No regrets," Shannon said. "None," I agreed. "And you woke up the next morning, happy. He was there, and you guys enjoyed each other again, and you were fine." "Perfectly." "This didn't hit until after he had left." "Moreso the next morning, yes, but it was after he'd left." "Well, that's easy," Craig joked, "next time I just won't leave." He said that... and something snapped. "DON'T YOU SAY THAT!" I screeched. "DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT! DON'T PROMISE ME THAT!" And after that, I just started wailing. I had absolutely no idea where it came from. I was having a complete breakdown because of a stupid joke, and I couldn't even tell you why. And even through my wails I managed to spot both Shannon and Craig looking at me in complete horror. "Ginny," Shannon said softly as I started to calm down some, "you need to explain to Craig and I what's going through your head. Because you just scared the daylights out of both of us. Craig didn't say anything to prompt that kind of reaction. What did that make you think of?" I held up my hand, asking for a bit of time, while I composed myself. Then, finally, I got an image in my head that might help explain my muddled brain. "OK, it's like this. You've seen this in a movie or cartoon. Think of a cliff face. And there's a guy hanging off the cliff. And there's another guy, on top, lying across the top of the cliff. And he's reaching over, and he's got the dangling guy by the hand, and he's trying to pull him up." "OK," Shannon said. "But it's not working. And the guy up top starts sliding and can't get his grip back. And the guy dangling knows that he has to either let go, or pull the other guy off the cliff with him." "You're the dangling guy," Shannon grasped immediately. "Yes." "And Craig's the guy on top." "Yes," I admitted, numb to my core. "You're underestimating my strength," Craig said beside me with a little grin. "Mental, I mean, since we're dealing with a metaphor here. You're underestimating my mental strength." "That's not the point," I sighed. "Craig, a while ago I made another promise to you--I promised I'd never make you responsible for saving my life. Whoops--too late," I spat bitterly. "You notice I'd never held you to that particular one?" he said gently. "You don't get it," I spat. "I'm obsessed. If you offer not to leave again, I might handcuff you to the damn bed!" He chuckled, but I ignored it. I turned back to Shannon. "I'm completely obsessed! It was bad enough, but having sex just made it worse. He walked out the door and I felt half my soul was walking away! I've put all my self-esteem in his hands and that's just not fair to him. Shit, we're in the same damn room and I want to crawl into his clothes with him! I'm going to end up asking way too much of him. I've completely lost all perspective. Let's face it, I've completely lost my mind." I looked up at Shannon when I finished this diatribe... and she was laughing! I just goggled at her. Why was she laughing at me? "Ginny," she said kindly, "why do you think this is unusual?" "Huh?" "Why do you think this is unusual?" I repeated. "You think Craig feels any different?" I looked at Craig and he was chuckling. "I'll buy the handcuffs," he said. "Ginny, I feel exactly what you feel. And I don't have any questions about my mental health." "It's natural," Shannon went on. "Look, Ginny, you're sixteen. Craig's your first--both physically and emotionally. First love, first sexual experience. If you weren't somewhat obsessed, then I'd worry." "You've been around Alex and Johanna enough," Craig said to me. He turned to Shannon. "Alex is my best friend. He's been with Johanna for two years." He turned back to me. "Those two, half the time, they look like they're trying to occupy the same space! Ginny, you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. I used to tease them," he told Shannon, "until I got hit by the same thunderbolt." "It's normal," Shannon said. "Ginny, you're getting better. You've gotten a lot better. However, you have one big thing holding you back, and this is a good example of it. When you get feelings that confuse you, you automatically assume that the feelings are abnormal or bad or indicative of mental illness. You never assume that they're normal or natural." I thought about that for a minute. Shannon went on. "Let me tell you a story. His name was, and is, Chris. We started dating about the same age you are--beginning of Junior year. "Now, he wasn't my first, sexually speaking. I'd had a boyfriend a year before, and I was curious, so I did it with him. But I wasn't in love with him and the sex was OK but not much more than that. "With Chris, it was both. He was my first true love, and the first one that I'd had both love and sex with. You want to talk about obsessed? Shit, I would've let him handcuff himself to my bed and to me with him in me if I could've gotten away with it." I had to laugh at that image! "But isn't that, I don't know, unhealthy?" I asked. "It can be. But if you realize what you're feeling is normal, you can guard against it and deal with it. I mean, you're not really going to handcuff Craig to the bed!" "Yeah, my mother might come looking for me if she did," Craig laughed. "That might be a wee bit embarrassing." "Exactly," Shannon agreed with a laugh. "So, Ginny, if you understand the feelings are normal, you can deal with them. You can talk them out, with Craig. You can confront them together. By the way, it can be unhealthy in some sense, but being that much in love with someone is not inherently a bad thing, you know." "Yeah," I agreed with a little smile. "How did you deal with it?" I asked her. She took a breath. "OK," she said. "I'm going to tell you a story I don't tell too many of my patients. "Chris and I were together for the rest of high school. And we did talk about being too dependent on one another. So, to test the relationship, we decided to go to separate colleges. Chris's father had gone to Northwestern and Chris had always wanted to go there. I went to Michigan. We were going to try to be faithful. "It was probably going to be a little easier for me, because I had my big brother Ben already at Michigan. He was a junior my freshman year, and promised to show me around. I idolized Ben so that was cool. "The first semester was tough enough. When we got home for Christmas, though, it got worse. Chris seemed so happy at Northwestern. He kept telling me how much he loved it. He didn't mention girls, but I was worried. And I wasn't all that thrilled with Michigan and Ben didn't seem to have as much time for me as I'd hoped. "So, I went back to school feeling unsure and a bit abandoned. I'll be honest, I didn't know if Chris and I were going to last the semester. Then, in February, my world fell apart." "Chris found someone else," I guessed. "No. Far, far worse than that," she said with a look of real pain. "My brother killed himself." I couldn't help the horrified gasp. "Now you know why I do what I do for a living," she said with a wry little smile. Then she sobered again. "Of course, at the time, I wasn't thinking about that--that came later. Ben's roommate had gone away for the weekend--when he came back, he found Ben dead of a gunshot wound to the head. "There was no question of it being suicide. Ben left a note. It was drugs. The sad thing is, he'd finally kicked them. He'd been hooked on cocaine for over a year, but had kicked it in November. The problem was, he owed thousands and thousands of dollars to dealers. He'd tried gambling to win the money and got in an even bigger hole. I guess the dealer had come around the previous week and roughed him up. He was due back again a couple days hence. And Ben was too ashamed to go to my parents and ask for help. So he killed himself instead. "I was beside myself with grief. And guess who I blamed?" she asked. "Yourself?" "Well, to a point. I felt guilty that I'd never noticed that Ben was using. But no. I blamed Chris. Because he wasn't there." "Oh." "I went home, of course. My poor parents. They were just out of their minds. And, me, I sat in my room blaming Chris for not being there. Of course, I never even called him. I expected him to be a mindreader or something, and the whole time I had this image in my mind of him not being here because he was with some other girl. "I got lucky, though. Even in the midst of their own grief, my parents figured out what was going on. My Dad called Chris that night. He drove from Chicago to here in the middle of the night without stopping. I got woken up by him pounding on my door at five o'clock in the morning. "He stayed with me all throughout the wake and funeral. He held me when I couldn't stop crying. And, after all that was over, we had a talk. He did like Northwestern but a lot of what he'd told me over Christmas break was bluster. He thought he was making sure I didn't worry about him--because he was pretty miserable and didn't want me to realize it. "After we had that talk, Chris decided to transfer to Michigan the next year. So, Ginny, I know what you mean about being obsessed. Because I was." She smiled at me. "I still am, you know. Chris and I got married right after we graduated. And he went to work and worked his ass off to get me through medical school. We've been through some crap together--my brother, the whole med school thing. Right now we're struggling because I'm trying to get pregnant and it's not working," she admitted. "We've been going to a fertility specialist. But we've been married for ten years and I'm still completely obsessed with him, you know." "Wow," I said with a grin. "Obsession isn't necessarily a bad thing, not when it comes from love. And leaning on your partner isn't a bad thing, either. Ginny, it'll work both ways eventually. Chris lost both of his parents within a few months a few years back, so I was there for him. Craig knows he has to be there for you, now, and he knows why. Let him." ------- Twenty-Seven Craig and I got into the car, not saying much. "Am I taking you home?" he asked. "No. You're taking me somewhere to eat," I said. "Good," he grinned. We went to the local burger emporium, and got some grease to eat. "You feeling better?" he asked. "Yeah. I think so," I told him. "One thing I didn't get a chance to ask Shannon, though. Why did it take me so long to figure out what was bothering me?" "That's an easy one," he said. "You were running from it." "That makes sense." "Goes back to what she was saying about you thinking it was abnormal. You thought it was another symptom of your addled mind, or something, so you ran from it." "Very astute. Who's the brain around here anyway?" I grinned at him. "Both of us," he grinned back. "Damn, you're good for me, Lyubovnik." "As long as you keep remembering that." "I'm sorry," I said. "Don't be," he said. "Look, Ginny, there's something you have to remember. I asked you out with my eyes wide open, OK? I knew exactly what I was getting into. Look, I am not capable of saving your life. I didn't do that. I can't. However, giving you another reason to stick around? That I can do." "OK," I said. "So," I changed the subject, "two more days of school until Christmas Break. I can't wait." "We're off for a week and a half. We'll have to find some things to keep us occupied." "I think we can do that," I purred. "In fact, I think we can start tonight. I'm caught up on my studying." "Your place or mine?" he laughed. "Well, you're mother's pretty cool, but I don't have a little sister, so I think my place is probably better." "Good plan." So, we went to my house. Mom just grinned when I took Craig upstairs. It was as good as the first time. We were cuddling afterwards. No overnights tonight--and it was going to kill me for him to leave--but I'd live with it. And we did have an hour or so for a good cuddle. "You're gonna love what I got you for Christmas," he said. "Shit! I forgot! Damn, Craig, I was so loopy this week I forgot to go Christmas shopping. I'll have to go out tomorrow to get you a present." "Relax," he said, kissing my shoulder and fondling a boob. "I already got it. Right here." ------- Epilogue Six months later... OK, so I do look beautiful Well, tonight I look beautiful. A prom dress will do that. And a full-blown treatment at the hair salon, and my mother working for an hour on my makeup! Yup, it was Junior Prom Night. I was looking forward to it. I really did like this dress, it was flattering. It was a deep blue color. It minimized my tummy, and accentuated my boobs. OK, so it accentuated my ass, too--that for Craig, of course! Well, of course I was going to the prom with Craig! Who else? Yep, we were still together. Yep, we were still obsessed. It was OK. We spent a lot of time together. We'd gotten to the point in our relationship when being together was the important part--even if we were doing something that really wasn't a 'together' kind of thing, like studying. We studied together all the time--and I mean studied. Well, with the odd kiss break, sure--but we really did study. Him more than me, which he teased me about, but I always found something to read while he was finishing up. We could hang out with friends or family and just be normal about it. Of course, weekends were a different story. Craig stayed over, all the time. His mother didn't mind, as long as we weren't out driving. My parents were just thrilled I was so happy. Who wouldn't be happy with all that wonderful sex? God, we were made for each other--everywhere, but especially in bed. He knew where all my buttons were, and knew how to push them. And, yes, a few months after Christmas I let him get into my 'luscious ass' as he puts it. It hurt a bit at first. And then it didn't hurt. Just the opposite. My oh my! Anyhow, it was prom night. He came to get me. When I came down the stairs, he told me I took his breath away. Which I could see in his eyes anyhow, but hearing it is always nice. And he looked mighty dapper in his tux! He was also wearing the very nice watch and gold neck chain I'd gotten him for Christmas. Yes, I did manage to go shopping! Me, I'd gotten a necklace with matching earrings from him. I was wearing them as well. We got to the prom and found our table. The gang was there. Alex and Johanna, of course--that's a marriage waiting to happen, no doubt in my mind about it. Cap and Angela were still together, and Angela had become more outgoing, more comfortable in her own skin. The other occupants of our table? Joe Adair and Toni Caldwell. Toni and I had become great friends--and she made friends with Angela and Johanna as well. She told me, "you guys are much more fun than all the A-list princesses." Her parents were still jerks, so every bit of fun she got helped. And Joe was just fun naturally, so he fit right in with the rest of us. He'd had a great hockey season--and I made sure he was still passing Trig--though we lost in the state semi-finals. It was amusing to see the effect that Hockey God Joe and Princess Toni choosing to associate with the bunch of us had. The only one of us with any social standing was Johanna. The rest of us were nonentities or worse. The effect was amusing--Joe and Toni were diminished in standing. But the rest of us were somehow elevated. I couldn't figure that one out. None of us really cared, mind you. Even Toni thought it was hilarious. Even with all that, they were still elected Prom King and Queen! As for my other friends--Karen and Aaron did have sex, a couple months ago. Karen talked about it in group. It threw her--threw her how much she enjoyed it. She expected kind of a mental cleansing, she hoped--she didn't expect to have three orgasms! She was like a little kid talking about it. We still go to Seth's club, and that means all of us, the whole gang. His friend Terri keeps teasing us about the breeders taking over. But we've found some good friends there. Hey, the only person I care who they sleep with is Craig. And I'd made another friend at school, another girl with problems that sought me out, a girl named Elizabeth. We brought her to the club--because the problem was that she was gay. She met someone at the club. And coming out to her parents went much better than she'd thought it would. Seth had gone out a few times with that guy he was making eyes at the first time we went, but it didn't last. He'd had a few other boyfriends, but had just recently started dating another guy that he thought might last. Zoe? Zoe was all right. Shortly after Sam died, she went on what she called one of her 'fuck-o-ramas.' In other words, going to bed with anyone that asked. She even went to the club with us and picked up a girl so she could investigate that ten percent curious thing. Her verdict? "Fun, but not a guy." So she went back to sleeping with tons of guys. I'll admit, I was a bit worried. But it didn't last. A few months ago, she abruptly asked out a guy in her class, a guy who was a bit like Sam. Not quite as shy, but very smart and a bit of an outcast. She shocked him so much he accepted! So, it's only been a few months, but things seem to be going well. I still go to group every week. The one-on-one sessions have gone biweekly. All of that will probably end soon, though I can call Shannon any time, she's made sure I know. So, I'm OK. Better than OK. I have a good group of friends, parents that are trying harder, and Craig. Look, it's all day-to-day. I know that. Craig and I could break up tomorrow. I don't think that's going to happen, not for a second, but it could. College is looming. We both want to go to Michigan--both of his parents graduated from there, so he's got the same Wolverine family tie I do with my Dad. We both like the place a lot. That would make things easier. But things can change. The important part is, I feel better. I guess I feel like I've stopped beating my head against a brick wall. I have love, and I have hope, and that just might be enough. ------- Author's note: after ten emails already on this--Ginny says Grand Finally instead of Grand Finale deliberately, OK? It's a play on words. Sheesh... :-) ------- The End ------- Posted: 2005-09-01 Last Modified: 2005-09-18 / 01:10:16 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------