The Reaping

CHAPTER SEVEN





Thursday came and went in a blur. Before I knew it, I was eating lunch in the cafeteria on Friday and Stephen was coming my way.

“Still on for tonight?”

At first his question puzzled me. Then it startled me. It’s not that I had forgotten about our date per se; time had just crept up on me. I was looking inward and it was marching on.

“Sure,” I said, suddenly worried about Dad’s reaction when I told him.

“Seven o’clock,” he said with a wink as he turned to walk away.

My mind raced for a way to avoid the confrontation with my dad that I knew dropping such a bomb would incite. Then it hit me.

“Stephen,” I called. He turned to look back at me. “Could you pick me up at Leah’s? We’re uh- uh, we’re going to get ready together.”

Lying didn’t come naturally to me. Mostly, I was glad about that. I hated doing it. But it seemed that lately I was encountering more and more occasions where lying was becoming almost necessary. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

Stephen shrugged. “Alright. Where does she live?”

I explained that she lived seven houses up from me and he agreed to pick me up there instead. I felt a little better, having averted a disastrous run-in with dad, but the lie I was going to have to tell him was already giving me indigestion. I pushed my tray aside and started planning out the details.

Later, when the sixth period bell rang, I ran out the door in hopes of catching Leah. Ryan had driven her home again yesterday and I could only assume that this would be the new norm. I knew I had to get to her before they left the lot.

But I was too late. They were already gone. My only other option was to stop by her house on my way home. Hopefully they’d beat me there.

And they did. Leah was still sitting in the car with Ryan when I reached her mailbox. I waved to get her attention and, when she waved back, I made my way up her driveway.

She must’ve said her goodbyes because Leah got out and shut the door. Ryan was backing out just as I reached her.

Leah’s cheeks were flushed with color and her smile was so big I bet her face hurt. She radiated sheer bliss.

“He didn’t have to leave. I just needed to ask you something real quick,” I said.

“It wasn’t you. He had to go. He was actually supposed to go straight home from school, but he wanted to take me home first.” I could see that she was positively thrilled over the fact.

“Good. Hey, I’ve got a favor,” I began. I could tell that, mentally, Leah was still with Ryan in the car, but I figured that was about as much of her attention as I was likely to get. “Can Stephen pick me up here tonight?”

I saw her focus return to the here and now then her eyes widen with excitement. “Yes! We could get ready together,” she said eagerly. Then, with a dramatic gasp, she said, “Why don’t you just spend the night? We can stay up all night talking about the party.”

That sounded like such a normal girl-thing to do, I immediately consented. “But what if we leave at different times?”

“Whoever leaves the party first should find the other before she goes. How about that? Then we could both leave at the same time.”

Sounded simple enough. “Alright.”

I told Leah I’d be back right after dinner then I hurried home to tell dad. He was waiting for me in the garage, as usual. I saw his dirty shoes, this time sticking out from behind the open driver’s side door.

Without preamble, I plunged right in. “Dad, can I spend the night with Leah tonight?”

I thought he would come out of the car with both barrels loaded and ready to go, but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even answer me for the longest time. When he did, it wasn’t what I expected. “Carson, is this about your mother and sister?” His voice was soft and sad. Dejected. I guess he thought I blamed him and wanted to curtail my time with him as much as possible.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of it. I hadn’t given it much thought since I found out. I’d stayed busy and during quiet moments I’d purposely avoided thinking of my myriad troubles. Too much was happening too fast. I couldn’t seem to get my bearings and it felt better to just ignore it all, focus on what few good things I had going for me and not question the rest.

“No, Dad. Honestly, I’ve been trying not to even think about all that. This is just a night at Leah’s. That’s it. No big deal.”

He was quiet again. Finally, I heard him sigh. “Alright, but be home early in the morning.”

Relief washed over me. “Ok. Thanks, Dad.”

I raced into the house to pack a bag before I had to start dinner. I flipped through my meager wardrobe, agonizing over what to wear. I settled on a medium weight cable knit sweater, a pair of low-riding jeans and some Ugg boot knock-offs (I’d convinced Dad that I needed them to keep my feet warm on the walk to school in the winter). I stuffed it all into an overnight bag, along with shorts, a t-shirt and a few toiletries, and headed to the kitchen to start the tacos.

A few minutes after six, I was ringing the bell at Leah’s. She flung open the front door, took my bag in one hand and my hand in the other and dragged me up the stairs to her room. From the instant she shut her door behind us, she didn’t stop chattering until Stephen pulled up at the curb. When she saw his lights, she ran to the window and squealed excitedly.

“He’s here! He’s here!”

“I can see that,” I teased. I knew that my excitement should rival hers, especially since I’d been daydreaming about just such a night forever it seemed, but it just wasn’t there. I could, however, find joy in her joy, which is exactly what I did.

She walked me to the door then reminded me, “So, I’ll find you as soon as we get there, ok?”

“Alright,” I said. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Are you kidding? This is, like, the best night of my life,” she declared. “And it’s only seven o’clock.”

I was still smiling when I walked out the door. Stephen was just getting out of his car. I guess he had gotten tired of waiting for me. He hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

“You look great,” he said, genuine appreciation glowing in his blue, blue eyes.

Leah had forced me to avail myself of all her newly purchased feminine products, which was a real treat for me, since they were all on the “silly” list seven doors down at the Porter house. I’d put a few loose curls in my hair with her flatiron and used some of her lip gloss and mascara. I’d even walked through a sprits of her perfume. I felt like an alien, but in a good way.

“You, too,” I said, my comment as lacking in imagination as was his. He did look nice, though. But then again, he always did.

Once I was seated in the car, Stephen shut the door and rounded the front to the driver’s side. The car smelled overwhelmingly of some sort of cologne. It was probably a nice scent—in moderation—but it seemed that Stephen had doused every inch of his car in the stuff. It was literally breathtaking. I was forced to crack the window or risk passing out.

Just as I was in the beginning stages of a nasty headache, Stephen cut off the main road onto a dirt drive that cut through the woods. It dead-ended at the edge of a grassy clearing. When he parked, I jumped out of the car and took several deep, cleansing breaths. Between the cologne and the football anecdotes, I was ready for fresh air and a change of subject.

I straightened my sweater as I looked around. According to Stephen one of the football players’ parents owned this land. They had erected a series of cabana-like structures in the clearing that formed a semi-circle facing the lake. In the center of the ring of tents was a fire pit surrounded by six long benches made from split trees. A path led from the fire pit down to the dock which was decorated with tiki torches and Chinese lanterns. Just beyond the dock, across the water, I could see a few more torches on what looked to be a small island a couple hundred feet away.

One of the cabanas seemed to be the site of most of the action. The curtains were tied back and I could see that a table had been set up just inside. There were bags of chips and dishes of dip, a cold meat and cheese tray, some crackers, and a punch bowl. To the left of the table, sitting on the ground in a big barrel of ice, was a keg of beer. Music poured from a huge portable stereo under the table and some girls were already dancing just outside the entrance.

I had stopped in front of Stephen’s car to take in the scene, to weigh and measure it against the hundreds of fantasies I’d had about just such an event. I found that it looked, smelled and sounded much like I’d suspected that it would.

The one thing I hadn’t factored in, however, was nerves. I recognized most of the people I could see. They comprised the elite, upper crust of the school. Unfortunately, several of the girls had made their opinion of me very clear at one point or another. And one of the ones who hadn’t was going out of her way to make it tonight.

Standing in the middle of the dancing girls was Brianna Clark. The reason she was standing rather than dancing is because she’d stopped to give me the stink eye as soon as she’d seen that I was with Stephen. She whispered to one of the girls at her side, Ciara Bentley, and then they both started laughing. I hoped against hope that it had nothing to do with a plot to Carrie-fy me.

Stephen approached to my left and I rubbed my damp palms over my jeans. Oblivious to the tension, he took my hand in his and tugged me forward.

“Come on. Let’s go get a drink.”

Beverages were another thing I hadn’t included in my daydreams. Other than once sneaking a drink of wine from the fridge of one of our neighbors in Ohio, I had never even tasted alcohol before.

“Um, what do they have? To drink I mean,” I asked casually.

“Beer, punch,” he said, shrugging. “I’m sure somebody around here’s got some Jack.”

“Oh, ok,” I said noncommittally, all the while I was thinking punch, punch, punch. I had no idea who Jack was, but I got the feeling he had something I should stay away from.

I followed Stephen into the cabana where he was greeted animatedly by all his friends. He attempted a group introduction once, but they were all too busy placing bets on whether or not one of the guys from the wrestling team could do a thirty second tap hit, whatever that is.

I stood quietly by Stephen’s side, taking it all in. My senses were overwhelmed by sight and sound. It felt a lot like being at the circus. While you were watching the elephants, the clowns were juggling and riding bikes, the trapeze artists were doing flips overhead and someone was trying to sell you popcorn and peanuts. Too much!

Stephen fixed me a cup of punch and handed it to me. I took a tentative sip. It had the pronounced tang of citrus, but with a bite of something I couldn’t identify. It tasted good, though, and harmless enough.

I sipped it while we watched all the circus freaks. We made our way around from group to group. At one point, I found myself watching two guys launch their girlfriends down the dock in shopping carts. They reasoned that the strongest man would be able to propel his girlfriend the farthest. I was a little afraid for the girls, convinced the activity was fraught with peril, especially since they were obviously inebriated. But evidently I was the only one, as everyone else merely picked a spot along the path to cheer them on.

It seemed I had just started my drink when Stephen swapped it out for a full cup; turns out I’d sipped my punch right to the empty bottom. I sipped some more as we watched round one and the girls went careening down the dock, weaving this way and that. The second race unfolded in a similar manner. By the time the third race was starting, I had finished my punch again and Stephen was handing me another.

As two more men ran toward the dock, pushing their respective girlfriends, I found myself cheering them on with the rest of the crowd, smiling and giggling, a pleasant warmth infusing my muscles. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Leah behind me with Ryan at her back.

“Leah!” I was inordinately glad to see her and suddenly very happy she was my friend. I felt compelled to hug her. “You’re here.”

Leah laughed, feeling a little stiff inside my embrace. “Yep, we’re here. We’re going to get some snacks. Want to come?”

“Nope, I’m good. Get some punch and come on back down.”

“Uh, we might. This seems…” she trailed off.

“You’ll like it. Trust me,” I said. “And oh my gosh! You wouldn’t believe how good this punch is. You have to get some.”

“Oh. Uh—“

“Seriously. It is so good, Leah.”

“Um, are you alright?” Leah asked. She was eyeing me skeptically, which I found immediately irritating for some reason.

“I’m fine. If you don’t want to have fun, then stay over there, but don’t be ruining my good time.” With that, I turned my attention back to the race.

It was just then that one of the carts veered to the left and both cart and girl went splashing into the cold water. The crowd erupted. Everyone rushed onto the dock to enjoy the wet rescue.

Stephen grabbed my hand and tugged me onto the dock as well. When we’d reached the throng of spectators, Stephen kept walking, pulling me along behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something,” he said, winking down at me.

I let Stephen lead me past all the curious onlookers and makeshift rescue workers to a small boat tied near the end of the pier. He reached down to steady the boat then looked up at me.

“Hop in,” he said, tipping his head toward the boat.

“What?” Somewhere in a small, poorly lit corner of my mind, a tiny little alarm began to sound. Unfortunately, it sounded far, far away and was quickly eclipsed by the pleasant buzzing that was taking place in my head.

“I want to show you something. Get in,” he encouraged.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“It’s a boat and two oars, Carson. How could it not be safe?”

At that moment, I couldn’t think of one good argument, one good reason it might not be safe. So, with his hand steadying me, I stepped down into the boat.

Stephen got in and sat down across from me. He untied the boat, took an oar in each hand and began to row us away from the dock. I couldn’t help but marvel at the smooth way he moved, working the oars efficiently. His cologne had died down and it was a nice, subtle scent that I smelled only when he leaned forward in his rowing. When it seemed he was competent enough to take us wherever we were going, I sat back and closed my eyes, ready to enjoy the trip.

The cool night breeze pinched at my nose and cheeks. The air smelled of smoke from the fire pit and citronella from the torches. With the noise of the party receding into the distance, I could hear a gentle lapping as our boat cut through the water. I felt more relaxed and happy than I could ever remember feeling. Sublime was the word that came to mind. All felt right with the world.

A few short minutes later, I heard something scrape the bottom of the boat. When I opened my eyes, I turned around and saw that we had run aground at the little island I’d seen when we arrived. Stephen hopped out onto dry ground and dragged the boat further onto the small beach area. He walked to my side and held out his hand to help me down. I thought it was likely the most gallant thing I’d ever seen.

I wobbled a bit when I stood, the trees tilting in front of me ever so slightly. When he’d gotten me safely off the boat, Stephen kept hold of my hand and led me through the trees, along a torch-lit path to another cabana that was hidden from the shore. The curtains on this one weren’t tied back. Stephen pushed them aside and nodded for me to precede him inside. I stepped through the opening, the intimate sight causing a prick of trepidation to encroach on my hazy sense of wellbeing.

A low full-size cot dominated the tent. At the head of the bed, there were two small lanterns on the ground, one on either side. They cast their soft yellow light on the puffy blue sleeping bag that lay invitingly open. A tiny radio hung from a hook on one of the structural supports, spilling its smooth melody into the otherwise quiet night.

Stephen walked around me and sat on the edge of the cot, patting the space beside him. Hesitantly, I perched next to him. I tried to look relaxed, but I couldn’t keep the stiffness from my muscles. I felt awkward and distinctly uncomfortable.

Stephen turned his body more toward mine and reached up to brush my hair back from my cheek.

“I really am sorry about the other day,” he whispered. His eyes glistened like black diamonds in the low light, his dilated pupils leaving no evidence of the blue iris. “My only excuse is that you are so beautiful it makes me crazy.”

I sat perfectly still, completely over my head and out of my element. I watched in wary silence as Stephen’s face got closer and closer to mine. When it blurred, I let my eyelids drift shut. Then I felt his lips on mine.

It was a tentative brush at first, which was kind of nice. The hand at my cheek slid into my hair and I felt the other settle on the outside of my leg between my hip and knee. Just before I settled into the pleasure of it, though, Stephen surprised me by deepening the kiss. He leaned into me, exerting enough pressure to push me backward. Before I fell all the way back, however, I managed to put my hands out and brace myself.

I tried to turn my head away, but the hand in my hair was holding me still. I could feel his tongue sweeping my lips, trying to find its way inside my mouth. His chest was bearing down on mine and, somewhere in the back of my fuzzy head, my trepidation upgraded to real concern.

“Stop,” I said when I was finally able to tear my lips away.

“Come on, Carson. I know you want me. You’ve liked me for a long time,” he said, scattering kisses across my cheek to my ear. “And now I’m all yours.”

The hand on my leg shifted from the outside to the inside and began an ascent toward my groin. Silent alarms flashed behind my eyes and I felt the beginnings of true fear penetrate my cloudy consciousness.

“I said stop, Stephen,” I said between gritted teeth.

“You don’t have to pretend, Carson. It’s just you and me. No one will ever have to know,” he said, his hot breath stirring my hair.

“I said stop!” Raising one arm, I shoved at Stephen, my emotional upset burning away the fog from my brain and muscles.

He finally leaned back, an indignant frown marring his handsome face. “You are nothing but a tease. You knew what was going to happen tonight,” he declared venomously.

Like the flip of a switch, my fear morphed into anger. “I most certainly did not. You apologized for the way you acted, which I mistakenly thought was sincere, and I was giving you a chance to prove you aren’t a pig, which you obviously are.”

Stephen sat up suddenly then stood to his feet. He looked down at me for several seconds, his expression inscrutable, and then he turned and walked out of the tent.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, struggling to process the surreal turn of events. My heart was hammering against my ribs and my breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

A scraping sound followed by a hollow thump thump prodded me into action. I raced out of the tent, down the path through the trees. I made it to the shore just in time to see Stephen rowing away from the island.

“Where are you going?” A stupid question, but I was so shocked, it was the only one that came to mind.

“Back to the party.”

“But-but what about me?”

“Find your own way back,” he spat, rowing further and further away.

I stood on the shore, watching Stephen, struck by the nightmarish quality of my predicament. When he was over half way back to the dock, it began to sink in that I was in serious trouble.

Frantically, I began to scramble about wildly, looking for another boat or a raft…something. Anything. But there was nothing. Not in the tent, not in the surrounding woods (those that were well lit anyway), not along the shore. And I didn’t know where else to look.

I thought about walking, but that didn’t seem like a good idea since I didn’t know if the “island” was truly an island or was attached to the mainland somewhere. The cold reality of my situation sank in. I was alone. At night. In the woods. On an island. Surrounded by water. With no phone and no help.

I could see the partiers across the water, dancing around the fire. Though I could barely hear the sounds of their celebration, I thought to try screaming anyway; if it worked it would be worth the effort.

I walked to the edge of the water, took a deep breath and shouted as loud as I could. No one even looked in my direction.

I watched as Stephen rowed, getting closer and closer to the other sid. I hoped that when he showed up without me, someone would do the sensible thing and come get me.

When he reached the dock, Stephen tied off the boat and climbed out. He walked along the wooden pier then up onto the grass. I saw him stop when he reached the group near the fire. I assumed he was speaking, as he was gesturing wildly and pointing in my direction. My hopes rose when I saw all heads turn and look out across the water.

Then, to my utter devastation, they began to laugh. I felt the sting of humiliation burn in my cheeks as tears welled in my eyes. I choked back a sob, my mind racing through my options. As I stared back at my mockers, I realized with a sinking heart that I had only two choices: swim or stay.

Certain I was overlooking a better option, I sat down on the bank to think.

Maybe Leah’s still there and she’ll come get me when she finds out, I thought. So I waited. And I waited.

That hope kept me occupied for what seemed like an eternity. Then, when it finally became clear that Leah wasn’t going to rescue me, I revisited my options. It seemed there was only one truly viable option. I was going to have to swim across the lake.

I walked to the water’s edge and dipped my fingers in to test the temperature. It was freezing. With a growl, I turned back to the shore, silently cursing Stephen, berating myself for not seeing his cruel streak earlier. Then I thought of the laughter I got from my schoolmates, laughter instead of help, and my anger escalated. I paced the shore, back and forth, seething.

Walking back to the water’s edge, I stared into the shimmering black pool, fury simmering in my blood. I looked once more across the water. It appeared that my increased movement had gathered a crowd. They were lining up along the shore, whooping and shouting words I couldn’t hear, waiting to see what I’d do. They pointed and gesticulated, pumping their fists into the air, all the while Stephen stood near the dock, his arrogant posture daring me to make my move.

Spurred by pride and numbed by anger, I dove in without hesitation. The cold water hit my muscles like an electric shock, which only served to further enrage me. Kicking out with my legs, I pushed my sluggish arms ahead until they began to cooperate.

I swam feverishly, indignation burning in my stomach like a lump of hot coal. I was determined that he would not get the best of me. None of them would.

The closer I got, the louder their laughter and chants became.

They shouted, “Loser! Loser! Loser!”

“Look, Fitchco, she’s swimming all the way back over here to get to you,” I heard one guy say.

“Are you that good in bed, Fitchco?”

“I’ve heard of ‘rode hard and put away wet’, but man!”

“Hey Porter, did you need a cold shower?”

“She got too hot for Fitchco,” one girl mocked.

On and on they taunted until my rage was a blinding red haze behind my eyes. It pounded in my head like a ferocious drum. It blazed in my chest like a wildfire. Every nerve in my body felt alive with it.

When I reached shallow water, I put my feet down and walked slowly toward the shore. I felt no chill, no wetness, only white-hot anger. The onlookers laughed and pointed and continued their taunts. Stephen had moved out onto the dock where he was standing with his legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest.

My eyes met his and I stopped where I was, thigh deep in the water. Defiantly, he held my gaze. Then, as I watched, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smug smile.

A low hum sounded in my ears and my right shoulder blade began to burn. Heat spread across my skin, down my arms to my fingertips. They tingled and trembled in response.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the flames of the tiki torches rise, snapping and crackling higher into the clear, velvety sky.

Stephen took three steps forward, bringing him closer to where I stood in the water. He squatted down. “Guess you’ll think twice before you throw milk in someone’s face next time.”

My eyes blazed into Stephen’s, but I made no comment. The water around my legs bubbled and churned as the hum in my ears grew louder and louder. I turned my attention toward the crowd at the shore.

With an eerie whoosh, the fire in the pit exploded, sending sparks out into the clearing. Tiny orange flames rose quickly in the dry grass, skittering along the ground in every direction. Tongues of yellow flame rose from the fire pit, licking at the tree benches that hung overhead. Within seconds, they were ablaze.

Leaves fell, some catching fire in midair and drifting to the ground. Dead limbs popped and snapped in the heat as they began to give way.

Above the hum in my ears, I heard laughter turn to screams as the curtains around the main cabana burst into flames. Partiers scrambled to get away from the fire, some running toward their cars, others running toward the water. I watched as a few stragglers disappeared into the woods, seeking shelter deep in the forest.

I heard Stephen calling my name. Over and over, he called. I ignored him, watching instead the scene on the shore unfold in fiery detail.

And then I saw him.