Here I am again with my junior year to look forward to. Or dread. Last year’s gossip will still be a hot topic, and it’s mainly focused around me and things I caused. But the main thing was Celia, my best friend; she no longer speaks to me. I blame myself for that. If I had been there for her...

     Jerry tells me forget it. Teenagers can’t blame the world for their problems he tells me. We make our own choices he says.

     He’s my boyfriend. He’s really good for me and stops me from doing stupid things because he’s been there himself. That’s why it doesn’t bother me when he gives me advice. He’s about 5’7”, has frosted blond straight hair that always hangs in his blue, blue eyes. He’s not a guy who’s concerned too much with his appearance. No school sports for him, but he’s a skater and joined the Pony Club over the summer. Now we have something more in common than us both almost becoming alcoholics and breaking the law.

     “School starts in two weeks. I don’t want to go back,” I said cringing at the whining tone I heard in my voice.

     “Don’t talk.” His words were gentle but still firm, letting me know he was not going to get into another discussion about my fears of facing Brittany and Celia. “We have each other. You don’t have to worry about any of them. Just kiss me.”

     It was 11:30 P.M., and the view through the front window of his truck showed the orchard sweeping across fifty-acres. Stars sparkled with pinpoint clarity from the supreme spot, highest in all Westbury. We had driven minus headlights past David’s house to get to this secret spot. Driving through there brought me back to the last time I’d been here. I’d been afraid to suggest it to Jerry for fear he’d remember with me, and we’d find it a sore bruise to touch. I just couldn’t think of any place else for us to go and get home on time.

     A soft breeze sifted through the open windows and teased our skin. I thanked God for Jerry for the thousandth time that summer. He could easily become my world. With tender but determined hands, he encircled my face, pulling me toward him, across the gearshift and onto his lap.

     The memory of David’s strength from those degrading episodes when he plotted to overpower me physically remained strong. It scared me to death. I flipped back and forth between wanting Jerry and fearing that feeling of being overcome. Would Jerry stop if I changed my mind after we’d started something more physical? The memory of the sneering expression on David’s face flooded over me. What would Jerry think of me if I went too far? I had been trying to put distance between me and the rumors. I didn’t want to make the wrong move. My feelings for Jerry thrust me closer and closer to forgetting modesty.

     His arms went around my upper back. Beats of his heart sent my adrenaline rushing, and a warm surge of passion surfaced and splashed me in its sweetness. His hair tickled my temple and the pressure of his lips against mine, the calm resolve of his tongue, both frightened and excited me.

     I wanted him to touch me, but I didn’t want him to think I was too fast. It wasn’t like he hadn’t always seen me exactly as I was. But instead of reaching up for his hand to place it on me, I chickened out and my fingers sought the knob of the radio instead. The power wasn’t on, so I jiggled the key. Poking the buttons to find a good song, I settled for Nelly Furtado. I allowed its strum of sensual melody to mellow my rising breath, to slow the staccato of my heart and chest. I drifted off.

     About 3:00 A.M., I started awake and whacked Jerry to alertness, pleading with him to hurry.

     “Jerry, my parents told me to be home at midnight,” I wailed.

     “We’ll just tell them the truth.”

     “She doesn’t trust me. You don’t understand.”

     “She’ll believe me. I’ll tell her what happened.”

     I couldn’t say what was in my mind, that she trusted him even less.

     We drove in silence, me fretting and fidgeting, and him sensing my distress.

     Finally he said, “What’s bothering you? So we’re a little late. What’s the big deal?”

     “You don’t understand.”

     “You said that before. Why don’t you try explaining it to me?”

     “My mom and dad are really strict with me, and stuff at night is what she keeps track of the most. She thinks if I don’t stay out too late, I won’t get into the same trouble I did last year.”

     “Well, I know that. But she knows you’re with me.”

     “So.”

     “Well, she trusts me, doesn’t she?”

     “Not that much.”

     Why not? She knows me pretty well by now. I’ve been over for dinner about five times.”

     “It’s not from talking to you. That’s not why she doesn’t trust you.”

     “Then, what is it?”

     I didn’t mean to have led up to this. I tried to change the subject. We were barreling down my street, and Celia’s house glared down at me from the top of the hills that rose to the left, a constant reminder of my mistakes of last spring.

     He parked in the turnaround, doused the lights, rolled down the windows again, and switched the ignition to battery, so the radio still played. Reaching for me once more, he plied me with the unwanted question.

     “Doesn’t your mom trust me? She’s so freakin’controlling. I don’t know how you deal with it.” His hands slid onto my stomach and pushed my shirt up to show my belly button.

     I pulled away. “Jerry, don’t talk about my mom that way!” It was one thing for me to trash talk my mom, but for a friend, even worse, a boyfriend, it was forbidden.

     “You know I like your mom.” He moved forward and slid his hand under and up the side of my shirt.

     His sapphire eyes, locking on mine, softened to the color of a sky storm and setting sun combined. Transfixed for a full minute, I was always surprised how he brought me back to him. That was always the way. Like a naughty child, I could be coaxed out of any temper or sorrow with those eyes of satin.

     “Because of the way I feel about you, I can’t not like your mom. She’s your mom. Do you know how much I care about you?” 

     My skin crawled as his fingers inched up toward my bra strap. Wow. I had never been in love and didn’t know what it felt like, but at this moment, I could imagine I was very close. His tongue was warm and smooth. His body so close to mine, solid, his heart strong, insistent and feeling the pressure of his body against mine, my pleasure welled up until I thought I would burst. My own heart pounded so hard it went to my spinning head, and I tugged at his hand and shoved him away from me.

     “Jerry,” I said flustered and off guard, “I’m so late. Come on. We better go.”

     He pulled me back to him and kissed me so forcefully that I thought it must be bruising my lips. It hurt but also caused my spine to tingle.

     “I’m not ready for all this,” I said, gasping.

     “Alright, little girl, you know you don’t have to worry about me. I would never hurt you like David. I’m not him. We’ll get you home.”

     Standing outside the truck with the door still ajar, part of me was afraid to blurt anything out about my feelings for Jerry. He had, but I might say something stupid like, “I love you.” What would he say then? I had always heard that the worst thing a girl can do is say that too soon when the guy might not be ready to return it. And besides, I wasn’t sure that’s what it was. What if I said it and then wanted to take it back? That would be awkward. I had seen a movie where an old guy said to his wife, “Well, I want you to know that I really did love you.” He said this as he was leaving her for another woman. Tacky. Falling in love seemed so romantic to me, but falling out of love just shouldn’t ever happen.

     The headlights shone on a window nearest the garage briefly, and my mom’s face poked through the curtain. Oh no. They were waiting up for me! This was hard to get used to. What was I going to say? The truth of course. I’d learned my lesson well. I ended by mumbling, “Thanks. Good night.” Flat words in light of how he had opened up to me. But now my mind was torn in two directions.

     Stars twinkled down into my eyes (or were the stars in my eyes) as I hesitated at the garage door, the harsh lights setting the tone for what my happen when I stepped inside. How unlike last year this was: her waiting up for me, knowing where I was and who I was with, her being home every weekend. How surprised I was to be so relieved they were in my life now with such determined purpose.

     I scooted across the garage floor and grasped the knob on the mudroom door. It fell inward as my mom whisked the door open from inside.

     “Get in here. Do you know what time it is?”

     “Yes, I do, Mom. I fell asleep.”

     “I don’t want your excuses. A curfew is a curfew. Be home when we say, or don’t go out at all.”

     It was hard to take her seriously in her white ankle socks and pink terry slide slippers with a soft white strip across the top. If I didn’t notice her eyes were slightly bugging out and the tendons sticking out in her throat, I would have laughed. Biting my lip, I tried to choose my words carefully.

     “I’m so sorry, Mommy. You know I want to follow your rules. It was an accident. It won’t happen again.”

     “Maybe you shouldn’t see that boy. I think he’s trouble. He should have gotten you home on time. It’s his responsibility.”

     How sexist! She was looking for ways to pick at him.

     “He fell asleep, too. He’s a human being you know. You’re not his mother, but if I deserve a second chance, so does he.”

     On that note, I thought I’d best leave her with food for thought. But as I attempted to make a smooth getaway, hovering near as I brushed past the sliding door to the stairs, stood my dad, shaking his head and clucking. I really hate it when he does that!

     “You know, Brandy, your mother and I aren’t against you having a boyfriend…” he trailed off.

     “Dad, did you hear me tell Mom I’m late because Jerry and I fell asleep?”

     “We expected problems when you told us about him. We hoped it wouldn’t last and that you would see you wouldn’t be good for each other.”

     “He is good for me. You don’t know how good. I’m really tired. Can I talk to you about it tomorrow? You know you’re being a little unforgiving.”

     “You’re our little girl. We want to protect you.”

     This little girl stuff was really getting on my nerves. I wanted to run up the stairs and slam my door, but those days were over. I was never going back to being that disrespectful again. It was either tell them how I felt or forget about it.

     “Dad, please let me make my own decisions about my personal life. I’ve been earning your trust about who I hang out with now for months. I know I made some bad decisions. Remember though, the only reason you know everything about Kirsten, David, and Jerry, is because I decided to tell you everything.”

     “That was quite a speech. But are you prepared for how serious you’re getting with him? Your mother and I can see it. Can you? Don’t you think sometimes that what has thrown you together with him could be the mistakes you’ve both made in past?”

     “That’s not the only reason we care about each other!”  

     “Let me finish. Doesn’t it occur to you that you’ll both be more likely to make bad choices if you stick together? Maybe you need to be alone for awhile to find the new you on your own.”

     “I don’t want to argue with you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad. I’m going to bed.”

     Now I was the one shaking my head as I trudged up to bed. I was just too tired for any more talk. But somehow, what he said made a tiny grain of sense to me. I hoped I’d wake up tomorrow, and it would seem crazy, but right now, his point of view kept sounding its moral rightness through my exhausted brain until I placed my hands over my ears to shut out my own thoughts.