“Oh, come on.”

Anthony stood up and went back into the pond to rinse off. When he got out, he shook his head like a dog to get the water out of his thick hair. She could see red dots like zits on his ass and a giant mole on his back. She rolled herself into a ball and stared at the roots of the oak tree that stuck up above the soil, wishing Anthony would just go away, and that she could rewind the evening, do everything differently.

“You gave me every reason to believe you wanted the same thing I did. It was fun. It was hot.”

“I didn’t want that.”

“Really? I didn’t undress you.” His tone was warmer. “You kissed me back. Gave me all the signals. That’s what I’ll say if anyone asks.”

Ann thought about other people finding out what had just gone on. No, no. She’d never tell anyone. She couldn’t.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? You don’t know what you want.”

He was right; she was. She didn’t. She dressed in silence, her fingers shaking, a cry or a scream pounding wordlessly inside her.

“Let’s go,” he said. He sounded irritated. This was the impatient voice she’d heard him use with the boys. Just fifteen minutes ago, she’d felt herself a woman. Now she was a child again.

She took one last look at the pond and saw that house, the lights off now, dark. She knew it wasn’t just her virginity she’d lost; the pond would never be the same place for her ever again. She felt like a part of her drowned in that pond.

He led her back to the beach and up the long, sandy path to the parking lot. It was all a blur through her teary eyes. When she walked this trail with her dad he always walked behind her to make sure her footing was safe with all the tree roots and loose branches. Anthony didn’t care that she could trip and that her legs were shaking—her whole body shook. She’d felt this way after her friend’s car had been rear-ended at a stoplight and Ann was the passenger. At first, she was fine. Then she shook and shook.

Anthony walked ahead, twirling the key ring to the Jeep around his finger.

He turned on the engine and looked straight ahead at the forest of pine trees. Ann expected him to back up right away, because he was always moving from one thing to the next. Instead he put his hand over hers. “Let’s forget this ever happened.”

She yanked her hand away. She was sore and tingling and damp and filled with confusion. Forget it ever happened? Easy for him to say. He could forget. She would never forget this.