"Now, I'm not stupid about it," she said. "It wasn't all that long ago that I was your age, and just as I said in front of that nun in your orphanage, I want to give you the benefit of my experience and provide some important guidance in these matters, guidance you would never get in that place. How can a nun lady tell you what it's like to have a man kiss you and touch you and promise you things as his hands move all over you?"
I started to speak, but she had obviously been preparing to say all these things to me and wanted to get it over with quickly.
"I know you think you're very smart, too bright to be fooled by any boys, but it's not your brain they're after, believe me. Unfortunately, your own body is not to be trusted. You don't know it at the moment, but you're probably your own worse enemy."
"What? Why do you say that?"
"You can't trust yourself, trust that you'll always do the right things. There are places on your body, erogenous zones or something. I forget what they call them. Places that when touched or kissed," she said, putting her hands over her breasts, "start to open the doors to your treasure, and if you don't put on the brakes, if you don't stop them before they go too far with you, you suddenly find yourself unable to shut the doors.
"In fact," she said, leaning toward me and speaking almost in a whisper, "you find yourself just as willing and as eager to do what they want."
Her eyes were wide, brilliant. She blinked and stepped back.
"Of course, it feels wonderful at the time. Or at least that is what we're always told by men and women who've sunken low, but it doesn't feel wonderful each and every time!" she cried. "From the way men describe it, it almost doesn't matter whom they're with. They even say disgusting things like every woman is the same in the dark.
"Worst of all, maybe, is if you did do it with someone you didn't love, you could be so
disappointed that you would never enjoy it afterward. You might even become frigid or something," she said, looking away.
"So you see," she continued, turning back to me after a moment, "I'm really concerned for you. I worry about you. All of my energy is spent on your behalf these days, and willingly so."
"I know, Ami. I appreciate it."
"Good," she said, smiling and then sitting beside me on the bed again. She took my hand into hers. "Good. Now then, I'm a realist, too, however. I know that no matter what I say, how much I teach you, how much you understand and promise, things happen."
She thought a moment and then shook her head.
"I can't imagine growing up and never being taught about these things. No wonder girls like you get into so much trouble. The first thing I want to do is get you started on birth control pills. I'll speak to my doctor about it first chance I get."
"Birth control pills?"
"I'm sure the nuns never even suggested it to you," she said, "but it's something you should do for your own protection, protection, as I say, against yourself, and to help me feel better and more at ease about you."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and she saw it in my face.
"Don't go thinking you're better than anyone else, Celeste. No matter how you were brought up or how you lived in the orphanage. I'm well aware of all the spiritual and psychic things you were exposed to and you supposedly inherited, but you've still got the same equipment every other girl your age has, and as I said, there are buttons men, boys, know to push. Sometimes, no matter what, we can't help ourselves. We can't stop! Think of the pills as a safety valve."
She looked like she would simply burst into hysterical sobbing if I didn't agree.
"Okay, Ami," I said. "I'll take them as a precaution, as you say."
"Thank you. Thank you. I'll see about it." She folded her hands in her lap.
"Now tell me, what did Trevor Foley say to get you to take him up to your room so fast? You've been in that school only two days. I'd say you're either overly ripe fruit or he's one helluva magician."
She sat back anticipating some juicy story and description.
"He didn't say anything to get me to do that. I just thought he would be embarrassed sitting down there in my robe."
"No," she insisted, poking her finger in front of my face, "he made you feel he might be embarrassed. He put the idea into your head, whether you realize it or not, believe me. He probably planned it all from the moment he offered to take you home. Maybe even before."
"I don't think so, Ami," I said softly. "Really, he was just being polite and helpful. It was raining hard, as I said, and you hadn't come, and I did wait. We thought if you were coming along, we might see you and stop."
She shook her head.
"It's my fault; it's my fault. I got too involved with what I was doing and didn't pay attention to the time. I won't let it happen again. I can't leave you out there vulnerable and alone in this . . . this jungle."
I hated the way she made me sound so helpless, but I didn't argue with her.