Short Story "The Bell Curve" Part Three

I met Krista at a party one of my best friends had thrown. I briefly said hello to her before she slipped into a empty room with another friend of mine. I later found out that he was one of her many. At school the next week we crossed paths again, this time she more interested than me. As my friends looked on at me from our usual lunchroom table she spoke to me in a confidence I did not have, she wrangled me with her words. It was like power, her power. She had it over me, and everybody else. It was simple, hello, do you remember me, yes I do. Why don't you call me tonight she said as she grabbed my hand and etched her phone number into my palm. I kept looking at her, not caring what she wrote, she was beautiful to me, already my first love. She had long natural red hair with all the perks that came with it; pale skin, freckles and a short temper. Nervousness began.

Short Story "The Bell Curve" Part Two

Krista drove a red 1969 Volkswagen Beatle, it went so well with her red hair and thrift store clothes. Sometimes her and her friends would drive around town with the top down wearing only their bra's. She was great at pushing her behavior just past normal, just far enough to show you her inner disfunction or pain or what ever it was that drove her to make sure everyone saw her. She shocked me too when she sat me down and explained to me how many guys she had slept with before turning 17. My number at the time was zero and being that we were the same age I felt an instant rush of overwhelming insecurity and fear. I knew we were going to have sex soon and it scared the hell out of me. I would have to be taught, shown my mistakes, like a child in her adult world.

Short Story "The Bell Curve" Part One

Her father shot himself in the head with a shotgun years before I met her. When she told me the story she explained how bullets from the blast broke dishes on the other side of the kitchen where he had done it. We sat in my car, parked at a lovers lane of sorts, a park by day and our private hideout that night. She was letting me in, offering some reason for her madness. I didn't know how to feel for her, comfort her, I had no way of conjuring the kinds of emotion or feeling that might put her at ease or at least let her know I related to the the depth of her pain. My life was more like a suburban dream come true, I didn't know how to react to her back story, I just wanted her to show me some kind of attention. I was in over my head, she knew it but didn't care, I knew it and it showed. She saw something in me, she loved me she said.