A Different Blue(99)

sunsets never failed to move me and remind me of times with Jimmy when I wasn't so hard, when I

hadn't had to grow up so fast. Wilson didn't speak as I approached, and we began to walk in

silence. My increasing size forced me to waddle, but Wilson adjusted his stride as we made our

way toward home.

“Why do you do that?” Wilson bit out eventually. I knew he'd been working up a good mad.

“Do what?”

“Assume the worst. Put words in my mouth, call yourself names, all of it. Why?”

I thought for a minute, wondering how I could possibly make someone like Wilson understand how

if felt to be a “girl like me.”

“The first time I had sex I was fourteen, Wilson. I didn't necessarily want it, but there you

go. He was an older boy, and I liked his attention. He was nineteen, and I was easy pickings.”

I shrugged. “I've had sex many times since then. Some people might say that makes me a slut,

and the fact that I make no apologies for it might qualify me as a bitch. Calling myself a mean

skank is mild, if you look at it that way. I'm not proud of it – and I'm trying to change it –

but it's the truth, and I'm not really interested in making excuses for myself.”

Wilson had stopped walking and was staring at me. “Fourteen?! That's not sex. It's statutory

rape, Blue.”

“Yeah, Wilson. In many ways, it was.”

“Bugger!” Wilson whispered, incredulous. “I don't bloody believe this!” Then he yelled,

“Bugger!” again, this time so loudly that some people crossing the street stopped and stared.

A woman was driving by in her car with her window down as he yelled, and she frowned at us. The

poor woman thought Wilson was yelling at her.

“Let me guess, nothing happened to him? Right?” Wilson turned on me as if it were me he was

angry with. I knew it wasn't. In fact, Wilson's anger was incredibly validating. I found that

telling him did not upset me and, for the first time, remembering didn't make my insides quake.

[page]“What do you mean? Of course not. I told Cheryl, she made sure I was on the pill, and I .

. . got over it.”

“Aaargh!” Wilson yelled again, kicking at a rock and sending it flying. He mumbled and swore

and seemed incapable of rational speech, so I walked along beside him, waiting him out. After a

couple of blocks, he reached out and took my hand in his. I had never held a boy's hand while

walking beside him. Wilson's hand was much bigger than mine, and it engulfed mine, making me

feel delicate and cherished. It was incredibly . . . sexy. If I hadn't been hugely pregnant, if

I hadn't just confessed my ugly past, I might have made a move on Wilson right then. I might

have taken his wonderful face in my hands and kissed him until we were both wrapped around each

other in the middle of the sidewalk.

I laughed silently at myself and pushed the thought away. I was pretty sure Wilson would run

screaming for the hills if I ever made a move on him. That wasn't the nature of our

relationship. It definitely wasn't the nature of his feelings for me. Plus, with my belly

sticking out the way it did, getting close might be impossible. We walked until the sunset faded

and dusk dimmed our view. The streetlights began to flicker on as we neared Pemberley.

“Make a wish!” I cried, pulling on Wilson's hand. “Quick! Before all the lights come on!” In