Wouldn't Say No

"Watch me."

That was all I ever said. I couldn't say no. I had to make them watch, I had to prove I had it in me, whatever "it" was. I had to show them I was more than the girl who cried in the halls when she thought no one was looking. I was more than the math-and-science geek. I was more than a sponge that just soaked up what people told me. I was more.

But I was not the girl who said no.

I stood at the base of the monkey bars and stared up. It was quiet behind me; no one thought I would make it. That much I had learned in the past year; they were quiet if they were afraid for you. They were loud if they knew you had guts -- they were loud because they wanted to make you lose it.

I threw off my gloves and my jacket. The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck stood up at the unpleasant chill. Ironic, maybe, that I had dressed lightly that day, knowing the school was always 78 degrees and I'd be burning up. Out here behind the building, where the wind blew, it was barely above zero, and here I was standing in a sleeveless shirt and cargo shorts.

I gripped the icy cold metal of the bars and pulled myself up. My skin smarted painfully as I pulled away to reach for the next rung; my flesh had frozen to the bar. I worried slightly about this, for pain would make it harder to complete my task.

I stood on the top bar, lamenting my choice of Converse high tops. I glanced briefly at the pale faces below me, and the one tall leering face in the back of the crowd, and steeled myself. No time for words; if I died, so be it. Those pale faces wouldn't care for long.

I placed my hands on the bar, so I was doubled. I gripped the burning ice firmly, ignoring the throbbing in my fingers. If I made it to the other side without numb hands, it would be a miracle. Swiftly, I pressed all my weight into my hands and flipped my legs into the air, straight up. The muscles in my arms trembled in protest, but I ignored them for now.

I was vaugely aware of a collective gasp below me, and I blocked it from my mind. Shifting the pressure to my left hand, I released the bar and pulled my hand from it, minus some outer skin. My arm screamed, and quickly I placed my right hand down on the next bar. So far so good. Only 22 more motions like that left.

Right arm -- take the pressure. Left hand -- release, move, drop, hold. Left arm -- take the pressure. Right hand -- release, move, swing body, drop, hold. Repeat.

My head was beginning to feel painfully enlarged and warm. My feet were pointed rigidly toward the white sky, every muscle in my body tense and prepared for a jarring, a crash, and lots of pain. I only hoped that if I did mis-hold and slip, I would die before I hit the ground. Preferrably quickly.

Release. Move. Drop. Hold. Press. Release. Move. Swing. Drop. Hold.

Now the voices had begun to murmur beneath me. I tried to block them out and concentrate, but someone was shouting. Did he want to kill me? Shut up and be quiet, I yelled in my head.

Three rungs left. I wondered now what I would do when I reached the end. A flip-turn-and-land-on-my-feet would be ideal, but I didn't want to count on the hope that I'd be conherent when I reached the ned.

Release, move, drop hold...

One more. I knew my hands were bleeding, but I didn't feel the pain. I felt the strange ripping as I pulled from the rung, and out of the corner of my eye saw the red drops fall to the ground. I bled as I released, the blood froze to the next bar, and tore off as I released.

I reached the last rung. I moved both my hands to it, feeling uncomfortable at the amount of numbness in my fingers. My grip wouldn't last long. I stood there, upside down, for exactly three seconds.

Then I swore loudly in triumph, and pushed off. Flip, turn, land on my feet. By some miracle I did end up on my feet, although my legs threatened to buckle beneath me. Lights flashed in my eyes but I would not faint. Adrenaline was released, and I wished grimly that it had kicked in before I was finished.

The group of people in front of me was silent.

At last, the tall leering one stepped out of the group. He looked grudgingly impressed.

"Not bad."

I spat on the ground and stalked away.

My mother, as usual, was horrified to find me walking home without a jacket nor gloves in subzero weather, dripping blood behind me. As usual, she didn't want to hear what I had been doing. As usual, she made me sit in front of the fire until every inch of my body was prickling as blood resumed its course.

I was the girl who wouldn't say no.

I knew my luck wouldn't hold out forever. I had taken every muscle-building class there was to take, but you wouldn't be able to tell from just looking at me. I ran on chance, spunk, and a little talent, and hadn't even gotten as far as a broken bone.

I had very few friends. That was stereotypical of a math-and-science geek, but not for the the type of person I was. I should have been hanging with the coolest people in the school, but I didn't. I was the intimidating, daring one who never spoke. I was the girl who wouldn't say no.

It was the day after Christmas break ended, and the weather was warmer this time. The snow was almost melting, and I had left my gloves at home. My friend Peter walked to school with me, and he talked while I listened. If he had heard about the monkey bars incident, he hadn't ever said a word to me about it.

We reached the schoolyard and began wading through the snow to the doors. The tall leering boy, whom everyone called Ratter, was standing in the snow with several of his friends. I met his eyes carelessly, and continued past. Peter had tensed beside me, but I always thought he worried too much about me and should relax.

"It's my life," I hissed at him as we parted on our way to classes. He knew what was going through my mind, and I knew what was going through his. He wasn't afraid of Ratter, but he was afraid of what Ratter would challenge me to do.

Peter shot a dark look at me and disappeared.

He and I were best friends, Peter and I. He was one of the few people who chose to put up with my stony silences, with my recklessness, with me. He didn't mind that I rarely responded to him when he told me about something exciting in his life, or if he did mind, he hid it well. He didn't mind my constant flared temper. He didn't ask how I rubbed my hands so raw they bled. He didn't ask where the three-inch scar on my shoulder had come from. He was exactly what I needed, but I'd never admit it to him.

At lunch, I didn't eat. I went outside. Peter and I didn't share a lunch, so I had no worries about him trying to get me to say no.

Ratter was waiting for me.

"Hello," he said coolly.

I didn't reply. I stared steadily at him.

"I've missed you, you know," he went on, his arm firmly around his girlfriend of two years. She was a strange choice. I never thought of them as a proper couple, probably because they were so completely different. While he was mysterious and intimidating and somewhat of a bully, she was plain and loving and kind and everything a normal church-boy would want in a girl. Perhaps it wasn't so strange for him to be dating her, but why was she dating him?

I still didn't say anything. My skin was itching for his challenge, my muscles already quivering. I was the girl who wouldn't say no. I missed it, oh, I missed it -- I missed the danger, the different levels of impossibility, the excitement of it all. I didn't miss Ratter. I missed his words.

"That last one you pulled was pretty impressive. How are your hands?"

Still nothing. Keep quiet. Speaking now would take away from the aura I was giving off.

"I thought that one might be the last one you do," he drawled. I was getting impatient. "I thought you might slip and fall. You didn't, though. You're standing right here in front of me."

I kept his gaze, his curious, insistent gaze. He wanted to know how far I would go.

"How long is it going to last? How long until you find something you can't do? How long until your luck gives out? How long until you make a mistake?"

Mistake...

"You're not invincible. You're fallible. You aren't a god. Just a girl."

My stomach was tightening into a painful knot. The falling snow was covering our heads, swirling around us, taunting me.

"Maybe you're only good with the physical stunts." His voice dropped, quieter, lower. I narrowed my eyes. "Maybe you can bench four hundred pounds, maybe you can walk on your hands over the monkey bars. Maybe that's all a game to you. It's a yes or a no. There's no 'maybe' in your mind, is there? You either do it, or you don't. And of course you do it, because you're you. You don't say no."

My fingertips were shaking.

"I'll bet you can't do something that requires mental will," he hissed softly. "I'll bet that you've been counting on your muscles all this time. What about something that doesn't require any great feat? What about something as simple as..." His eyes glinted. "Kissing me."

My stomach dropped into my feet. He had learned. He knew who I was, he knew how I thought. He knew that I was positive I could do every single physical exploit that any person in this school could do, and probably more. He knew that I wouldn't say no, he knew I couldn't say no to something like that. He knew he would win if I said no now.

My gaze had never wavered from his eyes, and for a moment I prided myself on hiding my inner turmoil. I knew every person within hearing was completely silent, because they thought I wouldn't do it. They thought I would say no. They were afraid I would say no.

I was afraid I would say no.

He looked smug, he looked triumphant. He thought he had won. But he hadn't, not until I said no. I still had 23 minutes to make up my mind.

I had the urge to look at his girlfriend and see if her face betrayed her thoughts. Did she know Ratter was going to say that? Was he risking anything by challenging me this last time? For we both knew this was a last time, and I would either come out the winner or the loser. I didn't move my gaze. He stared back at me, his mouth curved in a self-satisfied smile.

I spent 6 seconds on each scenario. Scenario one, I close the seven-step gap between us and kiss him. He would be shocked, I would be the victor. I would be free of his words, of his challenges, because I would win. It would be over. I could be a normal person. Something inside me wanted that. I was tired of being set apart from everyone else, because everyone else was afraid of me. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to be friends.

How much was I willing to sacrifice for the chance to be a normal kid? Was I willing to give in and bend to his last demand? That is what it would be, after all. In a way, he would win anyway. I would be showing that I am trapped by the invisible bonds of a strange sort of honor. I would keep my reputation as the girl who didn't say no, but would I be satisfied?

I thought of how disgusting it would be to kiss him.

Scenario two, I say no. I turn and walk away. He would win. He would shout something at me, something aggravating, and I would be tempted to turn around and beat him to a pulp. But I wouldn't. I would keep walking, and lose my reputation and the girl who wouldn't say no. I would no longer be feared. I would be, most likely, looked down on, because it would appear that I was weak.

I made up my mind.

I began walking toward him. Surprise registered across his eyes, and he dropped his arm from his girlfriend. She walked away and entered the school, but I wanted her to watch. I hoped she was watching from inside.

I stopped in front of Ratter's face. The surprise had drifted away and a look of a different sort of triumph was spreading. I hated him in those two seconds. I hated him, I hated his words, I hated his challenges.

"You lose," I whispered, and with considerably force collided my fist with his jaw. And then I turned and walked away, walked toward the school, walked in the school. I nodded to his girlfriend, who had indeed been watching, and proceeded past her. It wasn't until I found myself standing in front of Peter when I realized my fist was still clenched and was throbbing as if I had broke something.

"Hello," Peter said.

I didn't say anything. He would hear the story in a matter of minutes, and I knew for some strange reason, I would still have my reputation. I was the girl who wouldn't say no.