NOTE: Although I include what would be considered "coarse" language in my books, I try to avoid outright swearing. That said, it's often difficult to accurately depict some of the characters without it.
In these alternate scenes from the point of view of characters who regularly swear, I've "bleeped" the words themselves, though since the first letter of each word is provided, it won't be difficult for readers to figure out what was said. My apologies if you find this jarring.
In these alternate scenes from the point of view of characters who regularly swear, I've "bleeped" the words themselves, though since the first letter of each word is provided, it won't be difficult for readers to figure out what was said. My apologies if you find this jarring.
The Tampon Incident (from Finn’s POV)
I was
running late that morning. Dashed into the kitchen to wrestle with Mom’s stupid
Italian coffee machine. Yanked the pot too hard and the hot contents sloshed as
it came free. I swore and mopped the splatter off my jacket and the marble
counter.
The
sick-sweet smell of half-digested alcohol hit me two seconds before Dad shuffled
in. I dropped the soaking dishrag into the sink and poured what was left of the
coffee into my travel mug, gripping the handle hard.
Ignore me. Ignore me. Ignore me.
“Your
hair looks like sh--.” Dad’s voice was hoarse, edged in too many cigarettes and
that bottle of gin he thought I didn’t know he’d brought home yesterday.
Despite
the chill – I hadn’t bothered turning on the heat last night – he stood on the
tiles in bare feet, and nothing but his pajama bottoms. He had a hand on the
island to stop himself swaying.
Thanks.”
I started toward the door, but met his gaze. He blinked red, watery eyes.
“Yeah,
that’s right, ignore your dad. Just keep walking you jumped up little–”
He was
still drunk. I should have shrugged and kept moving. Ignored him.
“Shut
your drunk mouth, Dad.” I knew the words were a mistake as soon as they were
out.
I ducked
easily under the fist he threw out to clip me. He made a weird grunting noise and
dove at me. But I side-stepped. He slapped heavily to the tile floor, then
rolled onto his side, face screwed up in pain, groaning.
For a
second I considered helping him up. But then he opened his eyes and sneered.
“Go on
then, you little f---. Get out of here. Don’t come back.”
“If
only,” I muttered, turning my back on him.
The
garage smelled like a brewery and felt like a fridge. I slammed the door
as hard as I could.
For
once, even the sight of the sleek, black sports car Dad bought me last time he got
sober couldn’t make me smile. Usually, it only took a glance to remember the
last girl to jump in, and I’d feel better. But today was dark. Mom hadn’t been home
in over a week. It was the longest she’d stayed away.
Couldn’t
blame her – he’d actually hit her this time. But if she really left, she was
supposed to take me with her. The idea that I might be stuck with him, alone
for the rest of the year, was chilling. Even thoughts of that girl in the car
last night – what was her name? Haley, I think – hair down, blouse unbuttoned,
flushed and reaching for me, couldn’t warm me.
I
considered backing out of the garage through
the door. But Dad would just take it out of my allowance. And my hide. So I
squealed the tires instead and made sure I left rubber on his precious polished
cement.
Pulled
into the school parking lot about five minutes before the bell rang. Usually liked
to get there earlier. It was an excuse to leave the house. But also, gave me
time to separate from whatever bulls--- dad had put me through. Put it aside.
Get it out of my head.
Today I wouldn’t
get that chance. My stomach burned.
Not sure
why I turned right instead of left when I got into the hall. Looking for Karyn,
maybe? Don’t know. My head was still on Mom. But when I saw Stacy at her
locker, it was like everything that was bugging me just pressed down. Hard.
It was
always like that. Every time I saw her I felt pissed off.
We’d
been friends for years when she started that stupid rumor – which still haunted
me. Stupid b----. At the time I’d actually felt hurt.
Snort.
I shook
my head as I stalked towards her locker. Why had I cared?
Gawd,
when she was whining, I wanted to throttle her – the urge so strong at times,
it scared me. Having her around was like a mosquito buzzing in my ear. Just
wanted to slap her against a wall and be done.
She
didn’t see me coming and the closer we got, the stronger I felt the urge to hit
something. Wanted to smile because I knew she’d be dying over Mark and Karyn. But the grin wouldn’t come. So I sneered
instead and gave her shoulder a little shove.
“Back
off,” she snapped without turning around. Her shoulders hunched.
“Settle
down, C.” She hated it when I called her that. It’s why I called her that.
When she
turned, she tried to look mad. But I could see how scared she was and I was
glad. That morning I needed something to vent on. She was perfect.
“I have class.
What do you want?” she muttered, arms folded under a pair of delicious boobs
that were wasted on her.
“You
heard about Mark and Karyn?” I said. From the corner of my eye I could see
people turning to watch us, starting to pay attention. Listening. I made sure
the closest ones could hear me.
She
nodded, the glimmer of tears starting.
I forced
a smile. “Just making sure.”
I could
feel the smile slipping, so I let it go and looked over her shoulder. That’s
when I saw one of those ridiculous flowery boxes all the girls had and pretended
they didn’t.
She
rolled her eyes. “Grow up, Finn.”
“What,
like you?” I met her eyes. Classic basketball maneuver – the defensive player
always follows your eyes. “Congratulations on that, by the way.”
A
flicker of confusion on her face. “On what?”
“On
growing up.” She didn’t see my hand dart out until it was too late. Her eyes
widened and she gasped, but I already had the box by the time she slammed her
locker shut.
Shook it
over my shoulder, felt the contents spill out, then threw it on the floor.
“Give Stacy a hand everyone, she’s finally a woman now!”
Laughter
and cheers went up from everyone in the hall, lifting the weight in my chest
for a second. I took a step back and let my foot slide out from under me.
“Whoops! She’s already used that one.”
The roar
that followed chipped away at the weight in my chest. My smile came back on its
own.
Stacy’s
face crumpled. I opened my mouth to turn the knife, but I was too late. She’d
already whirled and run for the door.
I
accepted a couple claps on the back and grinned. But I found I couldn’t stop
watching her carrot-colored hair bouncing down the hallway. The way her head
was down, eyes on her feet.
An image
flashed of my dad. Smiling. Proud.
Clenching
my teeth, I forced my eyes off her just before she pounded through the door at
the end of the hall. Gave Derek and another guy I didn’t know high fives. Then
the bell rang and everyone dispersed.
The
weight pressed heavy, then.
It was
weird. Whenever I saw Stacy, this heat rose in my chest and I couldn’t walk
away. I had to make her leave. But
every time I did, and every time she ran… G--, I hated myself then. Because I
knew I was just like him. She brought
it out in me. And I could have killed her for it.
Not
literally. At least, I didn’t think so.
Shaking
off the thought, I turned to leave – and noticed Stacy hadn’t put the lock on
her locker. Unable to resist, I gathered all the little tampon packets from the
floor, and opened her locker to leave them for her in a nice pile.
But as
soon as I got the door open, her wallet screamed at me from the shelf at the
top.
Stupid. She’d
left her wallet in an unlocked locker? Well, she was just asking for trouble. I’d
take her cards so she didn’t have any way to pay for lunch. Give them to Karyn
later, to give to Mark.
I wasn’t
a thief. I didn't need her money. I just couldn’t resist messing with her.
Ignoring
the flash of my father, laughing, I flipped up the leather flap on her wallet
and opened it. A couple cards. Her student ID. And a piece of folded paper
in the cash sleeve. With Mark written
on it.
I took
out the paper and put the wallet back on the shelf.
There
was a moment before I unfolded the creased paper and read what it said, where I
felt sorry for her. A moment when I would have pulled her aside and given it
back and told her to be more careful with stuff like that.
But I
shook it off. Then I started to read.
Holy.
F-----. Christmas.
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