The Story of Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell Graduates

His other hand slid up to squeeze my tits. My mouth went sour, and my body twisted away, saving itself when my mind wouldn't.

I found another payphone in a strip mall down the street and called my parents. I waited in a grass strip in front of a gas station for three hours while my dad drove all the way over the mountains to pick me up.

***

Robbie came back at the end of the summer. I tried to avoid him, but the first time my parents left us alone in the house he stepped in front of my bedroom door as I came back from the bathroom.

"I want to talk to you."

"What?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry things ended between us. You're a really special girl, but it was time for me to move on. You may lie about your age, Gracie, but I'm a lot older than you, you know."

I crossed my arms, my fists tight under my armpits.

He put a hand on my shoulder, and I tensed. "Anyway, I just wanted to say...I know what you're trying to do, hanging out with Rick and Patrick all the time."

"What exactly do you think I'm trying to do? I'm just hanging out with my friends."

His ratty little mustache twitched as he smiled patronizingly. "Those guys aren't really your friends. You're just desperate now that you don't have anyone else. They know what kind of reputation you have, and they're just trying to get an easy piece."

I pulled my fists from my armpits and punched him in the jaw. He barely flinched, and shook his head slightly with a pitying frown. Tears blurred my eyes and I punched him again and again, wishing I had the strength of the Hulk, that I could beat his condescending face into bloody pulp.

He ducked past me, out of arm's reach. "I feel sorry for you, Gracie," he said, then turned and walked off.

I went into my room, slamming the door. I picked up the first thing I saw and threw it at the wall.

I stood panting, staring at what I'd thrown. My clarinet. It lay in pieces on the carpet, the mouthpiece shattered. I sobbed in remorse, and fell to my knees, examining it. I couldn't tell if it was fixable.

You're so weak. You can't deal with this shit without acting like a baby and destroying things. And you can't punch for shit.

I gently put the clarinet pieces back in their case, tears streaming down my cheeks. Then I started doing pushups.

***

That weekend, my friend Tamara called. "Hey. How you doing?" She snickered guiltily. "Sorry I flaked out on you the other day. Connor and I got into a fight."

"That's cool, it's alright."

"So..." She snickered again. "Uh, so, I know a guy that can get some LSD..."

I twirled the phone cord around my fingers, chewing the inside of my cheek. "I'd like to drop some acid." I didn't really feel like going out, but I couldn't stay in my room all day. Maybe a trip would help me get my head straight.

Tamara came to pick me up with Connor. They'd been dating for a while now. His buggy green eyes followed me as I climbed into the backseat, and his lip curled in disgust. Before I had my seatbelt fastened he revved the engine and peeled out of my parents' driveway, the back of the Impala fishtailing.

"Honey," Tamara wheedled over the roar of the engine. "Can we go to John's house?"

He shifted into second with a violent twitch of his arm. "Why the fuck do we need to go to John's house?"