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…”
I was scared and excited at the same time. Right then I knew. I was going to lose my virginity to Tommy Cray.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not stupid. I don’t think I ever thought that by sleeping with Tommy I would make him my boyfriend. Even as I followed him to his bedroom wordlessly, even as I let him peel off my cover-up and untie my bikini top before we’d even shut the bedroom door, even as all of this was happening to me, I knew that Tommy Cray would be gone in a few days. I knew he would soon be meeting gorgeous college girls who would want to mess around with him immediately. I knew that he thought I was a Stalker Girl. Easy access. I knew all of this, but it was like I had to do it. That had been the whole point of the entire afternoon. Maybe even the entire summer.
Tommy Cray had a huge poster of Jimi Hendrix on one wall of his bedroom. It was bright yellow and purple and in loopy, trippy font it said “Are You Experienced?”
Well, Kelsie—are you?
I wasn’t, but Tommy Cray was. He leaned into me, the chlorine scent of his skin slipping over my body.
“Kelsie, you’re so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve noticed you all summer long.”
I just smiled back and nodded, unable to talk. I tried to memorize everything about that moment. The way the hair on his chest was so fine and blond and curled just so, just like the hair on his magnificent calves. The way his lips tasted like Sonic and vanilla Carmex. The way he put his hands on me wherever he wanted to, and I let him.
I’m doing it. I’m actually doing it. Right now at this moment I’m doing it.
It hurt. Like hell. And it was over in three minutes.
Afterward, all I wanted to do was put on my clothes. It had all happened so fast that my bathing suit was still damp from swimming in the pool that afternoon. I yanked my cover-up over me and sat up on the bed, not sure what to say. Tommy reached over and grabbed his shorts. The little whisper in the back of my head that reminded me we hadn’t used protection got louder all of a sudden, but I told it to shut up. Tommy hadn’t mentioned using anything, and I guess I just followed his lead.
“You didn’t tell me,” he said.
It hurt between my legs. Ached, actually.