experienced this with the first woman he slept with. By the time she regained consciousness, he had called the police and an ambulance.
* * *
—
An hour later I’m writing in the blank notebook I found in Addy’s office, the one with the blue cover.
The little death.
Three words that could also refer to losing your virginity. Not in a morbid, tragic way. Not in a sad way. But in a this-is-the-end-of-your-childhood kind of way. Even though I still feel stupidly young.
I set down every feeling, no matter how dark, and every thought, even the ones that make me want to go back under the covers. Because whatever happens, I want to remember all of them.
* * *
—
By two forty-five p.m. I’ve stopped writing and am lying there once again. If I had any energy at all, I would walk to the general store, which may or may not be closed, depending on Terri, and sit at my corner table and call Saz. Because even though she didn’t tell me about Yvonne right away, and even though I didn’t listen when she did try to tell me, I want, more than anything, to talk to her and have her tell me she still loves me and I’m still me and everything’s okay.
DAY 8
I am walking down Main Road and I’m not a virgin anymore.
I take my lunch to Rosecroft and eat on the steps and I’m not a virgin anymore.
Everywhere I go and everything I do, it’s all I can think: I’m not a virgin anymore.
I study everyone’s faces, my mom’s especially, to see if they can register this fact.
I run my hands over my body, the way Miah did. I try to see myself with his eyes. I study my own face in the mirror—not that I expect to look any different, but I am looking for signs of virginity loss.
The thing is, I don’t look any different from my regular old self. Honestly, it’s a bit like the day after Christmas. A little bit of Huh and Now what? This is what it’s like on the other side of something you’ve been anticipating for a long time. My parents are still getting divorced. Saz and I are still going to different colleges. I somehow thought it was going to be bigger and more monumental than it was. Instead, it just is.
* * *
—
Inside the general store’s Wi-Fi zone, a voice mail pops up from Saz.
Claude, it’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen as well as I should have. It’s just that Yvonne is here and you’re not, and I didn’t know you were calling and I didn’t know you were going to tell me something earth-shattering or I would have sent her home. Friends first. Always.
Yeah, you shouldn’t have told Wyatt before telling me, but I guess I get why you did. And yeah, you shouldn’t have hung up on me, but I shouldn’t have said that about your parents. What I should have said is that I’m surprised but not surprised. I’m surprised because this seems like a thing that can’t happen in life.
You, your mom, your dad—you’re like this weird unit where everyone does everything together and gets along. I can’t imagine the three of you without each other. But I’m not surprised for all the reasons I said. I just should have listened better all the way around. Just know I’m here. And I’m serious about meeting you halfway. If it gets too bad out there on that island, let me know. I love you more than Katniss and thumbprint cookies and all the freckles on your face.
I lay my head down on the table and cry. It’s not just Saz; it’s everything. Something goes clunk next to me, and there is a box of Kleenex. Terri sets one hand on my head and then walks back to her seat behind the counter. I try to rein myself in, but the tears keep coming, even when I hear the door to the store open and close and the sound of someone’s footsteps. There is talking between this person and Terri, and then the door opens and closes again. I lift my head and squint with one eye at Terri, who somehow isn’t staring at me.
I wipe my eyes and nose and then I call Saz back. When it goes to voice mail, I tell her I’m sorry too, and that I’m not a virgin anymore and that I like this boy, really like this boy,