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SEVEN

Glory stirred awake when she felt something wet brush her cheek. Her sleep was restless after all the excitement from that day. She opened here eyes and saw the boy sitting on her bed. Had he kissed her?

“What are you doing here? Did you just kiss my cheek?”

The boy said, “Come on, Glory… I’ve seen you look at me? It’s very obvious you are attracted to me.”

Glory shot up, sitting straight on her bed. “What? You’re crazy! You’re too young for me. I think you’re a nice kid. That’s all.”

The boy grabbed her arm. “Don’t be ashamed of your feelings. I’m just four years younger. That isn’t that much. I will be gentle with you.”

“Let go of my arm,” Glory insisted.

The boy’s head came closer to hers, trying to kiss her. That did it. She raked her fingernails across his cheek, drawing blood. The boy screamed and pushed her flat on the bed. He ran away.

Glory panted. How she had read that boy wrong. He seemed so nice. He turned out to be just as big as an asshole as Robert though. She got up, walked to her father’s room. She wanted to tell him what happened. Then she understood her dad might just kill the boy. As much as she was disgusted by what the boy had done she didn’t want him dead neither did she want her dad to get into trouble. She didn’t need her dad anyway. She was tough enough to face anything on her own.

She walked into the boy’s room. The boy was in bed, apparently asleep. Was he really going to just pretend like nothing happened. She tore the sheets off his bed.

“Huh? What?” he said sleepily.

“Get out,” she said. “Get the hell out of bed, pack your bag and leave.”

“Leave? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t play the innocent. You almost raped me, you sonofabitch!”

“Raped you? I would never do anything like that,” the boy said. He was a great actor. She almost believed him.

He slowly got out of bed. “Listen, I don’t know what happened but I am very sure I didn’t do anything to you. Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re just the same as all of those guys in high school. Pack your bags and leave before I get my dad. He’ll kill you.”

“If you want me gone, I’m gone. But I swear I didn’t do anything to hurt you,” the boy said. He started to put on his clothes.

“Yes, I want you gone,” Glory said, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.

The boy took his backpack, slung it across his shoulder. “I’m very sorry you think bad of me. I don’t know what happened to you, Glory. But you are obviously very distressed. So I will leave.”

The boy walked out of his room. Glory walked with him, wanting to make sure he was gone. She opened the door and the boy left the house.

“Keep on walking,” she told the boy. She watched the boy walk until he was not visible anymore, swallowed by the dark night.

She shivered, partly because it was cold standing there in just her nightgown, part of what had happened. Then she wondered why the boy’s cheek wasn’t bleeding anymore when he was in his bed again.

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Jochem Vandersteen

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