A Nearly Normal Family(68)

“They killed your creativity.” Chris sighed.

“And the excitement. How exciting can it be when everything has been decided in advance?”

“You sound so wise.”

“For my age?”

He laughed.

“Age is overrated. For most people, it’s the same as empty calories. The years add up, but development stands still.”

An hour later, our driver pulled up in the limo and opened the door for me. I caught a few jealous glances from the corner of my eye.

In the middle of the ?resund Bridge, Chris opened the sunroof and got up. We stood close together, the wind in our hair. It was like we were floating. I was exhausted as we sank back into the white leather again. We gazed at each other and it almost felt like we’d just had sex. Chris laughed with his face so close to mine that our lips couldn’t help but meet. A quick kiss, and he let go of me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking like he was guilty of an unpardonable violation. “It just happened. I’m sorry.”

I leaned back, my arms behind my neck, and stretched out my legs.

“Stop apologizing. Kiss me instead.”

But Chris’s shoulders sagged and his gaze seemed to shrink.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he said.

“But?”

I straightened back up, squeezed my knees together, and gathered my hair in one hand.

“I still haven’t gotten over everything that happened with my ex. I swear, this has nothing to do with you. I just need more time.”

“I understand.”

I thought of Amina. In all our years as best friends, we had never ended up interested in the same guy. But we had anticipated the risk and promised each other never to let a guy come between us. This time it felt strange. Amina was the one who’d met Chris first, at the bar. And she’d sure seemed interested. I felt like I should back off, forget Chris and move on.

“Thanks for being so understanding,” Chris said, placing his hands on my knee. “Our time will come.”





59


“I can’t read this,” I say to Shirine, handing back the book she’s just given me.

It’s called Rape and is the thinnest, most modern book I’ve received from her, but the text on the back cover makes me feel nauseated.

“What do you mean?” Shirine asks.

“It doesn’t seem like my kind of book.”

Shirine shrugs her shoulders with a smile.

“For someone who’s hardly read any books, you seem to have very firm views on what you do and don’t like,” she says.

“I’m happy to challenge my own views!” I say. “It’s not that.”

“Okay. Then what is it?”

She deserves an explanation.

“I can’t read about rape,” I say, turning away.

I feel Shirine staring at me.

“Oh no,” she says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you know?”

I slowly turn around to see her sad brown eyes.

“No one knows,” I say. “We never reported it.”

“We?”

I take a deep breath and stare at the desk. I can’t believe I’m doing this. So many barriers slam down inside me, shouting at me to stop, and still I tell her. This is not how I was raised. There are some things that are no one else’s business. Some things that you keep within the family.

Despite that, I tell Shirine about the confirmation camp, about Robin and Dad, my idiotic plan to punish Dad, and everything that happened after.

“I’m so sorry, Stella.”

I just nod. My voice won’t hold any longer.

I’ve never even told Amina the whole story. For a few years, I thought it was because of who I was, because I was different. All those thoughts and feelings just brought shame. If I revealed my innermost thoughts to someone, they would probably lock me up on a psych ward and hook me up to a drip of their very strongest drugs.

Yeah, I know. Such a cliché. Show me a teen girl who doesn’t think she’s unique and that no one understands her.

But that’s not why it took me so long to tell Amina about the rape. It was something else. I so desperately wanted to be the strong girl everyone thought I was, so I couldn’t identify with the victim role. Was I even a victim? Mom and Dad said I was the one who would suffer the most if we reported it. For a week or so I went around thinking that I hadn’t been subjected to an assault at all. I had willingly followed him to the counselors’ cabin; I’d been into it too. After all, it was my plan from the start. I was mostly just furious at Dad for spying.

“Oh my god.” Shirine raises her voice. “You were subjected to a horrific assault and your parents didn’t take it seriously.”

“But I understand why,” I say. “Now I understand.”

“What? You don’t mean that.”

“I’m glad we didn’t report him.”

Shirine is almost breathless.

“Was I supposed to sit through a trial and explain why I kissed him and followed him to his cabin? They would have questioned why I didn’t resist or cry for help. People would have judged me even though I was the victim.”

Shirine shakes her head.