Shut Out

Chapter fifteen

Hamilton High had two Homecomings a year — one for football in September and another for basketball in January. When you're a freshman it's exciting because two Homecomings means two opportunities to dance with boys in a dark gymnasium (which, for some reason, seems glamorous when you're fourteen) and have TV show–like high school experiences — or so you hope.

By senior year, the whole thing was far less glamorous, but if you had good friends to hang with, it could still be pretty fun.

I was having a decent time this year, despite my awkward, unromantic dinner with Randy before the dance. I'd picked a Thai restaurant in Oak Hill, the next town over, that I knew served great food and had a nice, dim, romantic atmosphere. But that atmosphere had been kind of crushed by Randy's attitude. He'd barely talked to me, shrugged his shoulders in response to almost everything I said, and sent text messages throughout the meal.

"Who are you texting?" I asked playfully.

"Shane," he grunted.

"Who's he going to Homecoming with?"

"No one."

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

I frowned and poked my fork at a piece of shrimp on my plate. Yes, I knew why Shane didn't have a date. It's because Shane wasn't really the "dating" type. He was essentially the male version of Chloe. Neither of them would willingly spend an evening attached to a member of the opposite gender unless it ended with sex. Which, tonight, it clearly wouldn't.

When the waiter brought the check, Randy paid for both our meals, though he didn't seem to do it with pleasure.

Again, I tried to tell myself that this was a good thing. That his annoyance with the sex strike was a positive sign. That the girls would have their victory soon and the rivalry would be over and we'd get along again. I convinced myself that I should be happy he was pissed at me. It still didn't feel good, though.

It struck me then that Randy and I were sort of playing the same game. I was withholding sexual activities and he was withholding… well, everything else. By avoiding conversation and being so distant, he was leaving me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled, too.

Whether I liked it or not, I didn't complain about the way our paths separated once we got to the gymnasium. We needed a break from each other, so he went off to talk to his teammates — none of whom seemed to understand that dances were meant for dancing — and I found Chloe at our usual place by the refreshment table.

"I still cannot believe Kelsey is wearing that," she said after we'd been hanging out and eating pretzels for about an hour. "Someone should tell her that yellow isn't her color. Oh, and I think that someone should be me. Be right back — "

I grabbed her elbow and held her in place. "Leave her alone."

"Party pooper." Chloe took a sip of her Diet Coke and scanned the dance floor again. "At least Susan had the sense to wear something cute. Oh, and Mary's dress is so pretty. I wonder where she got that? It's probably expensive, though. Damn it. And — hey, looky there."

"What?" I looked up from the pan of cupcakes I had been examining on the table, trying to decide between chocolate-on-chocolate or chocolate-on-vanilla. "Look at what, Chloe?"

"Your lover boy is standing over there," she said, gesturing across the dark gymnasium.

I squinted, thinking I'd see Randy standing there. Thinking he'd be looking at me. Thinking he'd walk over, take me in his arms, and tell me he was sorry for not taking me seriously and that he wanted the feud to end, too. Thinking we'd dance until midnight when they finally kicked us out and for once I wouldn't care who was watching and —

No.

No, it wasn't Randy at all. It was Cash. Cash was the one standing across the dance floor, and he wasn't looking at me. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded loosely over his chest as he talked animatedly to a pretty sophomore in a dress so short I wondered if it was meant to be a shirt instead. He was flirting

with her, and the girl was inching closer and closer, touching his arm when she laughed.

"That's not funny," I told Chloe, forcing my eyes off Cash and continuing my mental cupcake debate. I reminded myself that I had no reason to be upset. I was with Randy. I shouldn't care about Cash at all.

Still, I couldn't fight that nagging feeling in my stomach. That irrational possessiveness over Cash. I just wanted to march over there and pull him away, keep him to myself and hide him from all the other girls.

Crap. Cash wasn't supposed to be on my mind tonight. I'd promised myself.

"I think it's funny," she teased. "Randy might not, though."

I groaned. If only she knew.

"Speaking of Randy," Chloe continued, "you should probably go find him. It's almost time for the Homecoming Court announcements."

"Yeah." I sighed. "All right. I'll be back."

I grabbed a chocolate-on-chocolate cupcake and headed off in search of Randy. Really, there was no important reason for me to find him, but I did want to be next to him when they announced that he'd won. It was just good girlfriend behavior. I should be there to smile and cheer and hug him when the "unexpected" announcement came — whether he liked it or not.

When I finally reached the other side of the gym, I found Shane leaning against the wall, sipping a Coke that was probably spiked with something. Knowing Shane, something strong.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey there, Lissa Daniels," he said. He raised his Coke. "Would you like to say hello to your distant cousin, Jack?"

"No, thank you."

Shane shrugged and took a swig of his Jack and Coke. "So what's up?"

"Not much," I said. "Where's Randy?"

And right then — when Shane's big blue eyes darted toward me and away so fast I barely noticed, and his free hand shoved forcefully into his jeans pocket — right then I knew something was wrong.

"Shane?" I asked slowly.

"He's, uh, in the bathroom. He'll be out in a minute."

I thought back to when I had been standing with Chloe next to the refreshments table. It had been a good ten minutes since I'd noticed Randy over here with Shane — way, way more time than he needed in the bathroom.

"Thanks," I said, moving around Shane and heading toward the boys' bathroom.

"What?" Shane sounded terrified as he reached for my arm with one hand while struggling to hold on to his bottle of Coke with the other. "Lissa, wait a sec. You can't go into the boys' bathroom."

I sidestepped his attempts to reach me. I wasn't just going to wait around to find out what was going on.

"Lissa, wait. You really don't want to do that — "

And I knew he was hiding something from me.

As fast as my heels allowed me to move, I shoved through the freshmen, toward the bathrooms. I pushed against the heavy

wooden door of the boys' room — a door that was supposed to be propped open by a doorstop at all times. As soon as I stepped into the tiny hallway, separated from the rest of the large bathroom by a tiled wall, I heard the noises.

A suction-y noise mixed with heavy breathing and one very female giggle.

I skirted around the wall as fast as I could, daring myself to see who was on the other side. Even though, really, I already knew.

Sure enough, there was Randy. He was with some leggy blond girl (or maybe she only looked leggy because of the way Randy had her skirt hiked up to her hips, exposing a string of her thong). They were leaning against the wall opposite the urinals — classy — with her back pressed against the tiles and his front pressing into her. They were making out in the most vulgar way possible, and by the way her fingers were scurrying across the zipper of his pants, it appeared as though the scene was about to turn into a lot more than just making out.

"Oh my fucking God."

"Lissa," Randy gasped, his mouth still only inches from The Blonde's. I hated that he said my name so close to her lips. Hated that he said my name at all. It wasn't his to say. Not anymore.

I turned and hurried out of the bathroom, back into the gymnasium.

"Lissa, hold up!"

I don't know how Randy managed to disentangle himself from The Blonde so quickly, but suddenly he was there behind me, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him.

"Don't touch me," I said, jerking out of his grip. "Just leave me alone, Randy."

"Lissa, don't be mad."

"I don't want to talk about this here," I hissed, knowing we'd already attracted the attention of a few bystanders. Deep down, I wanted to scream, How could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? But my instincts kicked in before I could do anything so dramatic. Instead, I was stiff, cut off. Chloe called me Little Miss Ice Queen, and that's how I felt. Emotionless. I was safer that way.

"You brought this on yourself, you know. I didn't have a choice," Randy snapped, not letting me go. "What was I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you? Been there, done that."

"Randy, stop."

But he didn't. He was in a rage now. Whether at me for catching him or at himself for getting caught, I don't know, but while I closed myself off, he exploded.

"You promised," Randy reminded me. I was painfully aware of how loudly he was speaking. "When we got back together at the end of the summer, you promised you'd stop being such a prude. That we'd do it. And then you went and started this stupid-ass sex strike, and what am I supposed to do? Keep waiting?"

I felt my cheeks burning, but my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn't believe he was saying this. Saying it in front of everyone.

"Hey," Randy called, looking away from me, his eyes searching the group around us, "just so all you girls know" — his eyes

focused on me again, steely and meaner than I'd ever seen them — "your ringleader here is a hypocrite. She's making all of you give up sex, but really, she's not giving up anything. Lissa is a virgin." It was the most spiteful look he had ever given me.

I expected there to be an audible gasp — like in movies — but there wasn't. The only sounds were the fading pulse of a techno song and a screech of feedback as the Spanish teacher, Mrs. Romali, took the stage. "Time to announce the winners of this year's Homecoming Court!" she yelled cheerfully, unaware of the humiliation I was facing.

I turned slowly away from Randy, hoping only freshmen and sophomores had gathered to witness my embarrassment. Not my friends. Not the girls. Not people I knew.

But of course I'd never get that lucky.

Among the faces staring back at me were Ellen, Kelsey, Susan, Mary, Chloe… and Cash. They'd all heard. They all knew that I was a liar.

Like I was playing Red Rover on the playground, I hurtled through the wall of people in front of me.

Red Rover, Red Rover, send Virgin right over.

This time, Randy didn't stop me. He was done embarrassing me for the night. I ran despite my heels. Despite the crowd. Despite the pain searing my calves. I ran out of the gym and through the empty hall and out the blue-and-orange double doors into the warm, welcoming arms of the parking lot.

Only it wasn't warm or welcoming. Not at all. The parking lot was chilly, a cool September breeze wafting past me, and it was empty and dark. It looked like the set of a horror film. In the dark

with all the abandoned cars, it seemed like the kind of place you'd find a dead body.

And what made it worse?

Randy had been my ride.

"Damn it," I muttered.

Then, slowly, the ice around me melted. I slammed a fist into the brick wall of the school building and choked back a burst of tears as all the emotions I'd pushed away burned through me like a wildfire.

"Lissa?"

I looked over at the exit, expecting to find Randy coming after me again, to apologize or grovel or maybe just to hurt me some more.

Instead, it was Cash.

"Leave me alone," I said automatically. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I know," he said. He looked so nice in his semiformal clothes — black dress pants and a red button-up — and I knew that his appearance wasn't what I should have been thinking about at that moment.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He hesitated. I watched as he ran a nervous hand over his cropped brown hair. "Do you need a ride home?"

I stared at him for a moment. He'd just seen an epic, soap opera–esque reveal about my love life and one of the most public breakups in Hamilton High history, yet all he could say was, Do you need a ride home?

"No."

"Lissa," he said doubtfully.

"I'll walk."

"You live six miles from here."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"I took you home after Vikki's party this summer…."

I stared at him in the dim light of the parking lot, waiting for him to finish that thought. He'd almost brought it up once before, in the library elevator, but he'd never really crossed into that territory. I wondered if he would now, if maybe he'd bring it up and I'd get the answers I'd been waiting for.

Cash cleared his throat. "I'm ready to get out of here, anyway."

I sighed. It was probably better that I didn't get my answers. I couldn't take more hurt tonight.

"Lissa? Come on. Seriously, I'll drive you."

I thought about arguing with him again, but I was too tired, too angry, and too lost to even try. He was right; I couldn't walk home, and who could I ask for a ride? I was sure Chloe and the other girls were pissed at me for how I'd misled them about my sex life, and there was no way I'd let Randy drive me home after what I'd seen.

"Fine," I muttered. "A ride home would be nice…. Thank you."

"No problem," he said. "My car's on the back side of the lot."

As we crossed the parking lot, I heard a muffled round of cheers go up from inside the gymnasium, and I was sure Mrs. Romali had just crowned Randy Homecoming king.