Peyton frowned at the cloth draped over his passenger seat."You didn't have to do that you know."
"I don't want to mess up your car." I was covered in a generous amount of grime, a combination of mud, sweat and filth. Normally, I would've showered in the employee locker room, but I didn't want to risk running into anyone. It wasn't just Kylie and Miranda. More than them, I didn't want to see the people who had witnessed my humiliation.
I didn't want to see the pity in their eyes.
"It stinks like pigs in here doesn't it? Don't lie to me."
"I don't smell anything."
The smell was unmistakable and I knew he smelled it but he would never ever admit it. That was Peyton, polite and gracious to the very end.
"Well, you might not mind, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be welcome anywhere in public."
"The usual then?"
I nodded.
At Sonic, he wolfed down a hamburger and an order of chicken fingers while answering my questions about the fall. No, Harvard didn't let them choose their roommates but a few of his friends from high school were going there too, including his best friend, Jack.
He hadn't chosen his classes yet, but planned to take the ones needed for his intended major, Economics. Yes, he was sure. And no, he didn't want to talk about that anymore.
Then he told me stories about the graduation parties he'd attended, painting me pictures of pastel colored people cavorting around pristine swimming pools, set in perfectly manicured lawns in estates like the ones you saw in expensive fashion magazines.
What a world that must be.
He sipped his strawberry limeade. "What kind of grades did you end up getting?"
I took another bite of my grilled cheese and chewed before I answered him. "Not good. Mostly C's."
And I'd had to work hard for that. Academics didn't come easy for me.
He seemed disappointed. "Oh."
"I definitely won't be getting any merit scholarships."
He desperately wanted me to come east for college. I desperately wanted to go, but had neither the the money nor the grades for it. So I was thinking a community college in Dallas. Tuition was much cheaper if you stayed within your state of residence.
Once we were done with dinner, we drove up to his family's land and parked by their lake. Yes, their lake. His father had built a lake on their property, a little ways off from the main house where the Bishops lived.
Peyton's mother was from a prominent family in New York City. His father was a third generation Texan landowner with a lot of business dealings in oil. The family split their time between the two states, and had done so for as long as Peyton was alive. Well, his father usually stayed here, but that's a story for a different time.
The evening hours brought the temperature down, but not by much. I sat on the dock alone, drawing circles on the surface of the water with my big toe. Peyton lay on the lawn on top of a blanket, thumbing through his worn copy of Catcher in the Rye.
I scooped some water in my hands and splashed it against my arms and legs, trying in vain to rub some of the grime off. If he weren't here, I would be naked in a heartbeat, diving into the cool water. I sighed, thinking how nice it would be to get all the dust and filth out of my hair.
"Just do it Layla," he said without looking up, "I won't look."
I laughed. "The hell you won't."
He smiled, but he was distracted, poring over some passage in the book.
Wistfully, I watched him for a moment.
He was the most beautiful boy alive, both inside and out. I loved him, loved every moment of being around him and would do anything in the world for him.
And I knew he felt the same way about me.
If only he wasn't who he was.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I scratched a dot of mud off my thigh with my torn fingernail. And I imagined the kind of girl he belonged with, the kind of girl he would end up with.
She'd be beautiful, of course.
Her nails would be perfectly manicured, her hands soft and unblemished. Her hair would be brushed to a shine all the time and her clothes would never be wrinkled or dirty. No, she would wear beautiful clothes that complimented his. She would complement him.
And she'd be smart. She'd know just what to say and when to say it, and would know how to handle herself with dignity in any situation.
Yeah, she'd be a real class act, that one.
I hoped she would be sweet too. And honest. I hoped she would really see him and appreciate the person he was and the person he could be. I hoped she would also understand what he wasn't and be okay with that. But most of all, I hoped that she would love him and make him happy. Because he deserved to be loved. Deeply, truly, and forever. He really did.
I poured some more water over my thigh as my mind wandered further. Her name would certainly be something rich and classic like Caroline, or Victoria, or Emily.
With a name, she came alive, the image of her, a young and modern version of Jacqueline Kennedy dancing in my mind, the ocean winds ruffling her dark hair as she stood laughing on the beach in Hyannis Port.
And then I allowed myself to dream a little, imagining myself in her place. That I would change when I left this town. That college would give me the opportunity to discover myself. And that I would undergo a magnificent metamorphosis, blooming into someone who would be worthy of Peyton Bishop.
Jacqueline laughed, the sound of it as clear and melodious as the crystal drops of a trembling chandelier. "Oh dear," she said, patting my hand. "That's a really sweet thought, but it takes good breeding to be accepted into society. Families like ours go back generations."
I glanced at Peyton.
No, the love child between a Rodeo Cowboy, no matter how legendary, and the town bicycle would never do.
"You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trailer park out of the girl." It was one of Kylie's go-to insults.
I shoved both of them aside and called out to him. "Hey Peyton, I saw a ninja riding a unicorn at the stables today."
"Mmmm hmmm," he mumbled absently without looking up.
"Right after I finished milking the cow and shaving it's butt."
His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration at the book, his thumb pressed against his lower lip. "Mmmm hmmm."
I unbuttoned my shorts and slipped them off.
"And you know the Ukrainian stable boy right? The one with the third eye?" I peeled my dirty tank top off.
"Uh huh."
"Well, it turns out he's a leprechaun and he proved it by making a zillion rainbows. It was kind of amazing."
He didn't answer all all that time, so I quickly took my bra off, hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then lost the underwear as well.
I slipped into the water and immediately felt all the tension melt from my body. I adored water. My daddy used to tell me that ever since I was born, I would try to swim in anything bigger than a puddle. I still found it hard to resist.
I hadn't had a bath since I moved to Canyon, only quick showers in our trailer's tiny bathroom. Swimming in lakes during the summer when the water was warm enough was close, but to me, the greatest luxury in life would be to have a bathtub I could fill with scalding hot water. I would soak in it every day. Maybe next year, I would find a place with a bathtub.
Taking a deep breath, I dived under, all the way down down down down, keeping my limbs still, letting the water drag me lower and lower, ignoring the burning in my lungs.
I stayed under until my body naturally expelled itself from the water, gasping for breath.
Sighing happily, I treaded water and turned to Peyton. He was still absorbed in his book with an intensity I would never feel toward one in ten lifetimes. I ruefully shook my head. That was Peyton for you.
I turned and swam laps, making strong front strokes, loving the way the water parted at my touch, giving way to my body.
Once I tired myself out, I rolled onto my back and floated, stared at the orange and purple sky, marveling in the size of the world, and felt happy. What did it really matter what they called me? They were just a bunch of small minded people who had nothing better to do with their time than to make other people miserable to feel better about themselves.
Next year, I promised myself again, I was gone. I was going to move to a new city where nobody knew me, where nobody knew my mom, to a place where I would be judged on something other than things beyond my control. Where I could actually live myself instead of enduring it.
It was a big world out there and I was sure that there would be a place where I could be happy. We'll be happy. I promised myself. We will.
"Layla?"
Peyton sat up with a start, quickly rising to his feet. I sank down until only my eyes were poking through the surface of the water and watched him. He shouted my name again, worry in his tone, and scanned the horizon.
Almost like a child seeking his mother.
I could've yelled out and I probably should've, but I loved the feeling of being looked for, of being wanted, of being worried over. What lonely girl wouldn't be flattered by that? So I remained silent.
He paced the shore until he spotted the pile of my clothes and shifted his gaze to the water.
Finally his eyes locked on me.
I waved.
"God, you scared me," he said, walking to the edge of the water. He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched me.
"I wish you would swim!" I called out.
He shook his head firmly.
"I know. I wasn't really expecting you to."
He grinned. "What's your plan for getting out?"
"You're going to get that towel from the car, leave it on the dock and turn around," I said.
"The hell I am."
I laughed until my sides hurt, diving again and laughing underwater as I watched the bubbles break the surface. I swam as close to the shore as I dared, exploded out of the water and splashed water at him, soaking the front of his clothes.
He hollered, peeled off his shirt and put it on the ground. On the way back up, he must've gathered pebbles because he started pelting me with them.
But I had the advantage of disappearing. I dove and held my breath until I could hear his frantic voice calling my name.
I was exhuberant when I surfaced, but the laughter quickly dissipated when I spotted the headlights of a silver Mercedes speeding down the road in our direction.
"Shit Peyton, hurry, get the towel."
I didn't have to tell him twice.
"Hurry!" I screamed, swimming toward the dock.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He dropped the towel on the dock and turned his back me.
But Charlotte Bishop was already getting out of her car.
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