Off Limits Read online

  Off Limits

  Robert Rayner

  James Lorimer & Company Ltd., Publishers

  Toronto

  Also by Robert Rayner

  In the SideStreets series:

  Scab

  Chapter 1

  “Bang her,” said Geoff. “Boff her. Boof her. Screw her.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Birmingham urged. He looked around the crowded hall and wished his friend wasn’t so loud.

  But Geoff was on a roll. “You asked me what you should do next time you go out with her, and I’m telling you. Ball her. Boink her. Ride her. Ram her. Ring her bell.” He danced in a wide circle, strutting and twirling, holding an imaginary partner as he sang, “Get laid. Get it on. Get your rocks off. Get your nuts cracked. Dip your wick. Stuff the beaver. Unleash your weenie. Tickle her belly . . .”

  “Tickle her belly?”

  “. . . From the inside.”

  It was 8:30 on an October morning in the main hall of Back River Regional High. Birmingham and Geoff had been discussing Saturday night’s teen dance at the Legion. To Birmingham’s surprise, he had hooked up with Jenna Starr that night.

  “I meant what should we do as in where could we go — like to the movies,” said Birmingham.

  “Who cares where you go?” said Geoff. “As long as you hump her.”

  “So what happened with you and Trish after you took off on Saturday night?” Birmingham demanded.

  Geoff smirked. “That’d be telling, wouldn’t it? Where did you get to, anyway?”

  “Walked Jenna home . . .”

  “Whoa.”

  “Kissed when we got to her house . . .” She’d felt as lean and firm as a Labrador puppy as she’d pressed and squirmed against him.

  “And . . .” Geoff made a rolling motion with his hand.

  “. . . And I was going to put my hand up . . .” Birmingham looked around him before gesturing to his chest, “but suddenly all the lights in her house came on.”

  Geoff burst out laughing.

  Birmingham tried to grab Geoff around the neck. Geoff sidestepped and slammed Birmingham face-first into the lockers. Students nearby peered around to see if a fight was brewing, but lost interest when they saw it was Birmingham and Geoff.

  Birmingham Glover had been best friends with Geoff Reeve forever and told him everything. He thought it had something to do with Geoff being a few months older. Geoff had always seemed more assured and experienced, even when they were kids. But right now he wished he hadn’t said anything to Geoff about Jenna.

  Birmingham squirmed free as the principal, dressed in a businesslike skirt and a pale blue blouse, approached. She had short blond hair tinted with red streaks and a tiny snub nose, and she walked like a wrestler.

  “Morning, Ms. Legate.”

  “Good morning, Geoffrey. Thank you for the lesson on synonyms. If there is to be any more, maybe you could keep your voice down a decibel or two,” the principal warned.

  “Sorry,” said Geoff.

  Ms. Legate nodded and turned to move away.

  “Nice blouse, Ms. Legate,” said Geoff. “Colour suits you.”

  The principal turned back. “Thank you, Geoffrey.”

  As she returned to her post down the hallway, Birmingham said, “What was that about?”

  “What was what about?” Geoff asked.

  “You, sucking up to Ms. Legate, telling her you like her clothes.”

  “She likes it when I say stuff like that.”

  “Does she turn you on or something?”

  Geoff laughed. “Nah. But she thinks she does. Might be useful sometime.”

  Birmingham noticed Jenna and her friend Trish pushing their way through the melee of students, heading for the boys.

  “Here come the chicks,” said Geoff. “Make a date with Jenna — and make sure you bang her this time.”

  “How do I know she wants it?” Birmingham muttered.

  He didn’t want to tell Geoff he’d never had sex, although he suspected his friend knew. Birmingham was probably the only fifteen-year-old in school who hadn’t done it. Probably the only fifteen-year-old in the world.

  “Show me a girl who doesn’t want it,” said Geoff, smiling.

  The girls sashayed up to Birmingham and Geoff.

  Birmingham smiled at Jenna. She didn’t smile back, but she moved close to him and pressed her thigh against his.

  Trish walked right into Geoff and put her arms round his neck.

  The boys were in their usual jeans and sweatshirts. But Geoff always added something to make himself stand out — today it was a yellow bandana. Birmingham didn’t know how he got away with wearing stuff like that.

  The bell rang. Birmingham felt Jenna take his arm as they set off for first class. It was Music with Mrs. Mooney.

  “I wonder what Loony Mooney’ll have us do today,” said Geoff.

  In the last class, she had played a piece called “Mystic Circle of the Adolescents” from Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. She’d told the boys to form a circle with the girls in the middle. When the music started, Mrs. Mooney had called, “Now dance, girls. And boys, choose a girl to be the sacrificial virgin!”

  The uproar that followed had brought Ms. Legate to the door just as Geoff was slinging Trish over his shoulder. Mrs. Mooney had pushed past the principal and scurried out, crying.

  But when they got to the music room, instead of Mrs. Mooney they found Ms. Legate, standing, arms folded. There was a stranger beside her, a woman about the same age — around forty.

  The principal waited until everyone was quiet. “You will take your usual places and you will sit in silence,” she said sternly.

  Jenna whispered, “See you at lunch.” Birmingham slumped into his assigned chair while Jenna crossed the room to her seat, three rows over. Mrs. Mooney had seated the class alphabetically, so Birmingham had ended up near the front. He didn’t mind. Although he rarely learned anything in her class, he liked music. He and Geoff had formed a duo, with Birmingham on piano and Geoff on the guitar. They played old rock ’n’ roll as well as new stuff, and called themselves the Glover-Reeve Union. They performed in the mall at Christmas, at school coffee houses and clubs, and twice they had opened for school dances before the DJ started.

  Once everyone was seated, Ms. Legate announced, “Mrs. Mooney is sick and will be away for a few weeks. In the meantime, my friend Ms. Flood will fill in. I know I can rely on you to give her your full co-operation and attention.”

  There was a mumbled chorus of, “Yes, Ms. Legate.”

  The principal nodded to Mrs. Mooney’s replacement and stalked out.

  Ms. Flood said, “Good morning, students.” Her voice was low and breathy. Birmingham thought it trembled. She twirled around to face the board, her loose green dress swirling up and revealing her legs to mid-thigh. On the board she wrote her name in flowery script before twirling back to face the students. She leaned forward, as if telling a secret. “That’s me. I will be your substitute music teacher for a few weeks. I don’t have a teaching degree, but I do know young people, and I do know music.”

  She sat at the piano and performed a cascade of scales and chords. Birmingham was impressed.

  Geoff caught his eye from the adjoining row and mouthed, “Not bad.”

  Birmingham whispered, “Her, or her playing?”

  Their new teacher returned to the middle of the room and announced, her voice still shaky, “The first thing I want you to do is listen to some music. As you listen, help me get to know you by jotting down your thoughts on ‘What M
usic Class Means to Me.’”

  She went to slide a disc into the CD player and dropped it.

  From somewhere behind him, Birmingham heard whispers and stifled laughter from a couple of girls. Geoff was leaning over to punch a boy in the next aisle. Several kids were listening to iPods, their heads jerking with the music. Jenna was texting. The school had a rule against cell phones and iPods in class, but most kids used them anyway, especially in music class.

  Birmingham looked back at Ms. Flood, who had picked up the disc but seemed to be having trouble inserting it into the CD player. He watched for a few seconds before sauntering up to her. “Want me to do that?”

  She looked up at him. She had dark, coppery hair that fell around her pale face in a mass of curls. She pushed it back from where it had fallen over her eyes. The line of her jaw, nose, and forehead was hard, as if chiselled from stone.

  She murmured, “Thank you.”

  As Birmingham reached to take the CD from her, he noticed her hand was shaking. He glanced up and met her eyes. They were green, like her dress. She was biting her lower lip. He wondered what Ms. Legate had said about the class to make her so nervous. He had a sudden impulse to tell her not to worry, that the class wasn’t as bad as others she’d have, but he knew that would probably make her worry even more. She lowered her eyes as he took the CD. Their hands brushed and leaped apart at a tingle of static. She glanced up at him again, with a tiny flutter of one eye. Is that another sign of nerves, some kind of tic, Birmingham wondered, or a secret wink?

  He slotted the disc easily into the CD player. His classmates, led by Geoff, applauded, and Birmingham bowed. The music started. Birmingham watched Ms. Flood as she adjusted the volume and balance, expecting her to need more help. But watching a teacher as if you were interested did nothing for your reputation. So he was about to look away when, somehow, as the music grew in intensity, she changed. Her eyes half closed and an almost-smile took the hard edge from her face. Suddenly she became, well, not exactly attractive — that would be a stretch, given her age — but at least worth a second look.

  Birmingham gazed at her, amazed at the transformation.

  His cell phone vibrated. He knew it was a text from Jenna. He’d seen her watching him as her thumbs moved on her cell under the cover of her desk. Checking to make sure Ms. Flood wasn’t watching, he took his phone from his pocket and checked the message.

  U think she’s hot or wut?

  He looked across at Jenna, his hands gesturing upwards, palms open. He mouthed, “What?”

  His cell vibrated again.

  Hippie Flood. Ur gawking at her.

  He rolled his eyes at Jenna. She grinned.

  The bell rang and Jenna said to Birmingham, “The way you were eyeing that hippie teacher — you got a crush on her, or what?”

  “I was thinking how hard her face was, with the pointy nose and jaw and all. But then, when the music started, she changed somehow. Her face got . . . softer.”

  Jenna muttered, “Give me a break.” She threaded her arm through Birmingham’s and pulled him close as they walked out into the hall.

  Ms. Flood, watching them, caught Birmingham’s eye. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her wink.

  Chapter 2

  Birmingham and Jenna were leaving the soccer field after practice that afternoon. He was limping after a fierce tackle from Geoff. Jenna asked him, “What’s up?”

  “Hurt my ankle.”

  She knelt in front of him. “Take your boot and sock off.”

  Once his foot was bare, she grasped it gently but firmly. She moved it one way and asked, “Does that hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Does this?” She moved it the other direction.

  “Ow.”

  Then she felt the tendon at the back of his ankle. As she stood up, she said, “You have slight swelling and a bit of tenderness in your ankle. Just a minor sprain. Nothing serious.”

  “So what should I do about it?”

  “RICE.”

  “Eat rice?”

  “No, dummy. It’s an acronym. R-I-C-E. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. Rest your foot. Put ice on it. Bandage it lightly if it helps. Stick your foot up on a chair when you can.”

  Birmingham was impressed. “Thank you, Nurse Starr.”

  “Doctor Starr,” she corrected him sternly. Then she added, “Will be one day, anyway.”

  She twined her fingers through his and said, “I’m going to take a long shower. Wait for me.” Then she gently let go of his hand and ran to join the other girls headed for the girls’ change room.

  Birmingham heard a voice behind him. “Told you she wants it.”

  Geoff sauntered up and walked with Birmingham toward the school.

  “Jeez, man,” said Birmingham. “Why don’t you just announce it over the PA?”

  “Just saying.”

  “Don’t be shy about listening in on my private conversation.”

  “Couldn’t help overhearing. But I didn’t have to.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “You can tell she wants it, the way she looks at you. And she told you she was going to take a shower so you’d think of her naked and wet. Why don’t you take her home and give it to her?”

  “Yeah, sure. ‘Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. This is Jenna. We’re going upstairs to screw.’”

  “So don’t go home. Do it on the way.”

  “Right — like in the mall or the drug store.”

  “I mean, walk her home along the river, and . . .” Geoff gestured with his arm, fist clenched.

  Birmingham pictured the trail along the Back River where it wound through town. There were secluded spots where alders grew on the steeply sloping bank on one side and the woods came to the water’s edge on the other.

  Geoff slapped him on the shoulder. “Gotta run. You can tell me later how you made out, when I come over with the guitar.”

  “Where are you rushing off to?”

  “Trish’s. I’m helping her with her homework. She tells her mother we have to work in her bedroom so we can concentrate. She doesn’t say concentrate on what.”

  He jogged away. Birmingham went in to change, and then sat on the floor in the hall to wait. He couldn’t help thinking about Jenna in the shower. Part of him fantasized about bursting into the change room, throwing off his clothes, and joining her. But another part of him wanted to run away. With her slender build, big eyes, and dark auburn hair that fell around her face and over her shoulders, she was one of the hottest girls in school. And she was sixteen, a year older and more experienced than he was. Geoff said it made him a stud, but Birmingham found it kind of scary. What was wrong with him, that he wasn’t totally turned on by her?

  Two of Jenna’s teammates emerged from the change room. One said, “She’ll be out in a minute.” She giggled. “She said to tell you she’s still naked.”

  The other, also giggling, added, “You’ll never guess what she just said about you.”

  They disappeared through the door at the end of the hall, still laughing.

  That meant Jenna would be last to leave. Birmingham had known she would be. He wondered what she’d been saying about him. What did girls tell each other about their boyfriends, anyway? Did they talk about the guys’ school marks, or their clothes, or their looks, or the size of their . . . ? He thought he was more or less normal-sized down there. Of course, Jenna didn’t know that, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t stop her talking about it. He felt like one of her possessions, something to be shown off for the admiration of her friends. But the admiration wasn’t for him, it was for her, for owning him. It worried him that she seemed to find him more attractive than he found her. He didn’t think of himself as a catch. His round, freckled face was too much like a little kid’s. But maybe she liked his s
trong, sturdy build, and the way he wore his blond hair long, like a rock star.

  Jenna drifted from the change room, rubbing her hair with a towel. She stood over Birmingham, who was still sprawled on the floor. She planted her feet on each side of his, her legs apart.

  “You took your time,” he said.

  “Woman’s privilege,” she said.

  Woman’s privilege? Did Jenna think of herself as a woman? He thought of her as a girl. What was the difference, anyway? He preferred to think of her as a girl. Woman sounded worldly and intimidating.

  Jenna knelt, straddling Birmingham’s legs. Looking directly into his eyes, she rubbed against his knees. He raised them so they pressed more firmly against her. Her tongue slipped between her teeth.

  The door at the end of the hall opened and Ms. Legate called out, “Are you the last ones?”

  They scrambled to their feet.

  Birmingham said, “Yes, Ms. Legate.”

  “No rush,” she said, looking from him to Jenna. “Just checking who’s still around.”

  She left and the hall door closed behind her.

  Jenna fell against Birmingham, giggling. He staggered backward into the wall. She put her arms round him and laid her head on his shoulder. The fresh smell of wet hair, soap, and shampoo filled his head. Her body was soft and limp and felt like it was radiating heat. He thought of warm cookie dough; he imagined pressing it down and shaping it how he wanted it.

  He muttered, “We better get out before she comes back.”

  They scrambled out the back way and ran to catch up with their friends.

  Back River Regional High was a sprawling campus of low brick buildings and sports fields on the edge of town. There were woods and farmland on one side, and on the other, subdivisions had crept out from the town centre. Birmingham and Jenna strolled through the look-alike houses and gardens with the crowd of students. The group grew smaller as students reached their homes. By the time they arrived at the end of Main Street, Birmingham and Jenna were the only ones left.

  Jenna had kept her hand in Birmingham’s all the way. She walked close beside him, sometimes half turning to wriggle against him. But as they walked, he felt desire draining out of him. In its place was the feeling of dissatisfaction he’d felt while he waited for her. He didn’t know where it came from, but it seemed to have something to do with Jenna being so eager for sex. It turned him on at the same time as it turned him off.