Aftermath(36)

“It’s chocolate. I’m going to fix it, and I won’t eat or drink in this room again.”

She turns to me. “We need to talk about Jesse.”

“I’m sorry I got snippy. He’s right, though, that I didn’t think it through, bringing him in when you were gone.”

“Because it’s Jesse. You know him. Or you know the boy he was.” She walks over to me. “What you remember is a child. He’s a young man now.”

If she’s implying that guys go from being sweet kids to monsters, well, we could have a long chat about that. But haven’t I been telling myself that this isn’t the same Jesse, and that I need to bear that in mind? I shouldn’t have brought him up here after what I suspected.

So I nod. Just nod.

She continues, “I made the same mistake when I suggested you two could reconnect. I remember the boy he was. Given what he did to you at school, that’s clearly not the young man he’s become. Maybe it’s because of his brother. Maybe it’s just puberty, hormones, I don’t know. But the boy I remember was sweet and gentle. This one…” She inhales. “Jesse was asked to leave Southfield for fighting. Fistfighting,” she clarifies, as if I might think he got into a dustup on the debating team.

She continues, “When you said he was at Riverside Collegiate, I asked around. Jesse had been in a number of fights, culminating in an attack on a younger boy. He was asked to leave Southfield. Now he got into a fight while coming to apologize to you?” She shakes her head. “He has a problem, Skye.”

“He was jumped. Attacked. I was there —”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

My jaw clenches. “Lie for him, you mean? I would never —”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Yes, maybe this was an attack. Possibly in retaliation for others. My point, Skye, is that I want you to be careful. Accept his apology and move on.”

“Are we still going out for dinner?”

She hesitates, as if she wants to pursue this, but the look on my face must warn her not to.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks.

Skye

Monday. School. I catch a glimpse of Jesse in the halls, and I’m not sure if he sees me or not, but he’s gone in a blink and I say, “Screw that.” I’m not putting myself out again.

I have lunch with Tiffany to discuss the next newspaper. She hasn’t mentioned the fire. On Friday, she made sure I was okay, and she seemed mostly confused, as if my story sounded too bizarre to be true. I’m not getting into it with her – she’s one of the few people squarely on my side and I’d like to keep her there.

We’re talking in the cafeteria when Alberto walks in carrying an envelope. “Fresh leads,” he says as he tosses it onto the table and sits.

“Please tell me that’s a joke,” Tiffany says.

“Nope. Here I was, thinking one good thing came of that fire – the damned leads box burned. Then I’m walking past the main office when the secretary gives me this. Apparently – feeling terrible about us temporarily losing our office and our best source of news – they hung this up outside the door.”

“I think I heard that on the announcements,” I say.

“I would say that makes you the only student who listens to the announcements but” – Alberto shakes the manila envelope – “I’d be wrong.”

“Let me take those. It’s my job, right?” As I reach for the envelope, they both stare at me, and I realize it looks suspicious, me being so eager to take the leads.

“There were ones in the last batch that were…” I exhale. “About me. Suggesting the paper investigate me. Wanting me out of RivCol. I’d rather… I’d rather be the only person who sees those. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Tiffany says. “That’s harassment, and it needs to go straight to Mr. Vaughn, to be dealt with appropriately.”

She takes the envelope and dumps the contents. A half dozen slips of paper fall out. She picks up one and —

“What the hell?” she says.

I read it.

YOU REALLY THINK IT’S A COINCIDENCE SKYE GILCHRIST WAS IN THAT OFFICE WHEN IT GOT TORCHED? NEWSFLASH: SHE DID IT, AND THAT’S JUST STEP ONE IN HER PLAN. SOMEONE HAS TO DO SOMETHING BEFORE INNOCENT KIDS GET HURT.

Alberto reads another. “Whoa.” He balls it up and pitches it aside. “Okay, just no. That is not harassment. Someone needs therapy.”

Tiffany uncrumples it, and her eyes bug. I lean over to see the sort of comment I won’t repeat, about things that should be done to girls like me.

She sees me reading and quickly wads it up.

“I’ve seen it before,” I say. “My therapist said I need to understand that there are some very unhappy and very angry people out there, and not take it personally.”

“Not take it —” Tiffany sputters off, unable to finish.

“Yeah, that’s messed up,” Alberto says. “I vote we accidentally lose that envelope… into a shredder.”

“No.” Tiffany’s chair legs squeal against the linoleum as she stands. She scoops up the envelope and discarded notes. “This is going to Mr. Vaughn.”

“Please, don’t,” I say. “It won’t help. Just… just ignore it.”