"What?" she giggled. "Mr. Entertainment is a cynic?"
"Mr. Entertainment has been there and has done that, and thus became a cynic."
"Ah," she said. "That’s not my particular problem, but I certainly can see it."
"What’s your particular problem?"
"Bad role model," she said. "When your mother brings home a different guy each week looking for The One, it tends to sour your viewpoint. There’s only one thing that guys want, and it’s not romance."
"That’s not true at all," I maintained.
"Oh, come on, Ed. You yourself just said you don’t do romance-and I know what your reputation around here is. You’ll do anything in a skirt."
"Most of the guys in school will do anything in a skirt," I argued. "I don’t do romance for my own reasons, but I do do non-sexual female companionship. You know who my two favorite females in the world are? One is Lily Woodard. The other is Ellie Kirkland. Lily is my best friend’s girlfriend-and, even if she weren’t, we’re not each other’s type romantically. But I’d rather spend an evening talking baseball and stuff with Lily than I would having sex with anybody. And Ellie is Mike’s mom, and she doesn’t go for guys, at least not anymore; she’s in a committed lesbian relationship. Plus she’s 39 years old. So obviously there’s nothing to do with sex there. And Ellie is one of the coolest human beings on the planet. Given a choice between sex and friendship, I’d choose friendship every time. Hands down."
"Really?" she said, amazed.
"Really. Look, Lily calls me a pussyhound." She let out a little embarrassed giggle at that. "But I’m not, really. I just don’t turn down opportunities when they present themselves. Look, if you turned to me right now and said, ‘Ed, you big stud, fuck me until I scream,’ I’d have to be insane to turn that down." She giggled again at that. "However, if you gave me a choice between that, and bonding over a bowl of popcorn watching Gene Kelly strut his stuff, I’d pick the latter. And that’s the truth."
"Hey, girls like me," I told her. "They like me ‘cause I make ‘em laugh. If they want to go for it, and we both enjoy it, why not live it up, right? But it’s not the be-all and end-all of my existence. Not even close."
"When you put it like that, it makes more sense," she admitted. "I’ve never enjoyed it, so I wouldn’t know."
"Waitaminnit. You’re not a virgin?"
"No," she said tightly, "but that’s something I’d rather not discuss."
"Fine by me," I said, but it was another worrying sign about this girl.
We got to bio, and it was fine. I sat next to her, and she was alright. Ms T., sensing the situation, directed the questions about the program to me, and I did the Wacky Ed thing long enough to make Natalie crack up.
Evidently, things started to go awry again in the following period-gym. It was another class we shared-however, that didn’t help in the locker room, because she was in the guys’ and I was in the girls’. When she emerged from the locker room, she looked horrible again.
"Hey, Nat, are you OK?" I asked her. I don’t even think she knew I was there. She just walked past, all hunched over and glassy-eyed.
Ty Christopher, a buddy of mine from the ball team who was also in that class, pulled me aside. "Three guys had her in the corner of the shower the whole time. They were feeling her up and stuff, and she just stood there like a statue. I tried to get them to stop, but they just said, ‘Hey, she’s in The Program, she has to let us.’ Ed, man, I have to tell you, she did not look good."
"Damn," was all I could say.
We didn’t meet up again until last period, when we both had trig. And she was a mess. Completely withdrawn and all curled up into a metaphorical ball again. I tried my best-when I sat next to her I leaned over and sang, "I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain," but that only got the faintest hint of a smile.
Damn. I didn’t see how she was going to make it through this week.
CHAPTER FOUR NATALIEOh God, oh God, what am I going to do?
I tried, I really tried. And Ed really is a sweetheart. And he did help.
But gym was just mortifying, and painful, and altogether horrific. They had me in that corner, and they kept touching me. I don’t care what The Program’s rules are, it felt like rape.
It felt like I had been being raped all day-by hands, by eyes. And I know this isn’t normal, dammit, I know that. But I can’t help how I feel.
Then, after that-and poor Ed trying desperately to get me to lighten up-I got to go home, and get raped again. By my mother.
"Did they put you in The Program this week?" she asked as soon as I got home.
"Yes, they did, and I can’t believe you did this to me," I said angrily.
"Well, it’s time you learned. You better get that body out there in circulation, before it’s too late."
"Do you know how traumatic this day was for me?"
"Oh, stop being such a goddamn priss. You think your some kind of special. Spread your legs like the rest of us. You need a man."
"I do not need a man."
"You going to live in this hellhole for the rest of your life?"
"No, I’m not," I said. "I’m going to college. You don’t pay a damn bit of attention to me, you don’t care about what I think." After the day I had had, I wasn’t holding back anything from her. "You have no idea what my grades are. I’m going to get a scholarship, and go to college, and make my own way out of here."
"You? That’s rich. You’re too stupid for that."
"No, I’m not. You just think that way because you’re stupid. I don’t know if the asshole who knocked you up was a closet genius or I’m a genetic hiccup-but I’m smart. And you can’t recognize that because you are as dumb as a box of rocks."
I never talked to my mother this way. This day had really gotten to me. And my little tirade earned me a nice slap right across the face. That didn’t surprise me. She’s not shy about hitting me.
I went a few more rounds with her, then went to do homework. She went to work. At least I had some peace and quiet.
Four more days. I had to do this for four more days. Help.
PART TWO TUESDAY
I had had a nice talk with my Mom Monday night-about Natalie. "Just do your best, that’s all anyone can ask of you," she said. Mom always says things like that. That’s why I love her.
Anyhow, I came to school more determined than ever to see this girl get through the week in one piece.
It did not start out encouraging. I met her at the entrance and we had to undress in front of all those people. It was painful to watch. She was visibly forcing herself to take her clothes off. And when she got fondled and felt up afterwards-it was just, I don’t even know how to describe it. It looked like it was just nightmarish to her.
I wonder if she’d been abused. I’d seen that before. I wasn’t sure, though. She was just completely closed off from her body.
We got to accounting second period, and she barely talked to me. I tried to make her laugh, and didn’t.
When I can’t make someone laugh, there’s a problem. Not to brag, but it’s the truth. I could come to your mother’s funeral and at least get a chortle out of you.
Worried, I skipped third period. Went down to see Mr. Tilling instead.
"Hey, Ed," he greeted me. "Aren’t you supposed to be in class?"
"You can give me a note. This is important."
"All right," he said-I think he was surprised to see me so serious. "What’s on your mind?"
"I think we need to call a time-out. The Program isn’t working, not this time. In fact, it might be making a bad situation worse."
"Ed, I’m surprised. Of all the people I thought might have a problem, you are the last…"
"Oh, no," I cut him off, "not me. I’m talking about Natalie."