It all started with everything--everything piled on top of me like dogs after a week vacation. But it also started with Carter Trimmings; varsity football player, total playboy. Carter dated almost every single hot girl in our grade. As if the junior year was thrown into a nutshell; boys, sobbing over sexy magazine models, and the death of Marilyn Monroe. My best friend Karen Globus and I decided to watch a movie marathon of Marilyn Monroe because she was our idol. The woman of the century. It's been about three weeks since she got intoxicated. Karen and I spent the week of her death crying about everything, and then we listened to "I Saw Her Standing There", The Beatles, on repeat, still crying because we knew Marilyn breathed just twenty-two days ago. The fab four was our last stan resort.
"Donna, if you don't wake up Jones' is gonna yell at you," Karen warns, under her breath.
"Karen, Jones' is ape. And I ain't sleeping." I respond in a groany, irritated voice.
"Fine, hey, did you see the new kid? He's bad."
I look to the far back where the new kid is. Right next to Carter Trimmings. Man, that bums me out, and as I stare, Carter's eyes meet mine. Irritably, I roll my eyes in disinterest. He knows I hate him. Not even hate; despise. It has been exactly two years since I was Carter's skirt."Skirt" is how boys identify us woman. Therefore, him calling me his skirt, is basically him calling me his girl. Now that I think about it, I recall the night of our first date--our last date. I wore my mother's pink ubiquitous dress and my grandmother's pillbox hat. "You look beautiful." Mother says. And I did. I looked very grown up, like mother, and I loved it.
Carter took me to a drive-in and we watched Peeping Tom. As we sat in his new 1960 Rambler Ambassador, we rolled our windows down to listen through the individual speakers. Carter had just turned sixteen and had barely started driving. He glanced at me every few seconds, I don't know why but he would not stop. Eventually, he said something. "Hows life, Don?" I think for a second. How is my life? How am I doing? I'm having anxiety on my date, that's what.
Instead, I responded by saying ¨Fine."
¨Whatś your deal, Don? Hey, after the movie wanna get blitzed with Steven's brew? Maybe after you can.. crash at my place.."
I could not believe what he just said. 'Crash at my place' is absolutely NOT a free ticket into a girls pants. He just wanted to bang! I sat there, thinking of what to say. But, he doubles it with ¨Cmon, girl,¨ and he touches my leg. Progressively, his hand was rising, and I freaked out, so my first reaction was a horrid scream. I felt my lungs vibrate as my voice carried itself, louder than any of my screams. Everyone hurriedly exited their cars to check out the commotion.
Some woman came to the passenger side and said,¨Honey, are you okay??¨I went blank. Anxiety rushed through my veins. Up, around my waist, then down to my feet. I felt like my heart dropped into my stomach.
Carter stuttered inaudible words, but then he makes out to say, ¨Oh, she just got scared.¨ I stared at him in disbelief, and think, what a LIAR. I had trouble breathing, I was so anxious to get out of that scenario. So, I opened the car door, and I ran. I was not sure where I was going, but definitely, somewhere Carter wasn't even near. My pumps slid off as I ran, and I didn't care. I just kept going. I could feel rocks bury into my feet, sinking as if my skin was a pond of quicksand. I had no idea where I was. It was too dark to see, so I stood there, shoeless and clueless.
After a while, dumbly, I kept walking. I soon reached a motel and dug through my pockets for loose change or some cash so I could stay the night. I had not memorized any phone numbers, and I did not have my phonebook to make a call. No money, either. I think to myself... Maybe I can say I'm tired and I'll pay in the morning... And sneak out at dawn.
