THE BLIZZARD
By
Marty Martins
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 by Marty Martins
San Diego, California
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Cover photo by Peter Lampkins
Cover design by Frank Fung
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
ISBN 978-0-9845680-0-0
Library of Congress Catalog Number 2010900013
To Jyl
I miss you so much.
“Our love forever.”
Acknowledgements
My unending gratitude to my parents, Arthur and Ruth Blenski, for giving their six children a love for a reading, teaching us a solid work ethic, and for their sacrifices in sending us all to parochial school. How different might things have been without that discipline and educational foundation.
Profound and eternal thanks to my wife, Jyl, for her proofreading, sometimes brutally honest comments, and unfailing encouragement. She was always my cheerleader, number one fan, and best friend but, sadly, succumbed to cancer before this book was published.
Thank you also to my Mom, my brother Phil, my sister Betty, Jyl’s daughter Danielle, teachers all, and my friend Chris Hoover, for their comments, suggestions, and proofreading.
For the patient and unflagging support of my good friend Peter Lampkins who was involved in so many phases of getting this book written and published, I will always be indebted.
Thank you, too, to Christopher Sennes and Ellen Mead for their involvement.
My good friend Dave Williams is always there for me and this project was no exception. Add it to that stack of IOUs!
The encouragement of my friend, former colleague, and published author Tom Basinski was always inspirational.
A very special thank you to my friend and former colleague Steve Casey, retired journalist, publicist, and law enforcement officer, for his “extremely valuable, insightful, incredibly brilliant comments” that kept me going in the early stages and laughing to the end.
Any hint of authenticity as it relates to the Marine Corps life of the protagonist’s father, including uniforms, weapons, aircraft, bases and base life, is due to the input of Colonel Rodger Harris, USMC (Ret.), Major Christopher Hage, USMC-R, former USMC Captain Peter Swicker, and Master Sergeant Timothy K. Whiteman, USMC (Ret.). I am proud to call each of them friend.
Lastly, but no less important, I am grateful for the outstanding work of my editors, Stephanie Seifert-Stringham and Erinn Martins.
FOREWORD
Adolescence is a time of conflict and confusion for most young people. Teen friendships and love relationships are transitory; there is pressure to achieve, to “fit in,” be popular and attractive. Many adolescents do not hold themselves in high regard, and the absence of self-worth can be a serious handicap, which makes them more vulnerable to negative peer pressure, early sexual activity, drug and alcohol abuse, and violent and aggressive behavior. As parents and concerned citizens we are appalled and confused at the tragic violent outbursts in our schools around the country. We cannot ignore these cries for help. If we do, we are “selling out” our future.
The Blizzard by Marty Martins with its story of teenage peer pressure and young romance will intrigue and inspire young people everywhere. The hero, Chet, is a young man I think many girls would choose as a boyfriend. He is a role model for how young men should treat women in a romantic relationship. Chet honored and respected Melanie’s decision to be abstinent until marriage. Melanie is a role model for many of our young girls today. Popular and pretty, she chose to go against the norm of her crowd and to maintain her dignity and self-respect. Anyone who ever went to high school has known a tough guy like Tommy. He thinks he has to prove his masculinity through sexual conquests. Of course he sets his sights on the good girl. When Tommy gets Melanie in a vulnerable situation and she rejects his advances, he reacts with fury. Girls today need to be aware of the danger signs of emotional bullying and possessiveness as possible (red flags for dating violence.
Of great concern to parents and educators is the increase in bullying and teen and college dating violence. Three recent and highly publicized stories regarding suicide of Phoebe Prince who faced unrelenting bullying from fellow pupils, the murder of Yeardley Love at the University of Virginia as a result of dating violence and the murder of nineteen-year-old Siohban Russell of Oakton, Virginia by her eighteen-year-old boyfriend demonstrate the need for more education for students, parents, and teachers to know how to recognize the signs of victimization and dating violence.
As reported by Child Trends, one out of every 10 high school students has been a victim of dating violence and nearly 10% of students nationwide had been hit, slapped, or physically hurt on purpose by their boyfriend or girlfriend. This research confirms the correlation between teen violence, sexual activity and substance abuse. Both girls and boys are significantly more likely to be victims of dating violence as they age. Past estimates of physical and sexual dating violence among high school students typically range from 10% to 25% – even higher estimates are found when verbal threats and emotional abuse are considered. Adolescents who engage in drinking alcohol or using drugs are more likely to engage in or be victims of other destructive behaviors, such as teen sexual intimacy and violence.
According to a 2009 Justice Department survey of children 17 or under:
• 40% of teenage girls 14-17 know someone their age who has been hit or beaten by their partner.
• Nearly 80% of girls who have been physically abused in their intimate relationships continue to date their abuser.
• 38% of date rape victims are young women between 14 and 17 years of age.
Marty Martins eloquently makes the case in his novel, The Blizzard, that adults must roll up their sleeves and get involved with their own adolescent children and other young people. Reasoning ability and emotional stability are often still immature among many adolescents. Despite protests they need an abundance of awareness and involvement of the adults in their lives. The code of silence among many teens has led to destructive and tragic consequences. Parents and youth programs must penetrate this code and work to eliminate the lack of awareness and inaction in regard to bullying and violence among young people. As a tribute to the lives of Phoebe, Yeardley and Siohban attention must be paid to this growing tragedy. If only they had a hero to protect them. Our girls must learn to be less vulnerable and our boys must learn to be more protective. If we take action as adults to encourage this learning our teens will lead happier and safer lives. The Blizzard is a means of starting an important and possibly life-saving dialogue with our young people – our leaders of tomorrow.
Elayne Bennett
Founder & President
Best Friends Foundation
Prologue
Lieutenant Colonel Peter F. Buçek swirled the black coffee in his mug as he waited for his wife to join him at the kitchen table. The kids were still in their rooms, so the old yet serviceable house was quiet. A tiny breeze moved through the screen door and kitchen window. Another humid North Carolina day was beginning.
Ellen Buçek returned the pot to the coffeemaker, opened the refrigerator long enough to pour a splash of milk in her cup, then sat down across from him and smiled.
“Thank you for last night.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smirk. They sat and grinned at each other, reliving the moment.
Bias aside, Ellen thought her husband a handsome man, but as she admired him sitting there in his Service C uniform – green trousers with khaki web belt, a short-sleeved khaki shirt with an open collar revealing a bit of the neckline of an immaculate white T-shirt, and mirror-polished black shoes – she wondered, Is there any man who doesn’t look good in a Marine Corps uniform?
“Honey, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I’ve prayed about it and given it a lot of thought. Now is the time.”
“I’d feel a lot better knowing you were here on base in military housing while I’m gone. It’s secure, you’ve got the Exchange nearby, the kids could stay in the same schools another year…”
“Peter, I’ve moved all over the world for you. The children and I have made sacrifices for your career – not that I’m complaining, I’d gladly do it over again – but you promised me when we got married you’d retire after twenty years. Now, with a little over a year to go, you’re being sent to a combat zone for the first time. Okay, orders are orders, but while you’re gone, I don’t have to wait for you on a Marine base.
“I love that farm. My grandma knew I did. That’s why she left it to me over all the rest of the family. When I was a kid, I spent every summer there. For years, all our Thanksgivings and Christmases were there, too.
“Well, it will be a great place to finish raising the kids and a nice home for our retirement,” agreed Peter.
“The mortgage is paid off and there’s not that much to do. Grandma leased most the acreage to the neighboring farmers years ago.”
“I just never pictured us living out in the sticks.”
“It’s not even four miles to town! And you always said how you liked the small town atmosphere, the diagonal parking, even its tiny boulevard in the Village.”
Peter watched his wife’s brown eyes dance as she described the place, knowing further discussion was useless, but still enjoying listening to her talk about her dream coming true.
“Remember how you said everyone in town seemed so friendly even though you were a stranger? And Rockford is less than an hour away.”
“Yes, I remember. Do you remember how cold the winters in northern Illinois can get?”
“Do you remember how hot it was in some of the places we went with you?”
“Ouch,” he replied, conceding her point.
Their oldest child, Chester, walked into the kitchen, his entrance preceded by the clicking of his dog’s claws on the decent but dated linoleum floor.
“Chet,” asked his father, “are you ready to move and attend a new school for your senior year?”
The children were already aware of the possibility. Chet shrugged his shoulders. “So what’s new, Dad? What would it be, my sixth or seventh school since first grade?” he asked sincerely without any hint of sarcasm.
“You won’t be here for the Golden Gloves competition.”
“It’s not like we never missed games, a class trip, or had to make new friends before. We go where you go. Everything has its pluses and minuses.”
Peter turned toward Ellen. “Did I raise that kid? Such maturity from a seventeen-year-old.”
“No, I did,” she replied with a smirk. “You weren’t here.”
“That’s not true, Mom,” Chet said, coming to his father’s defense.
“It’s okay, Chet. Your mother’s just giving me a hard time over the conversation you just missed. Anyway, the family won’t be going with me this time, but Mom will set up a new home for us.”
Peter drained the last of his coffee and carried it and his breakfast plate to the sink, then retrieved his hat from the empty chair next to him. It was time to leave for his job on board Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point. After kissing his wife, he said, “Well, Sweetie, call the Traffic Management Office and make arrangements for the movers.”
Ellen was holding her cup in front of her chin with both hands and simply raised her eyes to meet his. “I already did.”
Peter laughed out loud. “See, Chet, that’s why you never argue with a woman…especially your mother!”
Chapter 1
“Mom,” yelled nine-year-old Bradley Buçek as soon as he walked in the house, letting the wood-frame screen door slam behind him, “we got free tickets for the county fair at school. Can I go?”
“Not unless your brother or sister is going with you. Chet, Alexis, are either of you going to the fair?”
The teens looked at each other and shrugged.
“I was thinking of going,” answered Chester, the eldest, as he rummaged in the refrigerator for a snack.
“So was I,” admitted Alexis. “There’s nothing else to do in this town.”
“Were you planning on going with friends?” Ellen Buçek asked the fifteen-year-old.
“What friends?” replied Alexis. “We just got here last week and started school yesterday. I barely know the names of my teachers.”
“No need to get smart,” warned the mother. “Okay, you can all go together, but you’re both responsible for Bradley.”
“Oh, Mom,” complained Brad, who felt quite capable of taking care of himself.
“Can we eat there?” asked Alexis.
“Sure. Why not? I haven’t started dinner yet.”
“Do you want to come, Mom?” asked Chet.
“No, you kids can go…after you’ve finished your chores and homework. Give me a report when you get back. Maybe we’ll all go back tomorrow.”
“Great!” exclaimed Brad, now doubly excited.
By five o’clock the kids were ready to leave, and Chet went to get the car keys from his mother.
“Here’s some money for food and whatever. Dole out Brad’s so he doesn’t lose it or waste it. I know you and Alexis might like to stay later, but you’ve got Bradley, so be home by ten, okay?”
“Okay, Mom. Thanks.”
“Do you need to take jackets in case it gets cold?”
“Mom, it’s the third week of August and you want us home by ten. I think we’ll survive without jackets.”
Ellen grinned back and nodded, acknowledging that she was being overprotective. “Before I forget, Chet, Mr. Johansen from down the road stopped while I was out at the mailbox. He said he’d pay you to help put up hay tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’ll go see him first thing in the morning.”
“Fine. Well, drive safely and have fun.”
Chet and his siblings hit heavy traffic toward the end of their drive, so it took them more than thirty minutes to get to the county fairgrounds in Pecatonica on the banks of the river of the same name. As soon as they were parked and out of the car, Alexis leaned over to Chet. “How much money did Mom give you?”
“Who said she gave me any money?”
Alexis gave him a look and held out her hand. “I want mine now.”
Chet slipped her twenty dollars so Brad wouldn’t see it and ask for his, too. They entered at a gate closest to where the animals for the livestock show were housed and walked into the cattle barn. The smell of clean straw and fresh manure dominated the air despite the big fans blowing on the Herefords, Angus, and Shorthorns. Many of the classes had already been judged and prize ribbons were displayed at some of the pens.
Kids wearing 4-H caps or FFA jackets tended the livestock and answered questions, generally from city dwellers. Some of the older kids were sitting on straw bales and playing cards in an empty pen at the end of the row.
“I want to see the horses,” said Alexis.
“What about the rabbits? And I want to go on some rides,” said Brad.
“How about we eat first,” suggested Chet. “I’m starving.”
They made their way toward the lights of the midway, lined on both sides with almost every cholesterol-laden, heart-clogging food choice ever invented. Fried donuts, fried onions, fried zucchini, fried chicken, and even deep-fried Twinkies were among the choices. The odors of all those culinary delights competed with the strong smell of hamburgers, hot dogs, corn dogs, bratwurst, and Polish sausage emanating from other stands.
“How about that barbecue place?” asked Alexis, pointing to the Kiwanis-sponsored eatery. “They have places to sit. I hate having to hold a plate while I eat.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Chet. “What about you, Brad?”
“As long as they have hamburgers.”
When they had finished there, they went two stands down and each got an ear of fresh roasted corn. The old man working the stand peeled back the husk of each ear, wrapped it in wax paper, and dunked it in a kettle of melted butter. The kids sprinkled on salt from the available shakers and nibbled away.
“Why does corn on the cob always taste better at the fair?” asked Alexis rhetorically.
After eating, the boys and their sister walked up and down the aisles of an exhibit hall, passing booths for portable metal corrals, super-powerful vacuum cleaners, Mackinac Island fudge, and personalized ball caps. At the American Breeders booth, the salesman knew they probably weren’t interested in artificial insemination but let them each take a plastic ruler anyway. They caught the tail end of some guy’s demonstration about the world-class juicer he was pitching, and each got a small cup of some liquefied vegetable concoction that tasted terrible.
“Let’s go on some rides,” said the impatient Brad.
“After that gross juice? Just be sure you don’t hurl on me,” warned Alexis.
“I thought you wanted to see the rabbits?” asked Chet.
It was too late. The blinking, whirling, multicolored lights of the Fun Zone had captured the boy under their hypnotic spell. Passing through the wafting odors of cotton candy, caramel corn, and cinnamon buns dripping with frosting, Chet, Alexis, and Brad moved toward the amplified music of the amusement area. After riding the double Ferris wheel and the Tilt-a-Whirl, they headed toward the log ride.
Up ahead, Chet saw three girls and immediately recognized Melanie Hondel, the cute blonde from three of his classes. She was wearing a baseball cap with a ponytail sticking out the back, a sleeveless blouse, and jeans. He had already decided she was the prettiest girl in school. Although classes had just started two days before, he had already discovered she was both smart and popular.
Carnies beckoned from both sides of the midway, trying to lure anyone into a game. One even whistled at Alexis, who took one look at the man’s wrist-to-shoulder tattoos and mumbled, “Gross!”
“Come on, Chet, let’s go,” she said.
“Just ignore them. I want to stop for a little while.”
Chet pretended to watch some college-age guy trying to knock down three solid metal objects shaped like pint milk bottles. In reality, he looked to see what Melanie and her girlfriends were doing as he decided how to approach her.
He saw that Melanie and her friends were two booths down at the shooting gallery, talking to three big guys they seemed to know. It was obvious the one in the tank top spent a lot of time in the gym. The biggest one, the fellow with his cap on backwards, smiled or laughed at whatever Melanie said, then handed some money to the man running the booth. Chet watched the guy shoulder the .22 rifle and lean on the counter to steady his aim, then heard the muffled report of the weapon eight times. When the big guy finished, the operator handed the shooter a blue plastic lei, which he, in turn, proudly placed over Melanie’s head.
“Come on,” Chet told his sister and brother, who had started watching another sucker trying to knock over the metal bottles.
The small group was still chatting when the three Buçeks got to the shooting gallery.
“Hi, Melanie!” He could tell from her expression that she couldn’t place him. “Chet Buçek from your math class.” He pronounced the first syllable of his surname to rhyme with few.
“Oh, hi,” she said, slightly taken aback by being greeted by a relative stranger, though one of her friends recognized him. The other friend was checking out the new kid, his ruddy face topped with thick, sandy hair that curled over his ears.
“You go to our school?” asked the big guy with the backwards cap.
“I guess so, if you go there, too.”
“I haven’t seen you around before.”
“We just started this week,” Chet said, indicating his sister. “This is my sister, Alexis, she’s a sophomore, and our brother, Brad.”
“Guys, this is Chet…what did you say your last name was again?” Melanie asked, slightly embarrassed she had forgotten.
“Buçek,” he replied without any tone of reproach.
“Chet, this is Tommy Schmidt, and Ted Allen, and Brian Hightower. They’re all on our football team.”
Chet shook hands with Ted and Brian, but Tommy just nodded without extending his hand.
Reading the body language, Chet guessed what was going on and ignored it.
“Can I win you a prize, too?” he asked Melanie.
She smiled and hesitated for a moment. “I suppose,” she said, slightly uncomfortable after seeing Tommy’s reaction. “If you want to try.”
Chet turned to the carnie running the booth, a skinny twenty-something with bad skin and half of one front tooth broken off. An unlit cigarette was tucked behind his right ear.
Chet examined the prizes hanging from the sides and top of the booth. The largest were black-and-white giant panda bears with red bows around their necks.
“How many balloons do I have to break to win a bear?”
“Twenty five.”
“How much does each turn cost?”
“Three bucks for eight shots.”
“What will I do with the extra seven shots?” Chet asked.
Tommy and his friends started guffawing and mocking Chet for his bravado. “Yeah, like you’re not going to miss at all?” one asked sarcastically.
Melanie’s friends were giggling and teasing her for getting caught in the machismo being played out.
“Nah, I’ll probably miss one,” replied Chet confidently.
“You can do it, Chet,” encouraged Alexis.
“Come on, Chet. Do it; win the bear,” added Bradley.
Chet handed the man twelve dollars.
“I’ll reload you after each turn.”
“That’s fine,” said Chet, not wanting to change rifles once he started. He leaned over to his brother and quietly said, “Brad, watch where the first round hits. I’ll try that yellow one in the middle first.”
“Okay,” Brad said, taking a position just behind and alongside his big brother.
Chet leaned down so both elbows were on the bench and lined up the center of the balloon in the sights. He had learned, the hard way, at a fair in North Carolina that the carnies often altered the sights just a bit so the barrel was off. It caused the shot to go wild, contrary to what the sights seemed to indicate.
He slowly exhaled the breath he was holding and squeezed the trigger. He heard the report and felt the tiny recoil on his cheek, but the balloon remained whole. He turned around and looked down at Bradley.
“Left.”
Chet resumed his position on the bench, sighted the right edge of the same balloon, and fired.
POP!
Alexis, Brad, and some female voices all cheered. Chet couldn’t tell if one of them was Melanie, but he hoped so.
He fired another round from the bench and broke another balloon. Confident he had the weapon sighted in, however wrong it was, Chet stood erect, right elbow up, left elbow down, and
emptied the magazine to the demise of five more balloons. A crowd had started to gather, and with each successive hit, a cheer arose.
Chet turned around for a quick look at Melanie while the man reloaded the rifle but kept an eye on the carnie to make sure he didn’t mess with the sights. On the contrary, Chet’s success was pleasing the gallery operator as it drew in a new wave of potential customers who all thought they could do as well.
After Chet took out the next eight balloons in order, he turned around again. He got a little smile from Melanie that was hard to read. Even Tommy’s friends seemed to be somewhat impressed; he heard one of them cheering for him. The scowl on Tommy’s face told a different story.
The back board held thirty balloons, and only five were left when Chet finished. He accepted the compliments about his shooting from several fairgoers and handed the rifle to Brad, who was already onto the sight picture. The youngster drew big cheers from the now-large throng at the booth as he took the last five balloons without a miss.
The booth operator gave Brad a plastic lei, then began reaching for one of the bears with a long hook. Chet held up his hand to stop him.
The bears all looked alike to Chet, but he turned to Melanie and asked, “Which one do you want?”
Surprised that she was being given a choice, Melanie studied the array and pointed to one she liked. The man retrieved it and handed it to her. She thanked him and then turned to Chet, smiling, and thanked him, too. “You shoot well,” she added.
Chet thanked her for the compliment. He wanted to capitalize on the moment and speak with her a little more, but just then, a tall, red-haired girl rushed up.
“Gigi, Melanie, Shannon,” she said loudly, almost like she was taking roll call, “let’s go! The concert’s almost ready to start and I don’t know how long that woman will save our seats!”
The four girls hurried off, and Chet watched Melanie leave, the bear over her shoulder and her ponytail swinging behind her.
“She’s gone, Chet,” said Alexis, bringing Chet out of his trance. “Do you have any money left for rides, or did you spend it all on that stupid bear?”
Chet just smiled, believing the bear, or at least winning it for Melanie, hadn’t been stupid. “Nah, it was my own money I had saved up. Ready for the log ride, Brad?”
“Yeah, let’s go. I’m hungry, too.”
“Already?”
They had turned down the midway when a voice behind them, “Where you goin’, show-off? I ain’t finished talkin’ to you yet.”
Chet turned around and saw the big guy with the backwards cap, Tommy Schmidt, was addressing him.
“I didn’t know you’d started.”
The point was missed by Tommy.
“I didn’t appreciate you buttin’ in on my time with Melanie.”
“I didn’t know you had an appointment. It looked to me your time was over when all you won was that consolation prize.”
Tommy’s nostrils flared at the insult. Chet saw Tommy’s two buddies had moved up closer behind him, all three having picked up on Chet’s sarcasm. He had already sized up Tommy as about two inches taller and twenty to thirty pounds heavier than he, but Chet wasn’t too concerned, especially if Tommy didn’t know how to fight, but knew he hadn’t a prayer against two, much less three, of them.
“Are you gettin’ smart with me?”
“Come on, Chet, let’s go,” urged Alexis.
Chet ignored his sister and replied to Tommy, “It would be someplace to start.”
Tommy moved closer and shoved a finger in Chet’s chest. “Just stay away from her.”
Chet felt his adrenaline rising, his heart getting jittery. He stepped back out of arm’s reach, but his hands were already in fists in case this went too far. “If you stick your finger in my chest again, I’ll break it.”
Tommy stepped back and slid one leg back further so his body was bladed to Chet’s, ready to repel a blow if it came.
The two boys stared at each other, each waiting for the other to make a first move.
“What’s going on here?” asked a deep, commanding voice.
They turned and saw two Winnebago County sheriff’s deputies approaching. Chet opened his hands and tried to look relaxed.
“Nothin’,” answered Tommy without taking his stare off Chet.
“That’s right, officer, just a friendly discussion about the Bears and the Panthers,” added Chet.
“It looked like more than that from what we saw. Break it up and go separate directions or go home, your choice.”
“Yes sir,” said Chet, nodding to Alexis and Brad to come along.
Before they turned away, Tommy gave him an ugly look that told him this wasn’t over.
Chapter 2
Melanie got out of her sister’s Honda Civic and opened the back door just as a gust of brisk October wind created a tiny tornado, swirling dust into her eyes, whipping her hair, and sending a spray of dried leaves into the backseat.
“Thanks, Mel. It might be old, but it’s the only car I have,” said Merrily as she reached into the backseat on the driver’s side to retrieve half of the loaded Wal-Mart bags.
“Talk to Mother Nature. All I did was open the door,” Melanie replied, lugging in the other half of the bags filled with rolls of black and orange crepe paper, cardboard witches, skeletons, and cats, and assorted other decorations, plus all kinds of party snacks.
“Where are you going to have the apple-bobbing contest?”
“The bathtub in the guest bedroom, so be sure to clean it tomorrow after you shower.”
“Oh, thanks, a further price for accepting an invitation to your party.”
Merrily laughed. “That’s right. It’s my seasonal twist on the old ‘sing for your supper’ rule.” She looked over at her sister, younger by three years, whose nose and cheeks were red in the fall wind. “You look good in the Huskies hoodie.”
“Yeah? Thanks, and thanks for getting it for me.”
After two and half hours of work, the sisters stood back to admire the job they had done decorating for Merrily’s Halloween party the next night.
“Pretty nice job, if I say so myself.”
“Yeah, Merr, except that knocking down the real spider webs on your ceiling to put up fake ones seemed kind of a waste,” teased Melanie.
“Real funny. Besides, there were only two. I don’t have time to be checking for every little spider that decides to move in while I’m at school or work.”
“Is it nice having your own apartment after living on campus?”
“Unbelievable. The freedom and the privacy are worth every penny. Sheesh, just to not have a roommate you don’t always like is the best reason. I would have done it sooner, but you know Mom and Dad’s deal.”
“You mean the living in the dorms for the first two years?”
“Yep. You know you’re going to have to do the same thing.”
“Yeah, I know,” Melanie admitted. “But I’m still glad you’re close enough to come home on weekends sometimes,” the unspoken part meaning she missed her sister.
“Thanks. Me, too.”
“I can’t wait to go away to college and get out of that one-horse town.”
“I thought you liked horses?” Merrily asked, teasing.
“I do. I wish I’d never sold Quincy, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, there’s a lot of world beyond the Village. Anyway, we’ll work on all the food stuff tomorrow. Have a soda or something in the fridge. I want to show you my costume.”
“Okay.”
Melanie sat down with a strawberry-kiwi Snapple and began paging through a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine she found on the end table.
Before long, Merrily reappeared dressed as a belly dancer.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked as she held her arms out in a pose.
“I like it! You look great. Boy, you’ve really been working your abs! Yep, it will be a hit at your party, especially with the guys.”
“I’m glad you agree. I thought so, too.”
When Merrily came back out in her jeans and a Northern Illinois sweatshirt, Melanie held up the magazine. “Do you read this stuff?”
“Of course. There’s lots of good articles in there. Fashion tips, make-up hints…”
“And the sex pointers?”
“Yeah, those, too. Plenty of good information a girl might never know or take years to find out. You ought to read them; you could learn something.”
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to learn when the time comes.”
“Still hanging on to your virginity?” her sister asked in a disparaging tone.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re probably the only senior in your school who’s still a virgin, except some girls who’d like to get laid but can’t find a guy to do the job.”
“Merrily! That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“Who are you saving that little flap of skin for, anyway?”
“My husband, who do you think? As if it’s any of your business in the first place.”
“Is having a bloody sheet on your wedding night that important to you?”
“Respecting myself and being with a guy who respects me is important to me. Not to mention…” Melanie stopped there.
“Not to mention what? Go ahead and say it; not to mention committing a mortal sin?” asked Merrily sarcastically.
“Yes, that too, of course.”
“That’s what confession is for,” said Merrily, suddenly sounding defensive.
“Confession is for forgiveness as long as you intend to stop committing the same sin.”
“Oh, God, Melanie, spare me your Sunday catechism bullshit!”
Melanie didn’t respond.
Merrily saw the hurt look on her sister’s face. After awhile, she said, “Besides, when I go to confession, I don’t want to do it anymore. Things just get out of control sometimes, and it happens.”
“And you think reading articles like ‘Eighty-four Ways to Touch Him in That Place’ doesn’t plant certain thoughts in your head?”
“Well, if you’re going to hook up, you want the guy to think you know something.”
“And I’m sure the guy is equally well-read for the girl’s benefit…not.”
“They’re probably reading Cosmo so they know what to expect,” Merrily said, trying to make a joke.
When Melanie didn’t laugh, Merrily went on. “In this day and age, guys expect it after you’ve been dating awhile. Besides, most the time it feels good.”
“Oh yeah, those are good reasons. Right up there with STDs and getting pregnant before you’re married.”
“You can be as judgmental and as sarcastic as you like. What do you want? Am I supposed to sit home every weekend like you?”
“I don’t sit home on weekends.”
“Oh, that’s right, you go out with your girlfriends because they don’t have boyfriends either.”
“They all have boyfriends or are dating different guys.”
“Big wow. Who are you going out with?”
“Brady.”
“Ah yes, the great Brady Walsh, your safe date since sixth grade. He’s so infatuated with you, I’m surprised he didn’t drive you here and offer to pick you up on Sunday.”
“We always have fun together, and he never tries anything besides a good-night kiss.”
“Are you sure he’s not gay?”
“He’s a varsity letterman! Backup quarterback on our football team and the starting pitcher on the baseball team.”
“What? You think jocks can’t be gay?”
Melanie didn’t understand how the conversation had gotten turned around with her suddenly trying to defend her decision.
“It’s not as easy as you think. Do you suppose high school guys are any different about expecting a girl to put out after a few dates? Like they spend a certain amount of money on you and you’re supposed to go to bed with them? I’m not a prostitute!”
Now Merrily felt sorry for her sister, fully understanding the girl’s dilemma.
“I’m not a prude, Merrily. I can get turned on reading a book or watching a movie just like anyone. Do you think I don’t look at cute guys and wonder what it would be like to go all the way or to see buff guys with their shirts off, or the swim team in their borderline-obscene Speedos, and wonder what I’m missing and if I’m doing the right thing by waiting? But, in the end, I believe I am.”
“Good for you, sis. I’m proud of you.”