Erica had turned off the vibrator and was stroking her belly and thighs with her hands, her eyes still-half closed. I grabbed the remote and stopped the movie, the sight now almost a visual assault, too intense in the wake of my climax.
“You were right,” Erica murmured, looking at me. “You told my dad we’d be good-but that wasn’t just good… it was fucking fantastic.” I stood up, pulling my skirt down. “Listen, I should get home and change.” She frowned, leaning up on her elbows. “You wanna hang out later?”
“Call me.” I turned so she didn’t see how red my face was getting as I headed toward the door.
The images I’d seen over the last twenty-four hours—the magazines, the movies, Mr. Nolan masturbating, Erica playing with her vibrator—flashed through my head as I walked home. I knew that I could never unimagine them—and the scariest thing was that I found that I didn’t really want to.
CHAPTER THREE
“Bless me father, for I have sinned…”
Those were the words I was dreading. I couldn’t say them. Mass was extra long today, and every word sounded like a pronouncement that I was going to hell. The girls crowded around outside the confessional, talking in small groups and snapping their gum. We were supposed to be standing in a quiet line saying the Rosary, but Sister Abby had taken someone to see Mother Superior and we were momentarily without supervision.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered to Erica. She was sitting against the wall, her knees up, with a copy of one of the Gossip Girls tucked into her geography book.
I could see her panties-which wasn’t unusual, in an all-girls school where we were required to wear skirts, we often got careless-but it made me remember yesterday in the worst way.
“Do what?” She didn’t look up from her book.
I nudged her hip with one of my Mary Jane’s, hissing: “Confession!” She looked up then, puzzled. “Why not? Swearing, lustful thoughts, self-flagellation, blah blah blah, thirty Hail Mary’s and ten Our Father’s later, and you’re all set. What’s the big deal?”
I stared at her, blinking and speechless.
“Well fine.” She stood and brushed off the back of her skirt. “Then let’s make like Casper.”
“Cutting class?” I groaned. “Adding yet another sin to my growing list? Not helping!”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “So you’re ready to go in there and tell Father Michael about our little porn-watching session yesterday?”
“Shhhh!” I put my hand over her mouth, looking over at the group of girls closest to us to see if they’d heard anything. “You’re evil!”
“Perfect timing.” She glanced around. “Sister Abby’s gone, and I know I’m not up for one of Sister Helen’s usual lectures on the Church’s revisionist history-I don’t care what they say. Jesus was clearly a Jew.” The confessional door opened behind us and I sighed as another girl went in. I couldn’t-I just couldn’t. It wasn’t just that we had looked at the magazines and watched the movies, or even that we’d masturbated together. That was bad enough, but sitting in the dark and telling Father Michael the thoughts I was having about Mr. Nolan!? No way… the prospect made me feel weak with dread.
“Okay,” I agreed, grabbing Erica’s arm. “Let’s do it.”
“Leah!” It was Erica’s turn to sound shocked. “Seriously?” I nodded, grabbing my backpack off the floor, saying loudly, “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
Erica snickered as we left the church proper and went into the breezeway.
“Good cover.”
“I’m no expert,” I agreed. “So how do we get out without being seen, Houdini?”
“Follow me,” she said, and I did, down the corridor and through a door.
“Where are we?”
“Storage room.” She made her way through a maze of shelves with all sorts of vestments, candles and candle lighters, and statues.
The whole nativity scene was stacked into a corner, the baby Jesus wrapped in a shroud in the manger. The oddest thing was the hundreds of boxes full of heavenly host. I stared at them as we passed, looked at the stamped sides: Cavanagh Communion Hosts 1 1/8” , marked either with “white” or “wheat” flavor.
Erica grinned back at me when she saw me looking at the boxes. “Do you think Christ was white or wheat?”
“You are so going to hell.” Still, I couldn’t help grinning, too. We were nearing a door at the back of the room and she pulled it open, heading down a dark flight of stairs.
“Where are we?” I felt my way down, holding onto the railing.
“Church basement, now.” She waited for me at the bottom. “Bobby meets me here sometimes.”
“Oh my God!” I gasped, mentally adding my taking the Lord’s name in vain to my list of sins for the week. It was a small trespass, considering. “He’d be shot on sight if they found him!”
“No one finds him,” she assured me as I followed her through the dark basement. There were small windows near the top of the concrete walls that let in a little, shadowy light.
Around the corner, Erica pulled open another door and waved me through.
“What is this?” There were cots all along each side of the long, narrow walls of the room we stepped into.
“Old storm cellar-slash-bomb shelter, I think.” She started up the ladder to our left and pressing on the door above her head. “Either that, or this is where they do all the experiments on the really bad kids.” I snorted, following her up the ladder and waiting as she pressed at the door. We were in our uniforms, of course, and I could see right up her skirt from this angle and the flash of white panties made me remember yesterday.
“They leave this open?” I winced at the brightness as she finally heaved the door open with a little grunt of effort.
“Bobby broke the lock.”
I shook my head, incredulous, as she gave me a hand up and swung the door shut again. We were standing just outside the brick wall that surrounded the entire school, making it like some prison fortress. The storm cellar was a slanted thing made of long planks and painted brown to blend in with the brick.
“And we’re home free.” She grabbed my hand and swung it. “Let’s go to my house and do something we’ll have to confess later.”
“I’m boycotting confession.” I glanced over my shoulder as if someone might be watching us.
“Come on, there are yummy rewards for being bad.” She squeezed my fingers. “We don’t even have to miss the first fifteen minutes of General Hospital today!”
She had a point. We made good use of that last hour that we should have been in school, stopping by the corner store and picking up two Hershey’s, a bag of chips, and two Mountain Dews and then curled up on Erica’s sofa and pigged out while we watched the entire episode of GH without interruption. It was a real treat.
Erica flipped the TV off and stretched, her blouse pulling out of the waistband of her skirt, revealing her tummy. “Whatcha wanna do now?”
“We should do homework,” I answered, my head filled with the memory of watching her play with her vibrator. I tried to push the thought away, but I couldn’t when she sat cross-legged in her skirt, her panties clearly visible underneath.
“Now, what kind of fun would that be?” She rolled her eyes. “If you’re gonna skip school, you gotta make it worth it!”
“Well… you should show me more of your dad’s collection.” I couldn’t believe it was me who mentioned it first. I’d sworn I wasn’t going to even think about it, let alone ask about it.