Kody Keplinger - Shut Out

"Let's be fair about this," Susan said, getting to her feet, which wasn't easy since every inch of floor was filled by the bodies of teenage girls. "All in favor of ending the strike prematurely, raise your hand."

No hands.

Not even Kelsey's.

"Excellent. And all those in favor of continuing as planned with Lissa at the lead?"

All around the room, hands shot up.

"Seriously?" I asked, surprised.

"It actually might be better," Ellen said. "You know, for you to be in charge without a boyfriend and all. It gives you a clearer

perception, maybe. You aren't biased by the pressure anyone is putting on you anymore."

"Well, except me," Chloe said, leaning against me and running a teasing hand up my thigh. "Can you resist me, Lissa? I don't think you can."

I bumped her hand off my leg, laughing. I was overcome with emotion, so awed by the girls' support, that I forgot to be on edge. Even with twenty-one girls piled into my room, I found myself suddenly relaxing, trusting all of them more than I'd ever expected to.

"Wow, Chloe is getting desperate." Mary giggled.

"No shit," Susan said. "But we all knew she'd be dying inside without some booty."

Chloe clutched a hand to her chest, made a few gagging noises, and then fell back onto the carpet, playing dead.

"So how about it, Lissa?" Ellen said, calling back my attention. "You still with us?"

"Yes," I said, beaming. "I'm still with you. The strike continues."

"Awesome," Chloe said, using my shoulder to pull herself back into a sitting position, apparently no longer dead. "Now, where the fuck is my ice cream?"

"Can I tell you something?"

I was standing at the kitchen sink, washing a few of the bowls that had been used for ice cream, unable to stand the idea of letting them sit around for more than a few minutes. I could still

hear the chaos upstairs, where the others waited. I was just trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements — there was no way they were all staying in my bedroom — when I heard Kelsey's voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder and found her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking way more nervous than I'd ever seen her look before.

"Sure," I said. "What's up?"

"The thing is, I…" She stopped and turned to look into the living room.

"My dad isn't here," I said, knowing instantly what she was doing. "My brother decided at the last minute that he wanted to drive to the lake and go fishing in the morning, and Dad wanted to go with him. It's just us here. Which is a good thing, you know? It opens up some rooms for everyone to sleep in…. Sorry. What were you going to tell me?"

Kelsey stepped into the kitchen, easing up to the counter, her keen eyes watching as I put away the clean bowls. "Okay," she said, "this is going to sound weird, but… I don't like sex."

I dried my hands on the dish towel and turned to face her, confused. "You… What?"

"Don't tell anyone," she insisted. "Please. It's embarrassing. But I really don't enjoy it. It's just kind of… underwhelming. I only do it because it makes Terry happy, and I love him, but… I don't know. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It's just, you felt like you had to lie about being a virgin and I feel like I have to lie about this, and… I'm so weird."

I remembered standing in Susan's kitchen with Mary and

how she'd asked if she was weird for being a virgin. I'd almost told her the truth about me that night. That she wasn't weird, because I was a virgin, too. Or, rather, that we were weird together. This moment with Kelsey felt like intense déjГ vu. Only this time, I couldn't relate quite as much. Still, I said the same thing.

"You're not weird."

"How would you know?"

"I guess I don't," I admitted. "I don't know if I'll like it or not once I do it. If I ever do it. Because I may not." I shrugged. "But why does not liking it have to make you weird?"

"Because everyone else seems to like it so much."

"Maybe some of them are just pretending," I said. "So no one thinks they're weird."

"Maybe," Kelsey murmured. "God, why am I even telling you this? It's so weird."

"Stop saying it's weird."

Kelsey shook her head, laughing slightly. "Don't repeat this," she said, "but that's part of the reason I hate Chloe. I'm jealous. She obviously enjoys it. I wish I liked it that much."

"Well, Chloe gets hell for liking it too much. From you and others."

"So she's the weird one for liking it," Kelsey suggested.

"Or it could be that no one is weird," I offered. "I mean, Mary and I thought we were weird because we hadn't done it at all."

"Maybe we're all weird, then," Kelsey said.

"If that's the case, then why does it matter?"

"Because I want to know what's normal." She hesitated and

then looked down at her bare feet on the tile. "I want to be normal, but no one talks about sex, so how should I know what normal is?"

I considered this for a second. She was asking the same questions that had been running through my head for weeks: What's normal? What is expected of us?

"You know," I said quietly, "I don't think normal exists."

The next day, after all the girls had left, I decided to spend the afternoon cleaning up. Dad and Logan wouldn't be home until dinner, so there was no one to get in my way while I vacuumed and dusted and sanitized nearly everything in the house — my version of a relaxing Sunday. I was in the middle of reorganizing my closet by color — Chloe had decided to raid it during the sleepover — when the doorbell rang.

"Just a second," I yelled down the stairs. I ran into the bathroom to check my reflection. Part of me expected it to be Randy, coming to grovel and beg for forgiveness, and while I had no intention of taking him back I still wanted to look good, to show him I wasn't suffering without him.

Once I was certain that none of my hair was sticking up in the back and that no stress acne had popped up overnight, I ran down to the living room. "Coming! Sorry." I tugged once at the hem of my tank top before opening the door.

But Randy wasn't on my front porch.

Cash was.

"Hey."

"Um… hi."

The surprise must have shown on my face, because he glanced over his shoulder before turning back to me. "Are you expecting someone?"

"No, I just… I thought maybe you were Randy."

"Oh." There was an awkward pause and Cash ran a hand over his cropped hair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry I'm not who you were hoping for. I can go if you — "

"No!" I exclaimed. I blushed and glanced down at my feet. "No, I… I wasn't hoping to see him. I just kind of expected to. He hasn't come to apologize yet, so… But I'm glad it's you and not him. I don't think I'm ready to see him yet — I mean, I guess I should get over it, since he'll be at school tomorrow, but I'm hoping I can avoid him, since we don't have classes together, or maybe he'll avoid me, and now he has The Blonde, so… Ugh, sorry. I'm rambling. Why are you here?"

Cash shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to check on you," he said. "To make sure you're doing okay after everything that happened Friday night."

"Oh… Yeah, I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

I opened my mouth to say, Yes, really. Why do you care? But the way he was looking at me, so genuine and warm — I knew he did care. Somewhere along the way, Cash and I had become friends. I knew that should bother me, that I should be wary of getting close to anyone after what Randy had done to me, but I

couldn't fight the feeling of calm that washed over me when my eyes locked with Cash's.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked.

"Yeah — sure."

"Great. Give me a second." I stepped into the house and slipped on my sandals. I grabbed the house keys off the hook and joined Cash on the porch again, locking the door behind me. I double- and triple-checked the lock before shoving the keys into the back pocket of my jeans. "Okay, let's go."

We started walking down the street in silence. My arm brushed against his, but I didn't move away, and neither did he. We were on the corner, turning to follow the sidewalk, when I finally decided to speak.

"I'm better than I thought I'd be." I could feel his eyes on me, but I just kept walking. "After Homecoming, I expected to be a wreck. I expected to cry or be locked in my room or something…. I expected to miss him more, I guess. And I do — miss him, I mean — but it's not as bad as I'd thought. Some of my friends came over last night, and they really helped me. They made me realize that I could do better, you know?"

I glanced over and saw Cash nod.

"I thought I'd miss him more, but… that's not the problem."

"What is?"

"It's just… I keep asking myself, Why? Why wasn't I good enough to wait for? What's so wrong with me that he could just throw everything away for one night? Why was sex so damn important?" I felt the heat rise into my cheeks. "Oh, God, sorry. I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"About what?"

"My, um, sex life… Or, as everyone now knows, my lack thereof."

"Oh."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sometimes I wish Mom was still around to talk to me about this stuff. She'd be able to tell me what to do."

"What do you think she'd say?"

I smiled, remembering her voice. Soft but stern. "She'd probably say something like, ‘Melissa Anne, stop questioning yourself. You're smart and beautiful, and that boy is a fool. Never, never let anyone pressure you… and please get your shoes off the couch.' "