My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 10: The Package

The doorbell ringing woke us up the next day. Or, more accurately, the doorbell woke baby Mary, who screamed and carried on until Linda took care of her. The screaming dulled to an occasional wail, until the doorbell rang again, setting off a new cacophony of shrieks.

"Lo, could you get that please?" my step-mom shouted down the hall to me.

Sighing, I peeled off the sheets only to see my own naked body, my stomach sticky with semen. The whole night came back to me in waves like they say it does in paperback novels. First I remembered kissing Keith, and Anita's hands in my hair, on my legs, then the marijuana (for a moment, I was terrified that I'd slept with the Rolling Stone), before finally, I remember that I'd practically forced myself on Paul. Except he'd wanted me to, or at least he begrudgingly accepted me. 

As quickly as I could manage, I threw on my shorts and shirt, as well as a bathrobe to give me an extra layer of protection, and jogged down the stairs. When I opened the front door, I was greeted by empty space. 

Right before I screamed at some kids for ding-dong-ditching, I noticed a brown box at my feet. As I bent down to pick it up, my hair was lifted by a gentle breeze. It was April 22nd, Easter Break had been over for weeks, but I hadn't realized it was spring. They'd started cutting the grass, and Rosemary mentioned that it was because of the warmer weather, but I hadn't felt it on my skin, smelt that wet, healthy scent from everything coming back to life. Not until then.

"What is it?" 

I turned around, standing up so fast I got lightheaded. But it was only Linda, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Mary. 

"I don't know," I said with a shrug, picking up the box and taking it to the table to open it.

"Here, use a knife, it'll be easier." She handed me a butcher blade, tip first. For the briefest moment, I imagined she knew what Paul and I had done, and her face went rotten and grey like a demon's as she plunged the blade into my chest. 

But, of course, she didn't. We'd been quiet, and even if I told her, she wouldn't kill me. If anything, she'd kill Paul. It'd probably be best to just get it off my chest...

"Thanks, Linda." 

With a quick swipe of the knife, I cut through the tape and opened each side of the cardboard. Inside was a stack of four navy uniform skirts, size 8, extra-long. Finally.

"They're my school skirts, I ordered-"

"School!" she hissed, eyes wide. 

"What?"

"School!" She pointed to the clock over the sink. It was almost ten o'clock. Ten fucking o'clock! 

I'd been late a couple of times by a few minutes here or there, but very rarely and never after I'd just taken a very gratuitous day off to get ready for my birthday. Without saying another word, I grabbed a skirt and sprinted up the stairs, two at a time. In the shower, I did none of my usual rituals, mostly focusing on scrubbing the cum and pot smell off my skin. The ends of my hair got wet, but I didn't focus on it. When I got out, I nearly slipped, and I mean very nearly slipped. 

This gave me pause, and I stood perfectly still for a few steady breaths, drying myself off fully and putting on my underwear, button-down, and skirt before pinning up my hair in a bun and spraying it with perfume. While I was at it, I gave the rest of my body a spritz. As I went to spray it behind my knees, like I always did, I noticed something strange.

In front of my mirror, I could see, to my horror, that my skirt was still a full two inches above my knee. It was better than my past, thigh-revealing uniform, but this one was still not regulation.

I couldn't dwell on it, and hurried into my Mary Janes, slipping on my blazer. I didn't bother packing a bag for cheer practice; I would most certainly get detention and be forced to miss it today. 

On my way out, I nearly ran into Paul, who was wearing sweatpants and no shirt, eating a cup of strawberry yogurt in the kitchen.

"Hey," he said, a smile almost crossing his face before he remembered last night. It visibly changed his expression, like a shadow was cast upon it, starting at his eyes and lowering until it reached his mouth, twisting it into a frown. "Are you okay? I just wanted to-"

I'll never know what he wanted to do, because I shoved past him, rather aggressively and unfairly, and then sprinted out the door to where the car was waiting. 

Now that the sun was directly overhead, it was no longer pleasantly warm, but unbearably hot.