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Chapter Seven

TERROR SEX

It was mid-September, and my new life in Montreal had been running smoothly. With help from Edgar I was getting by in math, and with help from Prof Stone I was actually enjoying my education. Chloe and Jacques were dating, and Chloe and I were closer than ever. I'd adjusted to the house, too. Some of the hippies even offered me brownies (but their smile was a little too eager, so I politely refused).

That's not to mention Josh. While he was still far from the McDreamy I thought he'd be, we still had a pretty good time together. He even put flirtatious messages on my Facebook wall for everyone to see! Read it and weep, Long Island. Oh, and you won't believe it, but he actually told me the password to his Mac desktop! Pssst, it's "Galaxy8."

On the weekends I spent two hours at a time at his parents' place in the city. Because Josh didn't live on campus, he had special permission to come and go, but unfortunately, that didn't extend to me. It was très cool walking around Montreal with a seasoned resident like Josh, though, even if we had to stop in a computer store like twice a day. I was truly beginning to feel at home.

Then, on September tenth, came the worst news you could ever imagine....

"Students and faculty alike were shocked when a junior here at Molson Academy was arrested earlier this morning on conspiracy charges. Acting on a tip, police rushed into the suspect's room, where they found a box of semiautomatic handguns and a list of students he planned to execute in yet another school shooting."

That was on the news. The hippies, weirdos, Chloe, and I all watched in the den with our mouths agape. It was the first we'd heard of it.

As the day progressed, more information surfaced. His name was Harrison Bennett, and he was in my AP Calc class. To be honest, I had no recollection of the guy, which in a class of fifteen is saying a lot. Apparently he was American, born and raised in Minnesota. Needless to say, AP was canceled for that week.

Later that afternoon I was called in to meet Dean Sanders himself.

"Hello, Jenny. It's a pleasure to meet you, and we're thrilled to have you here at Molson. It's a terrible occurrence what happened on campus today, and the entire administration is shaken. The reason we called you here is because we feel it's important that you have certain privileged information. It's about the list Harrison made."

"What about it?"

"There were quite a few students on it...and you were one of them. We're obligated to tell you, and we hope it's not too soon. We just want to be straightforward with our students. Please don't let this intimidate you too much. This kind of thing is a rarity in Canada. The boy won't be anywhere near here for a long time. He was American, you know."

It was almost a cheap shot the way he said it; as if only Americans were capable of school shootings. But there was a school shooting at some junior college in Montreal a few years ago. I remembered it. It wasn't just an American epidemic anymore.

"We have a counselor on campus. His name's Mr. Carr, and he's there whenever you need him, Jenny. Jenny?"

I was frozen stiff. Memories flooded my feeble mind — memories of 9/11. My family and I were supposed to go into the city the night before to watch a Broadway play and stay at a hotel. It was a tradition. We called them "Green Apple Nights," and Daddy let us take off from school and everything.

Anyway, Daddy had a friend in the towers that we were going to visit the morning of 9/11, and the only reason it didn't happen is because Abby got food poisoning and everything was canceled. Daddy's friend died in the attacks. It took me years to recover from the fact that I, too, almost died that day. And here death was again, knocking on the door but not coming inside. It chilled me to my core. What the F was up with September?

"Dean Sanders?" I said.

"Yes? What is it? Anything."

"Can I have special permission to go off campus tonight for more than two hours?" It was all I could really think of. I had a date at Josh's place.

I left Dean Sanders feeling angry at first. I felt angry that society had created these sociopathic maniacs who couldn't make friends and wanted everyone to suffer for it. It made me so angry I could've killed someone myself.

But as day turned to night the anger subsided, giving way to one thing only: fear. My boiling blood had turned cold. I was alone in a foreign land, and my life was a fragile flame that could be blown out — just like that. Not even the sound of my mother's voice could put me at ease. In fact, it did the exact opposite, since she was like flipping out. Whatever.

I don't know when summer ended that year, but for me that day marked the beginning of fall. There was just suddenly this gloomy autumn chill in the air that even global warming couldn't change.

So I was like totally scared. I can't even tell you how many paranoid thoughts popped into my head, but by dusk there was only one worry left: my virginity. Sure, it was precious, but what good was it if you took it to your grave? I totally didn't want to die a virgin, it wasn't fair.

Shivering, I looked around and realized I'd been walking since noon. It was almost six o'clock now. I was supposed to be at Josh's by seven.

I thought of Prof Stone and that world of sexual knowledge he always paraded before us with his poetry and stupid acrobatics. I thought of Samantha in Sex and the City. I was tired and afraid of not being in that world. I wanted to know the touch that was so commonplace to so many. It was advertised daily, it made up half the conversation among students (at least it felt that way); it was the line dividing Jenny the girl from Jenny the woman.

I couldn't die having never achieved what I'd spent so long working toward. Maybe it didn't have to be perfect, it just had to be. It just had to be.

I raced home to change and then headed into the city. I was at Josh's by seven thirty.

"I'm sorry," I said in the doorway. "I'm...sorry."

"What's wrong?"

Then I just broke down. It was all too much. I told Josh everything. He squeezed me tight and told me it would be okay and that he'd take care of me. It was the sweetest he'd been to me.

By the time he poured my first glass of wine, I just wanted to forget everything.

And forget things we did.

Josh's parents were out for the night and it was just the two of us. I had special permission from the dean himself to be off campus for the night as long as I kept my housemother posted. I'd even turned off my cell phone for the occasion.

The smell of chicken Marsala filled the apartment, and like some aphrodisiac it carried me away. From the kitchen, Josh cooked. He wore this hilarious apron that said FUCK THE COOK on it. While the sauce simmered, he poured me some more wine, and with each new glass the night grew more and more enchanting.

He'd gone all out. The table was set with flowers and candles, and for dinner he brought out another bottle of red wine. This one was really expensive and like aged more than a bubbie in Florida. And I'm not usually the biggest chicken Marsala fan, but Josh swore I'd love it and I totally did, I think (I was kinda drunk by that point).

"Josh, this is so good."

"You like? I knew you were lactose intolerant, so I made my best nondairy dish. I'm so glad it pleases the lady. You know, Jenny, I think about you all the time. I want more of you. I want to watch movies until sunrise. I want to just hold you. It sounds cliché, I know."

"No, it doesn't. It sounds affectionate."

"Well, I'm not used to it. You bring it out of me."

He was being so totally sweet, and the food was so good. Everything was perfect until I heard a familiar noise emanate from his room. "Oh shit," Josh said casually as he stood. "I'll be right back." It was his stupid computer — I knew it. Well, at least he didn't put it on the table.

I almost ate my words as Josh came back into the room, holding his precious Mac ever so carefully. He rested it on the kitchen counter where he could keep an eye on it, then sat back down. "Downloading something," was all he offered by way of explanation. I felt a tinge of nausea and took a big gulp of wine.

By the time dinner was over, I was pretty wasted. Maybe that was part of Josh's plan, because he seemed like totally sober. Anyway, it wasn't long before he and I were on the couch and it wasn't long after being on the couch that Josh was on top of me.

In my woozy head I knew it was time. Dinner had been so ideal, sort of. Josh was so sweet and tall and handsome, I guess. He wasn't Jewish, but it didn't matter really. I never said I was gonna marry the first guy I had sex with. Besides, who's to say Josh wouldn't convert or something if need be?

So he slipped his hands up my shirt and I did the same to him. We were both topless in the course of a few deep kisses. He said nothing, only nodded toward the bedroom. I nodded back.

The butterflies were beating ferociously in my stomach, but the wine helped sedate them. I swear it sounds corny, but that cheesy prom song by Eric Clapton was playing in my head. You know: "You look wonderful tonight..." For a second Prof Stone replaced Eric Clapton, and I giggled at the thought of my corny professor singing.

"What is it?" Josh asked. We were sitting on his bed now.

"Nothing."

"You're really beautiful, Jenny."

"Am I?"

"I want to know you."

So cheesy, right? But at the time it sounded really passionate. Thinking it would be sexy, I didn't respond — I merely pulled at his belt, unbuckling it.

Suddenly he was way too excited, but so was I. As I unbuttoned my jeans, he reached into a drawer. Nice, I didn't need to ask if he had a condom. I slid off my pants and breathed nervously. So this was it. The moment I'd been waiting for. Ohmigod, I was gonna lose my virginity!

All right, Josh, let's see what you're made of. He eased me back against the semi-soft mattress. Okay, okay. He kissed me all over. Nice. And then he was inside me. There wasn't much pain, more like discomfort as he pumped away. Then for a brief moment there was a flash of great pleasure. More, more, more. I wanted more.

Josh thrust his hips. Yes! It felt good. He thrust them again. Yes! Yes! He thrust them for the last time, then pulled out and released a groan of ecstasy before I'd barely gasped.

Wait. That was it? What the F was that?

Josh collapsed onto my shoulder like a fallen giant. I could feel the sweat from his forehead all over my tender skin. Then I smelled something weird. Was that Vaseline?

Whatever. It was over. It was over and it was awful.

"You liked that?" he asked.

"Sure. You wanna maybe do it again?"

"No way. I'm pooped."

And there was something about that word: "pooped." And something about the knowledge that I'd just given away my most valued possession to a guy that used the word "pooped."

The nausea swelled. The butterflies all wanted to vomit. I wanted to leave. Instead I just lay there beneath his big, lousy body wondering how I'd tell Chloe. It was then I noticed something.

"Hey, you didn't take the condom off."

"I never put it on."

"What?"

"Condoms and vaginas don't mix."

"Then what was in the drawer?"

"Vaseline. It's like a lube."

"Eww. Are you serious?"

"Shhh...calm down. Don't worry. I didn't cum inside you. Now let's go to bed. In the morning I'll make us French toast."

Hooray. French toast. Come to think of it, the chicken Marsala hadn't been that good.

And that was the story of how I lost my virginity. It's not even its own chapter.

The next morning I awoke in his arms feeling like a prisoner. It's not even accurate to say I awoke, since I'd been up all night, but you catch my drift. The point was, I felt like a statistic. The world I was so eager to join was a cold one. It was a world where men came before women, pun intended.

It was September 11, 2007. I imagined how many women died on this fatal day years ago and how few women would ever steal a plane and crash it into a building.

Meanwhile, Josh was rousing from his slumber. He kissed my forehead with dry lips. "So, wanna do it again?" he asked. I almost threw up right there on the bed.

"I thought we were gonna have French toast," was all I could think to say.

"You're serious? You don't wanna?"

"Not really."

"Fine then," he said bitterly. "Let's make some fucking French toast." With that he leaped out of bed and went straight to his computer. I could tell he was angry. He didn't face me when he spoke. "It's not fucking fair. You can be so spoiled, Jenny."

"How am I spoiled?"

"You just always get things your way or no way at all."

"Because I don't feel like having sex at eight in the morning? I'm not a morning person!"

"Just forget it. Let me finish this and I'll make your fucking breakfast."

The French toast was too eggy, and the few bites I ate tasted like Vaseline. I could hardly look at Josh without getting sick.

I finally got home around noon. I thought I'd never leave Josh's place. He was like really determined to have sex again. But the thing was, in my head I'd kind of disqualified the whole event. I mean, it was so short it didn't have to count, right?

What I mean is, Josh and I were obviously through, and assuming I wasn't pregnant or didn't have an STD, then it was practically like it never happened. Oh God, I didn't even wanna think about STDs. I'd have to get tested. My Jewish neurosis simply wouldn't allow room for error. I went on this whole imaginative journey of my life with AIDS that I won't get into. All I'll say is if it turned out I had something, I would make sure Josh suffered for it somehow. And what if he'd gotten some inside me? I couldn't be pregnant. Not yet!!

My imaginary STD and pregnancy only made me angrier and angrier with Josh. Whether I liked it or not, I'd been initiated into a new phase of being. I could lie about it, sure, but the truth remained: I'd lost my V-card. I was no longer a V-card-carrying member.

I trudged into my room and plopped down on my bed. My ringtone blared in my ears. I knew it was him. I didn't answer. The door was partially open, and someone pushed it forward. Chloe.

"Ohmigod, Jenny, where have you been?" She was practically in tears. "I've been calling you."

"Chloe, I lost my V-card."

"But Valentine's Day isn't until February."

"No, Chloe. My virginity."

She sat down on the bed next to me. "No," was all she could mutter. It was like she knew. She knew it'd been awful.

"I don't know why I did it, Chlo. I think I was...scared of dying a virgin."

It turned out that it happened all the time. I Googled "sex" and "fear" and found a Time magazine article talking about it: "Terror Sex." I guess I wasn't the only girl who'd freaked out about dying a virgin. Now I wasn't a virgin, and I wished I were dead.

Chloe rubbed my back. Finally she asked, "How was it?"

"Awful."

"Did you have an orgasm?"

"Not even close."

"Jenny, I hate men."

"Let's not get carried away."

"Fine, I don't hate men, but I hate Jacques. I broke up with him."

"You did? Why, Chloe?"

"All he wanted was sex. It's all they ever want."

"I hate Josh."

"I hate Josh too."

"I thought Jacques was a total loser."

"Let's make a pact. We'll only date guys we both approve of, eh."

"C'est cool, Chloe. Deal. So that means it's over with Jacques and Josh?"

"Jacques and Josh. It sounds like they should be together." We laughed, and it made us both feel better.

So Josh was history. At least that's what I thought. The phone rang again.

This was the text conversation between Josh and me on Wednesday:

Josh: your new facebook pictures r pretty awful

Me: thanx josh, can u go away now?

Josh: can u just tell me y u take such stupid pictures?

Me: what the f josh

Josh: what the f. the word is fuck jenny. what the fuck. answer my question though

Me: what question?

Josh: why are ur pictures so gay?

Me: fuck off

Josh: don't get so mad jenny. i'm not insulting u personally. i'm just saying ur pictures r stupid

Me: ok macdaddy

Josh: dumb jewish bitch

Josh: my gchat name is cool

Me: well since ur obviously not a mack, i can only assume it refers to the constant masturbation u perform in front of ur mac.

Josh: what do you mean i'm not a mack? i got u in bed didn't i

Me: lot of good that did me

Josh: what the fuck does that mean? why don't you return my calls?

Me: bye josh

Josh: wait. call me jenny!

This is where things got really complicated.

It was Friday night, and I was doing homework for biology. I wore a pink T-shirt and Juicy shorts. There was some sort of concert at Molson Theatre (in Canada it's spelled the European way), and Hippie Hall was so quiet that if you listened closely you could hear Sasha chanting a mantra in her bedroom. I swear, besides her there was like no one else home.

So there I was, doing my boring homework. To help make it slightly less boring, I put on my iPod. Soon Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" filled the room and gave a sort of dark mood to everything. Maybe it's just my memory, but I swear the room had this dismal glow to it, and the way the curtains drifted in the night wind...it was all very spooky.

My door was closed. When the knob turned, I noticed but just assumed it was Jacinda. It wasn't. It was Josh. He was wearing Roots sweatpants and he looked totally wasted. Yes, he was carrying his laptop in a black computer bag. He was such a loser! I killed the music.

"What the F are you doing here?"

"The front door was unlocked. You shouldn't do that. You never know who'll just walk right in."

"Yeah, a huge creep just walked in right now."

"Ouch. Still a bitch, I see." Then he reached right out and squeezed my boob.

"Okay, you have to leave now."

"Wait!" he shouted. "Just...wait. I came for a reason." He closed the door behind him, gently placed his computer bag on my desk, and came toward me again, with a look in his eyes like he wanted something from me.

I was getting scared. I told him, "Josh, I think you're drunk. Whatever it is, just send me an e-mail. I don't wanna call the cops."

"Jenny, just one more chance." Again he reached for my boob, but I swatted his hand this time.

"Go away, Josh."

"Just give me one more chance."

"I'm calling the cops."

I reached for the phone but Josh, being twice my size, ripped it from my hands. "You're not listening!" he shouted. "Just give me one more chance!"

"Get out of here before I scream!"

I should've just screamed, but whatever. Before I could do anything, he cupped my mouth and tackled me onto Jacinda's multicolored futon. I could smell the liquor on his breath. I think it was Jack Daniels or something. All I could see were his bloodshot eyes filled with rage.

Then he punched me in the stomach. I'd never felt anything like it. The tears covered my face and my heart was beating like an espresso machine on overdrive. I couldn't believe it, but this jerk was trying to rape me.

He punched me again, this time in the ear, causing a high-pitched ring that killed worse than period cramps after you'd skipped a month. Then he let go of my mouth and grabbed my neck, cutting off my voice but not entirely choking me.

I cursed myself for wearing those Juicy shorts, because it was so easy for him to reach down and slide them right off. This was really happening.

I entered a dark world then. A black hole. I sank into a pit where the name Jenny Green meant nothing to me. She was a memory, a ghost of some past I might have lived. She was dead. In her place was a defenseless animal that needed to somehow survive. A very angry animal.

Josh pushed his palm into my face. I was losing consciousness. I had to figure something out fast. I tried kicking, but the weight of his body pinned my legs to the futon. I flailed my arms but they didn't seem to go anywhere, like they were stuck in ooze. Josh was pulling down his sweatpants.

The panic was unbearable. His pants were at his ankles and he started thrusting at me. I reached out again, this time for something to use. My small hands found it and wrapped around the hard glass: Jacinda's bong. I gripped it and swung as hard as I could.

SMASH! I nailed Josh right in the face. He squealed loudly. It was enough to stop everything, but I didn't stop. Instead I kept stabbing him with the broken bong, piercing his face and throat.

Now, I hate blood, so I won't go into too much detail, but let's just say there was lots of it. For a moment it seemed like nothing else existed but Josh Beck's ugly blood.

His eyes bulged as he pawed wildly at his throat. He made these awful choking noises that again I don't really wanna talk about. I shoved him off me then and scurried to a corner of the room, where I stood watching. I bit my nails at record speed while Josh writhed and squirmed on the futon.

Then he stopped writhing and squirming. He stopped doing anything at all. He just lay there, motionless.

Josh Beck was like totally dead.

Copyright © 2008 by Amy Belasen and Jacob Osborn