“She went on and on about how it’s wrong for you and I to have anything to do with each other. How we’re practically siblings, and that I’m probably just one of dozens. Things like that. And she said that I shouldn’t ruin things between my parents and your parents when I need to start thinking about settling down,” she lets it all spill out.
It’s a lot to take in, and I think about it for a moment or two, trying to sort through what the hell is going on.
“Your mom’s not entirely wrong, at least on a couple of things,” I say finally.
Harper’s eyes widen and I know that look. I’ve seen it. I saw it when the kids in middle school pushed her to the breaking point with the teasing, when I was too much of a coward to stand up for her.
I had said exactly the wrong thing, and now I am about to pay for it.
“What do you mean she’s not entirely wrong?”
I try to think, to think fast enough to diffuse this bomb that apparently the girl in front of me has been all along.
“I mean, hell, we both agreed that we probably shouldn’t have done what we did the night before,” I tell her.
“Oh, oh, so I’m just a notch on your belt now, and you’re worried just like my mom is that having had sex with me is going to cause drama between your parents and my parents,” she says.
“What? Where did that come from?” I don’t even know what she means by being a notch in my belt. I mean, I know the saying, but what does that have to do with what we’ve been up to? It isn’t like I keep score.
“You said my mom wasn’t wrong, and what she said is that all you’re looking for is an easy lay, so is that what I am to you?”
“An easy lay? Come on, Harper,” I say. I know I’m doing this all wrong, but I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. “You are not an easy lay.”
“So how long have you been waiting to add me to your score card, huh?”
“I don’t keep score,” I tell her, trying to keep my nerves in check, trying not to let her escalate the situation. My drill instructor in basic was big on the non-escalation techniques, but somehow when it comes to Harper all that training goes out of the window.
“Look, Zane, I knew you slept around. I know that about you. I’m not stupid. And it’s not like I even care, since, like we both talked about last night, it’s not like this is going anywhere. But you could at least be honest with me,” she says.
“Honest about what? All I said was I can see your mom’s point about certain things,” I say.
“Forget it,” Harper tells me. She shakes her head and turns away from me, and I see her reach into her purse for her keys.
“Harper, don’t drive off like this. You’re upset,” I say.
“Like you even care,” she counters, and when I try to make a grab for her wrist, to keep her there at the lake with me, she nearly twists her arm into injury to get free of my grip.
I could hold onto her, I could force her to hurt herself, which would, likely as not, make her have to stay and calm down, but I don’t want her to break her wrist or tear a ligament, so I just let her go. Harper bolts to her car, and pulls out of the parking lot at the lake.
All I can think to do is sit down. She’s obviously not going to want me to talk to her, to follow her. All I can do is hope she doesn’t get into a wreck, and that she finds somewhere to go cool off for a bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HARPER POLSEN
I drive around for a while, playing Hot Hot Heat at full blast, and trying to figure out where in the town I can actually go to where I won’t have to deal with anyone. I know I was probably overreacting to what Zane said, but with so much going on, and with him being such a bonehead, I couldn’t stand being around anyone, especially him, for even a moment longer.
I decide that maybe the pitching and rolling of my stomach will calm down if I put something more than coffee and a pastry in it. I pull into a McDonald’s and manage to keep my twisting, turning feelings in check for a few minutes. I order a ten-piece chicken nugget meal with large fries and a drink, knowing better than to add any caffeine to my already-amped system.
I pull my car over into a strip mall parking lot and keep my music going as I eat, shoving salty, delicious fries into my mouth, taking sips of my drink and eating the chicken nuggets as if they have some kind of mysterious healing power. As if my life depends on wolfing down the food as fast as humanly possible.
I do feel a little bit better, not much, but a little, once I’ve reached the end of the fries, and I can think about things a little more objectively.