Wrecked(65)

“Mom. Don’t,” Jenny says.

“I have no idea. I’ll need to see if there’s any precedent for that,” Mr. Talbot says as he passes Mrs. James his phone.

“In the meantime, what the hell has the college been doing about this?” Mr. James demands. He looks at Haley. Her heart sinks. When did she become the stand--in for the college?

That’s when Jenny finally, completely, totally, loses it.

“LISTEN TO ME!” she shrieks.

It has the effect of a mute button. The silence that follows practically rings.

Jenny stands. Her hair, untethered, flies about her face. Even her forehead is red. “What part of ‘No!’ ‘Don’t!’ ‘Stop!’ do people not get?” she demands. “Or is it just me? Are the words Ignore This Bitch tattooed on my face?” She snatches the phone from her mother and thrusts it at Mr. Talbot. “Don’t read it!” she yells at her. “I don’t want you to see what it says!” She whirls on her father. “Stop trying to turn me into some rape victim poster child! I know you want me to be strong and brave and . . . and . . . avenging, somehow, but I’m not! I’m tired and sad and for once in my life, I want to do what I want! Not what you want.”

Mrs. James, in tears, holds her hands out toward her daughter. Jenny literally steps back, as if dreading the suffocating embrace. She covers her face, stamps her foot.

“Sweetheart. Say it,” Mrs. James tells her. “Say what you want.”

Jenny lowers her hands. “I want you to stop telling me to leave college and move back home! That would kill me!” she hurls at her mother. “Dad, I want you to stop talking about the police! How many times do I have to tell you: no.” She looks at Mr. Talbot. “I want you to stop talking to my father. Talk to me. I’ll listen. But just so you know: Haley is my advisor.” She turns to Haley. “If you still want to be.”

“Absolutely,” Haley says. She avoids Mr. James’s eyes.

Jenny sits. She suddenly seems exhausted. The room is quiet but laden, as if some tropical storm swept through and left unspoken thoughts behind, floating in the air like a humid stillness.

“I want this all to go away,” Jenny says to no one in particu-lar. “I want him to leave me alone. I want people to not stare at me as if I’ve got some scarlet V for victim embroidered on my shirt.” She looks at Haley. “I want friends to believe me and not just feel sorry for me.”

Haley feels a cool prickle of guilt down the back of her neck.

“Jen—” her father begins, but the girl holds up one staying hand.

“No, Dad. You’re done. You’ve said it all, and I’ve heard it all. I know you want to help, I know you and Mom love me, but here’s the thing: you can’t fix this. I’ve got to work it out for myself.” She glances around the room. Her eyes rest on the ginormous pack she’s dropped near the door. She moves to it now, heaving it over her shoulders with an ease that never ceases to impress Haley. She crosses the room to her mother and wraps her in a tight, brief squeeze.

“I’m going to go now,” she says. “I have class.”

“No one expects you to go to class today—” her mother begins.

Jenny cuts her off. “I want to go,” she says. “I want to feel normal. I’m sure I won’t, but I have to try.”

“Fake it ’til you make it,” Haley agrees.

Everyone turns to her. Jenny’s parents look horrified.

Duct tape. Permanently adhered to my mouth. It’s the only way to save myself—and others—from the things I say.

Thankfully, Jenny doesn’t look horrified. It’s not entirely clear, but . . . a hint, a suggestion of a smile seems to cross her face. Haley can’t be sure whether Jen is laughing with her or at her.

But it’s a beginning.

“Let’s go,” Jenny says.

Haley, relieved, grabs her pack. Heads for the door. Exit: stage right.





. . .


Jordan tries the back of the house. The doors are locked from the inside. He peers through the window. People holding red cups stand in the kitchen, talking. He raps on the glass. A few heads turn.

“Bockus,” someone says. “What the hell is he doing out there?” They see Jordan point to the door. They see him mimic turning a knob.

“Dude’s playing charades.”

Everyone laughs.

“Hey!” they hear Jordan shout. “Open up.”

One guy gestures, pointing to the other side of the house. “Go around front!”

Jordan, expression dark, slams his hand against the door.

“What an *,” someone says, giving him the finger.

Everyone laughs.

They turn away from the window, from the banging and yelling, and eventually the noise stops.

. . .





30





Richard


Richard agrees to meet with Joe and two of his Conundrum housemates. He doesn’t know why they want to talk to him so badly. He’s told them he won’t discuss the case. But Dean Hunt is calling in five, six witnesses a day, and these guys are up next.

People are tense.

They wait for him in the pool room at the student union. They’ve claimed a corner booth where one of them, Jasper, attempts to eat a massive wrap that can’t make up its mind: explode or disintegrate?