Page 2 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

Chapter 2: Jo Beth

Jo Beth couldn’t get the look on Skylar’s face out of her head. She’d rolled her eyes, puckered her lips, and scrunched her nose, like it was painful not to speak, not to say what she really thought: that Jo Beth was irresponsible, that even though Skylar was the younger sister, she was wiser and way more responsible. Skylar seemed to think it had become her duty to scold Jo Beth. Still, Skylar had remained silent and that was a silver lining, because it meant Jo Beth could stay silent too. It’s better not to yell if you can help it.

Jo Beth yelled a lot. Many people called her a “passionate person,” which was just a nice way of saying she had a wicked temper. So what if she felt things deeply? Life was for the living, and Jo Beth prided herself on her passions, for things like adrenaline rushes, well-timed naps, and winning every single one of her ski meets. Skiing, preferably with Skylar, was her number one passion. But in the winter of her sophomore year, Jo Beth developed a brand-new passion. What made this passion special, made it different, was that it was for a guy.

Things had started innocently enough, through the time-tested bandwagon effect. The way all the ski team girls were going on about the new coach, you’d think he was God’s gift, capable of anything, like he knew how to execute the perfect kiss without slobber but with tongue, or he might be able to halt global-warming during his downtime, in between workout sessions, while he drank his protein shake. They spoke his name breathlessly, but in all caps: DALLAS.

It was the other girls’ fault that Jo Beth had formed an epic-sized crush on him. And it wasn’t just that he was her ski coach at Black Diamond High, twenty-three years old to Jo Beth’s fifteen, an age difference as forbidden and exciting as whipping down an icy, closed-off jump. He also had that Adonis thing going on, and if Jo Beth was the sort of girl who accepted her own, personal limitations, she’d have known that Dallas was way out of her league. Instead, Jo Beth felt the swell of her competitive spirit. Flirting with Dallas was just one more game that she could win.

One afternoon after practice, Jo Beth decided it was time to make her move. All the ski-gear lockers were housed in the same spot, and boys and girls alike were simultaneously removing boots, stepping over puddles, and peeling damp mittens off icy fingers. Dallas stood only a few feet from Jo Beth, so she caught his eye and spoke like they were the only two people in the room. “Hey Dallas,” she said, trying to sound both playful and bored, “why were you named after a city in Texas?”

He shrugged and smiled. “It’s where I was conceived.”

Rather than responding, Jo Beth simply maintained eye contact and kept her lips slightly parted. She figured she was too old to show shock at the mere insinuation of parental sex.

Dallas kept talking, his tone mischievous. “My dad’s a businessman and he was traveling for work. My mom was an event coordinator at this hotel where he stayed. They hooked up on the first night they met and she got pregnant, so, well, you can guess the rest.”

Jo Beth took off her boots and shoved them into her assigned locker, gleeful at the other girls’ jealous stares as she and Dallas chatted. “Yeah, I can guess, but I’m not sure I want to,” she said, laughing.

“No kidding,” he told her. “My dad is thirty years older than my mom and he’s always telling me this stuff about their sex life…” Dallas shook his head and grimaced. “It’s really twisted.”

In that moment, Jo Beth decided that she and Dallas must have a special connection. Otherwise, why would he overshare like that? She became even more confident of their bond at the next practice. One minute he would divulge a new dark secret about his family life, the next he would place his hand on Jo Beth’s hip. “Don’t put so much weight there,” he told her. They were hidden by the curve of a hill, their words muffled by the cover of snow. “That will slow you down.” His hand lingered against her butt cheek for a second too long, pausing before the rest of the high school team caught up with them.

The weeks passed in a pleasant haze, and when Jo Beth wasn’t with Dallas, she counted down the minutes until she’d see him again. He was just so supportive, telling Jo Beth that she was meant for the Olympics. He encouraged her to get a private coach, to start training so she could compete at a higher level than she’d ever dreamed. Having him in her life was a ray of hope and maybe, with his help, she would someday get out of Black Diamond. Maybe, after graduation, she wouldn’t have to settle for a job at the ski school and haunt the town, trying to resurrect her glory days. Maybe she wouldn’t eventually morph into another high school ski-team captain turned ski-bum, completely ordinary, a cliché of a cliché.

Jo Beth wasn’t about to report the stolen kisses behind the activity bus, or the “special” practice sessions after regular practice got out, or the silent pact between her and Dallas that the more sexual favors she granted him, the more he’d choose her over juniors and seniors to compete in ski events. If people found out, she’d be the villain, a slut who’d betrayed everyone, including herself.

One night she went over to his house. He still lived with his parents in a large, rustic A-frame with humongous windows, which gave passersby a glimpse into the decadent interior that contrasted with its log cabin exterior. Jo Beth and Dallas sat in the huge hot tub, which was out on the deck, positioned perfectly for a postcard view of the Rockies. But they weren’t looking at the scenery. Dallas sat pressed up next to her, sliding his hand underneath the strap of her bikini.

“I want you so bad,” he whispered into her ear. His hand traveled down Jo Beth’s torso, into her lap, between her thighs.

Her mind raced. If she let Dallas have his way, she would lose her virginity in that hot tub. She’d already given him hand jobs, and the hand jobs had graduated to blow jobs, and now there wasn’t anywhere else to go. What should she do? According to all the love stories that her sister Skylar read, a woman’s virtue was her most prized possession, and these books preached that you should wait until marriage before submitting to sex. But come on: that was fiction, written hundreds of years ago. It was bunk, if you asked Jo Beth. Yet, she had to admit there might be something to those stupid romantic principles. Sure, nowadays nobody expected you to marry the guy you lost your virginity to, but maybe you should love him? Maybe he should love you?

She pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, with just a pinch of testiness.

“Am I your girlfriend?”

“Of course, you are, Jo.” He didn’t miss a beat, just wrapped a lock of her wet hair around his finger. “We can’t tell anyone, though. The world is against us. I would lose my job, maybe even go to jail.” He tilted his head and leaned in for a supple kiss on the lips. “But I can’t help it. I love you.”

Jo Beth scrutinized him. With his blond hair, golden skin, and broad shoulders, he could have anyone. Had he really chosen her? “You do? Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.” He kissed her again, this time thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His hand crept back up and now it was underneath her bikini top, cupping her breast. The heat, the steam, and the liquor they’d drunk all swirled together into a cyclone, sucking away her ability to think or process, and before she knew what was happening, Dallas had removed her top.

She didn’t tell him no because her body was already saying yes. She was vague on how exactly it happened, what led up to that moment when she straddled him and he shoved himself inside her, but she remembered thinking that she’d regret it, that it was wrong. She was so young, so ill-prepared for the pain, so shocked by the look on his face as he grunted and pumped. She cast her gaze up to the sky, at the millions of stars above, and soon they started spinning in circles, like a kaleidoscope. I’m a woman now was her last thought before she passed out.

When she woke, she was lying in an unfamiliar bed.

“You really didn’t think this one through,” a male voice said. He sounded like an older version of Dallas.

“Sorry.”

“I knew it was a mistake, letting you coach high school. God, at least you could have picked a senior this time. What is she, a freshman?”

“Sophomore.”

“Jesus! What if she cries to her parents and they contact the school?” Jo Beth heard a whacking sound of palm against skin. “What if someone other than me had caught you? You have to think!”