Hand Me Down by Melanie Thorne Read Free Book Online

are consequences. You should wait until you’re ready, and you should tell someone if you’re being pressured.” He eats the flesh of the pickle and leaves the dark green skin on his plate. “You can tell me anything, Liz,” he says. “I’m practically your dad.”
    I would prefer to be here with my father, watering down his drinks and hiding his keys. At least I have tools for that scenario. Terrance lowers his voice. “You’re still a virgin, right?” He chuckles to himself. “Of course you are.” He raises one eyebrow and presses his lips in on each other. “I lost my virginity when I was your age.” He wriggles both hands into the pockets of his shorts and leaves them there. He says, “Do you think you might try it soon?”
    His words are like worms, thousands of them, slithering across my skin, tangling in my gut, filling my mouth. I need to take ashower. I can walk to Gary’s from here. I can call Mom. I can call his parole officer or the police. Terrance leers at me while I somersault through my options, try to swallow the writhing mass of slime and find my voice. “You’re disgusting,” I say. “I can’t believe Mom lets you touch her.”
    “She loves when I touch her,” he says, tilting his head so his neck cracks. “Most women do.”
    “I’m out of here,” I say, sliding out of the booth.
    Terrance pouts. “But we just got here.”
    Faster than I expect, he swings his body into mine before I can stand up. He pushes in next to me and I’m forced to backpedal across the cracked leather bench to the wall. He sits and rotates his chest to face me, lifting his leg to rest it on the seat. He glares at me with eyes focused like a stalking lion. He smiles with just the right side of his mouth. “We haven’t had any fun yet.”
    I am suddenly scared. I know what Terrance is capable of. I know public places are his hunting ground. I know he likes to put on a show and usually doesn’t harm his victims, but I also know one of his assaults put a woman in the hospital. And there are probably a dozen attacks for every time he got caught.
    “You think I won’t tell Mom about this?”
    “You think she would believe you? All I have to do is kiss her and”—he raises his hands to fondle the air—“she says yes to anything,” he says. He scoots closer. “It’s like I’m magic.” He inhales deeply near my neck and I try to recoil, but I’m already flush with the wall and my bones won’t compress any further. “You smell amazing,” he says, nudging my hair with his nose. He smells like musk and rubbing alcohol.
    His wet lips touch my ear as he says, “You’re beautiful, Liz.” I clench my eyes shut and wish I could melt into the wallpaper, become the grime that’s dirtying my shirt, the tacky food-and-dust-and-booze mix that’s mostly unnoticed in these dark booths where things are meant to go unnoticed, except I feel the goop sticking to my bare arms and my hair as I pretend Terrance’s body is not hovering one inch from the length of mine. “Like a sexier, younger version of your mother,” he says and his breath reeks of pork. “Just like Jaime will be,” he says.
    I tense and he’s close enough to feel the contraction of my every muscle. He laughs and I wish my Achilles’ heel wasn’t so easy to spot. “Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
    I sense his hands drifting over my waist, my thighs, close enough that I feel their heat but not their weight. I think of Jaime trying to get my attention, waving her hands a centimeter from my face and chanting, “I’m not touching you.” I want to cry but I’m aware he’s testing me, measuring my resistance, how much I’ll do to keep Jaime from moments like this.
    I feel the wind from his moving lips on my mouth as he says, “Because I can.” He laughs and exits my personal space. “And I like to win.”
    I inhale and open my eyes. I peel myself away from the wall, shoulders slumping. “Mom never wanted to have lunch with