Deflower

Chapitre Dix-Sept

She had pushed her hair out of her face, the abnormally thick locks whipping against her slightly reddened—as it was gently intoxicated by the cold air— as the wind blew gleefully. That morning, the sun had emblazoned in the gentle sky beaming against her back, vanishing the asphalt beneath her expensive footwear and making place for a platform of fire, one degree away from melting the sole to the costly shoe as she had walked her way to school. Her cheeks had all her life bloomed an innocent, embarrassed pink, but now, when she stood on her doorstep, it was only worse. It was inevitable with who was before her.

Jim Morrison tunes had penetrated her mind  and Lourdes was all too satisfied with it—at home, her mama forbid her to listen to music (but she preferred to address to it as garbage) of such genre; according to her, it was full of hidden sinful—better, even, satanic—messages that would orchestrate young girls like Lo, easily influenced and naïve and effortlessly beguiled by a face like Jim's, especially, to misbehave and disobey to their parents, and most importantly, their God. And so was it that Lourdes Guerrero realized that she and God would not get along, if he was so fervently opposed to The Doors.

It was not the sole thing that Lo realized—that Thomas Porter was a true companion, was another. She had received a sordid phone call from Victoria Berlin—nearly drowning within her own ocean—; one of vulgar profanity per the blonde beauty lacked of proper vocabulary to express her sadness, and a tear or two, too, Lourdes was certain. It seemed that Tommy, indeed, was a man of his word (or so it appeared to Lo, at last). Thomas had done his uppermost best to persuade his friend, Allistair, to take the youngest Berlin sister on a date—Lourdes found it particularly sweet that he had done this for her, although it was much favorable for him, too; should Victoria be to his taste and capable to seduce him (or worse, make him fall in love, although every thing about her defied those odds), the bet would be Thomas' to win, and he no longer would have to ponder and stress about certain things. Perhaps the bitterest of coffee and unoccupied elders were not the most amusing things to surround one upon a first date, but, Victoria had cautiously—and rightfully—chosen the diner. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone too well.

Lourdes was—practically—new to the world of dating, but she knew so much: if one participant exited the set location for what were supposed to be the one where love should sprout like the flowers, outside, with a tear nearly shedding down their right cheek, something was wrong. Two and two were not too complex to put together, and certainly not with the intellect that Lo possessed of. When Victoria informed her of this, via the telephone, the evident ricocheted through her mind: what had she expected from someone like Allistair, at last? She should've known better.

Lourdes felt nauseous, like the time she had tried to have escargots (some fancy term for snails, but it was something her mother liked so she tried it to please her) or the time she'd been obliged to change the diaper to a cousin of hers. She was too well aware of the unfortunate fact that Victoria would needlessly blame her for Allistairs misbehavior—Lo didn't know what he had said, precisely, yet, but she had a pretty vague conception—rather than the perpetrator, himself, so, she was only preparing herself to lose her temper and perhaps a friend if she dared to; then, reminded herself, she was not like her mother. She was patient, forgiving and kind, and not brattle and harsh.

When a head of dark hair tousled messily at the intangible hands of the wind stood, with large eyes, and a height that towered above hers, stood before her door, she had exhaled deeply—but, still, though her mind told her to merely ignore the firm knocks upon the harsh wooden material and continue with the work she had left for school, she opened the door, permitted the soft breeze to kiss her flesh. Allistair had smiled giddily like a child who'd been allowed to have candy before dinner (in spite of the fact that the flesh of his right cheek was swollen ever so slightly, perhaps, because of the abrupt contact that Victoria's small hands had made with them). Lourdes frowned fervently.