Sinder 1: Experimentation Read online

  “Mister Anderson, you will work with Miss River on the evolution of family rights.”

  Aaaahhhh!

  I haven’t even thought about him. My heart has stopped beating; I’m about to have a heart attack; I could almost cry. I date to glance at the way to beautiful Josh. He’s staring at me, helpless, his jaw tight and his eyes have taken on a weird grayish tint. He’s disgusted. No, it’s even worse, there are no words to describe what I see in his eyes. I shouldn’t care, but it hurts me. Fuck Sandre, this guy’s an asshole, a first class jackass like all the others and you will give him tit for tat.

  I’m still stuck on him as everybody starts packing their stuff, careless about the appalling racket engulfing the room and the corridor. He hasn’t let his eyes off of me either. He’s about to commit suicide and I represent his Hell. Well Ok, that’s a bit of an overstatement!

  Suddenly, he finally dares to stand up and comes to me. He’s moving with an astounding ease for an asshole who’s supposed to fear me. I still haven’t moved, I don’t even know if I’m still breathing.

  “So, how should we do this?” He articulates without trying to hide his deception.

  “This evening, at my place, after classes.”I say coldly. And without thinking, I tear a piece of paper from my binder, scrawl my address and hand it to him. He raises an eyebrow, unbelieving. Of course, he doesn’t know I live only a block away from him.

  “Ok.” He just whispers putting the paper in his jeans’ back pocket.

  I watch his cute little ass walk away. He’s so sexy with his broad shoulders and his long legs! He moves around with such an impressive confidence, making him even more desirable. How I’d like to touch the stuff. I bite my lower lip imagining him entirely naked.

  What the hell are you doing Sandre?

  I get the control of all my abilities back once he’s disappeared behind the doorframe.

  What a klutz! Get a hold of yourself!

  I still can’t believe I said that. What an idea to invite him over? We could have gone to his place. But actually, I know pretty well why I did that. I don’t want to see his parents. I don’t want them to judge me. His mother is part of the active members of the PTA and the least one could say is that she’s old fashioned and has super rigid ideas. I’m sure she would fear that I’ll initiate her son to firearms or drugs if she knew we have to work together.

  “Any questions?” old Salomon asks me, dragging me out of my thoughts.

  “Ummm…no.” I mumble, suddenly realizing the room’s now empty of pupils.

  I spent the morning dwelling on the news. Me, I’ll have to work with Josh Anderson, to put up with his presence, his proximity, to ignore the ridiculous butterflies twisting my stomach when I feel him close to me. This is going to be Hell. Here it is, my punishment has come.

  I wish I could forget, but I still have trouble processing the situation and for once, I’m really not hungry. And besides, the dining hall is not the best place to work up an appetite. However, I have to eat as there is nothing much to eat left at home. I force myself to a tomato salad, an apple and a bun.

  I’m still lost in my thoughts when I set up at a still free table. I don’t know how to act around him. I don’t want to play nice. I know I’ll never be his friend and I don’t want friends. If it had been somebody else, I would have allowed myself a bad grade, just to really piss off my partner. But with him, I don’t really know if I’m able to do this. I’m afraid I’m too weak to be the pain in the ass he expects to have to put up with.

  A presence behind my back drags me out of my thoughts. It’s that four-eyes with a little girl’s ponytails again. What the hell does she want from me? Don’t tell me she comes to apologize; it would really be too…overwhelming!

  “Ummm…can I sit with you?” She mumbles.

  “No.” I answer coldly.

  But the little miss seems to be a bit Mutton. She puts her tray down and starts picking at her salad all the while sitting down to face me. I can’t believe this, I’ve humiliated her in her first class in her new school and she still wants to make me her friend. That uptight brat is nuts.

  “I’m Prudence.” She tells me with a tat too cheerful voice that almost makes me feel nauseous.

  Poor thing with her under the knee long pleated skirt, her opaque pantyhose, her white shirt buttoned up to the top and her striped jacket, I already found her pathetic, and to top it off, she has the name to go with it. I stare at her, stupefied and a tat irritated, but she ignores it completely and goes on with her joyful litany. “I’ve just moved to Winsted. Before, I was living in Acton, it’s close to Los Angeles. Big change in climate. I’ve hesitated to wear my jacket, but I was afraid the others might make fun of me. What about you? Have you been here for a long time? You’re Sandre right? Is it a nickname for Sandra, Sandrine…?”

  Wow, what a flow of words she has that uptight brat! I gape at her. She’s afraid people might make fun of her and she dresses like that? The jacket wouldn’t have changed anything. And how does she do it to be so pale when she comes from California? I examine her closer. Her eyes are hazel green, her hair light brown and on her cheeks I make out some freckles that she’s tried to hide under a bit of powder. She’s staring at me as if she was waiting for something and I suddenly realize that she wants an answer.

  “No, it’s Sandre.”

  “How original. I like it. It’s different.”

  And on top off that she plays brown-noser. Now she’s done it; I’m feeling sick. I can’t take it no more. I grab my apple and my bun, take my bag and stand up swiftly. I’m about to leave when I realized that precisions are in order.

  “Prude…please, next time you feel like sitting at my table…just don’t.”

  “My name is Prudence.” She insists as I’m already walking away.

  Does she think I’m completely deaf or what? As if I didn’t get it. It is just that your name makes me want to puke young lady.

  I thought I’ve definitely gotten rid of her, but it seems we also share history classes. And the little miss, still that perceptive, comes to sit next to me with her eternal silly smile. I can feel my blood boil in my veins. I’m this close to ditching the last class of the day. I hesitate, do I tell her to get lost; do I ignore her? But if I ignore her she’ll never let go off me and she doesn’t seem to care about my stinging attacks.

  “Why do you cling to me all the time? Haven’t you noticed that I don’t want you around?” I hiss between my clenched teeth so that the fat Wilson doesn’t hear us.

  “I’m not stupid,” She whispers still smiling, “I might look like a nerd with my glasses, but I’m not good enough to hang around with them. I’m a little eccentric but I dread what those could make me smoke…”

  “And you think we’re alike?” I cut her short, horrified. I’ve raised my voice, which costs me a glare from the fat Wilson. I turn away from my classmate and pretend to be buried in the large book that’s supposed to be our bible. I thought our conversation would stop there, but a moment later, my neighbor slips a scrawled piece of paper in front of me. I like your way of being different.

  My way of being different? Is she screwing with me? I lean over to look at myself. I’m wearing black leggings under ankle high rangers that I borrowed from my mother, a tank top black as well, partially hidden under my father’s large checkered shirt. And I almost forgot his way too big for me leather jacket, hanging over the back of the chair. I’ve put my brown hair that hasn’t been cut for a year into a high ponytail, revealing my way too dark smoky eyes.

  The uptight brat really has a shitty taste. I don’t have a look; I just want to keep them all away. I eye her, contrite, and she doesn’t open her mouth again for the rest of the class.

  Of course she won’t let go off me that easily. No sooner has the class ended that she sticks to me like a chewing-gum that has stayed in the sun the whole day. And she starts pouring out again. Does she ever breathe? And she’d like us to study together, and also go shopping wh
ile we’re at it, and I could sleep over. If only you knew how annoying you are. But wait a minute, at least it has the merit of drawing my attention away from what’s maybe already waiting for me at home.

  Suddenly she realizes she’s taken the wrong way. Thank God, she doesn’t live next to me.

  “You’re going this way?” She asks me as if it wasn’t obvious.

  I don’t answer. Anyway, she doesn’t need me to.

  “Well then, see you tomorrow!” She goes on, still cheerful.

  “I would rather not.” I answer coldly.

  I’m so disturbed by this walking away klutz that I bump into an idiot who isn’t looking where he’s going either.

  “Hello Sandre!”

  Fuck, it’s Will the nerd’s father. Every time we run into each other he smiles at me like an idiot. Where does he know me from in the first place? That guy is nuts, seriously!

  3 — Josh

  “She has a way of squeezing the head of your dick, buddy, to die for. I’m sure if you tell her about it, she’ll go all the way for you whenever you want.”

  Steve’s always too chatty when it comes to his conquests. I’d rather not know that Penelope I-Don’t-remember-her-name has just given him a treat in the toilets and that he’s fondled the new, barely 15 years old bimbo. He does that because he thinks I should unbunch my pants.

  Actually, it’s just that Marcy listens too much to reverend Clark’s sermons. I’m crazy about her, but if she doesn’t change her mind quickly, I think I’m going to explode. Some days, I feel that if I start crying, it’s sperm that’s going to come out of my eyes.

  I really did think that!

  I really have a problem. It’s crazy how much I want it! Sometimes, I even end up squinting at the breasts of the fat Vidal, the receptionist, or the tapering legs of the math teacher and I’m not even talking about the cheerleaders, those have a crazy effect on me. When I think that I haven’t touched a pair of boobs yet. I’m going to be 18, I couldn’t possibly stay a virgin until I’m 25 just to please Marcy. I’m sure I’m already the last one on the football team.

  .

  I’m starting to think more seriously about Steve’s solution; sneaking around, even though I’m ashamed just thinking about it. And I’m not even talking about the torrid dreams that have me take cold showers in the middle of the night to calm the beast. I have a monster between my legs that’s not settling for my fingers anymore. I’ve tried to get the word out to Marcy about this, but she doesn’t understand. Of course, she’s a girl; she doesn’t end up with a wood in her pants every time she thinks about it. Although, I’m not even sure she’s ever thought about this.

  Marcy suddenly brings me back to reality by falling to my neck as if we hadn’t seen each other for a week. The effect she has on me, it’s crazy! Her full lips make indecent propositions to me, her burning eyes invite me to play kinky games and her little breasts are pointing to my direction as if they were in need of attention. I kiss her passionately, letting my fingers slide over her skirt and she puts a stop to our embrace. She reprimands me every time I get too audacious. But how could I stay impassive after the detailed description of Penelope’s hand play in the toilets? And to add to the frustration, Steve and Lucy are fondling bluntly in front of me.

  “You’ve been getting on Josh’s nerves with your dirty anecdotes again.” Lucy reprimands him while eyeing me mockingly.

  If only she knew! Lucy thinks that it’s only talks and she never seems to be annoyed by her boyfriend’s obscenities.

  “I teach him life, the real one.” He explains.

  “There are many much more important things to life.” Marcy comments while pulling away from me.

  “Honey, if you let me lick your pussy you’d never think this way ever again.” Steve teases her slapping her ass.

  I hate it when he does that and I hate it even more that Marcy never objects to it because the more you mess with him the ruder he becomes.

  “I’ve heard the old Salomon’s making you work with the rebel?” Lucy asks me, as if she took pity on my girlfriend.

  “Yeah.” I growled between clenched teeth.

  “She’s going to lead him astray.” Steve kids while urging Lucy to the exit.

  Marcy glares at him, but as always, he insists.

  “Don’t act naïve! She’ll make a junky out of him or drag him to the city’s rough areas. I’m sure it only takes one foot in her house to get addicted to the worst drugs.”

  “Stop it Steve!” Marcy scolds him.

  I don’t get why this conversation gets to her like that, I prefer this to her big speeches about sex that disturb my senses.

  I unwillingly leave Marcy and her gorgeous body in front of the school as Lucy and Steve are already disappearing behind the street corner. They live in the residential area a little further. I give a try to another heated kiss, pretending I need courage, but nothing helps, Marcy resists. My girlfriend has an iron will. It’s a quality I admire even though I would like to see her more audacious.

  I can’t help thinking about Sandre as I see her walk away. I still can’t believe the old Salomon has chosen me to team up with her. This girl opens her mouth only to say horrors. I can still remember the time she got here with her killer’s glare. The old Soulier hasn’t recovered from it. I remember her hateful smile as she said “It’s what’s left after the passion has burned out.” After that, not a single teacher ever dared to ask her about the meaning of her name. I must really suck because I still didn’t get what it meant.

  As I approach the little houses, all looking alike, where Sandre lives, I get a new apprehension. What does her house look like? And her parents? Some people say they’re in jail, but if that was the case, she’d be in foster care. I imagine the firearms lying around on the kitchen table, the empty bottles in the sink and multicolored meds on the couch. The others are counting on me to finally separate the facts from the fancy. At lunch, they all got over-excited when they discovered I’d be penetrating the mysterious Sandre River’s world. People say a lot of things about her and her parents, but right now, I don’t really feel like playing Sherlock anymore.

  In the end, I’m almost relieved to see a freshly painted gate and an irreproachable lawn. I could almost hesitate to step in.

  I ring at the door but nobody answers it. I take a deep breath again, hoping I’ll not meet her parents. I’m not a sissy, good God! Think about something else, just think about something else. I take off my jacket and lean over the railing to try and catch sight of my house, but we can see nothing between the neighbor’s high trees. I can’t believe she lives so close to me. It’s insane that I never ran into her, nor her parents, for all those years.

  A noise makes me jump and I shudder when I see her jump over the gate with an impressive flexibility. She freezes when she sees me at the door step. Looks like she too did forget about our little get together. We observe each other for a moment, speechless, like two enemies gauging each other before a fight. Her black eyes, too big and with too much make up on have always given me goose bumps. It’s crazy, they’re so big that I can’t see anything else. And they have an indescribable effect on me, as if they had the power to take over the control of my body. Witch!

  It makes me break out into a cold sweat! I haven’t moved yet when she comes closer, takes out her keys and opens the door without a word.

  This should be…interesting!

  “Your parents aren’t here?” I ask, following her from afar.

  A soft and fresh air comes from the house. I dare to take a step inside.

  Wow! I can’t believe it. Everything’s white: the walls, the tiling, the furniture, the kitchen, the couch, even the large stairway that probably leads to the bedrooms. Everything is neat and clean, nothing is out of its place. It’s modern, fashion, it doesn’t look like a junkies’ or a gangsters’ den.

  I must look like an idiot with my mouth open because she’s eyeing me with a mocking face.

  “They’re on a b
usiness trip.” She says simply, throwing her army bag on the massive white leather armchair.

  On a business trip I repeat to myself mentally. What do they do for a living? Unless it’s a more correct way to talk about jail. But if that’s the case, it would mean that she’s the one keeping this place clean? No way!

  She stands out in the middle of this scenery and I wonder if her parents are really the reason of her obvious rebellion. Yet, there must be an explanation for her behavior. And suddenly I feel like provoking her and I hope she’ll tell me more. It’s weird this sudden will to get to know her better. She’s so much less frightening in the middle of all this white.

  “Too bad, I wish I could have met them.”

  She stares at me as if I had just insulted her and it is my turn to give her a mocking smile, even though I still dread her response a little, but she does nothing. She just takes off her leather jacket and sends it to join her bag. She opens an old laptop that’s sitting on the kitchen counter, turns it on and sets up two large glasses and orange juice while the machine starts with a deafening noise. I observe her without daring to move. She’s slim on the evidence of the thin legs coming out from under her huge worn out shirt. She could be pretty if she dressed better. I wonder why she wears all these old, shapeless clothes. The other rebels at school wear torn clothes, studded jewelry, piercings and tattoos. She has nothing like this. Marcy’s theory is that she’s punishing herself by wearing the clothes of a person deceased because of her. Maybe her grandfather or her father. Well, from what we know, her father’s not dead.

  At last, I settle down on the stool next to her as she eyes me, her mocking look still stuck on her face. I take out my binder and my pens and set the rest of my stuff on the edge of the table. I’ve brushed against her on the way and it made her jump. Could she fear me? I smile thinking that she dreads this partnership as much as I do. She’s stuck on google’s search page as if she was waiting for me to tell her what to type. Doesn’t she know that school’s not really my thing? And from what I remember, she gets pretty good grades. I was kind of counting on that to rush through the chore. “So what’s the plan?” I end up saying.