corridor.
"Still seeing that leather fag?" Larry shouted.
A gust of breath came from Mallory's lungs as she picked up her pace. A few of the students in the hall slowed and turned to Larry, then to Mallory. Her face began to feel hot. She kept walking, hating Larry a bit more with each step for acting as if he was doing a favor by asking her out every few days; she even hated Deidre for being so crazy about him, and for acting as if there was something wrong with Mallory because she didn't feel the same.
"Know what's gonna happen?" Larry went on, louder now that he had an audience. "You're gonna catch some disease from that slug, that's what's gonna happen. You won't be able to buy a date then!"
She rounded the corner, trying to get away from the eyes that surrounded her, and away from the sound of Larry Caine's voice. When she felt the tears welling in her eyes, she clenched a fist at her side, angry at herself. There was a side exit up ahead, and she hurriedly dodged a group of girls babbling to one another in Spanish and pushed through the door.
She felt much better on the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the cool air, but the burning sensation in her stomach wouldn't go away.
Mallory and Kevin had been dating for almost a month, and during that time her friends had not given her a moment's peace. "He's five miles of bad road," Deidre had told her, and at first Mallory had been inclined to agree. She hadn't planned to see him more than once or twice.
On their first date, he'd taken her to his garage and played his guitar for her, then handed her a set of headphones and played a demo tape he and his band had made. The music was her first clue that Kevin Donahue was not the guy she'd thought him to be. When he played the guitar, his face tightened, becoming intense and withdrawn, as if he were no longer in the garage with her. As she listened to the tape he paced like an expectant father, awaiting her opinion of the music. He was quietly passionate as he talked about writing songs, and when she told him how much she liked his music, she spotted a glimmer of fierce pride in his dark eyes. He had reason to be proud; the music was dark, angry, and provocative. She'd been very impressed.
His parents and brother had been gone that weekend visiting relatives out of town, so he'd taken her in the house and shared a joint with her, played some records, danced a little. She kept expecting him to make a pass, but he didn't. Until the second record was over.
"Hey," he'd said, taking her hand, "let's fuck."
It was a shock at first, but intriguing. No one had ever come right out and said it like that before. They fooled around a little, but she wouldn't go all the way that night. He'd become so angry, she thought he was going to hit her.
The second time they went out, it was to a movie. She'd expected him to come on to her again and was ready to say yes, but he didn't.
On their third date, he'd taken her up to Mulholland, spread a blanket over a patch of weeds well off the road, and taken off his pants, all without saying a word. When she asked him to be careful because it was her first time, he'd acted as if he hadn't heard her.
It hurt, but it felt pretty damned good, too, especially the way he used his mouth on her. He softly growled obscenities in her ear while he moved inside her.
"You could do so much better," Deidre told her almost every day.
Mallory felt differently. There were guys who dressed better—although Mallory enjoyed the smell of Kevin's scuffed leather jackets—guys who were more popular, better-looking, but none she knew who were as… unpredictable as Kevin. They didn't have the edge, the electricity she felt when she was with him.
Okay, she thought, so they don 't have the criminal record Kevin has, either, but that's no big deal.
He'd been in trouble with the police last year. From what little he said about it, she gathered he'd stolen something. At least it wasn't rape or murder. She couldn't
"Still seeing that leather fag?" Larry shouted.
A gust of breath came from Mallory's lungs as she picked up her pace. A few of the students in the hall slowed and turned to Larry, then to Mallory. Her face began to feel hot. She kept walking, hating Larry a bit more with each step for acting as if he was doing a favor by asking her out every few days; she even hated Deidre for being so crazy about him, and for acting as if there was something wrong with Mallory because she didn't feel the same.
"Know what's gonna happen?" Larry went on, louder now that he had an audience. "You're gonna catch some disease from that slug, that's what's gonna happen. You won't be able to buy a date then!"
She rounded the corner, trying to get away from the eyes that surrounded her, and away from the sound of Larry Caine's voice. When she felt the tears welling in her eyes, she clenched a fist at her side, angry at herself. There was a side exit up ahead, and she hurriedly dodged a group of girls babbling to one another in Spanish and pushed through the door.
She felt much better on the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the cool air, but the burning sensation in her stomach wouldn't go away.
Mallory and Kevin had been dating for almost a month, and during that time her friends had not given her a moment's peace. "He's five miles of bad road," Deidre had told her, and at first Mallory had been inclined to agree. She hadn't planned to see him more than once or twice.
On their first date, he'd taken her to his garage and played his guitar for her, then handed her a set of headphones and played a demo tape he and his band had made. The music was her first clue that Kevin Donahue was not the guy she'd thought him to be. When he played the guitar, his face tightened, becoming intense and withdrawn, as if he were no longer in the garage with her. As she listened to the tape he paced like an expectant father, awaiting her opinion of the music. He was quietly passionate as he talked about writing songs, and when she told him how much she liked his music, she spotted a glimmer of fierce pride in his dark eyes. He had reason to be proud; the music was dark, angry, and provocative. She'd been very impressed.
His parents and brother had been gone that weekend visiting relatives out of town, so he'd taken her in the house and shared a joint with her, played some records, danced a little. She kept expecting him to make a pass, but he didn't. Until the second record was over.
"Hey," he'd said, taking her hand, "let's fuck."
It was a shock at first, but intriguing. No one had ever come right out and said it like that before. They fooled around a little, but she wouldn't go all the way that night. He'd become so angry, she thought he was going to hit her.
The second time they went out, it was to a movie. She'd expected him to come on to her again and was ready to say yes, but he didn't.
On their third date, he'd taken her up to Mulholland, spread a blanket over a patch of weeds well off the road, and taken off his pants, all without saying a word. When she asked him to be careful because it was her first time, he'd acted as if he hadn't heard her.
It hurt, but it felt pretty damned good, too, especially the way he used his mouth on her. He softly growled obscenities in her ear while he moved inside her.
"You could do so much better," Deidre told her almost every day.
Mallory felt differently. There were guys who dressed better—although Mallory enjoyed the smell of Kevin's scuffed leather jackets—guys who were more popular, better-looking, but none she knew who were as… unpredictable as Kevin. They didn't have the edge, the electricity she felt when she was with him.
Okay, she thought, so they don 't have the criminal record Kevin has, either, but that's no big deal.
He'd been in trouble with the police last year. From what little he said about it, she gathered he'd stolen something. At least it wasn't rape or murder. She couldn't
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