The Truth About Alice(27)

“Mom, who were the Melvins?” I asked, handing her the photograph.

My mom took it out of my hands. My mom with the normal mom hair and ironed khaki slacks and little gold cross hanging around her neck. For the briefest, teeniest, tiniest second I think she smiled, but then it was like she’d been caught doing something illegal because she shoved the picture inside the shoebox and pushed the box into a pile she’d designated for the trash.

“Just a band,” she said, her smile gone. “From back in the bad old days.”

Mom used to tell me all the time that I was the reason she rediscovered Jesus and was saved from a life of sin. From the time I was little, she’d told me how surprised she’d been when she’d turned up pregnant with me, and how she’d moved back home to Flint after my dad said he wasn’t sure if he wanted to have a kid at 19. But then, after my mom started going to church with my grandparents and started praying really hard for Jesus to come into her life again or whatever, my dad had a change of heart and followed her to Flint and they got married and one month later I was born.

“Jesus worked on Dad’s heart and my heart, and it’s all thanks to you, Kelsie,” my mom would say to me. I wondered—if that were true—why my dad sometimes fell asleep during church and argued with my mom about whether or not God wanted him to have that third Miller Lite. But when my mom told me this as a little kid, it made me feel special. This was back when I was pretty sure God loved me. Back before The Really Awful Stuff.




The Really Awful Stuff happened the summer Alice was working at Healy Pool North, and it involved Tommy Cray. It was the summer of Mark Lopez and the blow job and Alice lying to me and then telling me I could never possibly understand because I was a virgin.

But before I explain what happened, what has to be said is that Tommy Cray was and is gorgeous. He’s got this permanent smirk that looks more handsome than mean, muscles that are obvious but not too overwhelming, and gorgeous calves. With the lightest blond hair on them, so light you can barely see it. Back then, that summer before tenth grade, I could have stared at his calves all day. I think it’s fair to say he’s way more gorgeous than Brandon Fitzsimmons, if you ask me.

Whenever I’d bike down to Healy Pool North to hang out with Alice, all I’d think about on the ride there was how I was going to get to watch Tommy Cray. The way he walked, the way he chewed gum, the way he twirled his lifeguard whistle around his finger three times to the right and then three times to the left. I tried really hard to make it look like I wasn’t trying too hard to catch a glimpse of him, but I knew Tommy Cray could tell how much I liked him anyway. It was like I was drunk or on drugs or something that summer. I couldn’t stop thinking about Tommy every millisecond that I was awake, and sometimes I thought about him when I was asleep, too.

“Hey, Kelsie,” he’d say, grinning at me when he saw me working on my tan or heading toward the snack bar to say hi to Alice.

“Hey, Tommy,” I’d answer back, acting like I was just walking by, like I hadn’t even known he’d be working that afternoon. I’d imagine he was staring at my butt as I left wet footprints on the cement. But I never turned around to make sure.

One afternoon toward the end of the summer, a few days after Alice had admitted to me that she’d lied about giving Mark Lopez that blow job, I was hanging out by myself at the pool, reading Teen People. Even though I was still kind of mad at Alice for lying to me, I was texting her and trying to get her to come down to see me even though she wasn’t scheduled to work, so she could keep me company as I stalked Tommy.

And then, all of a sudden, the most miraculous thing happened.

Actually, it was the worst thing ever as I came to realize later on.

But in the moment, it was miraculous.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

I looked up and there was Tommy standing over me, wearing a Healy Pool North T-shirt and red board shorts. His blond hair had gotten even blonder over the past couple of weeks, and I knew behind his Ray-Bans that his blue eyes probably looked even bluer.

I was being asked by Tommy Cray if I wanted to go for a ride. Even though I couldn’t really talk to boys very well, here one stood before me. The one I wanted. And he was talking to me.

Somehow, on that steamy August afternoon, I managed to open my mouth and say, “Uh, now?”

“Yeah, now,” Tommy Cray said. “Why not?”

“Okay, sure,” I said, trying to act like boys were always asking me to go for rides. My heart was beating so strongly it was like my entire body was pulsating on the pink-and-white lounge chair.

A few minutes later we were eating Sonic hamburgers in his used Toyota, and when I got ketchup on my chin, Tommy reached over with one finger and scooped it off, then licked it off his finger. I thought I might get sick from nervousness, sitting there in that car with Tommy Cray. He did most of the talking. How he was leaving for college in a few days, how he had to pack all his stuff, how he wasn’t sure if he was going to like his roommate or not.

“Well, we’ll all miss you around here,” I said. Oh my God, how stupid I sounded. Like a total nerd.

But Tommy Cray just smiled at me.

Then he asked me, “You wanna come over and hang out at my house for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, my head all swimmy and dizzy.

It was the middle of the day and there was no one home. As I followed him inside, I think I knew what was going to happen even before it happened. My whole body felt electric, numb. I heard Alice’s words marching through my head: “Kelsie, it’s just … you know … you haven’t, like … been with anyone … in that way. And that’s … fine, okay? But … it’s just, like … once you’ve had sex … I mean…”