Forgive Me Read online

  “Can you just go somewhere else and stop watching me?!”

  “No, you’re actually not doing it right.” Cameron walked over to her. “Do you even know how to clean? Wipe the floor like you're cleaning your car!”

  “I don’t drive.”

  “I know you don’t. I can tell.” Cameron snatched the wipes and started to scrub the floor vigorously. “See, watch this.”

  Only a few hours before, Cameron performed a cocky notion by humiliating her in front of the whole class. Now, she was being helpful. What’s her deal?

  Stripe knelt by Cameron, worrying it was some sort of trap and she’d start hitting her. She kept her distance and began to copy the cleaning style. “Sorry... about before.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was being a dick.”

  “Sorry about your lip.”

  Cameron smiled. “Like I said, don’t worry. I’ve had worse, believe me.”

  I believe you.

  The stone barrier of unease and tension seemed to dissolve and they began to chat as they worked. It was bizarre, but cathartic in a way. Stripe learned more about Cameron; she was also an only child with older parents. They discussed food, movies, they even debated which character from The Breakfast Club they’d fuck.

  “Mine would be Brian,” Cameron said.

  “The nerd?”

  She shrugged to her reply. “I like clever people.” Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you thought I was gonna say Bender, didn’t you?”

  “No…”

  “Yeah, you did. The quiet ones are normally the most interesting. I reckon Brian would be great in the sack.”

  The remark made Stripe laugh. Her brain went into over load when she started fretting about her reaction. Cameron Storms was not a funny person, she was a bitch by reputation. Stripe decided to distract her thoughts and changed the subject, shoving it over to a relevant question about her future plans.

  “I might be an engineer or go into computers,” Cameron replied. “How about you? What do you wanna do?”

  “I want to be a journalist or a news reporter.”

  “Like Diane Sawyer?”

  Stripe smiled. “Exactly. She’s awesome.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while. Why do your friends call you Stripe?”

  “Oh, it’s a family thing. My dad used to say, ‘do this and earn your stripes’. He’d set me little tasks like running around the garden fifteen times and I’d get a reward. I completed them so - I earned my stripes. It became a nickname for me. Then, it just stuck.”

  “It’s so strange.”

  “True, but look at Frank Zappa. He called his daughters Diva and Moon Unit. I’ll take strange. Strange is intriguing.”

  After a while, Coach Lucy came in and inspected the gym. She said they’d done a decent job and dismissed them.

  “I can give you a ride home if you want,” Cameron said as they walked out into the parking lot.

  “Thanks, but I don’t live far from here. I’ll walk,” Stripe said.

  “No big deal.” Cameron got into her vehicle. It was a red Chevy truck. “Do you like it? My grandparents gave it to me.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice. Are you…in a cult?”

  Cameron smirked. “Nope. Like I could be bothered with it. Plus, I like animals.”

  “Do you sniff cocaine?”

  “God no! That stuff makes your heart race, apparently. It fucks your insides up.”

  Stripe glanced at her arms, quietly choosing not to delve any deeper. She’d asked enough questions. “I’m sorry I called you a lesbian before.”

  “You’ve gotta stop apologising. I get it. You're sorry. Quit it already. By the way, you’re not the first person to call me a lesbian.”

  “Sorry, anyway.”

  Cameron giggled. “You’re cute.”

  Stripe felt her heart drop. That's exactly what I was thinking.

  Her dinner was ready and steaming by the time she got home. Stripe’s mother and father were as silent as the grave, they were watching television when she walked into the hallway. She ate her fish and baked potatoes alone at the table but she kept an ear out for the television. There was a news flash and her heart sank when she heard the details. It was about another murder.

  There had been a string of them over the country lately, two men and two women, all killed at home. It made her skin crawl especially when the news pointed out the dreadful manner of how they passed on. But this particular bulletin was brief, outlining that the victim was another middle-aged man killed while he was sleeping.

  Stripe said goodnight and her parents muttered back, both wearing masks of discontent. Her father peered over his shoulder, closing the door slowly in her face when he caught her gazing at the television screen. She never saw him much; he was always working late and she hated the frosty atmosphere simmering in the house.

  She climbed to her room and sat on her bed, staring out of the window. She’d had a strange day. She’d become a rebel from making a split-second decision. She watched the trees blow in the night breeze and thought about the boy back at the cabin with the red-stained hands. He was so aggressive. Why did he kiss her? Did it even happen? Was it really just a bad nightmare?

  She was scared the boy would come back and finish what he started. She needed someone or something like The Lumberjack, the gas masked vigilante to protect her. It was a bedtime story her dad told her once, so she wouldn’t be frightened by the sounds in the dark.

  “If you hear a creak while you’re in bed,” Peter said once, “don’t be scared. It’s just the lumberjack on his patrol. You see, at night, he protects families while they sleep to keep the bad things away.”

  She remembered hearing noises a couple of times and imagined the vigilante walking the perimeter around the house, moving quietly up the stairs, peering around the corners. If only dark fairy tales existed…

  She didn’t want to be hacked up like Paul Shannon, Victoria Faith, Sheila Martin and Gerald Blair. She’d memorised their names and pictured the ghastly sights of the crime scenes. Someone or something had ended their lives, but for what purpose? What would cause such brutality? Had they done something wrong?

  After all, the boy did say there were monsters everywhere. What if they were living on her doorstep? Stripe thought about her own violence from today. What if they were living in her heart?

  Chapter Seven

  The next couple of evenings became an interesting head scratcher for Stripe. Instead of feeling daunted and irritated, she was quite eager for her detention sessions, especially since her relationship with the notorious Cameron Storms had curiously cooled down. It was Friday, the last session of her punishment. Stripe and Cameron talked like crazy and their topics delved from the Space Shuttle Challenger fiasco to the latest Smashing Pumpkins song. This typically triggered Stripe to begin talking on and on about the prom.

  “I’m not going,” Cameron said as she cleaned.

  “How come?”

  “I’ve got better things to do with my time. Just because everybody else is going doesn’t mean I have to.”

  Stripe had to think before she could respond. “But it’s a celebration. We’re completing high school.” She understood not following the social convention, but not Cameron’s sudden defensiveness. It was just the prom. “I’m entering the contest and making my own dress. My mom thinks it’ll be good for me to raise money for college.”

  “What does your dress look like?”

  “It’s light blue with double shoulder straps.”

  “That colour won’t suit you.”

  “How come?”

  “You need to stand out. Your skin is too pale for blue, I think you’d look better in red. It would blend with your blonde hair.”

  Is she giving me a compliment? If she was, Stripe didn’t know how to handle it. “Why red?”

  Cameron moved some of her hair from her skin, inside Stripe was screaming. “It goes with your green eyes.”

  “Yours are really ligh
t blue.”

  She smirked. “My grandmother had blue eyes too supposedly. Well, that’s what my mom said.”

  Stripe could’ve danced when detention finished. They walked back to Cameron’s truck and she left the door open. “Wanna lift?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk.”

  Cameron studied her for a couple of seconds. “You know, I’ve actually enjoyed detention. That’s a first for me. Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me.”

  “We should go out for a meal or a movie sometime.”

  “Y-Yes...I-I’d like that. There’s a Robin Williams movie coming out soon and the movie palace are having another rerun of Aliens…”

  “I’m not a horror fan.”

  “Really? You? I wouldn’t think you’d be scared of anything, not even slimy scaly aliens.”

  “They’re just not for me. Do you have a date for it?”

  “For Aliens?”

  “No the prom, silly.”

  “Oh, well. I’m going with my friends. I don’t need a date.”

  “I could go with you if you want...” Cameron watched her sharply and then she began to laugh. “It’s okay. We don’t have to. You looked like you were gonna shit yourself. Anyway, I’ll see you on Monday. We’ll do dinner or a movie another time.”

  “Sure,” Stripe said. “I can’t wait.”

  Cameron watched her again, this time with a shine of curiosity. “Can I do one thing before I go?”

  “What?”

  Darkness moved over Stripe’s gaze like a huddle of thunder clouds. Cameron was in her personal space and she pressed her back up against the body work of the truck. Cameron pushed her mouth against hers and Stripe tasted a flush of strawberry lip gloss.

  Kissing was odd at the beginning but after playing the rhythm, Stripe began to warm to it. She wasn’t scared when Cameron’s tongue rolled into her mouth, more surprised that her long standing enemy was performing a French kiss. Little sounds of enjoyment escaped her mouth and Cameron returned them. When their petting began to deepen, Cameron picked Stripe up, pushing her body against the truck, pulling one leg over her hip. She began to grind her pelvis against Stripe’s crotch. As they kissed and moved against one another. Stripe moulded her head into the back of Cameron’s hand. It was strange, because for Stripe, Cameron was a perfect fit.

  A niggling thought intruded on her delight as she pictured the stunned reactions of her friends and her parents. Would they accept her? Would they understand? Would they still love her?

  Her insides felt like they were full of hot air. She was trying her hardest not to break as Jace reeled off about the difference in certain fabrics and the wonders of the cross stitch. Stripe had to let it out or she’d explode.

  Jace painted David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust colours on her face. Stripe was conveniently used as a canvas whenever they had sleepovers, she didn’t mind but her skin was beginning to clam up. She admired the poster on the wall of Tim Curry in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She would’ve given anything to borrow Dr Frank-N-Furter’s confidence right now. The way he was kicking up his high heels, his red fingernails stroking his fishnet tights, leaning back in his chair, flipping the camera with a flirtatious wink. He didn’t have a care in the world, a true free spirit.

  Stripe’s lips dried like a stone in the desert. I guess this is the price for harbouring a secret.

  “Is there something on your mind?” Jace asked.

  Shit, she knows. “No, does it look like it?”

  Jace blew lightly, brushing some of the powder off her cheek. “I don’t know. You’re really quiet tonight and you haven’t touched your cookie dough. Normally you gobble it up.”

  Her friend was right, she hadn’t given in to her craving of everything chocolate chips and cream. “I’ve had a change in heart about my prom dress,” Stripe said, pushing the words out of her mouth.

  Jace recoiled, her face crumpled with confusion. “What do you mean? I thought you had it all planned out.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve changed it. Kinda had some new ideas.” She brought out a sketch pad from her bag. “This is what I’m looking at now.”

  Her best friend gawped. “Stripe, are you trying to look like a porn star? Why red? And why one shoulder strap?”

  “What’s wrong with it? How would I look like a porn star from wearing this?”

  “It’s just not…you. That’s all.”

  “I’m trying to branch out, to do something new,” Stripe said. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Jace ran her eyes over the sketch. “I don’t hate it per se. It’s nice, but I didn’t think you’d wear anything like this. Plus, you hardly wear dresses. Actually, you never do. You know, you don’t have to wear a dress. You could wear a suit, like Diane Keaton does for award ceremonies.”

  “I know, but this is all about getting me out of my comfort zone. You’ve got to help me.”

  Jace picked up her makeup and returned to her work. “Of course I’ll help you. You’d never cough up money for a prom dress.”

  Stripe laughed. “You know me so well.”

  Her friend grinned back. “By any chance, how did this happen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your sudden change of heart.”

  “Oh, it’s well. Um, it’s kinda, it’s kinda.” Say it, get it over and done with. “It’s because of Cameron.”

  “Cameron?! Is everything okay between you two?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I mean, it’s better than fine-”

  “Because ever since you had detention with her, I don’t know. You don’t seem annoyed anymore.”

  “We’ve made up.”

  Jace stopped painting. “You’re... friends?”

  “Y-Yeah. She’s...actually a really cool person.”

  “And you don’t hate each other?”

  “Not... anymore.”

  Jace mixed her brush back in the blue powder. “So, what have you two been getting up to then?”

  I don’t think you’d wanna know. I mean, you’d probably faint. “Going to movies and stuff...”

  A bolt of anger lit up on Jace’s face. “So, when we’ve been going out, you’ve been bailing on us to spend time with her?”

  “Sort of.” Stripe winced.

  “Why haven’t you told me?!”

  “Because I was worried you wouldn't be okay with it!”

  “I’m more pissed that you didn’t tell me!”

  “I’m sorry, J.” She took the sketch pad from Jace. “You’re right. I should’ve told you.” But I can’t tell you the other thing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do Doug and Zip know?”

  “No, please don’t tell them.”

  “Why not?”

  Stripe raked her hands through her hair in frustration. “They really won’t get it. And they hate her.”

  “I hated her because you hated her. I don’t now as you’ve made up.”

  “And you’ve got the decency to understand why! The guys just won’t and I’d rather do it in my own time.” She stared at Jace chomping on the cookie dough. “Please. Don’t tell them, J.”

  “Fine, I won’t. But if you and Cameron go to the movies, I want to come too. You haven't been coming out with us, I was worried that you didn’t like us anymore.”

  “Oh my god! No, no, Jace! You guys are the best friends ever!” Stripe leaned forward, hugging her. “Don’t think that.”

  “Watch your makeup!”

  “I just thought you wouldn't accept it.” And you wouldn’t accept the other thing.

  “Well, you assumed wrong!”

  “Sorry, Jace.”

  “So, can I come out then?”

  “Of course you can...”

  Jace finally smiled, returning to her canvas. Stripe watched her expression morph back into concentration. Her heartbeat was racing. I'm friends with Cameron Storms, the girl I punched. Jace, there’s something else I need to tell you - I think I’m in love with her.

  Nothing was goin
g to make her feel better right now. Not a foot-long meatball sandwich from Subway or even a Michael Keaton marathon. The line of trust had been crossed.

  “You’ve gotta look at this,” Doug uttered, staring through his telescope.

  It was a present from his grandmother. Jace had noticed it was helping with his Physics class and coming in handy for spying on his neighbourhood. Especially when he was staring at a pair of writhing bodies hidden under the football bleachers. “They’re really going for it!”

  “What is it?” Zippo asked, breaking free from his game of cards with Jace.

  “Here,” Doug said, moving aside.

  Zippo peered through the telescope, closing one eye and began to laugh. “Oh my God, they really are!”

  Jace watched them, her mind locked in thought. “Why couldn’t Stripe come out?”

  “Said she was sick, don’t wanna catch nothing,” Doug replied, staring out of the window.

  Jace knew the truth. She’s not sick. It’s because she’s out with Cameron. She loved hanging out with Doug and Zippo but she was really starting to miss her best friend. Why wouldn’t she invite me? She said she would.

  She watched her friends gawping over the two people being pervs under the bleachers. This night’s been pretty shitty. I’m happy for Stripe, but she seems to have forgotten us. And it’s not fair.

  Stripe scratched at Cameron’s back, the passion boiling inside of her. They were walking back from the arcade, had a bite to eat at McDonalds and before she knew it, she was lying on her back with Cameron’s lips all over her neck. Her legs wound around Cameron’s hip and she flipped her so she was sitting on top.

  “You know you’re gonna kill me,” Cameron panted.

  Stripe smirked. “Will this make your heart stop?”

  The thought was strange and the excitement encouraged the instinct. Slowly, Stripe unbuttoned her shirt, feeling exposed and somewhat powerful. She threw it to the grass along with her dark blue bra and watched Cameron’s ice blue eyes scatter over her skin, her lower lip trembled in response. She led Cameron's hands towards her chest, guiding her fingers to touch. Breathe. Just take it slow.