Wrecked(28)

. . .


Tamra measures a shot from the bottle and pours it into a plastic cup. She tops it with Gatorade.

“Here.” She hands it to Jenny. Green liquid. Jenny sips. It tastes like lime with something else. It’s sweet.

In the long mirror adhered to the back of the door, Jenny glimpses a girl. She wears eye makeup. Her hair is loose.

For a moment, she doesn’t recognize herself in someone else’s dress.

. . .





11





Haley


It’s Haley’s favorite time of day. Always has been, but especially now, with the light soft, the sky streaked salmon, purple, and blue. The chapel carillon chimes late afternoon.

She decides to go for a walk along the river path. She hasn’t been cleared to exercise yet and imagines a new softness around the waistband of her jeans. She also needs a break. From her room. Her roommate.

Because he responded today. Jordan. He finally has a name, although her learning that was an accident. Jenny was so upset, she actually thrust the paper with his response and his name on it into Haley’s hands the moment she walked into their room.

“In response to the claim of sexual assault made against me by Jennifer Louise James, I, Jordan Joseph Bockus, attest that I am innocent of the charge,” Haley read aloud while Jenny paced. She placed the sheet on the desk.

Jordan Bockus. Haley didn’t know him.

“Uh . . . okay,” Haley said quietly. “What did you expect? That he’d fold and say, ‘Yup. Guilty as charged’?”

“I didn’t expect nothing!” Jenny exclaimed. “I wrote two full pages, single--spaced, explaining exactly what happened that night, and he basically responded, ‘She’s lying.’ As if what I claim doesn’t even deserve an answer!”

“Jen. He’ll answer. He has to. There are going to be plenty of people asking him tons of questions.”

“You should have seen the look on Carole’s face when she gave this to me! I could tell she was pretty pissed.”

“Carole Patterson expresses emotion? What’s that like?”

Jenny was not in the mood to pick up on humor cues. “I asked, ‘Is this unusual?’ and she just said the respondent can say as much or as little as he wants, as long as he answers the charge. But I could tell she was surprised. And not in a good way.” Jenny paced faster, which was no small thing in their tiny double.

Then her phone rang. Jenny grabbed it off the windowsill where she’d left it. She glanced at the caller ID, then slid her thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hey. So, he responded. You’re not going to believe it.” Jenny’s eyes darted, searching. “I’ll read it to you. Trust me, it won’t take long.”

Haley pointed to the desk.

Jenny snatched up the paper. “Carrie? Here, I’ve got it.”

Haley didn’t stay to listen. The perfect sunset beckoned. She grabbed her Windbreaker and headed out.

The river path is far from the athletic fields. At this time of day that part of campus is a hive: field hockey, football, men’s and women’s soccer. She walks along the road in the opposite direction for a few hundred yards, then turns onto a well--trodden grassy lane. Prime NARP territory: Nonathlete Regular People. Those who run for the hell of it, who enjoy the scenery out here. The other day she saw a fox. At first she thought it was a cat, but the plush red tail gave it away.

I’m a NARP now. Or not. She still “supports from the bench,” so to speak, although she’s begged off that for a while. The bright, slanting sun in the afternoon kills her, making it agony to watch the action on the field. So she’s excused from practices, skips games . . . How is she on the team? She doesn’t go out with the other girls at night anymore. Mostly because she needs to sleep, but also because she’s not around when they make their plans—not to mention that she shouldn’t drink. They eat as a team, late, practically as the dining hall is shutting down; she’s been going earlier. Dinners have been a drag, actually. She can usually put her plate down with some of the other girls from the hall, but it’s not like they’re close. She barely knows them. From day one, when she arrived on campus two weeks early for preseason, it’s been all about the team.

And it’s not like Jenny’s company. She haunts their room, skittering out for classes, grabbing food to bring back. Occasionally, like tonight, she’ll agree to eat with Carrie and Gail in Main dining hall. The college has ordered this Jordan to only eat at the Grille or the small dining hall near the library.

Jordan. Isn’t that a girl’s name? At any rate, now she won’t just think of him as the Guy Who Raped Jenny.

Less than a mile along the path, she hears fast steps approaching from behind. Haley moves to one side to make way for the runner. He doesn’t turn as he trots by, but she recognizes the hair.

“Math Dude!”

Instantly horrified. Did she really just say that? She must have a subconscious death wish when it comes to guys. Or him.

He pivots, continues backward a few steps, surprise on his face.

She expects a quick wave, that’s it. That’s what you do when you’re running: acknowledge people you know, but never stop. You don’t interrupt the daily run; she gets that.