her. Her head still muggy with thoughts of the night before, of Sean Lurie, she wasnât ready to tell. And Lise would see her, and would just know .
 Â
Tugging off her tights and jeans, she took a long bath, pushing her hand down on her pelvis until it burned.
She still felt funny down there, like things werenât right.
When you thought about your body, about how much of it you couldnât even see, it was no wonder it could all go wrong. All those tender nerves, sudden pulses. Who knew.
Right now, she couldnât even picture Sean Lurieâs face.
She remembered, though, the oven grit under his fingernails, the grunt from his mouth, the rough shudder, jerking her back and forth beneath him so she thought something had gone wrong. And then the soft sigh, like everything was good at last.
It made her head hurt, and she put it all away in a high corner of her thoughts, where she wouldnât have to look at it for a while.
 Â
After the bath, she sprawled on her bed and opened her history book and read about ancient Egypt.
Mr. Mendel had told them that Cleopatra may have been a virgin when she smuggled herself in a hemp sack to meet Julius Caesar. Giving herself to him was pivotal to her rise to power.
The book explained how Cleopatra first enticed Mark Antony by dropping one of her pearl earrings into a wine goblet. As it dissolved, she swallowed while he watched.
Deenie read the passage three times, trying to imagine it. She wasnât sure why it was sexy, but it was. She could picture the pearly rind on the queenâs lips.
In class, Skye said sheâd read something online about how Cleopatra used diaphragms made of wool and honey, and a paste of salt, mouse droppings, honey, and resin for a morning-after pill, both of which seemed maybe worse than being pregnant.
Deenie wondered how it all came to pass, the virginâturnedâseductressâturnedâsorceress of her own body.
She thought for a second about the snap of the condom Sean Lurie had used and she covered her face with her book, squeezing her eyes tight until she forced it out of her head.
By ten oâclock, sheâd read all forty of the assigned pages, plus ten extra.
At some point, she could hear Eli in his room, his phone and computer making their noises, Eli clearing his throat.
Once, a few weeks ago, sheâd heard a girlâs voice in there and wondered if it was porn on the computer until she could tell it wasnât. She heard the voice say Eliâs name. E-liiii.
Sheâd turned her music as loud as she could, held her hands to her ears, even sang to herself, eyes clamped shut. She hoped he heard her fling off her Ked so hard it hit the wall. She hoped he remembered she was here.
Tonight, though, the house was hushed. She was so glad for it she didnât even feel bad about not calling her mom back. And when her dad knocked good night and said he loved her, she made sure he heard her reply.
âMe too. Thanks, Dad.â
At midnight, she felt her phone throb under her hand.
The picture of Gabby from when she had that magenta streak in her hair.
âHey, girl.â
âHey, girl,â Gabby said, a slur to her voice. âI just fell asleep. I dreamed it was tomorrow and she was back. Lise. She was laughing at us.â
âLaughing at us?â Deenie said. She wondered if Gabby was still sleeping. She sounded funny, like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. âWhy?â
âI donât know. It was a dream,â Gabby said. âWhen I woke up, I thought maybe something happened. Maybe she called you.â
Deenie paused, wondering how Gabby could ever think that. But Gabby hadnât been to the hospital. Hadnât seen Lise, seen her mom. Hadnât heard all that talk about the heart, Liseâs heart. Deenie pictured it now, like a bruised plum in her momâs hand.
âNo,â Deenie said, carefully. âI donât think
 Â
Tugging off her tights and jeans, she took a long bath, pushing her hand down on her pelvis until it burned.
She still felt funny down there, like things werenât right.
When you thought about your body, about how much of it you couldnât even see, it was no wonder it could all go wrong. All those tender nerves, sudden pulses. Who knew.
Right now, she couldnât even picture Sean Lurieâs face.
She remembered, though, the oven grit under his fingernails, the grunt from his mouth, the rough shudder, jerking her back and forth beneath him so she thought something had gone wrong. And then the soft sigh, like everything was good at last.
It made her head hurt, and she put it all away in a high corner of her thoughts, where she wouldnât have to look at it for a while.
 Â
After the bath, she sprawled on her bed and opened her history book and read about ancient Egypt.
Mr. Mendel had told them that Cleopatra may have been a virgin when she smuggled herself in a hemp sack to meet Julius Caesar. Giving herself to him was pivotal to her rise to power.
The book explained how Cleopatra first enticed Mark Antony by dropping one of her pearl earrings into a wine goblet. As it dissolved, she swallowed while he watched.
Deenie read the passage three times, trying to imagine it. She wasnât sure why it was sexy, but it was. She could picture the pearly rind on the queenâs lips.
In class, Skye said sheâd read something online about how Cleopatra used diaphragms made of wool and honey, and a paste of salt, mouse droppings, honey, and resin for a morning-after pill, both of which seemed maybe worse than being pregnant.
Deenie wondered how it all came to pass, the virginâturnedâseductressâturnedâsorceress of her own body.
She thought for a second about the snap of the condom Sean Lurie had used and she covered her face with her book, squeezing her eyes tight until she forced it out of her head.
By ten oâclock, sheâd read all forty of the assigned pages, plus ten extra.
At some point, she could hear Eli in his room, his phone and computer making their noises, Eli clearing his throat.
Once, a few weeks ago, sheâd heard a girlâs voice in there and wondered if it was porn on the computer until she could tell it wasnât. She heard the voice say Eliâs name. E-liiii.
Sheâd turned her music as loud as she could, held her hands to her ears, even sang to herself, eyes clamped shut. She hoped he heard her fling off her Ked so hard it hit the wall. She hoped he remembered she was here.
Tonight, though, the house was hushed. She was so glad for it she didnât even feel bad about not calling her mom back. And when her dad knocked good night and said he loved her, she made sure he heard her reply.
âMe too. Thanks, Dad.â
At midnight, she felt her phone throb under her hand.
The picture of Gabby from when she had that magenta streak in her hair.
âHey, girl.â
âHey, girl,â Gabby said, a slur to her voice. âI just fell asleep. I dreamed it was tomorrow and she was back. Lise. She was laughing at us.â
âLaughing at us?â Deenie said. She wondered if Gabby was still sleeping. She sounded funny, like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. âWhy?â
âI donât know. It was a dream,â Gabby said. âWhen I woke up, I thought maybe something happened. Maybe she called you.â
Deenie paused, wondering how Gabby could ever think that. But Gabby hadnât been to the hospital. Hadnât seen Lise, seen her mom. Hadnât heard all that talk about the heart, Liseâs heart. Deenie pictured it now, like a bruised plum in her momâs hand.
âNo,â Deenie said, carefully. âI donât think
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