Page 3 of Secrets That Bind Us
“Can’t smell as bad as the hot garbage in the city.” Zoey murmurs. She’s still mad I left to live in New York City, and instead of coming back, settled in Connecticut. But there were reasons for that. Things she doesn’t know. “But anyway, are y’all ready?” She asks, lifting her aviators and setting them atop her faded blue hair.
We all turn to face the farmhouse in the tiny town I swore I left behind thirteen years ago. Faded navy shutters, peeling white paint, vines crawling up the wrap-around porch. And again, those eroding pillars holding up the matching wrap-around terrace. The loose black shingles flap in the hot breeze, and I catch the distinct stench of…death. Whether it’s cattle or the remnants of my past, I’m not sure.
I sigh, and Zoey takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Together, we march forward, and as I open the door and we step through the threshold of the creaking door, it’s like being shifted back into the past.
One I swore I’d repressed entirely.
Chapter Two
Verity
Age: Fifteen
“Mama, Mama,please. I don’t want to go to school today.” I cry– my uterus crying right along with me. It’s the first day of high school and also the day of my very first period.
“Verity,” My mothertsks. “It’s the first day. You’ll be alright– it’s just a little blood.”
It is. Except ithurts. Why didn't anyone warn me that cramps feel like getting stabbed from the inside out? And why am I getting cramps in my anus? And why are my boobs so tender? I’ve heard of bloating but I look pregnant. I groan out loud again. Misery. I don’t even like apples. Why did Eve do this to us?
“Plus, didn’t Dean and Micah come back from camp just a few days ago? Aren’t you excited to see them?”
I would be, except they’ve both been weird and haven’t written back from their stay at camp all summer.
Zoey Campbell, Evan Torres, Evelyn Sinclair, Dean Carson and Micah Henderson were my best friends. Except I have a little more history with Dean, because in second grade– when we were eight– he beat Micah in a race on the playground at recess, and I was his girlfriend forthree whole weeks. We held hands, he pushed me on the swings and let me win every race we had… until he moved away to live with his mom and new stepdad.
Then, he came back in seventh grade to live with his daddy, Sheriff Carson, only to leave again– and come back in the middle of eighth grade. But when he came back that last time, he was different. He didn’t laugh the same, and he was cruel. He made jokes about me being flat-chested. He sat behind me in class, pulling my hair, spitting spit wads into it, and stealing mypencil case so I didn’t have anything to write notes with. And then he started hanging out withthem– the cool kids. The ones getting caught doing stupid things on school property and around town.And slowly but surely he left our squad behind.
It was like he wanted to get caught. But no matter what he did, Sheriff Carson always got Dean out of trouble.
I kept to myself– unless Zoey dragged me out of my reclusive moments. She called themdepressive episodes,and maybe she was right. But really, I just wanted to read one more chapter. Mama says there’s nothing wrong with reading. Says it’s okay to be quiet. But Mama is a reader, too. She wasn’t always.
Micah stayed sweet to me.
Until this summer.
I had flourished– no longer all limbs and… flat chest. It was like my body finally caught up to everyone else, and even then, it was still so awkward to have… boobs. Zoey keeps telling me I’ll get used to them, but she’s had hers for a while now. They’re the size of watermelons. They don’t weigh as much as the blue-ribbon prized ones at the county fair (we found this out two days ago when we got bored at her house), but almost. Evelyn’s boobs also came in this summer but hers are a handful and they fit her petite frame. I’m a little jealous of that. Her clothes fit her better now. Still– boobs are difficult to maneuver. And now this period thing? I don’t want it.
I hid them as much as I could, but it felt like they grew overnight. So now everything fits weird, and people stare a lot more than they used to– and I have a feeling it ain’t because Mama's sporting a new black eye or busted lip.
For the Fourth of July carnival, Mama told me to wear the new blue sundress she got me for church, and I obliged her. When Micah saw me, he blushed something crimson. I couldn’t lie to say knowing I made him blush didn’t make me blush too.
Micah and I went on the Ferris wheel together, up to the top, and just before we went down again, Micah asked if he could kiss me. I nodded. On the Fourth of July, Micah Henderson closed his dark brown eyes, wet his lips, leaned in, and kissed me. It wasn’t like in the movies where it’s all hot and heavy and there’s sparks everywhere– except, there were, because of, well…actualsparklers. But I didn’t really feel thatthingZoey says she feels when Evan kisses her.
I think we did it wrong.
When we pulled apart, he smiled, and I smiled back. Then we sat back to enjoy the rest of the ride. My gaze collided with cobalt-blue onesacross the way– eyes that always made me feel a little funny and squirmy on the inside and made my heart feel like it was thumping sideways.
Dean Carson. Sitting with Tiffany Myers. Tall, blonde, gorgeous Tiffany Myers. My tormentor. I don't know where we went wrong. We were friends for a long time. Then suddenly, in seventh grade, she became a cheerleader and so…uglyon the inside. It was little jabs at first–my hair, my clothes. Then it was full-on meanness. Then it wasn't just her. It was her entire clique.
Mama says, “Without suffering, there’d be no compassion.” But she was also gorgeous when she was my age and had nothing but friends– too many to count.
I got Zoey, Evelyn, Evan. And Micah, too, I guess.And Evan was more like a ‘Buy Zoey get Evan too’kind of deal.
I could feel the hatred in Dean's glare for me twenty feet away and I don’t know why it filled me with shame that he caught me having my first kiss. I had to look away from him, diverting my attention to the scenery. Even when the fireworks popped off and Micah and I turned to look, I could still feel the heat of that gaze boring holes into the side of my head.
They left for six weeks of football camp the next day– just like every summer since we were in second grade– and Micah promised he’d write to me… but he didn’t.
