The Marriage Dare

I walk away from her without another thought, leaving her gaping and sputtering because I now have far better things to do.

As I watch Monica flip her hair over her shoulder, a memory comes to me. It’s so vivid that I have to stop walking and let it replay. A defining moment between us.

The sun was bright that day. I remember because it shone off her hair. So many details pop out at me from those moments—the smell of the dirt under me after she pushed me down, the sound of her friends laughing, and my panic.

It had been summer, and I worked as a dishwasher at a little diner in our town for almost nothing because I was fifteen and they just needed another body. I had saved every penny from that job, and finally bought myself something. A Game Boy. Rage flies through my chest even now over the stupid, simple object. But it was the most expensive thing that I had ever owned, despite the fact that it was used and more than a little beat up when I got it.

I loved that Game Boy more than anything. Those first few weeks I had it were the best, the rest of my measly salary going to buy old games to play on it. Finally, I had thought finally, I know what it feels like to be like them. People with money. People who didn’t struggle every day for simple things like Mom and Dad. I had even tried to give them the money I used to buy they toy, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They insisted that I use the money to buy something for myself.

My guilt was strong, but I bought the Game Boy, and it was the most fun I’d ever had. Until that day. I’d returned from my shift at the diner and was playing a game on the porch when Monica and a few of her friends came down the street. My parents were still at work—they were almost always at work. She had been mean to me for a long time, but lately she had been nicer. I smiled and waved as they passed.

“Hi, Daniel,” Monica said. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head. “Nothing much, just playing a game.”

“Can I see?” She had sounded so genuinely curious, and she had been so beautiful. Perfect pink sundress waving in the breeze. Of course I said yes, and sprinted down off the porch to show her. I showed her the game. It was something simple, I barely remember now. It’s not one of the details that’s preserved.

Her friends laughed when I showed them, and then, she did too. “What a nerd,” one of them whispered.

Monica was still laughing. “I’ve never seen you with a Game Boy before.”

“I just got it,” I told her, still oblivious. “I’ve got a job washing dishes at Joe’s.”

One of the friends rolled their eyes. “No you don’t. I go to Joe’s every week and I never see you there. He probably stole it.”

“I do work there,” I protested. “Customers can’t see into the back where I’m working.”

“He definitely stole it,” the other friend said, stepping in front of Monica. “Why are poor people always such filthy liars? Aren’t they, Monica? Filthy liars.”

“Yeah,” Monica said quietly, appraising me. She isn’t looking at me with the same hatred as the other two, but neither is it kind.

“I—” I didn’t even get the chance as I was shoved to the ground. The dirt was hot under me, and I could smell it.

“Don’t even bother,” the first girl said, yanking the Game Boy out of my hands. “People like you don’t deserve stuff like this.” She handed the toy to Monica. “You should break it to teach him a lesson.”

Monica took it, and she was still staring at me. Her eyes were cold and completely devoid of emotion. There was silence for a moment, like she was waiting for something, though I didn’t know what. Why was she doing this? Why were any of them? I thought things were getting better.

And even though I hated this, I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous Monica was. She had grown up, and I was starting to notice curves that hadn’t been there before. Curves that I craved to touch.

I was disgusted with myself for wanting her, but that didn’t change the pull of desire in my gut or the way I was chanting in my head to try not to get hard. They were already mocking me, I didn’t need them to make fun of me for being a pervert too.

“Smash it.” One of the girls said.

“Yeah, smash it.”

The words went up in a chorus, begging Monica to break the Game Boy, and my heart started to pound. She wouldn’t. Not really. Right? I had worked so hard. I hadn’t stolen it. There was no reason to break it. I pushed my hands under me and started to sit up, distracted by a shift in her movement.