“But I don't think they're going around telling tons of people though," she says quickly. "You're not some hoe bag, Jules. They know that. They were laughing more at him than you."
I close my eyes for several moments as the realization hits me that there were other people in the room. Guys that definitely know who I am and who all of my friends are. Guys who probably saw every face I made. Heard every noise I made. Heard me say that I loved him. Guys who have big mouths.
People don't necessarily know that I’m not a hoe bag or some skank. If those guys start running their mouths, kids will start talking about me over casual lunch conversation with their friends, and the story will take on a life of its own. I know because I’ve seen it happen to other girls in my school. David may have single-handedly ruined my reputation in the only place I've ever lived. In the only place I've ever known.
Now that I think closely back on that night, I remember the closet. I remember thinking how nice David's professionally decorated bedroom was. He had high cathedral ceilings with a professionally painted mural of the seashore on one wall, expensive dark mahogany wood furniture with brass pulls, and there were these cool, intricately carved double doors to his closet, which now when I think about it were slightly ajar that day.
I didn't think anything about it at the time. I certainly didn't think they were open so that people could watch one of the only moments in my life that I’ll never get to do over.
I lower my head in quiet shock and disbelief as it all really begins to sink in. Karen begins gently rubbing her hand up and down my back and staring at me with caution, like she is waiting for me to erupt or have a nervous breakdown or something.
While the tears are already starting to roll down my face, I still haven't broken out in the "ugly cry" yet, and I am trying my damnedest not to let it get to that point. Not because Karen hasn’t ever seen me break down, she has most definitely seen it once or twice, but I guess I'm trying to convince myself that I'll be all right.
Although I'm not sure that I will be fine at all.
Not ever again.
Juliette
Ireally like David.
What I mean is that I reallylikedDavid.
He moved to our town when we were both starting the fifth grade, so we’ve known each other a long time. We were always friendly, but he never paid me much attention until last year.
It was then that he started looking at me differently: flirting with me in English class, sitting next to me in the lunchroom, holding my hand in the hallways. I guess that’s what hurts most about this. I thought I knew him, but I didn’t see this coming–not by a long shot.
"Shows you what I know,” I say to Karen. I attempt to smile in jest, but it ends up being more of a painful smirk. "I thought him lasting three minutes before it was over was a good thing."
I can see what can only be described as pity slowly clouding my friend’s eyes. She has to be thinking what I already know–that David thinks that I'm a joke. That our "relationship" was all in my head, and that I’m an idiot, and that there is no way those guys, whoever they are, aren't going around telling everybody about what they saw.
The kids in our school are notorious for spreading gossip in record time, so I can pretty much be assured that everyone will know that I am no longer a virgin as well as the color of my frickin' underwear by the end of the week.
I’m finally beginning to process the enormity of everything Karen has just told me, and it's probably the cause of the throbbing pain at the base of my head.
I’m doomed.
I pinch the sides of my neck firmly to alleviate some pressure then slump down defeatedly on the wooden bench behind me, drop my books, and start to sob.
Here it finally comes.
The ugly cry.
Karen immediately sits down next to me and wraps one of her arms around my shoulders. It’s a rare show of affection from my tough as nails bestie, which is why I appreciate it so much.
"It's going to be fine, Jules. It was your first time. You held out for the guy you thought was the one. How many girls in the senior class, hell…in this entire school can say that? Most of them gave it up eons ago. Myself included."
Karen flashes me a warm grin which soothes some of the ache I feel in my heart. Maybe she is at least partially right. Perhaps I can take some solace in the fact that I definitely was one of the last mohicans when it came to losing my virginity. No one I know is in any position to judge me.
Right?
"I thought it was special…I thought he at least respected me…He took me out for pancakes afterwards. Oh my God, I sound ridiculous don't I? He's a jerk…I knew this already…I've seen him with other girls…Why would I sleep with him, Karen?"
"Because he is one of the most popular guys in school and he's always been nice to you. How were you supposed to know that he would pull something this heinous. Who makes a plan to have their friends watch them having sex. I meanwhodoes that?!”
I love and appreciate that Karen is just as angry and appalled as I am. Like always, she has my back.
"Who else was there?" I needed to know.
