V is for Virgin, Page 2

  Olivia came up for air when she heard me gasp and gave her best impression of an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Val,” she trilled. “You know it’s nothing personal, right? You guys are over, and a catch like Zach was bound to get snatched up fast. I’m a little surprised that he chose me.”

  By now all the kids in the cafeteria had crammed up behind us, all trying to get the best view. This was bigger than a “Gossip Girl” season finale. But you know what? I didn’t care anymore. Being strong in front of your peers was overrated.

  “Of course he chose you, Olivia,” I said sweetly. “You’re the biggest skank in Orange County, and all Zach cares about is getting laid. You’re a match made in heaven.”

  Shocked gasps swept the cafeteria.

  I have to admit, being the center of confrontation gave me quite the adrenaline rush. This sweet little innocent virgin rather enjoyed sticking up for herself.

  I looked around at the crowd and then climbed up on the lunch table just to make sure that even the kids in the back had a good enough view. “Let’s get something straight right now, people!” I shouted. “Zach did not dump me because I’m bad in bed! He dumped me because he’ll never know one way or the other. I wouldn’t sleep with him so he just ended it.”

  The murmurs started to spread in hushed tones, so I raised my voice to talk over the noise. “That’s right! I’m a VIRGIN!” All was quiet again. “I’ve never had sex! And you know what? I’m proud of it!” The anger in my voice disappeared, and my hand drifted back to my necklace. “Make fun all you want. It doesn’t matter. I’m waiting until I’m married, and no one is going to make me feel bad about it.”

  I looked down at Zach, who had gone pale sometime during my speech, and my resolve solidified—changing me as a person right then and there. I may have been innocent little non-confrontational Valerie this morning, but I was never going to be scared to stand up for myself ever again.

  I was feeling quite serene considering how big an idiot I’d just made of myself in front of the entire school. I stepped down from the spotlight and smiled again at Olivia. “He’s all yours hon. I hope you enjoy putting out.”

  The only thing left for me to do was make a dramatic exit with my head held high, so that’s what I did. Nobody said a word on my way out.

  The realization of what I’d done didn’t hit until the cafeteria door slammed shut behind me, but then it came crashing down on me like a load of bricks. The panic I’d been fighting off all morning finally overtook me. I shook so hard that I couldn’t feel any difference when Cara began shaking me with excitement.

  “I have never been so proud to call you my best friend!” she squealed. “That was insane! You called Olivia a skank in front of everyone! V, you are so totally my hero forever!”

  I ignored my ridiculous best friend and continued to freak out. “I can’t believe I just did that! I just committed social suicide!”

  “Stop being so dramatic, you know that’s my job.”

  “Cara, I just announced my virginity to the entire school!”

  Cara frowned for a moment but then shrugged it off. “At least now you’ll never have to have The Talk again.”

  “Yeah, because no one is ever going to go out with me again. I’m going to be branded a freak for the rest of my high school career. I’m going to have to go to college in Alaska.”

  “Well, you do love to ski.”

  “Would you stop being so optimistic and just let me have my meltdown?”

  “Fine,” Cara huffed. “I suppose you’ve earned it. That little episode is going to go down in Huntington High history.”

  I groaned, suddenly feeling nauseated. “C, lets just get out of here. Let’s skip seventh and eighth, and go see a movie or something.”

  “And ruin your perfect attendance record, jeopardizing your Possible Valedictorian status? No can do, Val, you’ve got to tough it out. Plus, you can’t miss counsel meeting today. We’re divvying up Fall Festival assignments and I am not going to be stuck on the bake sale committee.”

  I sighed my inevitable defeat and slumped down against a row of lockers. “Getting dumped royally sucks.”

  Cara joined me on the floor and threw her arm around my shoulder. “At least the worst is behind you now.”

  I opened my mouth to argue just as a group of girls burst through the cafeteria doors. They slowed down as they passed us, unable to keep from staring. One of them let a giggle escape and another whispered—not quietly enough. “Wow, she looks destroyed.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed bitterly to Cara. “Its all behind me.”

  “SCRAM, stupid freshmen!” Cara snapped at the girls who’d stopped at the sound of my voice. She came off like a vicious pit bull, making the underclassmen scatter like guppies.

  “All right.” Cara surrendered. “It’s going to be bad for a few days. But after the performance you just gave in there, it is imperative that you keep up a brave front at school. Freak out all you want at home, but we’re talking about your dignity here—your reputation, your life as you know it. Be strong, V.”

  “Right.” I blew the unruly bangs out of my eyes. “Be strong.”

  That’s what I did the rest of the day.

  I don’t know what I would have done if Cara wasn’t at my side that day, because if I thought the staring, whispering and laughter was bad before lunch, I was sorely mistaken. I was crucified. I’d officially topped Olivia Lewis’s black list, not to mention Zach’s, and, between the two of them, people were downright scared to do anything but ridicule me.

  I’d made myself the world’s easiest target. I would never again be just plain old Valerie. I was now and forever dubbed Virgin Val—the V hanging from my neck my own personal scarlet letter. But I wouldn’t take it off. Somewhere out there was a woman who’d loved me enough to do the right thing and give me up even though it broke her heart. I owed it to her to do the right thing too. I’d made a promise to myself, and to her, and I was going to keep it no matter what.

  I was so not in the mood to be discussing the specifics of the Huntington High Fall Festival. My life had just been shattered. What did it matter whether we were going to splurge for the Porta-Potties with the sinks in them or not?

  “Valerie…? Val…?”

  I realized that Eric Kwan, my good friend and the president to my vice presidency, was talking to me. “Huh?”

  “Any preferences?” he asked.

  “Who even cares? Porta-Potties are ten kinds of dirty no matter what style you get.”

  “Um, Val?”

  I felt bad for snapping when I realized how nervous Eric looked—along with the rest of the counsel. “I’m sorry, Eric. Really, I’m fine with whatever.”

  “Well, actually, Val, we decided on the toilets twenty minutes ago. We’re talking about committee assignments now. Which one do you want to chair up?”

  Wow. Was I that out of it? The meeting was almost over. How did that happen? “It doesn’t matter.”

  I sighed and then screamed “OW!” when I was so rudely elbowed in the side.

  “Music!” Cara hissed in my ear.

  “Music,” I repeated.

  “No way!” Olivia argued, her voice sounding more shrill than normal as she screeched her protest. She was glaring daggers at me. “I already called music committee!”

  I’m sure Cara was about ready to start a catfight, but I was beyond having the energy to care.

  Cara threw a possessive arm over my shoulder. “Um, hello? Vice President?”

  Being an officer gave me the right to have first pick but Olivia continued to argue anyway. “But she doesn’t even like music!”

  That wasn’t exactly true. I liked music well enough. I just didn’t obsess over it like some people I know—Cara.

  I couldn’t have cared less about finding the band to play at the festival, but I’m a good best friend. “I want music,” I told Eric again, standing my ground.

  “You got it,” Eric replied. I couldn’t be sure, but I th
ought there was a hint of a smile on his face. He’d asked Olivia out last year and she’d totally snubbed him. “Well, Olivia, I guess that leaves, kiddie-crafts, the bake sale or clean-up.”

  Oh yeah, he was definitely enjoying himself. At least I still had one ally other than Cara.

  “You are not going to regret this,” Cara whispered as the rest of the assignments were divvied up. “I have the most brilliant idea!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Okay then,” Eric said, bringing my attention back to the meeting. “I think that about does it. See you all Thursday, and remember, we only have a month until the festival, so get it done.”

  Cara began tugging on my arm as I gathered up my things. “Okay,” she said. “So here’s my idea, are you ready for this?”

  When Cara was excited about something, there was no shutting her up. But I just wasn’t in the mood to feel her excitement, so I was relieved when Eric stepped between the two of us. “How are you holding up?”

  I didn’t bother to answer his question. My mood was quite obvious. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Eric.”

  “Hey, no worries.” Eric broke out into a wide smile. “The biggest skank in Orange County?”

  “I’m totally starting a Valerie fan club,” Cara interrupted. “You want to join?”

  “Count me in.” Eric laughed and then he picked up his bag. “Oh, hey, Val? I know you signed up to run a booth at the festival, but if you’re not feeling up to it now, I’ll understand.”

  “Oh, no, it’s fine. It’ll give me something to take my mind of things, you know?”

  “All right, well, let me know if you need anything.”

  Eric’s smile was starting to turn into a pity-smile so I nodded and then got out of there fast.

  Cara, being the devoted friend that she was, decided to distract me the second we walked out the door. “Okay, so I was thinking, Kyle Hamilton is Huntington High alumni, right? So I’d bet we could get—”

  “Okay, I’m going to stop you right there, Cara.”

  Kyle Hamilton was the lead singer of a band called Tralse—a band that had been Cara’s greatest obsession for the last three years. She was a junkie for all music, but Tralse topped the list by a landslide because she was convinced that one day she was going to have the lead guitarist’s babies.

  “First of all,” I said. “You have to have graduated to be an alumnus. Kyle Hamilton dropped out his senior year.”

  “Because his band got a record deal!”

  “And, second of all, you will never get Tralse to play the Fall Festival.”

  “Oh, but I will. I have a plan.”

  “Oh, a plan. By all means, enlighten me Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

  “They’re playing the Roxy tonight. Jase is gonna get us backstage.”

  I groaned inwardly. This was not the first time Cara would drag me off on some backstage adventure in the L.A. local music scene. Her older brother Jase is an event coordinator for a few of the bigger clubs in Los Angeles. Since Cara and I turned 18 he’d been getting us in places we technically shouldn’t be getting in to. It’s not my favorite scene, but it’s in Cara’s blood.

  It was, however, the first time we were going to meet Tralse, which I found a smidge exciting. I remembered Kyle Hamilton a little. He was a senior when Cara and I were freshmen. Gorgeous was not the right word for him. It’s an accurate word for sure—Kyle is beyond hot—but he was more than that. He was charismatic. He had a way of forcing your eyes to follow him down the hall.

  I wasn’t the least bit surprised when his band made it to the big leagues. Not that I would ever admit that to Cara in a million years. She doesn’t need that kind of encouragement. When I say Cara was obsessed, I mean she was stalk-their-apartment-and-steal-their-junk-mail obsessed.

  “Okay, so you’re going to meet Tralse,” I said. “Assuming you can do that without passing out, then what?”

  Cara shrugged. “I have my methods of persuasion.”

  “You’re going to unbutton your top and offer to have Shane’s babies?”

  “Shut-up! Of course not!” she said with a big dopey grin. “Though, if he were to suggest making out…”

  I laughed despite my grumpy mood. “You are such a groupie.”

  “So you’ll come?”

  “It’s never going to work.”

  “But you’ll come?”

  “If I must.”

  “You must. You need a girls’ night out anyway.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I needed to blow off some steam. Maybe a little live music would do me good. Maybe meeting Kyle would be fun. “Fine. But I call dibs on Sassy.”

  Sassy. Otherwise known as a Gucci miniskirt that Cara and I found in one of our random thrift shop adventures. Normally both Cara and I stick with vintage looks, but when we came across Sassy we just had to have it.

  Honestly, who donates a designer skirt to a second hand clothes shop? Cara and I like to believe it was some overprotective dad because the skirt really does make you look that good.

  Cara and I are both a size six even though I’m nearly 5’11 and she’s closer to 5’5”. The difference is in the curves. Cara has them and I don’t. Cara’s like this exotic Egyptian princess looking girl with shiny rich brunette hair and an olive complexion that is to die for.

  I, on the other hand, am more of what you’d call the All American Girl Next Door. I have long dishwater-blond hair, which of course I have to add highlights to just to make it look halfway decent, and the most generic brown eyes ever. Add the fact that my boobs are a little on the small side and I don’t have a whole lot going for me.

  What I do have is legs. Long ones. Thanks to all the volleyball I play, they stay pretty toned. That makes Sassy my best friend when I need a self-esteem boost.

  It worked. I felt a little better about myself as I saw the heads turn when I walked into the club that night. I’d coupled Sassy with my Victoria’s Secret Wonder Bra—which works wonders, by the way—and a pair of lace up knee high leather boots. I don’t usually go all-out like that, but getting dumped and becoming a social pariah had taken its toll on me. I was determined to get my money’s worth out of this girl’s night.

  Just as Cara promised, we’d been given backstage wristbands and were shown to the VIP section. I headed straight for one of the empty booths, but, before I could sit, Cara grabbed my wrist and yanked me in the direction of a door marked private.

  “It looks like they’re about to start,” I said. “Shouldn’t we wait until after the show?”

  Cara glanced up at the stage and shook her head. “That’s just the opening act.”

  “But won’t Kyle’s band be getting ready right now?”

  “Trust me, they can’t do anything until after these guys are finished.” She pointed to the group of guys on stage fiddling with equipment. “Right now’s the perfect time because they’re all sitting back there totally bored. We need to catch them while they’re all geared up for a show, instead of after when they’re exhausted and over it.”

  With that, Cara waved our wristbands to a bouncer and swept me through the backstage entrance.

  Backstage was dimly lit and crowded with all sorts of equipment lying around in what looked like absolute chaos. In the middle of a sea of electrical chords there were a couple of couches. There were three rock star looking guys playing poker around a coffee table, and a fourth sitting off in a corner plucking at the strings of an unplugged electric guitar. There was most likely a fifth band member underneath a wannabe Playboy playmate on the other couch. Hard to say for sure because I couldn’t see one, but I’m sure that girl wouldn’t just be making out with the upholstery.

  Cara took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, tugged at her outfit and then squeaked in excitement, alerting everyone, except the make-out king and queen, to our presence.

  Guitar Boy glanced at us and then went right back to his strings, but the three other guys put down their cards. On
e of them gave a low whistle. “Who ordered the legs?”

  My eyes widened at the way Kyle Hamilton’s eyes roamed up and down my entire body. The smile on his face did something to the pit of my stomach. I knew the skirt looked good, but I still couldn’t believe a guy like him was looking at me like that.

  Our eyes locked and his smile turned cocky when my disbelief registered with him.

  “Hi beautiful.”

  My heart fluttered. Before I could respond Cara squeaked again. “V!” she whispered. “Kyle Hamilton just called you beautiful! Oh, my gosh! Can you believe this? We’re meeting Tralse! Look! Shane’s right there! Oh, my gosh, V, he’s looking at me! He’s looking at me!”

  She was going to hyperventilate. Trying my hardest not to laugh at Cara, I prompted her to take a deep breath through her nose. “Remember what we talked about, C. You’re being one of those girls. You have more dignity than this. Get it under control.”

  That elicited a laugh from the band. “Big fans?” Shane asked.

  I grabbed hold of Cara in case her knees decided to give out. “She’s the big fan,” I said.

  “Just her?” Kyle smirked like he didn’t believe me.

  I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’d been on the defensive so much today that I automatically responded to the challenge in his voice. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

  “Legs with attitude.” Kyle’s tone warmed with approval. “Why don’t you bring those beauties over here. I got a spot all ready for ‘em.”

  He and his buddies all chuckled when he patted his lap. I wasn’t exactly impressed.

  “I think these legs are fine where they are, thank you very much.”

  Kyle wasn’t deterred at all by my rejection. “I wouldn’t have expected legs like those to be quite so shy.”

  “Not shy,” I informed him. “Just holding out for a better offer.”

  His friends howled at the insult while Kyle and I continued to analyze each other. We fell into in a staring match so intense that I was startled when a deep voice from beneath the bleach-blonde said, “Dudes, what’s with all the noise? You’re killing the moment.”