Where I Lay My Head

The next fifteen minutes turned into a conversation bouncing from head to head throughout the "Short-Bus" about our planned day. The Short-Bus was the van's new nickname, although at the time I wasn't quite sure what that meant.

Somehow naturally, Rachel and I receded from that conversation to form a new one of our own. Apparently we weren't practicing the art of flirting with enough subtlety because both Scotti and Sebastian were knocked into silence with agitation. Although childish, I understood Sebastian's reason for being upset, but Scotti? It baffled me. There was a point in our conversation when for once I was talking and Rachel spared a sideward glanced from me to Scotti.

Scotti swung his eyes to Sebastian pouting in the seat before us, shook his head and looked hazardously back to Rachel. Rachel's eyes narrowed into bitter slits and he mouthed something rash to Scotti. By that point I was tripping over my words, trying to maintain conversation while at the same time struggling to fathom what was happening and make out what Rachel had said to Scotti.

"Are you ready for this, Addie Priss?" Cecil asked from the passenger seat two rows before, although we weren't even close to the beach yet. We hadn't even hit the highway.

Oh no, now we had. I understood what Cecil had meant as I watched that dreadful, dingy white and black 70 mph sign sweep past us and the van pumped with acceleration.

At first, I decided to struggle against the speed because the conversation that Rachel and I were having seemed too important to neglect. But a split second after that, my head was spinning so much that I had to bury it between my knees to help calm it.

"Addie, what's wrong?" Rachel whimpered as the van shook with speed and the razor-sharp air scraped against the exterior as we tackled through it.

"It's so fast." was all that my scrambling brain could manage at that point.

As Cecil explained to them all how I wasn't used to cars yet, I felt the warm callous' of Rachel's hand take flat around the back of my neck. With alarm, my body tensed coldly at this sort of touch, but soon found solace in his skin against mine as he began to trace his thumb in comforting circles against my bare flesh.

I had never been touched in that way before by someone that I could lust over, and by someone who could lust over me. The week before I would have been petrified and stopped him at once. Why didn't I then? Well, it felt great and I didn't want it to end. That voice that had always been in my head-- the voice of my parents, my brother, Him-- wasn't there anymore. I let myself fall asleep to the feeling of his touch, the sickened feeling in my stomach replaced with butterflies.