So I guess I got off pretty easy. All kinds of people out there are ready to do all kinds of bad things to you.
And when I get to this point in my thinking, that poor man appears again, somewhere in the back of my brain. That black guy locked up in the basement by those weirdos, chained in the dark and fucked from behind by those two perverts. He’s really strong, like LL Cool J. So when he gets free he shoots the balls off the pervert who’s been fucking him, and then Bruce Willis asks him, “Are you okay?” and he says, “Nah, man. I’m pretty fucking far from okay.” I’m pretty fucking far from okay. Which makes sense, since they’d stuck some weird ball in his mouth and were fucking him up the ass. I’m pretty fucking far from okay. I always feel so sorry for him.
But what about me?
Am I okay?
Not really.
But it could be worse. I managed to avoid a face shot, cum in my mouth, getting pregnant, and playing Caged Fury.
I’m okay.
I wouldn’t call it the best day of my life—in fact, it totally sucked. But I’ll live. I’ll move on.
I suppose I’m not the only stupid girl who ever slept with a guy she didn’t like. I bet there are more of them out there than I can imagine. And I bet a lot of them got cum on their faces or in their mouths, or even inside them and ended up in prison protecting their babies. Well, maybe not the Caged Fury part. But none of it matters anyway. What matters is that I got into a stupid mess, but it wasn’t the worst mess possible.
I’ll learn from my mistake, and I won’t ever sleep with somebody I don’t like ever again. Really. And I’ll find someone new to fall in love with. Someone different.
Who am I kidding? There won’t be anyone new, and I’ll be so lonely I’ll sleep with the first guy who comes along…only, this time I won’t. I really have learned my lesson…though lessons go only so far…Anyway, I just won’t do it again.
Aaaaaah!
“Yoji!”—I was talking out loud now—“I’d do it with you!” As the words bounced around the room, I sank down to my shoulders and buried my face in what was left of the foam. “I want you!” I blubbered, though this time the bubbles muffled the words.
I climbed out of the bath, put on a clean T-shirt and shorts, and wrapped my head in a towel. When I got back to my room, I pulled the Pulp Fiction DVD from the shelf and checked the scene where the poor black guy says he’s “pretty fucking far from okay.” It wasn’t LL Cool J. It was Ving Rhames. I should have known. I knew LL Cool J was a rapper. But wasn’t he in some movie too? Or was he? Was this another one of my mistakes? I suppose I’m not much good at telling one black person from another. But then, I can’t even tell the difference between boys I like and the ones I don’t. Pretty lame.
No, I’m not lame. I’m getting my act together this time. Really.
2
There was a kid in my sixth-grade homeroom named Takashi Nizaki. He was really smart and got good grades, but at times he could be a sadistic bully and a bit schizo. He would be friends with you one day only to cut you dead the next. He was smart and good at sports, and he could talk circles around everybody, but there was something a bit spooky about him. Still, he ruled the class. The only one who could stand up to him was Masaki Urayasu from the class next door, and when Urayasu was beating the crap out of Nizaki, it was Urayasu’s friend, Yoji Kaneda, who waded in to break it up.
Urayasu was really built, bulging pecs and all, and the punches he threw were on a whole different level from Nizaki’s. In fact, at the moment, he was pummeling Nizaki’s face—maybe because he could see how handsome it was—and each time he connected, Nizaki’s head spun around, his silky hair whipping back and forth in time with the impact. The fight had started in the hall after school. Just about everybody in our class had gathered around to watch, but nobody was trying to break it up. I guess some people might have been thinking that they should step in—that Nizaki was a bully but he’d never really hurt anybody—but when you looked around and saw that no one else was doing anything, it seemed easier to leave it alone—let Nizaki get a little of his own medicine. That’s what I thought anyway. His mistake here had been in picking his opponent—or rather in not picking him carefully enough. At any rate, by this point Urayasu had been beating on him for a minute straight, and Nizaki’s eye was all bloody, and I thought he might go blind if it went on like this. Then I realized Nizaki was crying—right in front of everybody. It was the first time I’d seen him cry, and I’m sure that was true for everyone else too. You could feel the shock—and maybe a little bit of excitement. There was this low whistling sound every time Nizaki breathed in through his nose, and then it got all sniffly—susususususu—like he was having a fit or something—right in time with his shoulders heaving. He’d sort of blow the air out—haaaaaa—and then suck it back in—susususususu. His stomach bucked, and
