hand through his hair, which messed it up slightly, making him look even sexier. “I’ve got some friends locally. One guy works in a bank; another is a tree surgeon. One guy is training to be a doctor, so we don’t see him much as he works crazy hours. We go out to bars, hang out at our apartments, that kind of thing. Saturday night used to be our poker night until the tree surgeon guy, Luke, lost too much money, and his girlfriend made him stop playing.”
“Sounds fun.”
“They’re a good group of guys. I met them in college.”
Alex nodded, though she felt like she didn’t understand what it was like to have good, true friends.
“What about you?” Mark asked. “What’s a typical Saturday night for Alexandra Heron, head cheerleader?”
Alex winced at hearing her full name in connection with her cheerleading persona. She didn’t like to put the two together.
“Saturday night there’s usually a house party somewhere. But I don’t normally go.” Her voice trailed off, and she looked sadly down at the table.
“Why don’t you go?”
“Because it’s not fun for me. Getting wasted, hooking up with guys, that stuff seems, I don’t know, irrelevant. When I go to parties, I just end up feeling ridiculously detached from it all, and sit on the stairs with my only beer of the night. It’s as if they all party like the world will never end, but I know it will, so I can’t have fun with them.”
Alex realized that she’d never before acknowledged that she felt that way, let alone shared it with someone else. She looked up at Mark, expecting him to be staring at her like she was a crazy person, but there was warmth behind his eyes, and also sadness.
“It’s okay to have fun, you know,” he told her gently. “I know that you’ve been through a lot, and it must be strange to see people your age being so carefree. But at some point you need to allow yourself to stop worrying and start living.”
Mark reached across and took Alex’s hand in his own. The gesture initially startled her, but then she felt both relaxed and titillated by his touch.
“You carry so much weight on your shoulders that I wonder how you manage to walk around,” Mark told her.
“I want to be fun, to get wasted and be like my friends.”
“But you could do that. You pretend to be like them when you cheer, when you deliberately flunk your classes. Does being that way make you happy?”
Alex shook her head. It all just made her feel like she was living a lie.
“Do you think if you were yourself, you’d be happier?” Mark asked.
Alex looked down at herself. At her jeans and sweater. She was still inside those clothes, the girl who loved old music, math and played the violin. She was still there. Alex had just neglected her in a bid to fit in at high school.
“When my dad was around, and I was just me, I was the happiest I’ve ever been,” she admitted. She realized that while she had blamed the trailer, the lack of money and her father’s death for all her recent sorrows, she herself had a big part to play in her current unhappiness.
“I want to be me again,” she told Mark, her eyes watering.
“And I’ll help you get that back,” he whispered to her, using his free hand to softly stroke her cheek.
****
“So did Mr. Simmons totally catch you out for cheating?” Claire asked as she wrapped a ribbon around her high ponytail.
The girls’ changing room at Woodsdale High was a heady mix of perfume and hair spray as the cheerleading squad prepared for their Tuesday night practice. At practice you could always tell the juniors and sophomores from the seniors, who were more meticulous about how much effort they had put into their appearance.
The younger members of the squad would wear the standard uniform, often creased, and rarely tied their hair up for practice. They wore the obligatory white Converse sneakers,
“Sounds fun.”
“They’re a good group of guys. I met them in college.”
Alex nodded, though she felt like she didn’t understand what it was like to have good, true friends.
“What about you?” Mark asked. “What’s a typical Saturday night for Alexandra Heron, head cheerleader?”
Alex winced at hearing her full name in connection with her cheerleading persona. She didn’t like to put the two together.
“Saturday night there’s usually a house party somewhere. But I don’t normally go.” Her voice trailed off, and she looked sadly down at the table.
“Why don’t you go?”
“Because it’s not fun for me. Getting wasted, hooking up with guys, that stuff seems, I don’t know, irrelevant. When I go to parties, I just end up feeling ridiculously detached from it all, and sit on the stairs with my only beer of the night. It’s as if they all party like the world will never end, but I know it will, so I can’t have fun with them.”
Alex realized that she’d never before acknowledged that she felt that way, let alone shared it with someone else. She looked up at Mark, expecting him to be staring at her like she was a crazy person, but there was warmth behind his eyes, and also sadness.
“It’s okay to have fun, you know,” he told her gently. “I know that you’ve been through a lot, and it must be strange to see people your age being so carefree. But at some point you need to allow yourself to stop worrying and start living.”
Mark reached across and took Alex’s hand in his own. The gesture initially startled her, but then she felt both relaxed and titillated by his touch.
“You carry so much weight on your shoulders that I wonder how you manage to walk around,” Mark told her.
“I want to be fun, to get wasted and be like my friends.”
“But you could do that. You pretend to be like them when you cheer, when you deliberately flunk your classes. Does being that way make you happy?”
Alex shook her head. It all just made her feel like she was living a lie.
“Do you think if you were yourself, you’d be happier?” Mark asked.
Alex looked down at herself. At her jeans and sweater. She was still inside those clothes, the girl who loved old music, math and played the violin. She was still there. Alex had just neglected her in a bid to fit in at high school.
“When my dad was around, and I was just me, I was the happiest I’ve ever been,” she admitted. She realized that while she had blamed the trailer, the lack of money and her father’s death for all her recent sorrows, she herself had a big part to play in her current unhappiness.
“I want to be me again,” she told Mark, her eyes watering.
“And I’ll help you get that back,” he whispered to her, using his free hand to softly stroke her cheek.
****
“So did Mr. Simmons totally catch you out for cheating?” Claire asked as she wrapped a ribbon around her high ponytail.
The girls’ changing room at Woodsdale High was a heady mix of perfume and hair spray as the cheerleading squad prepared for their Tuesday night practice. At practice you could always tell the juniors and sophomores from the seniors, who were more meticulous about how much effort they had put into their appearance.
The younger members of the squad would wear the standard uniform, often creased, and rarely tied their hair up for practice. They wore the obligatory white Converse sneakers,
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