What We Saw(61)

How can Reggie joke around after what he witnessed a week ago?

Ben sees me and smiles, tapping the back of the empty desk in front of him. C’mon. Join me.

I walk through the classroom toward the desk he always saves for me right next to Lindsey. She holds my gaze without smiling, then drops her eyes, like if we look at each other, everyone will know what we’ve seen.

I pass Janelle mid-monologue, railing on her cheerleader friend about the girl’s nasty boyfriend, her hand waving back and forth like a diva at a microphone. I hear her say the word trashy and it rumbles through me like an earthquake.

A tiny seismic shift.

Everything looks different now, and it always will.

After class, Ben tells me he’ll meet me at the cafeteria after fourth period. “Miss you already,” he says, then kisses me on the lips. As he walks away, Kyle rounds the corner to join him with a smile and a fist bump.

I expect to feel disgust or rage when I see him, but instead my eyes fill up and my stomach lurches. I quickly turn and walk the other way.

I miss me already, too.

The thought is a whisper in my head that spurs me on to the French room. I make an appointment to talk to Ms. Speck at the end of the day.

You see your boyfriend—the guy you’ve known since you were five. He’s leaning against your locker in the hallway, swiping through his phone, the muscles of his neck drop into a navy-blue V-neck. He stands head and shoulders above the stream of students around him, an island in the flow.

Waiting.

For you.

As you walk down the senior staircase toward him, more bodies flood through the hall. Phoebe, her eyes darting back and forth, her confidence shaken, scurries toward her locker, quickly twisting the combination, dropping her books, grabbing her purse and keys, ready to flee campus as soon as she can. What is she running from? What does she know? Why did she break up with Dooney? Where was she when the video was made? Did she see it? When?

The Tracies watch Phoebe leave, the metallic sound of their laughter as sharp as their fingernails against their lockers, their eyes rolling, their tongues slashing. Were they ever her friends? Why did they stay that night, watching and laughing? Did they show Phoebe the video, only to turn on her when she broke up with Dooney?

Kyle, Reggie, and LeRon surround your boyfriend. Layers of sediment. You think about trying to brush them away, but you freeze on the stairs, your knees trembling. This is not a tiny seismic shift. This is something deeper—a dark rift. A canyon has opened up inside you, and you feel yourself falling.

Christy and Rachel are laughing with the Tracies as Lindsey shoulders her purse and slips down the hall toward the parking lot. Ben starts to move with the guys, drifting away from your locker toward the locker room for practice. With one last glance around, he is swept away, leaving you petrified on the stairs above, his voice ringing in your ears:

There you are.

Alone.











thirty-four


“I SWEAR IT was there last night.”

I have been typing hashtags and usernames into YouTube for the past fifteen minutes in Ms. Speck’s office. My voice sounds frantic and somehow far away as I continue to type and hit enter on #doonestown #r&p #rapeandpillage. The link I emailed myself from Lindsey’s laptop no longer works.

“Kate?” I feel her hand on my arm. “I believe you.” She pulls her laptop away from me and closes the lid.

We are sitting at a small, round table jammed in the corner of her office. Ms. Speck sits back in her chair and crosses her legs. She’s wearing a deep red lipstick and a black knit suit. Maybe she’s fifty-something? She looks like a hip, young grandma on a soap opera.

“Do you want to talk about what you saw in the video?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I am crying again instead and the only word I can find is “No.”

I bury my face in my hands. Ms. Speck picks up a Kleenex box and offers me a tissue. I take two and use them while she waits. She doesn’t seem bored or annoyed or in a hurry. Her eyes are full of kindness.

“It seems that what you saw in this video was hard to look at.” It’s not an accusation. She’s holding the door open for me.

I nod. “It was . . . awful.”

“Did you mention it to anyone?” she asks.

“No.” No one else but Lindsey know’s I’ve seen it, and I’m sure she didn’t tell anyone.

“Maybe it was blocked by the site or taken down by the person who posted it.” She waits as I take another tissue and wipe my nose.

“Sorry,” I say.

She waves away my concern. “Kate, I know it’s hard to talk about something like this. We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

“Yes,” I say. “I have to.”

“Why do you have to?” she asks.

“Because I don’t want it to happen again.”

She nods and asks if it would be all right with me if she takes a few notes while we talk. I tell her that would be fine, then start crying again as I explain what Lindsey and I saw in the video, shot by shot. I repeat every word I can remember. I list every name.

Who was there. What was said. What they did.

What we saw.

When I finish, Ms. Speck tells me that she is bound by state law to file a report. I knew that she would be. I want her to. That’s why I came. She leans in to me and places a hand on the knee of my jeans. She tells me how very brave I am, and that I can come talk to her any time.