Page 61 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“No, I guess you wouldn’t be. Sorry. Wrong comparison. You’ve got a sister yourself.”
“A sister, and a mother, and a dad, none of whom let me get away with too much entitlement, believe it or not. ‘For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.’ Ask me how I know. My mom’s a minister. But not everybody gets that message at home, and some guys are just plain assholes. Like Sawyer. Who had a girlfriend, but also had that locker next to yours.”
“Yes. And when she wasn’t around, Steve used to flirt with me. Called me ‘Indian maiden,’ and even though that’s bad, it still felt flattering. That he noticed me, a sophomore like I was, even though I wore glasses and hadn’t started school with the rest of them, and I wasn’t even Russell’s daughter. And one day, you see, he had a fight with Ingrid, and they broke up. Everybody knew about it. It was big school news. So when he asked me to go to a party with him on Saturday night, I said yes. I thought he wanted to be my boyfriend. I told myself he’d broken up because he liked me. I told myself stupid things. I was romantic. I was looking for true love to ride into my life, or maybe I was just looking for excitement. I was dumb, but then, girls can be dumb.”
She’d been more than dumb. She’d been downright delusional, changing clothes over and over on that April night before she’d settled on the shortest skirt she dared, a little sweater that buttoned up the front, and the only shoes she owned with a decent heel. She’d put on extra lipstick and blow-dried her hair, then bent over and run through it with her hands before flipping back up, so it looked tousled and sexy. And then she’d sat on the bed and waited until she heard the sound of the car horn.
She put the hood of her jacket up, then, and called to Russell, “Bye. I’m going to Monica’s.” Riley had already gone out. Dakota had made sure of that, because he’d have seen right through the hood, and he’d have noticed that she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Russell, on the other hand, didn’t even know about things like, “Be home by eleven.” Not like her grandma, who’d always done curfews and bedtimes.
She headed out to the curb and hopped into Steve’s brand-new black Chevy Silverado. “Hi,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. Trying to sound cool.
“Well, hey, good-looking,” he said. “Totally awesome without the glasses.”
She smiled and twirled her hair around her finger and tried to pretend she did this all the time. Dated the coolest guy in school, even though she was only a sophomore.
He headed out of town and onto the lake road, and she asked, “So where’s this party?”
“Conner Fitzpatrick’s house,” he said, and Dakota gave a little sigh. Conner was on the football team, too. Thesecondmost popular guy in school.
The party was loud, and crowded, and dark, and exciting, and Conner’s parents were nowhere to be seen. Music blared from speakers set into the walls of the lake house’s downstairs game room, and somebody had rigged a disco ball. She danced with Steve, and she drank punch and danced with him some more. She couldn’t see too well, but that only made it more glamorous. People said, “Hey, Dakota,” to her like she was one of the cool girls, and she said “Hey” back and thought that on Monday, she’d be walking the halls and they’d be saying it again.
She danced until she got hot and it got late, and when Steve filled her punch glass for the fourth time, she didn’t drink it. Instead, she poured it into a plant near the window when he wasn’t looking. She could feel herself getting fuzzy, and she knew Russ would notice, but she didn’t want to be uncool and turn down the drink, either.
“I should get home,” she finally yelled at Steve over the music.
“Aw, come on,” he said. “We’re just getting started.”
“No, I really should. My stepfather…”
When they left, they had Rowan Williams with them. “Giving him a ride home,” Steve said. So Dakota sat in the middle, so close to Steve, and got a little breathless. Maybe he’d kiss her goodnight. Should she let him? She wanted to. She’d been kissed before, a couple times, but he was so much more adult than the boys she’d gone out with. So much more exciting and confident.
They didn’t turn back toward Wild Horse, but instead drove on the lake road some more. Steve had the radio on loud again, but Dakota was getting sleepy despite the noise, and despite throwing away her last cup of punch. She couldn’t see anyway, so she closed her eyes and let herself drift on the throbbing waves of sound until the pickup slowed and the sound under the tires changed to thecrunchof gravel. She sat up and blinked, but she couldn’t see anything, just the hypnotic white headlights picking up the rough road.
“We almost there?” she asked. “R-rowan’s?” She was so sleepy.
“Yeah,” Steve said, and something in his voice cut through the fog in her head. “Right here.” He pulled off the road and killed the engine, but left the radio going. “Going to have another drink. After-party.”
“I need to get home,” Dakota said. Something was flickering in her chest, rising to her head, buzzing between her ears. Alarm.
“Just a little drink,” Steve said. Rowan laughed from her other side, and she suddenly realized that she was hemmed in between them. Steve pulled a bottle out from under the seat, unscrewed the top, and held it to her lips. “Ladies first.”
She shoved the bottle away. “No, I really have to go.” The alarm was shrieking as loudly as the music now. “Please take me home.”
“You want a little drink,” Steve said. Before she could react, he gripped her hair at the nape of her neck, pulled her head back, and tipped the bottle up. She pressed her lips together as hard as she could, and the acrid liquid splashed over her chin and ran down her sweater, soaking it.
Steve didn’t seem to realize that she hadn’t drunk. “That’s it,” he said. “Bottoms up.” He took a long swig himself, then handed the bottle across Dakota to Rowan, his arm brushing across her breasts when he did. She jumped, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he grabbed her by the breast and said, “They’re little, but they’re tight. Huh, Rowan? You think the rest of her’s that tight? Or do you think somebody’s already popped the little girl’s cherry? I still bet we could show her something new.”
“Don’t,” Dakota said, her voice coming out too high and too scared. “Let me go. Now.”
“Give me a kiss, Indian maiden,” Steve said. He was over her, his hands gripping her shoulders, his tongue in her mouth, choking her. The smell of whiskey was in her nostrils, and one hand was on her thigh now, then diving under her skirt.
She tried to twist out of his grip, but she couldn’t. He was groping, finding the edge of her panties, shoving his fingers under them, inside her. It was rough, and it hurt, and she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Her head was being yanked the other way. Toward Rowan, who had her by the hair now, and had his tongue halfway down her throat. He was shoving her sweater up, too, pulling at her bra, freeing her breast, squeezing it hard. She was trying to kick, but she couldn’t, because Steve was halfway over her, his fingers thrusting. Hurting.
The panic was coming in waves, trying to drown her. She was going backwards, somehow. Being pushed. “Back you go,” Steve said. “Indians ride in the back.”
Rowan giggled, a high-pitched, excited sound, and what felt like eight hands were shoving her. Her torso was in midair, her legs kicking. Kicking hard. Her foot connected with something solid, she heard a gasped curse, and she kicked some more. She kicked so hard, she went over backwards, her shoulders landing on the edge of the seat.
Back seat.She had no sooner registered it than she was scrambling up, grabbing for the rear door, tumbling out of the car, hitting the ground, and running.
