Gina and Mike Read Free Page B

determined to find a prom dress that had some resemblance to Di’s dress. The clerk wrote all of the information down on a card for Sue, who decided to check a few more shops before making her final decision. By the time I got home, I was exhausted. 
    I had an hour before Mike picked me up. I set my alarm so I could lie down for twenty minutes before hopping into the shower.
    I had tossed and turned the night before. The rape played over and over in my mind. And like a movie you watch repeatedly, new details emerged that you saw but had forgotten or pushed aside. Like the dark, dime-size mole on Smith’s torso between his belly button and pubic hair.
    I thought about what I could have done, what I should have done to stop Smith. I was mad at myself for not fighting him harder, and I vowed to take classes to learn how to defend myself better. 
    I never said anything to Mike, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I got Smith for calc. His wife was nice enough. I actually met her through church. She sang in the choir with Mom and when she was looking for a babysitter a couple years ago, Mom suggested me. Of course, that was before I had Smith for class and Mike was my boyfriend.
    Mike licked his dripping ice-cream cone. “What’s wrong with you tonight? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
    I bit my lower lip. God I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t. For starters, Mike would confront Smith and probably kill the bastard and end up in jail. And second, what proof did I have? Zilch! Maybe I should have kept the sundress just in case I’d change my mind. But Mr. Smith’s semen on my dress wouldn’t prove that he raped me. It would just prove that somehow his semen got on my dress. The how was the important part and Smith would probably turn it around and I’d come out looking like a slut who came on to him.  
    “Sorry I’m not my usual self. Guess I just have a lot on my mind,” I told Mike.
    “Like what?”
    “Just school stuff.”
    “Like the physics exam?” Mike asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m sure you did fine. Probably got an A. Oh. Almost forgot. Did you hear about Dave and Diane?”
    “Sues told me. I can’t believe it.”
    Mike wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It wasn’t a complete shock to me.  Dave’s been talking about that Caryn chick for awhile.”
    “The ninth-grader?”
    Mike nodded. “Dave says he’ll get to third base on the first date.”
    “You’re a pig.”
    “Hey, I didn’t say that, Dave did.”
    “Yeah, but you repeated it,” I told him.
    “To you.”
    “Still…”
    “Man, you are a little edgy. Let’s get out of here.”
    I grabbed my purse and followed Mike to his beat-up brown sedan with coffee-stained interior.  By the time we got to our making-out spot, my heart revved into overdrive.
    Mike turned off the car and looked at me. “Gina, you’re shaking.” He cupped my hands in his. “If you don’t want to make out, it’s OK. I’ll take you home.”
    “No,” I said. “I want to be with you.”
    Mike leaned over and we kissed. Gentle kisses rolled into urgent ones.  And after a few minutes of deep kissing we grabbed his blue sleeping bag out of the trunk and headed into the woods. Our making-out spot was under a towering oak tree that scratched the sky.  
    Mike unzipped the nylon bag the entire way so it was like a double-size blanket. The plaid liner faced up. I lay down beside him and we started kissing again. Mike reached under my shirt and I flinched.
    “Relax, baby,” he whispered into my ear.
    He unhooked my bra and I helped him unbutton my shirt. I tried to relax, but as Mike’s mouth trailed down my neck onto my chest, my heart raced. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I pictured the beach that would help me relax. It worked when I was in the dentist chair and he was drilling a cavity. But picturing the beach didn’t work. When I closed my eyes, I saw Smith’s bushy mustache and bald head and dime-size mole and heard him say, “Tight