The Nowhere Girls(54)

“Breathe,” Rosina whispers to Erin. “Count backward from one hundred.”

“I’m sorry, guys.” Serina sighs. “I didn’t mean to bring everyone down. I’ve been in rehab for the past three months where I was in group therapy for like ten hours a day and all anyone does is talk about their feelings. All. The. Fucking. Time.”

Rosina whispers, “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven . . .”

“How can we all be so screwed up already?” Margot says with a strained voice, emotion betraying her usual flawless confidence.

“I just know that if I ever have a daughter, I’m going to teach her that sex is supposed to make her feel good,” Serina says. “It should be obvious, right? But it’s so not.”

“Breathe,” Rosina whispers to Erin. “Eighty-eight, eighty-seven, eighty-six, eighty-five . . .”

“I think I know how you feel,” says another girl. “At least a little bit. Even though I’m really lucky. My first time was actually really romantic, and my boyfriend is awesome and totally supportive of what we’re doing. I’ve never been abused or raped. I get along with both my parents. My mom’s a strong woman. My dad isn’t an asshole. But just being a girl, I get nervous sometimes, like I don’t know what could happen.”

“Look around the room,” Rosina whispers to Erin. “Look at the corners. Feel the floor under you.”

“We can’t keep living like this,” someone says.

“We’re not,” Grace says, and her clear voice reverberates around the room. “What we’re doing here, right now. Just being here with each other and talking about what we’re talking about. We’re changing everything.”

“I need to go,” Erin says.

“You’re okay,” Rosina says. “The meeting will be over soon. Can you wait till then?”

“No,” Erin says, on the verge of tears. “I need to get out of here.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” Erin says, standing up.

“Are you sure?”

“Rosina, leave me alone!” Erin shouts, and she stumbles over the mass of people sitting on the floor, out of the room, and out the front door. The room is silent for a moment in her wake.

“Well,” Lisa Sutter says, standing up. “I guess the meeting’s over.”

“Oh,” Margot says as people start moving. “Unless anyone else has anything they’d like to say—”

“I need ice cream,” someone says.

“I need beer,” says someone else.

“I guess the meeting is adjourned?” says Margot, but no one is listening.

The house empties, so many things still unsaid.

The rain has stopped. The night brightens in increments as a couple of dozen cars turn on their headlights. Rosina finds Erin standing next to Grace’s mom’s car in the muddy makeshift parking lot on the side of the hill not visible from the road.

“I just want Grace to give me a ride home,” Erin says before Rosina has a chance to open her mouth.

“She’s on her way,” Rosina says. “But can we talk about what happened?”

“There were too many people in too small a space,” Erin says. “I made a mistake not sitting by the door. I feel much better now that I’m outside.”

“Okay, but—”

“It’s better than in there with all those people and their perfume and scented deodorants.”

“You didn’t raise your hand when Grace asked about being a virgin,” Rosina says. “And you got really upset about what Serina was saying. And—” Rosina has to stop talking. There is something in her throat, something not made out of words. Her eyes are stinging. She is fighting the urge to do something Erin would never forgive her for—throw her arms around her and hold on tight and never let go.

“I’m done talking,” Erin says.

“But—”

“Rosina, I said no.”

“Okay, but—”

“And I don’t want to talk about this later. I don’t want to talk about this at school. I don’t want to talk about it ever.”

“Okay.” Rosina sighs.

“Why would Grace lock her car?” Erin says, pounding on the door with her fist.

“I don’t know.”

“I want to go home,” Erin says.

“I know,” Rosina says, even though she has little clue what that feels like.





US.


Grace tunes out during most of Mom’s sermon about the renunciation of worldly goods. That doesn’t seem too relevant to her life right now since she doesn’t own much of anything.

She notices Jesse looking at her a couple of times during the service, but quickly looks away before having to admit to herself how nice his smile is. As soon as the service is over, she runs home without stopping at the bathroom even though she has to pee like crazy. That’s how desperate she is to avoid talking to Jesse Camp.

As she sits on her bed, ready to lose herself in the current book she’s reading, it suddenly hits her that, outside of what was required in classes or church activities, Grace has hardly ever talked to boys. Something in her softens. Maybe, deep down, she’s not so much angry at Jesse as she is scared—he’s a boy and she has no idea how to talk to him. What makes it worse is she suspects she probably wants to.