The Nowhere Girls(99)

Erin does not know the answers to any of these questions. She hates not knowing. She hates looking at this girl in pain and not knowing how to fix it, but also not knowing how to run away, not knowing how to stop caring. Erin is powerless. She hates being powerless.

She hates the feeling of the world crushing her. She hates metaphors being the only way to describe it.

Cheyenne takes a deep breath. “I was at a party. A girl in my math class invited me. I just moved here so I don’t really know anyone that well. I went because I thought it’d be a good way to meet people, to make friends.” Her face scrunches up. “How ironic, right?

“There was this punch, and you couldn’t even taste the alcohol, so I had no idea how much I was drinking. I was just standing there in the corner, not talking to anyone, holding that stupid plastic cup and drinking because I had nothing else to do. I was so embarrassed. And then these three really cute guys started talking to me, and I was so grateful, you know?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Rosina asks.

“Of course I remember,” Cheyenne says. “I remember everything. I wasn’t that drunk. I wish I was. Then I’d have an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?” Grace says.

“For not doing anything,” Cheyenne says. Her hands grip the arms of her chair. She squeezes her eyes shut as she pulls her blanket-covered knees close to her chest. “I could have fought back maybe. I could have screamed. But it was like I was frozen. I just laid there. I couldn’t move. I saw everything. I felt everything.”

Cheyenne is shaking now. Erin looks away and tries to focus on the rhythm of her own rocking body. She thinks she might be shaking too. She doesn’t know which feelings are Cheyenne’s and which are her own.

Erin thinks about Spot. She thinks about what he does when she’s shaking, when Erin feels like Cheyenne must be feeling. Erin thinks of Spot resting his furry warm face on her hand. She thinks of the feeling of his breath on her fingers. She gets off her chair and walks across the living room. She kneels on the floor and puts her hand on Cheyenne’s. Erin thinks of what she would have wanted to hear if someone had ever helped her.

“Just breathe,” Erin says. And Cheyenne breathes. And Erin breathes with her. They wrap their fingers together. They hold hands. Erin knows she is breaking the rule of not touching her. They breathe in. They breathe out. Erin wonders how she can feel Cheyenne’s tears on her cheeks, but then she realizes they’re her own.

“It’s not your fault,” Erin says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But maybe I could have done something,” Cheyenne says. “Maybe I could have stopped it. If I fought back. I didn’t even fight back.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Rosina says. “We should never be put in a position where we have to fight someone off us.”

“Shit,” Cheyenne says, covering her face with her hands. “I can still feel them on top of me. The weight. They were so heavy. I can smell them. Their BO. The beer on their breath.” She speaks between her fingers. “My neck got wet when they breathed.” She puts a hand on her neck, as if she’s trying to cover up the memory on her skin.

Erin leans into Cheyenne’s leg. Her whole right side is touching another human being, and she is not freaking out. Erin is not thinking about herself at all.

Cheyenne lowers her hands to her lap. Her lips are closed tight and thin as she sits up a little straighter.

“I knew I was supposed to tell the cops right away,” she says. “I know that’s what they’re always saying on those detective shows. But I was so tired. I just wanted to take a shower. I had to. There’s no way to describe it. I didn’t care about turning them in, or justice, or any of that. I didn’t care about them at all. I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to make it go away. I had just dealt with it for the whole time it happened, I didn’t want to deal with it any more.” She looks up. “I’m sorry. I should have told someone. I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Grace says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were so nice to me at the party,” Cheyenne says, shaking her head. “They were asking me all sorts of questions about myself, like they really gave a shit. And then I realized I was drunk, and I said it. I remember. I said, ‘Hey, I’m drunk,’ and started laughing, and then they looked at each other, like they were giving each other a sign, like that’s exactly what they were waiting for. I should have known then. I shouldn’t have gone outside with them. God, I was so stupid. They said they were going to walk me to my car and drive me home because I wasn’t fit to drive. I thought they were being so nice. I thought they were helping me.

“I didn’t know something was wrong until it was too late. We were outside. I handed one of them the keys to my car. He opened the back door and told me to get in. He was older. He was the leader. His voice wasn’t nice anymore. He told the others what to do.”

“Do you need to take a break?” Grace says. “You don’t need to tell all the details if you don’t want to.”

The way Cheyenne shakes her head reminds Erin of how her mother shakes out the kitchen rug. Like she’s trying to beat it clean.