“Get lost.”
With one directive from Harper, the rest of the Wives scatter like leaves on the wind, leaving the cafeteria table empty save for me.
Stares and whispers from all around the room follow Harper’s movements as she takes the recently vacated seat beside me.
“Spill.” She takes a bite of her salad, eyeing me like I hold all the secrets to the universe.
“Spill what? Also? Rude much? We were talking about how to handle the ADO sisters after the Championship game, but I’ll leave that to you since you clearly have everything under control.”
Ever since our initiation, Harper has lorded over the rest of us, believing she won some invisible competition. Never mind we’re the only two girlfriends who stayed after that fateful night; none of the underclassmen have any idea what our initiation was like.
“Why didn’t I know about this assault before, and how do you feel about it being broadcast over national television?”
Well, she’s never been one to mince words.
“It’s fine.” I shrug and continue eating my raw vegetables. God, I’m so fucking sick of this bland, tasteless food. What I wouldn’t give for a thick, juicy steak. Rob would really cream himself over that.
“It’s fine? It’s fine?” Harper scoffs and pushes her salad away. “I think you and I need to talk.”
Oh, goody. Just what I need. More talking.
Harper casts her gaze around the cafeteria, practically snarling at anyone who dares look our way before focusing on me. “I’m not saying I know what you went through because I don’t. But, if you need someone to listen, I’m here.”
Shock causes me to drop my fork. The only saving grace is that plastic doesn’t make a clattering sound to draw more attention to us. “W-what?”
Her expression softens, her eyes taking on a hue I’ve never seen before in them. “I can’t empathize, but I can sympathize. TJ went through something similar in the past, and I know how hard it can be. How easy it is to lose yourself to the misery.”
I study Harper with a fresh perspective. All this time I believed I was the only one who saw our initiation night for what it was: a gang rape of a group of freshman football players. I guess I should be used to being wrong by now. “Do you think we should report it?”
She cocks her head back, her brow scrunching in a confusion. “I thought you already did report it? Isn’t that why your attacker took a plea deal?”
Clearly, we are talking about two completely different things here. “What happened to TJ?”
Harper sighs, then returns to her salad, crunching on a carrot as she speaks. “One of his girlfriends in high school was raped. She didn’t report it, but we all knew about it, even though we didn’t know who did it to her. She committed suicide the summer before we came to State. TJ almost followed in her footsteps out of guilt over not being able to help her, but eventually he saw reason.”
All I can do is gape at her. This wasn’t at all what I was expecting.
“He was so depressed,” she mumbles. “It took weeks to make him see it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing more he could’ve done. He didn’t go to her funeral, even though practically the rest of our school attended. He didn’t want to face her parents. I found him in bed a week later. His mom was worried sick, but he refused to leave his room.”
Dizziness washes over me as my mind paints a similar picture of Rob in the days following my attack.
She continues on, lost in her own memories. “We’d always been friends, but I never saw him as anything more. One of his buddies called me to check on him, because no one could get through to him. They thought maybe having someone who wasn’t close to the situation could help, and I guess it did. He opened up to me about everything. Somewhere along the way I fell for him. We’ve been together ever since.”
After several moments of silence, she turns her warm brown gaze on me. “I know it was a long time ago for you, and you’re probably over it. You know, worked out what you needed to, but all I’m saying is I helped TJ. If you need someone to vent to while all this gets thrown out into the public, maybe I can help you, too.”
An uncontrollable shuddering takes root in the recesses of my body. Feelings I haven’t given the time of day swarm over me as fresh as the day I found out what happened to me. “I-I’m good. But, thanks.”
Harper shrugs, either not noticing my visceral reaction or not wanting to push. Hopefully, the former. “Okay. If you say so. Like I said, I know it was a long time ago. Besides, you have Rob.” A devious smile stretches her lips. “Now…tell me about the awards ceremony. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be the girlfriend of a Heisman-winning quarterback?”
There’s no hint of jealousy in her tone, but before I can answer honestly about the circus show I witnessed, a throat-clearing jerks our attention to the opposite side of the table.
“Eva Papageorgiou?”
The petite girl with golden blond curls botches my last name as usual, but that doesn’t phase me. What does is the way she looks at me.
Not in the way most students on campus have been ever since I was named a WAG. There’s no admiration in her green eyes, no deviousness, no jealousy. Nothing, but…pity.
“I’m Julie Jones, a journalism student who works for the State Miner Times. Do you have a minute?”
Harper nudges me, then whispers in my ear. “You’re about to be famous by association. Good luck, girl. I hope you studied your Bible religiously.”
Julie takes a seat across from me without waiting for my response, as Harper collects her things and vacates the table.
Steeling myself for the inevitable questions about my boyfriend, I meet Julie’s gaze without giving anything away. “What can I help you with? If the students want an inside look at the Heisman awards, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you much. Rob would be happy to answer any questions you might have, though.”
“I’ve already tried to get an interview with him. He doesn’t want to talk.”
I lean back in my chair, trying my best to assume an imposing posture. This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to get to Rob through me. Although, I’m surprised he would have turned down an interview about the trophy. “If the Coaches asked him not to speak publicly about it, then you won’t get very far, no.”
“Have they?” She raises her eyebrow, looking for any sign of weakness. “I’ve seen plenty of interviews he gave in New York.”
She’s got me there. I didn’t see him for hours after the presentation. He slipped into bed well after I passed out for the night. “I’m not privy to the athletic department’s stance on interviews, but if he didn’t want to speak with you, then I’m sure he has his reasons.”
Julie’s entire demeanor seems to relax on a chuckle. “He was right; you two are a team. And you’re one tough team to crack at that.”
“I thought you said he didn’t want to talk?”
“Oh, he didn’t,” she assures me. “About you.”
My defenses go on high alert. “Me?”
“That’s right.” She nods emphatically. “I guess you didn’t read my interview with him last year?”
Last year? I’m sure I did, but I read everything online about Rob and I’m so deep in social media all the articles tend to blur together. “He didn’t get a Heisman nomination last year.”
Julie waves her hand around a little too wildly. “Yeah, what a crock. They didn’t have a very good reason for snubbing him.”
I might be nervous, but I like this girl. “Agreed. That was ridiculous. Doesn’t matter. He not only got the nomination, but the win this year.”
“He did,” she agrees. “How do you feel about that?”
Is this reporter for real? “Ecstatic. He’s one of the best quarterbacks I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you only saying that because he’s your boyfriend?” She shoots me a sly wink.
Crap. I really like this girl. “Not at all. I love football. I just so happen to love him, too.”
“You two are adorable.” She flicks her finger between me and I guess an imaginary Rob beside me. “How did you meet, if you don’t mind my asking?”
There doesn’t seem to be any harm in that answer. “We went to high school together.”
A little laugh precedes her flipping through a notebook she seems to produce out of nowhere. “I know that already. Your high school is quite large, though. Nearly a thousand students graduated in your class. You don’t seem like a jersey chaser or a dim bulb. I just think it’s strange you two would have known each other at all.”
Her assumptions grate on my nerves. “He was in almost all the same AP classes as I was.”
She nods again, jotting something down on the page. “He’s rather intelligent for a jock, isn’t he?”
“He’s rather intelligent for a human.” Where’s she going with this?
“Do you think he should’ve known the media would latch onto your assault case since he was a key witness? Did you expect them to discuss it at length during the awards ceremony?”
There’s the punch. I should’ve known. “We’ve both known all along it would eventually be made public. Despite the closed courtroom, it was a definitive part of his past. They were bound to bring it up.”
“So you expected it even though he didn’t?”
“I literally just told you we both expected it.” My voice rises on each syllable no matter how hard I fight for calm.
“Really? Because when I interviewed him last year, he seemed shocked this exact scenario might happen.”
I’m going to have to reread that article from last year, if I can find it. “Considering you don’t know him at all, I’m unsure how you can make the inference he was shocked. Perhaps you were projecting what you expected onto him? You did also, apparently, assume he was a dumb jock.”
Her overly loud laughter draws more eyes to us. “No. There was no mistaking his response. In fact, he was angry that I would even suggest such a thing.”
If she pissed him off nearly as much as she’s doing to me, it’s no wonder. “I obviously wasn’t there, so I won’t make assumptions about how your interview played out. If there’s nothing else I can do for you, I need to get to my next class.”
She rises with me, then has the nerve to follow me to the garbage can where I toss my mostly uneaten salad. “I actually want to interview you, not him.”
“I already told you, I don’t have much of an insider view of the awards ceremony. The audience is kept separate from the players for most of the event.”
“You’re being purposefully obtuse.” She blocks my only exit with her small frame, which is surprisingly imposing. “I tried to ask your boyfriend for the details of the assault before it was made public. He wouldn’t talk. Now I’m asking you.”
“Why?” I get up in her face, meeting her alpha-femaleness as much as I can with my shaking limbs. “Do you want to trash him? Undo everything that was said about him at the Heisman ceremony? Are you looking for another bad football player story? Because you won’t find it here. He’s every bit the hero they made him out to be.”
Her gaze turns pitying again. “He’s not the story. You are.”
“You’re wrong. I’m not a story at all. I’m a faceless number like all the rest.” I shoulder past her, out the door and into the biting winter wind, welcoming the cold air on my hot cheeks.
Julie’s voice floats on the breeze, carrying to me with startling clarity. “It doesn’t have to be that way! You could be a voice for those who have none!”
It’s funny how the same words I uttered to Rob leave me completely terrified.