Later, when I’m in bed, trying hard not to think about Ember’s body and her physical readinessagain, my phone pings with a text from her.
I can’t imagine anyone else but you being my first. I want that memory.
Lifting my chin to the ceiling, I mouth two words.
Thank you.
8
Ember
If the wayI’m feeling right now is any indication, I’m not as confident and self-accepting as I think I am.
I like these pants. Made of stone colored linen, they cinch at my waist. A stretch of the same fabric wraps around my waist and ties into a pretty bow, the remaining fabric hanging down to my upper thigh. My fitted tank top is white, and I chose it for two reasons. One, white looks great against my hair color. Two, it’s my favorite color. The color of innocence, light, and goodness. And virginity.Something I almost lost a couple nights ago.
The wordskeep goinghad been right there, dangling off the tip of my tongue as I trailed it over his bobbing Adam’s apple, but I didn’t say them. I know what I want. I knew it then, too, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the hugeness of the choice that made me put on the brakes? Right now, meeting his family feels as overwhelming as nearly handing out my v-card.
“What do you think?” I ask my mom, walking into her line of sight and blocking the television. Sky sits beside her on the sofa, her head tipped back and her mouth open. She makes soft sleeping sounds with every exhale.
I turn in a circle and stretch my arms out, so I look like a revolving T. I’ve added three beaded bracelets to my right wrist—one black, one gray, and one lemon yellow. I like yellow with white. It’s happy.
“Nose ring?” Mom asks in a quiet voice, setting her knitting project down in the middle of a row and looking up at me. There’s hope in her eyes, and as much as I hate to dash it, I have to.
Poking the tiny fake diamond with my pointer finger, I shake my head. “It’s me. It’s who I am.”
She sighs. I’ve heard that sigh so many times, including last September when I came home with the tattoo Noah thinks is beyond sexy. “Fine, fine,” she mutters, holding up her hands.
Nodding to Sky, I ask my mom if she has plans tonight.
She glances at the sleeping person beside her, and her lips twist into a half smile. “This is it.”
Suddenly I wish I were staying here with them. I could change into my pajamas and take my position on my mother’s left side. We’d turn on a cheesy 80’s movie, and giggle about how bad it is.
“I got my outfit at Bradley’s Exchange,” I blurt out. My eyes fall to the floor, to where my toes peek out from the tan wedges I borrowed from my mom’s closet. I’m not embarrassed to be admitting this to her. I’m mortified that I care where I got my outfit.I don’t care about those things, right?I think the nerves have me feeling other things that don’t fall in line with my beliefs.
It doesn’t matter how much money Noah’s family has. Kindness can’t be bought. I’ve believed that ever since fourth grade when I saw some older popular girls bully someone in gym class. Those girls all came from money, but their behavior was cheap. Brand-name clothes eventually go out of style, but decency never will.
“Never mind,” I add quickly. “Forget I said that.”
Mom beams. “That’s my girl.” She pulls her knitting from her lap and sets it beside her. The scarf she’s making Sky unrolls and nearly reaches the floor. She’ll make my scarf next. Every year she makes Sky’s first. Don’t ask me why she starts in the spring. It’s not like they take that long. It’s also not very cold here, but on the days when it’s cold enough to wear a scarf, I find myself thankful to have one.
Mom stands, holding open her arms. I allow her to fold me into her scent. She smells of tropical-flower shampoo and lemon-scented cleaner.
“I feel like I’m releasing you into the lion’s den, Ember.”
I make a face and step back. “Why?”
She shakes her head and rubs her fingers over her tired eyes. “No reason. Don’t worry about it. I’m just a silly mom nervous for you, that’s all.”
I laugh and step back. Noah will be here any minute to pick me up. “Everything will be fine,” I assure her. Not that I believe it.
“Wake me up when you get home, okay?” She looks over at Sky, who hasn’t moved an inch even though we’ve been talking a few feet from her. “Just looking at her makes me tired.”
I smile and say nothing of the ten hours of manual labor my mom put in today.
“Mom, I—” I’m cut off by a knock at the front door.
“Knock ‘em dead, honey.” She smiles at me mischievously. “Slay.” She’s trying to keep a straight face but she can’t. The giggle breaks through.
