My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 28: Terrible, Beautiful, Wonderful

I tucked Catcher into my schoolbag knowing I probably wouldn't have time to read it, but just wanting to have something of Dad's nearby. We were never particularly close, mostly he felt like a cool uncle whom I didn't know very well. Someone who'd buy me presents and take me to exciting places, but had never seen me cry. These books had changed me though, made me feel protected and secure for the first time in a while, like there was someone in this family looking out for me.

So much had happened since Friday that when Gallagher came up beside me on my walk to English class, I almost didn't remember who he was.

"Lorraine, good to see you," he said, falling into step with me. Our legs were about the same length.

"You too, how was your weekend?"

"Pretty boring. I had to babysit my little sisters."

I didn't even know he had sisters. I didn't know a thing about him. I mean, I guess we don't know anything about anyone, even people we think we know, but I don't like when that kind of shit gets thrown in my face. 

"Ready to see the demon again?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

"What?" I asked, furrowing my brows before walking through the door to see good old Mr. Grant leaning against his desk, talking to a pretty girl with rosy cheeks. Right, him, the man who humiliated me, groped me in detention, and was, for some reason, friends with my stepfather. But Gallagher didn't know half of that. All he knew was what he'd seen. It's all anyone knew, but I couldn't keep myself from being angry that he was unintentionally oblivious.

I walked slowly past the desk, waiting for him to degrade me on my skirt, which was still too short and would forever be too short, like he did every class. If I tried to hurry past him, it only made my scolding more embarrassing. But he didn't stop me, let me walk right by, kept talking to the girl with honey-colored hair and round spectacles she'd probably styled after John Lennon. For a second, I thought he just didn't see me, that I'd lucked out, but then he glanced over, his blue eyes meeting mine, and there was a twinkle in them. He didn't wink, but he might as well have, my stomach folded in on itself all the same.

Gallagher seemed equally impressed by Mr. Grant's restraint. "Glad he's finally laying off you."

"Me too," I whispered, but my mind wandered, eyes drifting off into space. Was it because he was buddy-buddy with a Beatle and he didn't want me to screw it up for him, or something else altogether?

"Hey," Gallagher chimed, breaking me out of my daydreams. He smiled, handing me a folded up piece of looseleaf.

I took it hesitantly, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it. I wasn't sure if the tremor was because I had a crush on him and was anxious to see what he'd written me, but that's certainly how he perceived it, his grin spreading the longer I took to read it. 

'I've been thinking about you all weekend, couldn't get you out of my head if I tried. Maybe you don't feel the same, but I'd be a fool if I didn't ask. Will you go out with me?'

It was so sweet, something straight out of grammar school. I like that he didn't beat around the bush, didn't use cliches; he knew what he wanted, and he asked for it. Why couldn't I be so direct?

Meeting his eyes, pulse racing, I smiled and nodded. Yes, yes I will.

Since there was no practice on Mondays, I let him walk me out of school, though I inched away when he tried to take my hand. Not yet, not in front of everyone. I was already the gawky, freaky adopted daughter of a famous musician; I didn't need to be a trollop as well. 

I didn't tell Robert (our current chauffer) that I wasn't coming with him, worried he might be under orders from Paul to take me back to the house dead or alive, and instead lead my potential boyfriend off campus. That's when I ran into Thelma. I froze in my tracks, our actions the last time I saw her flashing across my brain, as real as if they were happening now: her shirt discarded, hands on my bare flesh, the vodka falling from her lips into the back of my throat. She was wearing mascara, too much rouge, and pink lip gloss, her hair in loose curls that she probably achieved with rollers. The idea that she'd gotten dressed up for me made all the blood rush between my legs.

"Hey, it's two of my favorite people," she said, never breaking her smile. She came over to give Gallagher a friendly peck on the cheek, and me a brief squeeze. "I was actually looking for you," she said to me conversationally. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the cinema or something, we talked about it the other day."

"Oh, I would, I just-" I looked over a the redhead beside me, who hadn't taken his eyes off my face, smiling gently. "The two of us already have plans, though."

She looked between us, grinning mischievously. If she was at all upset that we were going on a date, she didn't let on for a second. "That's great, have fun you two!" When she passed me, she squeezed my arm. "I want to know every detail tomorrow."

I nodded, but I felt thoroughly confused. Thelma was so nonchalant, it made me wonder if Friday afternoon had just been some terrible, beautiful, wonderful dream.