“Don’t worry about them.”
I nod. But now all I can think about is a clique of mothers gossiping about how Lucas is sleeping with his nanny. Maybe coming to the beach with him and Penelope was a bad idea.
“Hey,” says Lucas, gently rubbing my back. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I know I shouldn’t care,” I say. “It’s just…I’m a little sensitive about that kind of thing. Gossip, I mean. Because of some stuff that happened when I was a kid.”
Lucas frowns. “What are you talking about?”
I never expected to be talking about baggage like this so soon with Lucas—it’s the kind of stuff that usually doesn’t come up until further into a relationship. But it feels necessary to explain myself. And I feel safe talking to him about it, so I may as well.
“When I was in middle school,” I say, “this girl started a rumor about me that I would let guys feel me up if they paid me a dollar. I was a total goody two-shoes, and nobody believed her. But then this boy in our class started telling everyone that it was true, that I’d let him do it. And that I’d liked it so much that I’d let him keep his dollar. And…that I’d let him do more than just feel me up, too.”
“What the fuck?” Lucas says.
“I know,” I say. “Kids can be so cruel. It’s awful.”
“I’m sorry, Sophia.”
I shrug. “It’s in the past. And it’s not like it ruined my life or anything. But I’m still pretty sensitive to gossip.”
“I don’t blame you. That’s messed up.” He gives my arm a gentle squeeze.
Penelope comes running up to us just then, holding hands with one of her friends.
“Dad? Can I have some money for ice cream?” she asks.
Lucas pulls out some cash for her. “Only if you get us cones, too.”
“I can’t carry three cones!”
Lucas laughs and looks over at me. “What do you say? Should we go get some?”
“Definitely,” I say.
As Lucas and I follow the girls over to the ice cream place, we get another few looks from women who I assume are also the mothers of Penelope’s schoolmates. This time, though, I just stand up straighter and smile over at Lucas. And when he smiles back, I feel like nothing can hurt me.
* * *
A few days later,though, when I’m in the grocery store with Penelope one afternoon, something awful happens. Penelope has just gone off to look at the candy aisle—I’ve told her that she can pick out one thing—and I’m in the produce section, picking out apples. As I pick up another one to add to my bag, I sense someone approach, and I take a step to the side so that I’m not in the way.
But it’s not the apples the person is interested in.
“We all know what you’re after,” the woman hisses.
My eyes shoot up to her. I immediately recognize her from the beach. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend like you aren’t,” she says.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She smirks at me. “What? You think none of us have tried? You think you’re special or something?” She leans in a little closer. “Were you a virgin? Is that why he likes you?”
“Fuck you,” I say. I throw the bag of apples in my basket and bolt away. My hands are shaking, and I’m completely disoriented, but I find Penelope and tell her that we have to go. She gives me a strange look.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, gripping the handle of the basket tighter. “We just need to go, honey.”