Кристин Ханна – Rirefly Lane / Улица Светлячков. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 7)
“Stop. Please…” Tully tried desperately to get free, but her wriggling only seemed to excite him.
Between her legs, his fingers probed her hard, moving inside her. “Come on, baby, let yourself like it.”
She felt herself starting to cry. “Don’t—”
“Oh, yeah…” He covered her body with his, pressed her into the wet grass.
She was crying so hard now she could taste her own tears, but he didn’t seem to care. His kisses were something else now – slobbering, sucking, biting; it hurt, but not as much as his belt, hitting her stomach when he pulled it off, or his penis, ramming—
She squeezed her eyes shut as pain ripped between her legs, scraped her insides.
Then, suddenly, it was over. He rolled off her, lay beside her, holding her close, kissing her cheek as if what he’d just done to her had been love.
“Hey, you’re crying.” He gently smoothed the hair away from her face. “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted it.”
She didn’t know what to say. Like every girl, she’d imagined losing her virginity, but it had never felt like this in her dreams. She stared at him in disbelief. “Wanted
An irritated frown creased his forehead. “Come on, Tully, let’s dance.”
The way he said it, so quietly, as if he were actually confused by her reaction, only made it worse. She’d done something wrong, obviously, been a prick tease, and this was what happened to girls who played at it.
He stared at her for a minute longer, then stood up and pulled his pants up. “Whatever. I need another drink. Let’s go.”
She rolled onto her side. “Go away.”
She felt him beside her, knew he was staring down at her. “You acted like you wanted it, damn it. You can’t lead a guy on and then just go cold. Grow up, little girl. This is your fault.”
She closed her eyes and ignored him, thankful when he finally left her. For once she was glad to be alone.
She lay there, feeling broken and hurt and, worst of all, stupid. After an hour or so, she heard the party break up, heard the car engines start, and the tires pealing through loose gravel as they drove away.
And still she lay there, unable to make herself move. This was all her fault; he was right about that. She was stupid and young. All she’d wanted was someone to love her.
“Stupid,” she hissed, finally sitting up.
Moving slowly, she got dressed and tried to stand. At the movement, she felt sick to her stomach and immediately puked all over her favorite shoes. When it was over, she bent down for her purse, clutched it to her chest, and made her long, painful way back up to the road.
There were no cars out this late at night, and she was glad for that. She didn’t want to have to explain to anyone why her hair was full of pine needles and her shoes were stained with vomit.
All the way home she relived what had happened – the way Pat had smiled at her when he asked her to the party; the gentle first kiss he’d given her; the way he talked to her as if she mattered; then the other Pat, with his harsh hands and his probing tongue and fingers, with his hard cock and how roughly he’d stuck it up inside her.
The more she replayed it in her mind, the lonelier and more desolate she felt.
If only she had someone she trusted to talk to. Maybe that would ease a little of this pain. But, of course, there was no one.
This was another secret she’d have to keep, like her weirdo mother and unknown father. People would say she had it coming, a junior high girl at a high school party.
As she neared her driveway, she walked a little more slowly. The thought of going home, of feeling alone in a place that should be a refuge for her, with a woman who was supposed to love her, was suddenly unbearable.
The neighbors’ old gray horse trotted up to the fence line and nickered at her.
Tully crossed the street and walked up the hill. At the fence, she yanked up a handful of grass and held it out to him. “Hey there, boy.”
The horse sniffed the handful of grass, snorted wetly, and trotted away.
“She likes carrots.”
Tully looked up sharply and saw her neighbor sitting on the top rail of the fence.
Long minutes passed in silence between them; the only noise was the horse’s quiet nickering.
“It’s late,” the neighbor girl said.
“Yeah.”
“I love it out here at night. The stars are so bright. Sometimes, if you stare up at the sky long enough, you’ll swear tiny white dots are falling all around you, like fireflies. Maybe that’s how this street got its name. You probably think I’m a nerd for even saying that.”
Tully wanted to answer but couldn’t. Deep, deep inside she’d started to shake and it took all her concentration just to stand still.
The girl – Kate, Tully remembered – slipped down from her perch. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt with a Partridge Family[45] decal on the front that was peeling off. As she moved forward, her boots made a sucking noise in the mud. “Hey, you don’t look so good.” A retainer drew the
“I’m fine,” she said, stiffening as Kate drew close.
“Are you okay? Really?”
To Tully’s complete horror, she started to cry.
Kate stood there a moment, staring at her from behind those dork-o-rama glasses. Then, without saying anything, she hugged Tully.
Tully flinched at the contact; it was foreign and unexpected. She started to pull away, but found that she couldn’t move. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her like this, and suddenly she was clinging to this weirdo girl, afraid to let go, afraid that without Kate, she’d float away like the
“I’m sure she’ll get better,” Kate said when Tully’s tears subsided.
Tully drew back, frowning. It took her a second to understand.
The cancer. Kate thought she was worried about her mom.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kate said, taking out her retainer, putting it on the mossy top of a fence post.
Tully stared at her. In the silvery light from a full moon, she saw nothing but compassion in Kate’s magnified green eyes, and she wanted to talk, wanted it with a fierceness that made her feel sick. But she didn’t know how to start.
Kate said, “Come on,” and led her up the hill to the slanted front porch of the farmhouse. There, she sat down, pulling her threadbare T-shirt over her bent knees. “My Aunt Georgia had cancer,” she said. “It was grody. Lost all her hair. But she’s fine now.”
Tully sat down beside her, put her purse on the ground. The smell of vomit was strong. She pulled out a cigarette and lit up to cover the stench. Before she knew it, she’d said, “I went to a party down by the river tonight.”
“A high school party?” Kate sounded impressed.
“Pat Richmond asked me out.”
“The quarterback? Wow. My mom wouldn’t let me stand in the same checkout line as a high school senior. She’s so lame.”
“She’s not lame.”
“She thinks eighteen-year-old boys are dangerous. She calls them penises with hands and feet. Tell me that isn’t lame.”
Tully glanced out over the field and took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t believe she was going to tell this girl what happened tonight, but the truth was a fire inside her. If she didn’t get rid of it, she’d burn up. “He raped me.”
Kate turned to her. Tully felt those green eyes boring into her profile, but she didn’t move, didn’t turn. Her shame was so overwhelming that she couldn’t stand to see it reflected in Kate’s eyes. She waited for Kate to say something, to call her an idiot, but the silence just went on and on. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She looked sideways.
“Are you okay?” Kate asked quietly.
Tully relived it all in those few words. Tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision.
Once again, Kate hugged her. Tully let herself be comforted for the first time since she was little. When she finally drew back, she tried to smile. “I’m drowning you.”
“We should tell someone.”
“No way. They’d say it was my fault. This is our secret, okay?”
“Okay.” Kate frowned as she said it.
Tully wiped her eyes and took another drag on her cigarette. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You looked lonely. Believe me, I know how that feels.”
“You do? But you have a family.”
“They