Gin

Madison misses her cue for the second time in a row, and I have to keep myself from snapping in frustration. It’s not my job to feed her lines or remind her of cues. I let Mr. Douglas handle it, and I slip in my earbuds.

It’s Monday, and it’s been eleven days since Chase and I argued. At this point, I don’t just want to count the days, but also the hours. I miss him.

He seems to be under just as much heat as I am. Last week, word flew around the school fast that Chase had punched Jack Pearson, giving him a nasty black eye. I knew he’d done it as retribution for Jack spitting on me, and my heart had swelled with affection.

How sick is that, me going weak-kneed over a guy punching someone for me? But since that guy is Chase, and it was Jack he punched, I couldn’t help it.

A line has been drawn on the football team. Chase leads the small group of opponents against the Sweet Sixteen. Jack leads the group of swaggering knuckle-draggers who are angry over being cheated out of their fun.

I’m proud of Chase, and I want to tell him that. But I ache for him to call or text or find me at play practice, and tell me he misses me and he’s sorry. I need to hear him say that I matter to him, and not in response to me chasing after him like a lost puppy dog.

I paint in silence, lost in my music and my feelings, until Mr. Douglas approaches me. I pull out my earbuds and stand to see what he wants.

“How’s our set coming, my esteemed art director?” he asks.

“Pretty good. We’re back on schedule.”

“What did you make for Ellie’s bedroom?”

“Just a wall with a bed and posters painted on it.”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Still need an MIT banner?”

“If possible, that would be great. I left a space for it on Ellie’s wall.”

“Mrs. Morganstern brought one in for us. I left it on top of my filing cabinet.” He takes a key ring from his pocket and passes it to me. “The one with the Cardinals logo opens my classroom door if you want to go get it.”

I take the keys. “Sure, I’ll go now.” I arch my brows at him. “Or—I’ll steal your car and head for the border.”

“Ha! You want to take that hunk of junk off my hands, be my guest.”

I smile and put my earbud back in, Adele’s voice filling my ears. Mr. Douglas’s classroom is about the same distance from me no matter what route I take, but I decide to cut through the gym, just in case Chase is lingering outside the locker room.

I’m pathetic and I know it. The football team is always changed and on the field by now, but I’ll take even a small chance of running into Chase.

Maybe it would give us a chance to talk without one of us having to apologize. Or maybe I’ll just swallow my stupid pride and admit I overreacted.

I have absolutely no experience with boys, but when I talked to my mom about Chase this weekend, she told me just to do what feels right.

After eleven days of radio silence, talking to Chase again is what feels right. I miss our secret looks as we pass in the hallway and his playful nightly texts.

The gym is empty today—the cheerleaders must be practicing outside. I walk through it, slowing by the boys’ locker room door just in case Chase comes out.

Nothing, though. I’m past the door and about to exit the gym in disappointment when an arm hooks around me from behind. I freeze, shocked, and a hand presses something over my mouth.

Duct tape, I think. I’m picked up and thrown over someone’s shoulder, my heart pounding frantically. I kick, which is all I can do since my arms are being held tight to my sides. As I twist my body, trying to get free, I see who has me, and my heart feels like it may stop.

Jack Pearson.

He struggles to get the locker room door open, using his foot so he can keep both arms holding me captive.

The harder I struggle against him, the harder it gets to breathe through my nose, which is my only option now. I’m getting light-headed, so I try to focus just on a few deep breaths.

Jack sets me on the ground in front of some lockers, caging me in with his forearms pressed to the lockers on either side of me. The swelling on his eye has gone down since last week, but it’s still a mean shade of purple.

“Chase isn’t here to protect you this time, is he?” He pushes his sweaty face just a couple inches from mine. “You ruined everything, you bitch. We lost our captain, I lost my friend. All because you think you’re too good to spread your fucking legs.”

My chest heaves in and out as I breathe, the difficulty almost as terrifying as whatever Jack’s about to do.

“You’re gonna make this right.” His tone is low, his lips so close to my face I turn to the side, trying to avoid him.

I don’t have breath to spare, but a muffled scream comes out as a hum in my chest as Jack grabs the waistband of my gray sweats and pulls them down.

Horror overwhelms me as the air hits my bare thighs. I’m still light-headed, and now I’m about to vomit too. If I do, and Jack leaves the tape on my mouth, I could choke.

Stay calm, Gin.

I think of my mom and what she’d tell me right now. Stay calm. Think. Don’t give in to the fear.

Jack’s working on getting his own pants down now, and I use the opportunity to shove him away from me. He doesn’t go very far, though. He’s so much bigger and stronger that he has his hands wrapped around my upper arms in a matter of seconds, and he slams me against the lockers, pain shooting through the back of my head as it strikes the metal.

“Fight if you want,” he sneers and winks. “I’ll just enjoy it more.”

I head-butt him, desperate to fight back, but I don’t hit him hard enough to hurt much. He wraps a hand around my hair and shoves my head down on the locker room’s wood bench, my cheek burning from the impact.

“It would have been easier at the cabin,” he says, shoving his pants down with his free hand.

Suddenly, I see a part of Jack Pearson I never wanted to see. I realize how close I am to being raped, and I stop thinking and just react. I grab at him with both hands, clawing and pinching.

He slams my head against the bench again, sending stars into my field of vision. I don’t let up, though. I grab his pathetic little dick and scratch with all my strength. I pull on his nuts and squeeze his balls so hard he cries out in pain.

“Fucking bitch!” He instinctively covers his parts with both hands, and I stand up, ripping the tape from my mouth.

I gulp in air as Jack lunges for me, and I kick and push at him to keep him from getting both arms around me. My terror seems to be giving me extra strength. Every time he gets closer, I back away and somehow manage to keep him from pinning me again.

“You. Owe. Me.” He gives me a murderous glare and then lunges, taking hold of both my wrists. I drive a knee up into his balls, twisting so hard and fast I feel a sharp pull in my back.

He folds over in pain, both hands on his crotch as he howls, and I make a run for it. Adrenaline pumps through me hard and fast, a voice inside telling me this may be the only chance I get to escape.

I move as fast as I can, holding my pants up just enough to get a hand on the door handle and open it. When I’m in the gym, I break into a run, pulling my pants all the way up as I go.

I can breathe again. I’m free. But I’m not safe yet. I have to get to people.

Going back in the direction I came, I decide Mr. Douglas is my best hope. I know he’s in the theater right now. I get to the other gym door, open it, and burst wild-eyed into the hallway.

Empty, except for Chase.

“Gin!” He drops his helmet in front of the water fountain he was drinking from and runs toward me. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He reaches for me, but he stops his hands in midair. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tears flood my eyes as I look at him. Now, I’m safe. I just want him to hold on to me right now, whether it hurts or not.

“I—” I’m interrupted by the opening of the door I just walked out of.

Jack’s expression is dark, and his hair and clothes are a mess. He looks from me to Chase, then abruptly turns back and closes the door.

Chase cups my cheek gently. “Tell me you’re okay.”

I nod, tears clouding my vision.

“I have to go get him, Gin. Before he has a chance to…shower.” He cringes, his own eyes glassy with tears. “Go find Mr. Douglas. Call the police. Do that for me, okay?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, then runs through the door after Jack. I make it the last hundred yards back to the theater, not seeing or hearing anything around me until I find Mr. Douglas.

“Gin.” He looks at me, his brow furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

I swallow hard and find my voice. “Call the police.”