Missy was studying in Holly’s room. Not surprising.
I was in mine, busy looking for a job. It was the beginning of my search. I’d have to narrow everything down before I even got to the part where I started filling out the applications.
I was going over one more search on the Internet when my phone rang.
I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Don’t you answer your cell phone? Ever?”
It was my brother. I frowned. “No one calls me. Why would I?”
He groaned from frustration. “I did. I have been all day.”
It was Thursday. The rest of Monday through Wednesday had been uneventful, which was glorious in my mind. I was purposely avoiding leaving my room that night because Thursday night was also the beginning of the weekend for the partiers. I still had two classes tomorrow. It wasn’t the beginning of my weekend.
I replied, “Do you need something?”
“Do you know what happened to your friend?”
“Kristina?”
“No, the queen of the slutty ones.”
“Huh?”
“The girl I asked if I could sleep with.”
A light bulb turned on. “Casey?”
“Yeah. Do you know what happened to her? Or what the rumor is?”
Gage always laughed and joked. It was his personality. His humor was missing now, which made me grip the phone tighter to my ear. I felt a tightness forming in my throat, right at the base of it. “What are you talking about?”
But she had lied to Kristina.
I didn’t know what happened after that. I hadn’t seen or gone down to hang out with them. It wasn’t an everyday thing for me. “The last time I saw them was at lunch on Monday. Why?”
“She was raped.”
I hadn’t heard that right. “No. No way.”
He let out a deep breath. “Yes. Yes way. Listen to me.” His voice sounded closer to the phone. “She has to report it. You have to talk to her about it.”
This wasn’t—I was breaking out. I was sweating, even my armpits were feeling it. This was not something I did. “How do you know this? Are you sure? Most rumors aren’t true. We both know this.”
“Listen.”
God, he was so serious. It was freaking me out. Ice settled in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m telling you she was raped. I heard enough to believe it. You have to talk to her.”
This was not my area of expertise. Being alone. Not being included, not getting involved, those were my areas. Hanging out with guys and not flirting or dating them, too. But this—I looked down. My shirt was soaked under both arms.
“I’ll talk to Kristina.”
“Who’s that?”
“My friend! The non-slutty one.” And fuck. We should stop referring to them that way. I amended, “I mean, she doesn’t go out with them that much.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Yeah.”
He was silent a moment, then gave me a quiet, “Yeah.”
I scooted back and pulled my feet up to rest on my desk. My legs were pressed against my chest, and I rested my head against them, the phone still to my ear. “She was raped. Are you sure? Who was it?”
A lone tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t know it was there until it made its trek down.
“She was, and I don’t know for sure. I heard enough to know it was a football player, but that’s it. Be safe, okay? If you go out with them, tell me or tell someone. Just be safe.”
“I will.”
I didn’t say how I wouldn’t go out with them, or how they wouldn’t go out after this, because the truth was that they would. If Casey was raped, and I only kept the ‘if’ there because she hadn’t said the words herself, she was acting as if she hadn’t been.
“Call me if you need anything.”
My fingers felt numb. My lips, too. “I will.” The words tumbled from me.
I felt removed from my body as I hung up, and I sat there. I didn’t know what to do or what the best plan of action even was. Casey wasn’t my friend, not really. I picked up the phone and then put it back down. Should I tell Kristina? Should she handle this?
That was an easy opt-out. It was more right for her to handle this, but Gage called me. He told me.
Shit.
I didn’t want to be the one to say something. Who would? Casey could hate me. She could yell at me, or hurl things at me. I didn’t know what she would do. This was like telling a friend her boyfriend had cheated on her, but a hundred times worse. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d dissolve into tears, happy that someone else knew and someone else understood.
I sucked in a ragged breath.
I didn’t plan on it, but I watched as I reached for my cell phone. My finger pulled up Shay’s number and pressed the call button.
I was so glad Missy wasn’t in the room. That was an afterthought as I heard it ring.
A second later, he answered, “Yeah?”
I didn’t reply. My throat wasn’t working.
“Clarke?” he barked into the phone.
I still didn’t say anything, but I sniffled. Another tear slid free, and I flicked it away.
“Kennedy?” He softened his tone.
Why did I call him? I hated him.
Then I asked, my voice making myself grimace, I sounded so raw, “You were pro-choice.”
“Huh?” There was loud music in the background, and he added, “Hold on.” A moment later, the music faded. His voice was louder. “You’re asking about the abortion issues? Do we need to know about it for tomorrow?”
“Linde said his sister was raped. I was wondering why you were pro-choice.”
He was silent.
Then, “Are you pregnant?”
My throat hurt so much. My fingers curled into my jeans by my knees. “Why were you pro-choice? Can you tell me? Please.”
Another beat where he didn’t answer.
His voice dropped. “Why are you asking? Kennedy, were you . . . ”
Oh, my goodness. He was going to ask me.
“No! Just tell me why you were pro-choice.”
“Look.” He cleared his throat, sounding so kind, so considerate. So gentle. “Why are you asking me this stuff? Kennedy, did someone hurt you?”
“I just want to know.”
“I won’t tell you until you tell me.”
He was so stubborn. I groaned, pressing my knees to my chest. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
He laughed quietly. “Uh, we’re kind of a match there.” He prodded again, “Tell me why, Kennedy. Did someone hurt you?”
“No.” I lifted my head back up. My voice grew hoarse. “But a friend of mine might’ve been. My brother called and told me he heard someone I knew was raped. And I have no clue what to do.”
“Oh.”
I waited, bated breath. My heart even paused.
Nothing.
I cried out, “Are you going to say anything?”
“I don’t know what to say. I was worried about you. You’re not hurt? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m not hurt. Why were you pro-choice?”
He cursed under his breath. “You’re pushing this on me now? Fucking A. Okay, I didn’t share because I didn’t want you to look at me how you looked at those girls. I’m pro-choice because Linde is, because he’s my buddy, and I’m going to back him up. That’s why.”
“For real?” I didn’t know if I was relieved or even more frustrated. “I was hoping you could tell me what to do. I have no fucking clue.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “What would you do?”
“Talk to the girl.”
“I’m not really friends with her.”
“Are you friends with someone who is friends with her?”
“Yeah, but if it were me, I wouldn’t want anyone to know. Not until I chose to tell them.”
He was quiet for another moment. Then, so damned softly that the kindness I heard from him dislodged more tears, he said, “Then you have to go to her. I’m guessing she hasn’t said anything.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” I had to go. I didn’t want to. My fingers had formed knots around my pants. They didn’t want to let go either.
“Look, do you want to talk to Linde about it?”
I should, but I heard myself saying, “No.” Linde was easy. He was a surface friend. Things were good with him. Things weren’t with Shay, but he was someone I’d already gone deep with. That made sense. That was why I called him and not Linde.
I had to go.
“I’m going to go talk to her.”
“You want me to come, just be there for you?”
I barked out a quiet laugh. “That’d be weird.”
“I know, but you seem like you could use some support.”
I could have him come. I could tell Kristina. I could put this on either of their shoulders, but that wasn’t the right thing to do. His presence would put the whole dorm in upheaval. If he visited any girl there, everyone would know. If I told Kristina, I’d be breaking Casey’s confidence, even though she hadn’t chosen to give it to me.
Both were easy-outs, and I couldn’t indulge in either.
“I’m going to hang up and go talk to her.”
“Okay. I’ll have my phone on all night. Call if you need anything.”
That felt nice, but I frowned. “I still hate you.”
He laughed. “I know. I hate you, too.”
We hated each other again. Everything was right again.
Kristina was in their room, but Casey wasn’t. Their door was open, but I still knocked, rapping my knuckles against the wood. “Hey, uh, where’s your roommate?”
She was sitting in a similar position I just stood from, and putting her feet back on the floor, she motioned for me to come inside. “You can shut the door. I think they’re downstairs baking.” She laughed under her breath. “Sarah wanted to send cookies to some guy—” Cookies again! “—and they decided it was the greatest idea in the world. The last plan I heard was that they were going to do a bunch of cookies, put them on plates, and give them away as gifts.”
I joked, “Linde might like to be their friend.”
God.
Worst timing ever.
I was horrible at this stuff.
I lingered in the doorway. I didn’t come inside, and I hadn’t closed the door.
Her slight grin lessened. “Haven’t seen you all week.”
“Yeah.” I lifted up a shoulder, holding it because that was the most awkward thing to do, right? I had to remember to let it drop. “Just been busy with stuff.” A girl came up through the back door, and I could hear laughter coming from in there. I looked over, thinking it may have been Casey.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” My attention went back to Kristina, but she had returned to her book. Her highlighter was in the air. “Anything happen with you guys this week? You okay? Casey . . .” I looked back to that door to the stairway.
“Yeah. Why?” She ran the neon yellow marker over some words.
“No reason.” I edged back. I got my answer. “I’ll—uh—I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” I heard her response but was heading for the door. “Wait. What—” That came as I opened the door.
Heading down the last two sets of stairs to the kitchen in the basement, I could hear them laughing down there.
Sarah was saying something.
Laura shrieked.
I waited, but no Casey. I pushed open the door and rounded the corner. Aromas of baked cookies filled my nostrils. I could identify the chocolate chip right away.
Casey was sitting on the counter, fiddling with a fork.
Laura was mixing the dough. Sarah was rolling the dough into a large spoon and putting them on the pan. The two were talking to each other, but not Casey. She seemed zoned out.
“Hey!” Laura noticed me. She held up a different mixer covered in dough. “Want some? We’ll get you your own spoon.”
Sarah turned my way, too, but not Casey. She continued looking down, still holding that fork.
I gestured to her. “Actually, Casey.”
She looked.
“Could I talk to you for a second?”
“Me?”
Even Sarah and Laura were surprised, sharing a look.
I nodded, feeling my neck and legs still filled with lead. “Yeah.” Holy shit, I didn’t want to do this. My insides were screaming for me to turn around, but there was something in the middle of my chest not letting me. If I did, I’d regret it. I didn’t know why, or when, but I knew I would. Alarms, and gut instincts. This was the year I was listening to mine.
I motioned for the hallway. “Maybe in the chapel or something?” That’d be empty, for certain.
All three exchanged looks, but Casey shrugged and jumped off the counter. “Sure.” She followed me inside.
I stopped, surprised by how quaint and cozy it was. There was red carpet, a small altar, two sitting chairs, and a wood counter with a Bible on top. It was also creepy. I sat on one of the chairs, folding my knees against my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
Casey frowned, sitting on the bottom step of the altar. She threaded her hands together, letting them fall onto her lap. Her legs stretched out before her. “What’s up?”
Um. I heard you were raped. Were you?
Was that a decent start for this conversation? No. That didn’t seem right. “Uh . . .” Kristina was going for social work. She was nice and sensitive. I should’ve dropped this on her lap to deal with. It was too late for that. “Okay. This is—weird for me, but I have a brother who goes here. I don’t know if you knew that.”
Her eyebrows smoothed out, arching slightly. “No. I didn’t know that. Wait.” They pulled back together. “Not Gage Clarke?”
Fuck. She knew my last name. I nodded. “Yeah. Gage.”
“We partied with him Sunday night. I had no idea he was your brother, but”—her eyes narrowed and she nodded to herself—“yeah, I can totally see it now. You guys look just like each other.”
And speaking of Sunday . . .
I coughed. A lot of phlegm was in my throat. “Um, okay.” I put my legs down, rubbing my palms over them. They were suddenly sweaty. “What do you remember from that night?” Wait. Did she not even know herself? Was I going to be the one to tell her?
Maybe I shouldn’t do it then. If that were the case, maybe I should make a pathetic excuse and talk more to Gage, get more facts before I said anything. Yeah. That felt more right. I was more comfortable with that.
Then she murmured, her eyes flooding with tears, “You know, don’t you.”
My throat stopped working. That hadn’t been a question.
Her head hung down, and her hands reached for the bottom of her shirt. She balled it into her fists. “I can’t believe you know.”
My voice was just as soft as hers. “So, it’s true.”
Her head lifted, just a little bit. “Yeah.”
She was raped. Gage told me, but a part of me hoped it wasn’t true.
I had no clue what to do now.
I scooted off the chair. I didn’t want to assail her, but getting closer, a little below her felt like the right thing to do. I looped my hands together, pulling my feet together with my legs flat against the carpet. “Uh . . . What happened?”
“You don’t know?” She glanced up, wiping at a tear.
I shook my head. “I was just told there’s a rumor.”
“There’s a rumor?” A sob left her, a slight note of hysteria blending with it. She began rocking herself back and forth. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Hey!” Laura knocked abruptly on the door. “Can I come in? What’s going on?”
Panic flitted over Casey’s face. “No. They can’t come in. They don’t know.”
I rose and locked the door swiftly. “Um, just give us a second. We . . . uh . . . ” I looked back to Casey. She was watching me with pleading eyes. My heart broke. If it’d been me—my resolve hardened. “I’m, um, I’m thinking about losing my virginity.” I backed away from the door. “It’s extremely private and personal, and embarrassing, and I’d really like as much privacy as possible. Thank you.”
Would that work?
I added, biting my bottom lip, “And don’t tell anyone about this. Oh, and Casey might have to talk to me about this at times. Just so you know. I am going to do it, so, yeah . . .” I raised a finger to the door, trying to sound convincing. “Don’t try to change my mind.”
“Um. Okay. We’re heading up. Casey, can you hear me?”
Casey cleared her throat, too. “Yeah. I’ll be up later.”
Once Laura left, Casey snorted into quiet laughter. She shook her head, wiping at some of her tears. “You’re the worst liar in the world.”
She’d be surprised.
I shrugged, taking my seat again, but an inch closer. “They’ll bug you later. You can tell them anything you want. I’m sure they bought it.”
“Thank you.”
My gaze met hers. I found myself nodding again. “Yeah.” My heart plunged once more. Back to the real topic. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
She picked at the bottom of her jeans. “Yeah. Well. What can you do about it?”
Everything.
That word stuck in my throat.
I reached forward and touched her hand, stopping her from pulling a whole thread from her pants. She didn’t look up. “You can say something.”
She didn’t move.
I licked my lips. They were so dry they almost hurt. “I don’t know the details. I don’t know what happened, or who it was, but my brother called me and told me he heard a rumor you were raped.” I paused. My heart was beating so hard. “The rumor wasn’t saying that a guy slept with you. It wasn’t saying you were a whore, a slut, or an easy lay. He didn’t say that someone scored with you. Whatever he heard was enough for him to call me because he was worried it would happen to me, too.”
She pulled her hand away, but not far.
“I talked to someone about someone I knew who was raped, but I didn’t say it was you.”
Her head lifted, and her eyes were full of alarm.
I repeated, “I didn’t say it was you. And this person doesn’t know we’re friends. He won’t figure it out.”
“He?”
“It wasn’t my brother.”
“Oh.” She went back to picking at her jeans.
She was so silent.
Was this how it was supposed to be? Was I supposed to do something else? Were there fucking cue cards for this?
“I haven’t told anyone else.”
She looked back up again.
“I’m here. If you want to talk, whatever. Hug. Cry. Scream. I’d rob an ice cream shop with you if you wanted.”
She started to laugh.
“No, really. I would. That should have its own square in the food pyramid as far as I’m concerned. They lump it in with dairy, but it should be on its own. It’s the best food invention of all time.”
Her laughter rose, and she flicked away a couple tears. “Thank you for that.”
“For what?”
A third bout of laughter. I frowned. She thought I was joking. This was a problem.
“Thank you.” She reached forward. Her hand covered mine. “I mean it. Thank you.”
“Okay.” I was still frowning. “I’m not joking about the ice cream. I’m really not.”
“I know.” The laughter subsided, but a few chuckles escaped. “And that means a lot—that you’d break in somewhere for me.”
“Burglary. Breaking in is just that, breaking in. Burglary is breaking in with the intent to steal, and my intent would be to steal ice cream. By the gallons, if I could.” Fuck. “Do you want to do that right now? I could figure out a way to break into the cafeteria. That wouldn’t be burglary because we already have a right to that ice cream. We’d just be breaking in.”
“No.” She shook her head. “But thank you. It does mean a lot.”
“Okay.” Just as long as she knew. “Do you . . . are you okay?” I was an idiot. “No. That’s the wrong question. I’m not good with this stuff.”
“No. You’re actually being fantastic.” Her head hung low again.
“Okay.”
Kristina would know what to say if she were here. Or Shay. Linde, for sure. What would Gage say? He’d know. He was someone I could channel. I ran through all the jokes he might say, but he wouldn’t. He’d be nice. He’d be kind. He’d say the perfect thing.
I should’ve had him come.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for that, but I’m here.”
I let out another deep breath and just sat there. What else could I do? Then, after a few minutes of silence, she reached out. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t get up and leave. She just sat there and she cried and she held my hand.
I would’ve sat forever if she wanted me to.