Wild Girl (Slateview High 2)
It settled easily and comfortably, and I laughed again, letting Misael pull me toward him to dance. I looped my arms around his shoulders, letting the music dictate how and where we’d move.
This was my new normal. And as much as I wanted to help my father, I couldn’t help but love how good being with the boys made me feel. How effortless it was to just be with them. How… perfect it felt.
The irony of that wasn’t lost on me. In my world, it wasn’t normal to spend time in warehouses. It wasn’t normal to smoke pot and party with dangerous, wild boys. It wasn’t normal to be shared between said boys either, and it certainly wasn’t normal to crave them with every fiber of your being.
But I did.
Finals came and went in a blur. None of us were particularly worried about them, not even Misael, although he did seem to breathe easier once they were done.
On the Friday of our last exam, the boys dropped me off at home after school since they had a job to do for Nathaniel, promising to pick me up afterward so we could all celebrate properly.
I kissed them each goodbye in the way that had become our custom, then climbed out of the car, straightening my clothes and trying to get my breath back. Indulging in my hunger for these three boys never seemed to sate it. Instead, it just left me craving more.
More. Always more.
I watched the beat-up convertible disappear down the street before turning toward our squat little house. When I did, I noticed a second car parked outside our house, one I didn’t recognize. It looked shiny and nearly new, an expensive model I recognized from having seen several in our old neighborhood. Had mom bought another car?
Fuck. What is she thinking?
I steeled myself for that conversation as I went inside.
But the moment I stepped through the door, I froze.
Moans came from the end of the hall, a raucous kind that were punctuated by the sounds of rhythmic knocking. My brows furrowed, and a sudden rush of cold filled my body. I had a split second of panic that someone had broken in, that someone was attacking my mother.
But, no…
Those weren’t the sounds of something unwanted happening.
My mouth dry, I walked back through the hall. My footsteps felt like lead. I felt my pulse in my ears, and the cacophony of blood pressure pounding through made me feel nauseous with each step.
She couldn’t… she wouldn’t…
She would.
I pushed my mom’s door open, unable to look away at the scene in front of me. Limbs and sheets tangled together between my mom and a man who was definitely not my father. Nausea twisted my stomach, and I swallowed hard as bile stung the back of my throat.
They didn’t even notice that I was here, too fucking wrapped up in each other to care about anything else.
“What the fuck is going on?”
The words burst from my lips on a hoarse croak. My throat was tight, my chest constricted. My hands unconsciously clenched into fists, but I wasn’t even sure who I wanted to hit.
They both startled, and the man cursed as he jerked away from my mother, grabbing at the sheets to cover himself up.
“Cordelia—what are you doing?” Mom demanded breathlessly, wrapping her bed sheets around her. Her hair was a mess, and so was the makeup on her face. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. They’d been at this for a while.
“What am I doing?” My voice was high-pitched. Strangled. “What are you doing? What—”
And that was when I got a good look at the man that was in my mom’s bed.
“Mr. Jemison?”
I knew him. I’d seen him at a few cocktail parties my parents had thrown, although he hadn’t been invited to many. He was an average man, someone that people in our old circles had deemed unremarkable in almost every way. He’d probably been handsome in his prime, but those years were past him even though he was only a few years older than my father. He’d had the decency to cover himself but not the shame to get out of my mom’s bed—or even to look ashamed of himself for getting caught in it.
“I see this was a bad time,” he said stiffly.
“You’re goddamn right it was a bad time. What—”