Page 56 of XO

Needless to say, his dad, Mr. Foster, has been running his mouth around town ever since as he attempts to repair his ‘reputation’ destroyed by ‘the slutty opportunist, Rosie Reign,’ which were his exact words. I gave little credence to his remarks and heard of quite a few locals coming to my defense and putting him back in his box.

Once Chelsea and Kevin’s influence wore off, the student body seemed to get used to us as a couple. The nasty comments became less until virtually non-existent, and our relationship no longer seems to be the freak show.

Nessie was all for another double date to meet Jacob’s cousin, Lenny. We successfully orchestrated the rendezvous with as minimal witnesses as possible, yet word still got back to Pastor Bryant about his daughter’sillicitfraternizing. After forbidding Nessie from seeing the terrified Lenny again, Pastor Bryant lead a Sunday sermon on underage sex—ignoring the fact that Nessie is only a heartbeat away from being legal—and how Jesus hears all our filthy thoughts and weak human desires. Nessie said she felt all eyes on her during the services and vows she’d start dating as soon as she’s at college away from her God-loving, wrath-wielding father.

Jacob and I fall deeper in love, spending every second together. Most would find that unhealthy. My dad encourages us to find our own hobbies and served me a gentle lecture at how I haven’t produced any art in a while because I’ve become ‘distracted.’

Jacob spends most nights with me, climbing the tree at lights out and returning home before the crack of dawn. Our make-out sessions have become so heated, we bring each other to the brink of madness when the other, more responsible one—we seem to share this role—puts a stop to the bedroom antics before it goes too far.

My failed reasoning is, ‘We’ve done everything else. We may as well go that one step further.’

Jacob, although struggling with the idea, gently reminds me that we have a plan and should stick to it. There are times I hate that plan, more than I’ve hated anything in the world because all I want to feel Jacob inside me. But then the excitement and anticipation win over, and instead of listening to calculus, I’ll be daydreaming about how to make our first night together extra special.

My grades are on a steady increase thanks to Jacob’s math tutorage, and toward the end leading up to exams, Jacob put a stop on all mucking around in the library study room. I try to make up for lost time when he helps with the prom decorations, but those plans are often thwarted with Anna being in the room, grunting in disapproval even over a shared a kiss.

And then performance day comes, and it takes no prisoners.

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“No, you’re not. Just lean forward and put your head between your legs,” Jacobs instructs, comfortingly rubbing my back.

“I should just scrap the scholarship and hope my grades are enough.”

“Rosie, we’re doing this whether you like it or not because you’ve worked hard for it.”

I go to stand, so I can run from the theater and head home where I can hide under my blanket and cry in peace. “Nope, I can’t. Tell Ms. Zagwich I’ve left.”

“Rosie, sit that fine ass of yours down and listen to my instruction.” When I hesitate, he becomes assertive. “Now, woman!”

Falling back into my seat, I pull at a loose thread on my dress. “Jacob, I don’t want to fail.”

Cupping my cheek and turning my face to meet his, I see the love and respect he has for me, the kind of love where he thinks I can conquer the world, and he’ll be right by my side in the process.

“Rosie, if we fail, we’ll still go out and celebrate. You’re the most intelligent, creative, generous girl I’ve ever met. If anyone can do this, you can. You’ve worked hard for this, no matter the outcome.” He swipes a stray tear with his thumb. “The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve never given up. And the only time I’ve seen you truly cry is when you killed Harold the Hamster.”

I snort a laugh because it’s true. I may cry out of frustration at times, but when I accidentally killed Harold in my flying chair rage, I’d cried for a solid week. And the guilt nearly killed me. “Okay,” I mumble.

“What was that?” he prompts.

“I said okay. Let’s do this. I’m ready.”

“That’s my girl.” Jacob closes the space between us and seals our fate with a kiss. “Whatever happens, we’ve got each other.”

But unlike theTaming of the Shrewwe were about to conquer on stage,Shakespeare’s greatest tales are his tragedies, and I’m about to discover my own tragedy is just waiting to unfold.

15

THEN

“I’m here! I’m back,” my mother yells from the bottom of the stairs, slamming closed the front door in her haste. From my bedroom upstairs, I hear the terse words spoken between my parents. My father expressing his disapproval at his wife for not being home to help me get ready for prom.

Dad, seeing how hurt I was for her unsurprising absence, came to the rescue by asking Mrs. Lynch to help with my hair and makeup. Having only a son, she was over-the-moon to have a chance to do something feminine for a change.

The glisten in her eyes as she stands behind me, looking into the mirror while adding gentle curls to my long, dark hair reminds me of her generous and softly spoken nature. The bluish bruise almost perfectly concealed around her left eye tells of how her kindness and tolerance is often taken advantage of by her asshole of a husband. We laugh and speak about secretive girly things a mother would with her daughter, things we both don’t get a chance to talk about in our own households.

Dad brought in some refreshments, making bubbly mocktails for us all, and when it was time for me change, he left us alone.

Helping with the back zipper, Mrs. Lynch fastens the clasp and places both hands on my bare shoulders. “My son is a very lucky boy, Rosie.”

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