Page 22 of Old Acquaintances

The audacity.

He continued, “You can’t play volleyball like that.”

“Why not?” I placed my hands on my hips, on purpose, because it added to his discomfort.

He eased his chin up, eyes out on the sand. He bounced a little for dramatic effect. “I think it’s self-explanatory.”

Gavin called out, “Hey Dad, can you get Tucker a shovel for this hole he’s digging himself into?”

I walked up to Tucker’s chest and lifted my head to him. “Fuck you,” I gritted.

He winced. “Are you going to hit me with them?”

My throat started to clog. I felt the tears trying to form and I blinked them away, choosing to focus on my rage. This was the love notes all over again. If he hadn’t said anything, then no one would be looking at my body and noweveryonewas looking at my body, ruining our vacation that just started.

I didn’t back down when I got embarrassed. It would have been better if I ran off crying, then he would be the one in the wrong and I’d get the eventual apology, but I never took that route. I always attacked him, physically or verbally, and the offense became all mine. I got in trouble for not being appropriate or ladylike or ‘using my words.’

It made me angrier.

I screamed, “I’m going to kill you!” I pushed him hard, and he stumbled backward. I pushed him again and his feet tripped, moving toward the water, but he remained upright.

“Cut it out!” Tucker yelled. “Can I get some help here?”

Gavin said, “Ella, I don’t think this is working for you. He’s just going to end up enjoying it.”

Tucker put a hand out to stop me when I came at him again, but it landed on my left boob. He pushed, he squeezed - involuntarily - but I elbowed his arm away and lifted my knee. It landed in his groin.

“Oh!” The boys collectively shouted.

Tucker fell to his knees at the water’s edge. He grabbed hiscrotch, gasping, “Shit. What is wrong with you?”

He could tell I was not done with my assault. My long braid whipped around my shoulders. His eyes went wide, and he tried to stand up, falling on his butt in the shallow water.

I dove at his throat. He tried swim to backward. I clawed at him, throwing myself on his body, pushing him into the ocean. He was stronger and larger than me, but I had no boundaries and turned a little feral when I was enraged.

“She’s trying to bite me!” he screamed when I shoved his head under.

The most Tucker could do was try to swim away and hold me back, but those pesky boobs kept getting in the way. With only scraps of fabric on my body, he didn’t have a safe place to touch me.

Finally, someone pulled me out of the water.

“Hattie, come get her!” my dad instructed, holding my hands behind my back. “Ella, go inside.”

Hattie met me at the shoreline with a towel. I turned around to Tucker and that’s when the tears started to flow.

“I hate you!” I screamed.

I took a shower and refused to come out of my room. I had let him win. I had turned savage, like a child raised in the woods, and had to get yetanotherreprimand for my behavior. I felt stupid and childish. I was mad at him and mad at me.

I was laying in my twin bed, in the dark, when someone knocked on the door.

“Go away,” I grumbled.

Tucker said, “I’m going to open the door.”

“Do it and you die.”

“Too late.” He came inside, a stream of light falling on my face. He flipped on the overhead light and closed the door.

---