My heart sank. Of course, I didn’t really want to be Trevor’s girlfriend. It’s not like he was Mars and I was Venus—we weren’t even from the same universe! And I didn’t even like him, really. I knew why he’d brought me out here, I knew what he wanted to do, and I knew who he was going to tell. And at the end of it all, he might win ten dollars from all his betting buddies for “getting the Goth Chick.” I had hoped he was going to prove me wrong. Instead, he was proving me right.
It was time to get down to business. “Wanna see why I don’t wear white? Wanna fly with me?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, sort of startled, but very eager. “I bet you fly like Supergirl!”
I urged him over the picket fence into the woods. I could obviously see better than he. My nocturnal habits had always made me a great observer in the dark. Not as good as a cat, but close. I felt safe and secure, with the beautiful moon now guiding me. I looked up and saw several bats fluttering over the trees. I’d never seen bats in Dullsville. But I didn’t go to that many parties, either.
“I can’t see,” Trevor said, removing a branch from his hair.
As we walked on, he flailed his arms like he was going to hit something. Some people are violent drunks; some are slobbering drunks. But Trevor was a terrified drunk. He was really becoming quite unattractive.
“Let’s stop here,” he said.
“No, just a little bit further,” I said, following the bats as they flew into the woods. “It’s my sixteenth birthday. I want this to be a night I’ll never forget! We need total privacy.”
“This is plenty private,” he said, groping around and trying to kiss me.
“We’re almost there,” I said, tugging him on. The lights from the house could no longer be seen, and we couldn’t walk five steps without hitting a tree.
“This is perfect!” I finally said.
He squeezed me hard, not because he loved me, but because he was afraid. It was pathetic.
There was a gentle wind blowing through the trees, and the smell of autumn leaves. I heard bats chirping high overhead. The full moon illuminated their wings. It would have been romantic, if only I had had a real boyfriend with me.
Trevor was completely blind in the darkness, feeling everything with his hands and lips. He kissed me all over my face and touched the small of my back. Even blind, it didn’t take him long to find the buttons on my shirt.
“No, you first,” I told him.
I lifted off his sweater, as unclumsily as I could. I had never done this before. He was wearing a V-neck T-shirt underneath and an undershirt underneath that. This is going to take forever, I thought.
I felt his naked chest. Why not? It was right in front of me. It was soft and smooth and muscular.
He pulled me closer, my lacy black rayon shirt touching his naked torso.
“Now you, baby. I want you so bad,” he said, straight out of some skin flick on cable.
“Me too, baby.” I sighed, rolling my eyes.
I leaned him down slowly on the damp earth. I slid off his loafers and socks. He eagerly took off the rest.
He lay propped up on his arms, completely naked. I stared down at him in the faint moonlight, savoring the moment. How many girls had Mr. Gorgeous laid out by a tree, only to cast them aside the next day? I wasn’t the first and I wasn’t going to be the last. I was just going to be different.
“Hurry up—come over here,” he said. “I’m cold!”
“I’ll just be a minute. I don’t want you to see me undress.”
“I can’t see you! I can’t even see my own hands!”
“Well, just hang on.”
I had Trevor Mitchell’s clothes in my arms. His sweater, V-neck, undershirt, khakis, socks, loafers, and underwear. I had his power. His mask. I had his whole life. What was a girl to do?
This girl ran. I ran so hard, like I had never run before. Like I had been training every day in gym class. If Mr. Harris could have seen me then, he surely would have put me on the track team.
The bats flew off, too, as if they were in sync with my movements. I quickly reached the house, Trevor’s ensemble wadded in my arms. The snobs drinking on the back porch were too busy talking about their shallow lives to notice me emptying a trash bag half filled with beer cans and stuffing in Trevor’s clothes.
I carried the bag into the house and grabbed a startled Becky by the arm. She was delivering beer to a table of poker players.
“Where were you?” she screamed. “I couldn’t find you anywhere! I was forced to wait on these creeps! Back and forth—beer, chips, beer, chips. And now cigars! Raven, where am I supposed to get cigars?”