What We Saw(66)

“But in this scenario, the young woman is drunk, correct? I believe the word you used was ‘wasted.’” Mr. Johnston reaches over and grabs the yellow wad of permission slips, holding them up and addressing the entire class. “If a female student is ‘wasted,’ is she capable of giving her consent?”

“No.” Lindsey says this firmly and loudly. We all gasp for breath as if a hatch has been blown open and oxygen has once more flooded the room.

Mr. Johnston puts his glasses back on. He goes to the whiteboard and picks up a marker. “I have a hypothesis that there may be other choices to make if you come into contact with a young woman who is ‘wasted’ and ‘throwing herself at you,’ Mr. Grant. What else might you do in that situation—besides have sex with her?”

“I dunno.” Reggie mutters this, staring at his desk.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re a bright kid. B average. Doing pretty well in my class. I’ll bet you can think of one other option.” Mr. Johnston waits at the whiteboard, his eyes locked on Reggie. After a moment, he says, “Okay, I’ll open this up. Let’s help Reggie out. What else could you do if you’re at a party, or out somewhere, and you come across a wasted young woman? And for now, I just want to hear from the guys.”

“Get her some water.” Ben says this right behind my head, and his voice makes my whole body relax.

“Excellent.” Mr. Johnston writes 1. Water on the board. “What else?”

Wyatt’s hand flies up across the room. “A ride home.”

“Good thinking.” Mr. Johnston’s marker is squeaking away. “Other ideas?”

Guys all over the room start speaking up—some of whom I’ve never heard say a word during class before.

Find her friends.

Call her parents.

Get her a pillow.

Some Advil.

Make sure she has a safe place to sleep.

Don’t let her drive.

A list soon fills the board. “Thank you, men. All excellent alternatives to rape. There’s one other,” Mr. Johnston says. “Not as kind as the others, perhaps, but at least not harmful.” He adds the words Just walk away to the list, then turns back to face the class.

“Got the idea, Reggie?”

Another shrug.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Mr. Johnston says.

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Mr. Johnston puts the cap on the marker and places it back in the silver tray. “Words have meanings. When we call something a theory in science, it means something. Reggie, when you say that you ‘can’t help yourself’ if a girl is wasted, that means something, too. You’re saying that our natural state as men is ‘rapist.’”

Mr. Johnston leans toward us on the lectern at the front of the room. “That’s not okay with me, Reggie.” He points at the list on the whiteboard. “That’s not okay with the rest of this class, either.”

Mr. Johnston walks over to his desk and pulls open a drawer. He takes out a new yellow permission slip and walks it down the aisle, placing it on Reggie’s desk. “You have until Monday to get this back to me.”

Just before the tone sounds to end fourth period, Coach Sanders announces over the intercom that the bus for the varsity players will be parked behind the school, out of view of the news vans.

In addition to the satellite trucks, there are now a handful of protestors standing fifty feet from the front doors of the school. Several of them are wearing pink masks. Most are holding signs:

COME FORWARD

YOU TELL OR WE WILL

SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP

When we get our food, Ben walks with me to a table in the back of the cafeteria. None of the senior players left campus for lunch today. They have to be on the bus for Des Moines in thirty minutes.

With everybody here, it’s crowded. The cheerleaders are in uniform and keyed up. The drill team is doing the “cup thing” with their plastic water tumblers, beating out a rhythm that echoes across the room, adding to the general pandemonium. Christy and Rachel are already sitting with Lindsey at the end of another table with some of the other girls from soccer. We’re all wearing our blue BUCCANEER hoodies today. Even in the face of everything else going on, we want to show solidarity.

As Ben slides his tray across from LeRon and Kyle, he pulls out my chair. “You guys ready?” he asks.

There’s no answer. Both of them continue shoveling in bites of cheeseburger. Finally, Kyle glances up at Ben and nods. “As we’ll ever be.”

The images of Kyle and LeRon pointing and laughing in the video play over and over in my head, but I try to smile and force myself to speak. “Are you nervous? I always get so nervous before a game.”

LeRon looks at me, then shakes his head and goes back to his food.

Rachel sees this, and jumps in. “Yeah, me too. Crazy butterflies.”

“We’ll be there cheering you on,” says Christy.

LeRon looks up at me. “You coming, too?”

Big smile. Everything’s fine. “You bet.”

He glances at Ben, then back at me. “Take good notes.”

“What?” I ask.

Kyle smirks. “So you can write your report about the whole thing.”

My stomach drops and I see Ben’s face turn to stone. “What the f*ck is that supposed to mean?”