This page contains a Flash digital edition of a book.
He stepped past her, and said nothing. He reached up for the light switch, and yanked it down angrily. She heard the creak of the door, then footsteps. She stood in the darkness, her heart racing.

Of course, Bobby never knew about that incident. Maybe if he had known, he would have shifted some blame to Brenda. She should have known better than to get into a car with Eddie that night, three years later, when she was sixteen.

Brenda hated high school. Her grades were mediocre; she only had a few friends. Plain looking, with a bottom row of crooked teeth and large glasses, she felt awkward. Boys didn‘t offer her attention except an occasional comment about her large breasts. Joey Speaker even called her ―dogface,‖ but then added that, ―she did have nice cans.‖

Brenda envied the rich girls from Wakefield with their smart looking skirts and shiny shoes. Her mother still made her clothes, and they were dated and baggy. She secretly wished for a wealthy set of English speaking parents that would buy her stylish glasses, braces, and a cashmere sweater set. Maybe then she would fit in. She felt heavy from her longing, soaked with desire to be a somebody.

She was a walking target for an experienced hunter like Eddie, for someone who stalked prey, who knew how to open up a pair of legs as easy as untying a boot. The bathroom gossip was that he had made it with prom queens, the loose girls, and even the good girls. One year out of Brighton High, he still hung around at school dances or games. All the girls wanted him.

That night, he showed up at their Homecoming dance. Distant and cool like, he sipped from a coke bottle spiked with whiskey. He was with the usual crowd of jocks. The handsome clump of boys stood near the back doors, where they could sneak in liquor and neck with a girl and not get caught.

Brenda and her friend Jean leaned against the folded up bleachers. They watched the couples swaying on the dance floor to ―Green River.‖ Only Christopher Perkins had asked her to dance. He was thin and sweaty, and she had said no to his second request. She didn‘t like the way his hands had traveled up and down her sides, and how his breath smelled like cheese.

Bobby was home not feeling well. Though he never did seem to feel well when there was a dance or rally.

Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42