Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(28)

“I love stupid. Stupid is my favorite. Go on. And hurry, before the hottie gets back.”

I vacillated, feeling inexplicably out of breath. I didn’t want to tell her. “Fine. I’ll tell you what happened if you tell me about Lisa being naked with Abram.”

“Deal. Tell me.”

Oh. Okay. Damn. I hadn’t expected her to agree.

“You’re going to be disappointed.”

“Tell me.”

I rolled my eyes at myself. “Fine. There was this postgrad TA. And he used to, you know, get touchy with undergrads. Give back massages or hug us from behind. I didn’t like it, so I avoided him. Really, no big deal.”

“That’s it? How old were you?”

“That’s not it. I was fifteen.”

“Hmm. So what happened?”

“He . . .” Why are you telling Gabby, of all people? Why was I telling anyone? It was no big deal. No big deal.

“Mona.”

“He cornered me—once—when I was alone in the chem lab. Made me feel uncomfortable.” Stop talking.

“What did he do?”

“He—” my eyes lost focus as they drifted over her shoulder “—came up behind me and put his hand over my mouth. I didn’t hear him come in, so I freaked out. I thought . . .” I shook my head at myself. “See? Stupid.”

I didn’t want to talk about this. My heart was galloping at the memory. Just like then, I couldn’t seem to get my pulse under control. So stupid.

“And then?”

“I was kicking and elbowing him, because I didn’t know it was a joke,” I said, my voice growing quieter, more robotic. “But he was bigger than me, it didn’t even faze him. When he let me go, he laughed. He said, ‘You should see your face.’ And then, when I finally calmed down, he acted like he wasn’t going to let me leave again, and I got scared. Again.”

Gabby, frowning, nodded slowly, apparently absorbing every detail. “What did he do next?”

This is Gabby. You don’t trust her. STOP TALKING!

I hadn’t even told Allyn about this, and I didn’t stop. I met her stare and finished the story calmly. “He chased me, grabbed me again and pinned me against the wall. When I started to cry, he laughed again and let me go, said I didn’t know how to take a joke, that I was easy to tease, like his little sister. And then he left, and it was over.”

“Did you report him? Tell anyone?”

Her question cracked the shell of outward calm I’d erected. I looked at her like she was nuts. “Tell them what? That I got scared like a little kid?” I whispered harshly, because I was upset. I hated that this still upset me.

“Nooo.” She drew the word out, but her eyes were tender, patient. “That he assaulted you. That he put his hands on you without your permission and frightened you. And when you told him to stop, he did it again.”

“Come on, Gabby. It was a joke.” Resurrecting cold reason to distance myself from the memory–nothing happened, no big deal, nothing happened—I took several deep breaths and my heart began to slow. The story was done, it was over, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I’d said anything to begin with. Especially to Gabby.

“It was assault. You should have reported him.”

“And then what?” I asked, once again employing my calmest, most rational voice. “I was fifteen, and he was the son of someone important. No one would have believed me. There was only one logical path forward, and that was to forget about it.”

“Are you kidding? You were the perfect victim. Young girl genius, daughter of DJ Tang and Exotica, Mary Sue do-gooder, everyone would have believed you.”

“First, there is no such thing as a ‘perfect victim.’ No one is ever perfect enough when there’s no hard evidence of wrongdoing. Add to that, when the truth or identity of the alleged perpetrator—”

“’Alleged perpetrator?’ Can you hear yourself?”

“—is inconvenient, no one wants to listen, no one wants to know the truth, let alone do anything about it. Second, I might have been terrified, but nothing actually happened. They would have told me it was no big deal, because it was no big deal. I wasn’t hurt, I was just scared.” Inexplicably, despite my determined sensibleness, my eyes stung.

Gabby glared at me for several seconds. Whatever this expression was on her face, I’d never seen it before.

I was just about to speak, to reiterate how minor of an event it had been, when she said, “No. Not hurt, just scarred.”

I blinked against the hot sensation behind my eyes and labored to form a complete thought for a few moments before finally managing, “Pardon?”

She gently—but suddenly—encircled my wrist with her fingers and I winced, instinctively yanking it back without thought.

“See? Scarred.” Her smile was small and sad.

My face flushed anew, my tongue tasting like ash. “Just because I don’t like—”

“You didn’t think I noticed? You don’t think Lisa noticed? You’ve changed. Not answering Lisa’s letters from boarding school is one thing, but cutting her out completely?”

OH MY GOD! The letters. The damn letters!

“I had no control over the fact that her school didn’t allow emails or internet. And I answered her handwritten letters. I answered every single one of them, and yet she continues to point to them as a reason to be mean-spirited.”