Punk Love, page 9
Rock n’ roll till death. That’s me, baby.
Paulina took a seat beside me, rubbing my back in circles.
“Lara?”
“Yeah?”
“You have a problem.”
“Can you be more specific?” I sighed. “Because I kind of have a bunch.”
“This Ryan dude you’ve been hanging out with a hot minute ago has been telling people you and Adam Greene are sleeping together. He says you’ve been cheating on your boyfriend with him. And, well, that you’re a slut.”
It didn’t hit me like a wrecking ball. No. It trickled into me like poison. Slowly. I digested it in small bites. Every piece of information. Blinking rapidly against the rising spring sun.
This was a small school, in a small town. Things like this had consequences. This could end me. Socially. Forever.
“Why would anyone believe him?” I huffed, low-balling my panic.
“Because,” Paulina bit her lower lip in worry, “Adam Greene dropped out and disappeared from the face of the Earth.”
Later, I would be able to put together the entire picture of what happened that month.
Later—many months later—my mother would casually mention that Adam Greene transferred to another school because a bunch of his basketball teammates found out he was gay and bullied him to a point of deep, suicidal depression, and he couldn’t take it anymore and bailed.
Later, I would find out that Ryan himself was going through a mental breakdown from hell. Not only was he kicked out of a band he essentially started, but his baby brother was going through a ton of health problems, and his parents were on the brink of a divorce.
Later, later, later.
In that moment in time, though, all I knew was this: things looked really bad for me. Adam Greene switched schools mysteriously and unexpectedly and couldn’t be found. Ryan was shouting from the rooftops that I was a cheating slut who got him punched in the face when I had vehemently denied cheating on my boyfriend so he wouldn’t hit me. People jumped on the bandwagon. Some because they were bored. Some because they generally didn’t like me. But most just kept their mouths shut and watched as it all unfolded, horrified and fascinated at the same time.
The first day of the shit show consisted of me pretending nothing happened while getting stink eyes from the entire world. The weeks that followed looked much worse.
That first day, I came to visit Alex. I was somber, sure, but not crushed. I recognized that I was going through something traumatic, but at the same time, it was hard to take something so ridiculous seriously. I couldn’t let myself be put down by lies.
Pauly said I should explain the situation, especially to girls who used to hang out with me and were now gulping Ryan’s version of the story thirstily. But I wasn’t going to start explaining myself. They didn’t deserve my peace of mind. I wasn’t going to apologize for something I hadn’t done.
When I told Alex what happened, he picked up the bass guitar Ryan had left in his basement and hurled it against the wall. It shattered noisily, falling in two pieces to the floor.
“I’m going to kill him.” He paced from side to side.
I didn’t actually doubt that. What Ryan did was beyond shitty. But the truth was, I didn’t even hate him for it. It wasn’t hard to look at him at school, when he quickly looked the other way, avoiding eye contact. Not because I wasn’t mad at him, but because I thought to myself, it must be so lonely, so, unbearable to hate yourself so much, that you had to put someone else through what he was trying to put me through.
“Nah, don’t talk to him.” I waved Alex off, playing with the buttons of my corseted black ballerina mini dress. “It’s what he wants. More attention. A reaction out of us. More proof that what he did hurt us. Anything we say will be picked apart, twisted, and misconstrued. The only way to win this is to live well.”
“What he did is bullshit!” Alex roared, picking up another random item in his basement and throwing it against the wall. “Total fucking bullshit. He is a pathetic liar! How are you not fuming?”
I could tell Alex was frustrated with how blasé I was about the whole thing, but I couldn’t go down the same slippery slope of rage. After all, I was the one who got all the nasty looks in the cafeteria. The invasive questions. The giggles behind my back. It was my duty to put my mental health above all else, and not to get dragged into an emotional spiral.
“I don’t care,” I said primly. “I don’t want you to talk to him. Promise me.”
Alex looked up, frowning at me. “No.”
“Alex,” I warned.
“This has nothing to do with you. I’m a part of this, too.” He stubbed a finger to his chest, baring his teeth. “It’s not just you he disrespected. It’s me, too. Implying I would lay a finger on you if you cheated on me? That’s fucking libel.”
I darted up from the couch. This was going to be our first fight, our first real fight, and I hated that it was happening because of something that was beyond our control.
“Alex!” I pushed his chest. “Stop being such a selfish bastard. I’m the one who is going through something, not you, and you should respect my way of handling it. Do.” I pushed him toward the wall, and he let me.
“Not.”
Push.
“Contact.”
Push.
“Him!”
His back bumped into the wall behind him.
That sobered him up. His face went from outrageously cross to blank in a nanosecond. I could practically see him mentally checking out of the situation. Alex was an only child. One that had become self-sufficient at a very young age. The word no wasn’t in his vocabulary. And besides, he was used to getting a lot of respect from everyone he met, Ryan included.
He looked away, sucking in a breath.
“Promise me,” I asked softly, pressing my palm to his cheek. I had to extend my arm all the way up to reach him. He closed his eyes, shaking his head.
“Please,” I said, kissing the tip of his chin. The small dimple in it. “For me.”
He groaned. “We’ll revisit this subject in a few weeks, when you get your head out of your ass.”
“That might never happen,” I pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. “Can’t blame you. I’d live in that ass, too, if given the chance.”
Things did get worse at school.
Ryan was finally getting some positive attention, even if it was through spreading lies about me and joining a heavy metal band. I didn’t tell my parents what was going on and was lucky enough my baby brother was in middle school and therefore didn’t attend the same school yet.
By minimizing what was happening to me, I was not letting this thing have room in my life. In a lot of ways, I was glad I went through what I did. Because it taught me extremely valuable lessons about friendship, human nature, and how to deal with a crisis.
I chose not to let this thing mess with my life, and for the most part, it didn’t. I hung out with Pauly, who remained an amazing friend, and a few other friends who didn’t give half a fuck about what the mob thought. And I had Alex, Jadie, Sarah, and all the other punk rock chicks who weren’t Ainsley.
Besides, it wasn’t all bad. In putting me through this bullshit, Ryan had chosen to oust himself from the punk scene. He knew that door was shut to him. The loss must’ve been tangible, since he was the one who introduced me to them in the first place.
Still. There were a lot of shitty days at school.
The shittiest day came just before everything stopped.
I walked into school one morning to find the gymnasium had been graffitied.
WHY ARE YOU A SLUT, L?
Everyone knew who L was.
L was Lara, and Lara was me.
And that was a pretty good question. Why was I a slut, indeed? A slut who still hadn’t gone farther than second base with her steady boyfriend. Strange were the ways of the universe, I supposed.
The minute I saw it, I straightened my spine, tilted my chin up, and plastered a smile on my face. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, was going to take my happiness away from me.
Actually, that wasn’t true. Some people did have that power over me. Like Alex, and Pauly, and my family. But the thing those people had in common was, I knew they wouldn’t abuse this power. I knew I was absolutely in danger of being ripped apart emotionally. But I also knew I had control over who could do this to me. These strangers, these people I didn’t know who chose to believe the worst about me?—they weren’t the people worthy of my tears.
During morning assembly, Pauly sat to my right, holding my hand, while the principal yelled his lungs out trying to figure out who wrote the graffiti.
To my surprise, a hipster dude named Brent decided to sit beside me. He was a senior, pretty hot, and infinitely cool. I was pretty sure he was hooking up with a girl from the volleyball team who moonlighted as a model, so I was inclined to believe he wasn’t sitting next to me in hopes he could get some from the new, token school slut.
“Hey.” He bumped his shoulder against mine.
I side-eyed him, offering a hesitant smile. True, I didn’t think he was coming on to me and he didn’t look like a dick, but I didn’t really know him.
“I just want you to know I think you’re pretty damn cool. Like, the way you’re handling all this bullshit? Kinda gold.”
“Thanks.” My muscles eased against the bleachers.
“I like that you don’t let the clones bring you down.”
I wasn’t going to thank him every time he said something nice, so I just nodded, silently offering him some gum. He took one, popping it into his mouth. I sat back, elbows on the bleachers behind him, the epitome of confidence, and grinned as we all looked down at Principal Prems.
“I’m Brent.”
“I’m Lara, and I have a boyfriend,” I said primly. “One that, according to the rumors, will beat me up if I cheat on him.”
He laughed. A low, gravelly chuckle.
“We don’t want that, Lara With a Boyfriend,” he said. “So I suppose we’ll just have to be friends.”
I told Alex about the graffiti that day. We were talking on the phone, each of us tucked in their respective bed. The last few weeks—months, even—were so busy with school and punk rock stuff and mustering the emotional strength to be happy, I didn’t have time to think about having sex with him.
At some point, I heard background noises.
Noises of Alex getting into his car.
Slamming the door.
Starting it.
Driving.
“Where are you going at this hour?” I murmured sleepily. It was getting late. One or two in the morning. “Your side piece?”
“Why would I go to my side piece when my girlfriend is such a slut?” he jested. I smiled tiredly. My eyes were fluttering shut.
“Go to sleep, Honeypie. I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I arrived at school the next day to witness the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me to date. I think I will always hold a precious place in my heart for Alex for this. For what he did in the middle of that night, when he knew I had a day full of BS.
The gymnasium’s wall, which had been painted less than a day before to cover the offensive graffiti, had a brand new graffiti.
I LOVE YOU, HONEYPIE :D
P.S. RYAN BASKIN EATS A BAG OF DICKS EVERY MORNING FOR BREAKFAST
Alex loved me.
He. Loved. Me.
Me. Who was a pain in the ass.
Me. Who wasn’t ready to even consider getting into bed with him.
Me. With my bag of high school drama and side of bad reputation.
He even did the emoji he always sent me when we texted— :D meant a really happy face. He used it sarcastically when we texted. For instance:
Alex: Imma pluck Ryan’s eyeballs and make soup with them for dinner. Want some? :D
I was buzzing. Bubbling with excitement, and pride, and happiness. Alex was in love with me. This was everything I’d ever wished for and more. Suddenly, each and every one of my problems shrank to nothing. Everything blurred out of focus and the only thing that mattered was right in front of me. The graffiti.
Morning assembly, however, was a pain in the neck.
“Again?!” Principal Prems bellowed, pacing back and forth on the basketball court, his loafers squeaking against the floor. “What is wrong with you people?”
The answer, naturally, was everything. Everything was wrong with us. We were teenagers, for crying out loud.
Brent sat next to me during that assembly, too.
“Your boyfriend’s really into you, huh?” He seemed amused.
I puffed my chest out, grinning. “Yeah. We’re kind of crazy about each other.”
When I got to my first class for the day, English lit, one of my classmates was standing in front of the blackboard. She used the chalk to draw :D, and was debating with a few people whether it was an emoji, or the word ID.
“Lar.” She threw a piece of gum my way as soon as I walked into class. I caught it and shoved the gum into my mouth. “Maybe you could shed some light on the subject—what did your boyfriend, and we all know it’s your boyfriend who did that, mean when he made this sign?”
I smiled. I wasn’t going to out Alex. I didn’t trust anyone anymore.
“I don’t know who did it,” I said, “but I guess whoever it was meant the emoji.”
“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, grinning. “That’s some bold-ass move.”
“Maybe this guy likes his girlfriend.” I hitched a shoulder up.
“Doesn’t sound like a guy who’s been cheated on.”
“No.” I laughed. “I agree.”
The girl smiled and winked. I knew it was the beginning of the end of Ryan’s campaign. But strangely, that didn’t make me feel happy or elated. The truth was, I found my happiness elsewhere long ago.
I was free.
Alex picked me up that day from school.
I think he wanted to see the look on my face after he told me he loved me for the first time. Or rather—graffitied it.
He didn’t wait for me in his car, like he always did. Instead, he was leaning against a lamppost by the gate, looking all casual. Just another Nordic king waiting for his mortal girlfriend.
He was so beautiful to me, and I didn’t think I would ever get over how fully mesmerizing he was. Not just because of his high cheekbones and straight nose and those smart, chocolate eyes. But also because he was mine, truly mine. A steady constant in my chaotic life.
I ran to him, flung myself over him, and kissed him silly, lacing my arms over his shoulders bringing him close to me. I never wanted to let go.
“I love you, too,” I murmured into our kiss, the words pouring out of me in a rush of desperation. “I love you so much.”
He chuckled, prying my arms off him after a few seconds of intense making out. He pushed the flyaways from my face, grinning down at me.
“I really love you,” he admitted softly. “It’s kind of annoying.”
“I know,” I groaned. “I can no longer form one coherent thought without you springing into my mind. You’re like…a mental flasher.”
His eyes were still on me, but a different, vicious smirk spread across his face now.
“Hey, don’t look, but Ryan is behind you. He looks like we just kicked a litter of puppies on our way to kill his family.”
I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him again.
“Let. Him. Look.”
My sweet sixteen was approaching at record speed, the days melting together like gummy bears under the sun.
But, before my birthday there was still summer break to think about.
I dreaded the lengthy vacation, because Pauly was going to Greece with her boyfriend and Alex had made plans with his mysterious cousin from Sweden before we’d met.
Those plans included driving through Europe and chasing their favorite anarcho-punk bands, hopping from one music festival to another. They were going to rent a van and make pit stops in Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, before visiting another cousin of theirs in Belarus. The whole thing was going to take three weeks.
Three weeks of them getting smashed, attending shows, and, presumably, having lots of sex with random girls. Something my fifteen—almost sixteen—year-old brain just couldn’t compute.
“You’re not going.” I flung myself over his bed, shaking my head.
He laughed, collapsing next to me on the plush mattress, gathering me into his arms. I loved how large he was and how small I was. You know how some lovers would take a bullet for their girlfriends? He would take one for me, even if he wouldn’t mean to, simply because he could cover my body three times over with his. He had managed to fill in even more during the months that passed since we’d started going out.
“I am going.” He nuzzled his nose in my neck, kissing a path to my collarbone. I pushed him away.
“If you’re going, I’m just going to assume you are cheating on me, and then we’ll have to break up.”
He perked up, sitting straight in his bed now.
“Okay. That’s a leap. How did you get to that?”
I already hated his mysterious Swedish cousin without even knowing him. In my eyes, he was stealing him from me after Alex graduated high school. I was even contemplating not inviting the bastard to our imaginary wedding. He was definitely not going to be the godfather to our imaginary kid.
“Come on, Alex, I’m not dumb. What do you think you’re going to do when you get there?”
“Drink. Watch shows. See friends. Drink again.” He ticked off each item on the list by counting his fingers. “Buy you lots of presents because I’ll miss your ass,” he added, diving in for another kiss. I pushed him away, again.
“You’re going to have sex with other girls.”
“No, I’m not.” He frowned, looking genuinely baffled.
