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Authors: Sara Hantz

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Themes, #Dating & Relationships

The Second Virginity of Suzy Green

BOOK: The Second Virginity of Suzy Green
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The Second Virginity of Suzy Green

 

by

Sara Hantz

 

 

THE SECOND VIRGINITY OF SUZY GREEN

SARA HANTZ

Copyright © Sara Hantz 2013

Cover design by
threedoorsup.com

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishment, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

The Second Virginity of Suzy Green was
previously published by Flux, an imprint of Llewellyn Publications in 2007.

 

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If
you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an
additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.

 

To contact Sara, visit her website
www.sarahantz.com
or on twitter @sarahantz

 

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Chapter
Twenty-Four

 

 

Prologue

 

“Pass the
bottle,” I yell. If Lucy finishes it I’ll kill her. And I’m not joking either.

“Make me,” she
cries taking a step closer and waving it under my nose.

“Right that’s
it.” I leap up from the bench and lunge at her. But my feet get caught up in
one another and suddenly I lose my balance. “Help,” I cry, but too late. Splat.
I land in a heap on the ground. I roll over onto my back, stretch my arms and
legs out and wave them up and down. “Look. I’m an angel. Weeeeeeeee. I’m an
angel and the angel needs a drink. Please Luce. Please. I’m thirsty.” I close my
eyes but everything starts to spin so I quickly jerk them open. Standing over
me is Lucy.

“Why should I? I
bought it.” She takes a drink and skips off holding her arms out like she’s a
plane.

“Stole it, you
mean.” I giggle at my joke. I’m so funny.

A stream of
dribble runs out the corner of my mouth then flows back in. Before I can stop
myself I swallow and start to choke. I push myself up until sitting and cough
and cough. Eventually Lucy comes over.

“Here,” she says
holding out the bottle of vodka.

“Thanks,” I say
grabbing it from her. I lift it to my lips but miss and pour it all over me.
“Shhit. That’s just typical. Just fucking typical. I can’t do anything right.
My life sucks. It’s the suckiest life in the whole world. Sucks, sucks, sucks.
That’s me. And that’s my life.”

I drop back down
on the ground still clutching the neck of the vodka bottle. My eyes close and I
lay motionless until something bubbling in the pit of my stomach forces me
upright. “Luce,” I moan. “I don’t feel well.”

“Stick your
fingers down your throat. Works for me every time.”

“Okay.” I hold
out my hand and Lucy pulls me up. “Take this while I chuck up in the bushes.” I
give her the vodka. “And don’t drink it all. Or else.”

My feet point in
the direction of the bushes but they’re too heavy to move. Then, without
warning, vomit shoots out of my mouth and covers me. And my new sneakers.

“Suzy,” Lucy
shouts. “You freak.”

“Lucy. I’ve been
sick.” I lean forward and wrap my arms around my middle. “It tastes horrible.
And I smell soooooo bad.”

“Well take your
clothes off then, and wash them in the fountain.”

“Yes. Yes.
That’s such a good idea. You’re so clever. I wish I was clever. Why is everyone
I know clever and I’m not. It’s not fair. It’s so not fair.” I yank at my shirt
and a button flies off. “Oh, shit. That’s all I need.” A noise distracts me and
I look up. “Fuck. Can my life get any worse?”

 

Chapter
One

 

“Bye Dad,” I
say, opening the car door and swinging my legs around to ease myself out.

New state,
new school, new start.

New state,
new school, new start.

New state,
new school, new start.

It really helped
when Maddie (aka best friend and one person who knows nearly all my innermost
secrets) and I were singing it the other night on the phone, but now it’s doing
absolutely nothing to quell the nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn’t sleep
a wink last night worrying my butt off about today. What if they all hate me
and won’t talk to me? I’ll be a total Larry Loner. Or what if everyone there is
really weird? I mean, if the uniform is anything to go by I’m in serious
trouble. I glance down at my way-too-long green and grey checked skirt, which
no-one at my old school would be seen dead in, and shudder. And having to wear
a tie really sucks. It feels like I’m choking.

Maddie would
laugh herself senseless if she could see me. Ever since I told her my new
school, St Peter’s Academy, is where all the religious rich kids go she’s been
teasing me about having to dress like Deirdre our school librarian.

I’m really going
to miss Maddie. Dad’s secondment means most of our contact over the next year
will be cyber. Why they couldn’t train someone else to do the job I don’t know.
It’s not like he’s some sort of nuclear physicist. There must be plenty of structural
engineers in San Francisco who would be suitable.

“Have fun. And
be good,” Dad says as I close the car door behind me.

I fling my bag
over my shoulder, wave in Dad’s direction, and put my best foot forward. I
took so long getting ready this morning we were almost late—not good on my
first day.

Walking in front
of me toward the entrance are three really cool girls. It’s easy to tell;
confidence oozes from every pore. Nothing to do with the uniform, as we’re all
dressed the same. It’s just the way they stand tall while walking and the way
people part to let them through. Maybe if I tuck in behind everyone will think
I’m one of them.

I push open the
entrance door and follow the arrows to the school office. When I get there I
knock on the door and wait, while my foot taps nervously on the wooden floor.

No answer.

After a few
seconds I knock again.

Still no answer.

Panic sets in,
as according to my watch school started exactly two minutes ago. This is so not
good. Just as I lift my hand to knock a third time the door opens and a tiny
grey haired woman stares out at me.

“Yes?” She says
tersely, peering over the top of her gold rimmed, half-moon shaped glasses.

“I’m Suzy Green.
I start today.”

“You’re late,”
she says looking pointedly at her watch and frowning.

Old Suzy would have
quipped in a flash that if she’d answered the door sooner then being late
wouldn’t be an issue. New-start Suzy however-

“Sorry, I lost
my way.”

“Well never mind
that now. Follow me.” She rushes off with such speed that a trail of dust rises
behind her, and it takes me all my time to keep up as these disgusting black
regulation lace-up shoes they force us to wear are murdering my feet.

We go along a
corridor, up some stairs, along another corridor, and around a corner - by
which time I’m so sure I’ll never find my way back I give up even trying to
remember the way.

Finally we stop outside a class with 7D on
the door. She gives a sharp knock and walks in, with me following close
behind.

My jaw drops as
everyone stands up. Not only that, they’re all quiet.

“You must be
Suzanne,” says the teacher standing at the front. She smiles at me. Phew. Thank
goodness they’re not all like school-office woman (whoever she might be). “I’m
Mrs. Richardson, your House Mistress. Take a seat over there,” she points to an
empty desk by the window, “and I’ll talk to you at the end of the tutorial.”

I sit down and
pull out a pad and pen from my bag, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
I’m sensing all eyes are on me and I can feel my cheeks colouring—not a good
look. Will someone tell me why I agreed to come to this school? Hypothetical
question. It was Mom and Dad’s idea and I wasn’t in a position to say no. And
there isn’t a better place to be if I want to stay out of trouble.

The forty minute
lesson goes by in a flash and I’m surprised that when the bell rings nobody
jumps up and races to the door. Instead they wait for Mrs. Richardson to tell
them to go. All except me and another girl—who only happens to be one of the
cool girls I saw earlier—as we’re asked to stay behind.

“Hi,” says the
other girl. “I’m Lori.”

There’s something
really familiar about her but I can’t quite work out what. Maybe it’s something
to do with the preppy blond hair tied up in that couldn’t-care-less look, which
probably took at least half an hour to perfect. Not that I don’t like it. I’d
kill for hair like that, rather than the dark brown mass of curls I inherited
from Mom that frizz out at the slightest opportunity.

“Suzy,” I say
smiling back at her. My mouth freezes for a second as I worry my smile is too
Cheshire-cat-like. First impressions count and I mustn’t screw up.

“Suzy. You prefer
that from Suzanne?” Mrs. Richardson asks as she comes over to where we’re
standing. I nod my head. “Good. I’ll try to remember. Here’s your timetable.”

She hands me a
small piece of paper, and I take a quick glance. Oh, no. Period one is biology.
I hope there’s nothing to dissect. Last term we dissected a sheep’s head, and
all I can remember before coming over faint was someone throwing the eye across
the class and it splattering in my face. Gross.

“Lori is your
allocated buddy,” Mrs Richardson continues, reminding me I’m at St Peter’s now
and not Carlton High. “She’ll show you around and take you to all your classes
during your first week. Anything you need to know, ask her.”

Someone,
somewhere is looking out for me. I can’t believe she’s my mentor.  This is my
big chance. I’ve got a week to get her to like me, and maybe I’ll get to hang
with the
in-crowd
all the time.

“Um. Thanks.” I
look across at Lori, who’s smiling at me. Thing is I don’t know if it’s a
wanting-to please-teacher smile, or whether it’s a genuine
I-want-to-get-to-know-you smile. “I’ve got biology next.”

“Great, same as
me. We can sit together. You can meet the rest of the gang.” Gang? I’m liking
this more and more. Not sure if gang in St Peter’s vernacular has the same
meaning as gang in Carlton’s—not that I was a gang member in the past. Not
exactly.

Lori and I chat
all the way to class which is another hike - well, to be honest, she does more
chatting than me. What is it with this school? Is this their underhand way of
getting us all to exercise?

BOOK: The Second Virginity of Suzy Green
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