lined with evergreens that cast cool shadows. Horses grazed in fields. I breathed in the scent of pine and began to relax. Iâd forgotten how much I loved the country. Mom and Dad used to take us hiking, but that had pretty much stopped by the time they split up. And Momâs idea of an expedition usually involves a bookstore, not a park.
âItâs nice to get out of the city, donât you think?â Kevin said.
Weâd been driving in silence. A comfortable one. âYeah.â
Kevin turned down a narrow, tree-lined road and, after a minute or two, pulled over and cut the engine. âWhere are we?â I couldnât see a lake or any other cars.
âWeâre here. Hop out.â Kevin grabbed the beer and led the way down a dirt path to the shore of a lake about the size of two skating rinks. We climbed onto a ramshackle wooden pier. Fir trees surrounded the lake, its surface a calm, green mirror.
He twisted open a beer and passed it to me. I hesitated to pick it up. Then he cracked one for himself and said, âCheers. To playing hooky.â
That got to me: Why shouldnât I play hooky once in a while? Iâm not getting any rewards for being a âgood girlâ anyway, not the way my so-called friends treated me today. I took a swig.
Iâd tried beer before, with Sasha. It isnât my favorite thing. But it went down smoothly on such a hot day. Soon we were drinking a second. I felt even more floaty than I had when Iâd left the studio. The blisters on my toes throbbed every time my heart beat.
âTime for a dip!â Kevin said.
He stripped to his shorts and jumped in. With my leotard for a swimsuit, I followed him. The cool water buoyed me as I floated on my back. Treetops pointed into the dome of blue sky. I sculled with my hands and feet. When I tried to stand up and couldnât find bottom, I panicked and thrashed. That sobered me up. I swam back to the pier and climbed out.
âGetting out so soon?â
âWhat are you trying to do, drown me? Bringing me out here, giving me beer, telling me to swim?â Black spots swarmed my vision.
As Kevin pulled himself out of the water, his muscles flexed and water ran off his arms and chest. He shook his bangs from his eyes and squatted beside me. âAre you okay? I forgot youâre not used to drinking. Two beer is probably quite a lot for you.â He rubbed my shoulder. âAre you okay?â
The spots had cleared. âYeah.â I lay down, the wooden slats under my back, and he lay beside me on his stomach. He closed his eyes and, to my surprise, started to snore. I turned my head as he slept. His wet curls glistened. Around his neck, his silver chain caught the light. He had folded his arms under his head and his biceps rippled a bit. I reached out and stroked his arm.
He opened his eyes, startled. Then he grinned at me. He slid his palm on to my stomach. Heat spread like tiger balm below his hand, making my thighs and crotch tingle. I twisted onto my side. He faced me, too, then we were kissing, blood rushing in my ears, our bare skin touching, still cool from the lake. His tongue tasted like beer this time, not cigarettes. A much better flavor. He nuzzled my neck and moved his head down my chest. He pulled down my top so I was naked to the waist, then smothered me with his bodyâit was too much, too much, I liked it but not so fast, the nerve endings died in my breasts, they were lumps of fat jiggling on my ribs with no sensation as he gnawed them and tossed his head like a dog with a rubber toy.
We heard voices, thank God, and that made him stop. He threw his towel across me and rolled away. Otherwise ⦠I hate to think what might have happened. I lay on the dock taking deep breaths and fumbling with my leotard. When I made it home, I told Mom I was sick and escaped to my room. Dizzy with sunstroke and beer and kisses. An underage drinker and worse. And none of this would