Chapter 8

Sleep was elusive that night. The next morning I made sure I was up and out of the house before Mother woke up. I couldn’t face her, not after all the horrible things she said to me. How could she think such wicked thoughts? I was an obedient daughter. And my father—he never stood up against Mother when she was in one of her screaming moods. I loved my parents but I didn’t like them that well.

How I got through my biology exam will forever remain a mystery! Since it was the only exam I had that day, I skipped the rest of my classes. A first for me. I never missed an art class. Avoiding Trent, Paul and especially Eva was a difficult task, but I managed it. I didn’t want to discuss Javelin Bow-Ridge or Little James as they called him. My heart was too heavy to be burdened with speculation about the painting and what the real story was behind it. I didn’t want to discuss the real story, even with myself.

I slipped away to my hiding place. It was a huge magnolia tree located at the end of a path through the woods from my house, which lead to Bow-Ridge Lake. The woods held a multitude of paths, and it was easy to get lost. But this path was traveled often by my Father, during his leisure times. He loved to fish. It was during one of his fishing trips where I was forced to come along that I discovered I could climb the tree and once up in the shelter of its limbs, no one could see me. I was twelve and happy to find a place to hide. Through the filter of massive waxy viridian leaves, I had a good view of the lake and it was here that I sketched the drawing that impressed Javelin.

With ease, I climbed up the tree limbs and sat in the curve where a large limb and the trunk met. It was the first time I had relaxed in the last few days. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. The weather was mild for early June. In a few days, school would be out and the heat would rise. Blueberries would ripen and Mother would have me picking them from dusk to dawn.

My relationship with my parents troubled me ever since I was old enough to realize that they weren’t as warm and loving to me, as Trent’s parents were to him and his younger brother. I couldn’t remember a time when Mother held me in her lap and read me stories or tucked me in at night with kisses. Father showed affection but he also showed the same sort of affection to his basket hound, Buster, who followed Father around the shop all day long.

I didn’t look like them either. My hair was bluish black. Mother and Father both had dark brown hair. My eyes were blue, while their eyes were brown. A few times Father had mentioned that I looked like his maternal Grandmother, but he didn’t have any photographs of her to show me. I felt as if I were a changelings and instead of morphing into a likeness of them, I was becoming a strange being--one that would never connect with my parents on the same mental and emotional levels.

Sounds of people approaching interrupted my thoughts. I heard soft mutterings of both male and female voices. The female laughed and I recognized it immediately--Eva. To my horror, they stopped under the magnolia tree.

Eva spoke, “How about here? The ground is softer and we’ve got a nice shade.”

“Fine with me,” said a voice that made my blood pressure rise. Javelin. He was with Eva and my suspicions were correct, she did want him for herself.

“Sit beside me, Little James.” Looking down through the foliage, I watched her sit down under the tree. Within a moment, he sat beside her. He had on ripped jeans and a t-shirt.

“Want a cigarette?” He asked. I heard the match strike the box.

Eva said, “I don’t smoke much but I’ll have one. Its nice out by the lake.” Her exams must have ended early, too. She had changed out of her jeans and t-shirt into a skirt and tight blouse, with her large cleavage exposed. I remembered that the local boys called her a ‘touchable Barbie’. Now I understood why.

“Why did you want to meet me, Eva?” Javelin asked. So, he hadn’t invited her out after all. My face flamed red, remembering the painting. I prayed silently with my eyes clenched tight, ‘Please God, don’t let her mention the painting.’

She mentioned the painting. “What’s going on with you and Vivian Wilde? She painted you yesterday in art class.”

“There’s nothing going... What?” His surprise was genuine. “She painted me? The arter painted me? What does it look like?” Silence, then he added, “Wow. She painted me?”

“Yes, I saw it. I was there working on my final project for the art show. Hey, the art show’s tomorrow night. You can be my guest. Maybe she’ll display it. But I doubt it. Trent would be pissed and she wouldn’t want to upset her precious Trent.”

“Trent? Trent Sawyer?” Javelin asked, exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

“Who else? They’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend since the third grade.” Through the leaves, I watched Eva move closer to Javelin.

“Damn, so that’s her local-yokel boyfriend. He’s an ass. She could do better.” Javelin muttered, grounding out his cigarette in the dirt.

“So could you. In fact, I know how to get her off your mind.” She pushed him back. I was shocked to see her hand on the zipper of his jeans.

“Whoa, girl. What are you doing?” Javelin asked, capturing her hand.

Eva’s voice was as smoky as one of those famous actresses of the fifties. “I’m gonna show you exactly what I’ve learned since the last time we were together.” She pushed his limp hand away and eased down the zipper.

His voice was shaky. “That was a mistake. We were only fourteen. And neither of us knew what we were doing.”

“Oh, I knew what I was doing. Do you really think you were my first, Little James?” Her hand slipped inside his jeans. “Oh you aren’t so little any more.”

I closed my eyes and covered my ears. My heart sank and my stomach turned. I couldn’t believe I was witnessing a sexual act--one that made me feel dirty. Oral sex was something I didn’t quite understand. Why would anyone want to have their mouths in those areas?
Eva’s head disappeared into Javelin’s lap and for a while there was only the sound of her performance. After a few minutes, she stopped and asked, “What’s wrong, Little James? Don’t you like blow jobs?”

He pushed her away, zipping his pants. “I do but not like this. Sorry Eva, but I’ve got blueberries on my mind. I can’t get Pedro to work when he’s not in the mood.”

She pouted prettily. “That’s never happened to any of the other guys. I can usually get them off pretty fast. Let me try again.”

“No. I’m not interested in the town whore, Eva.” There was no denying how blunt Javelin could be.

Her gasp of shock was filled with hurt. “Little James, how can you say that when three years ago, you were all over me all summer long. I’m no whore. Can’t a girl like sex? Why is it okay for boys to do whatever they want, and if girls do we get labeled as whores?”

“Like I said...it was wrong. I’m sorry it happened and I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. But I’m not interested in you, Eva.” Javelin stood up, offering his hand to her. “Let’s put this behind us and stay friends. I won’t mention it to anyone. I promise.”

She refused his hand, getting up in a hurry. “I know what the problem is...you’ve got something going on with Vivian Wilde--little miss perfect. Here’s the scoop, bucko, you won’t get very far with her. She’s the most primmest virgin in school. Ask Trent’s buddies. They’ll tell you how he’s suffering from blue balls, because she won’t have sex with him.”

“Eva, not everything evolves around sex.” He held out his pack of cigarettes. “Want another one?”

“No. I’ve got to get home. Thanks for nothing, Little James.” She strutted off with arms swinging. I had never seen such venom spewed about me. I had no idea she felt like that. Eva always acted as if we were best friends. Now I knew the truth.

“You can come out now, Blueberry Girl. The coast is clear.”