Damaged: A Violated Trust (Secrets) (14 page)

I jump and nearly spill my water jar again. “Uh, okay, I guess.”

“I like that reflection of light on the fender.” She points to the front of the old blue truck. “Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

Now she looks concerned. “Is anything bothering you, Haley?”

“Not really.”

She slowly nods, like she’s doubtful of my answer. “Well, I can see you’re a good artist. And if you ever need to talk … I mean, I realize it’s hard changing schools in the middle of high school…. Anyway, I’m a good listener.”

My cheeks are flaming red, but I force a weak smile and thank her, hoping she’ll hurry up and move on. Does she honestly think I’m going to open up to her — a teacher?

I concentrate on painting blades of grass now. Because it’s fairly tedious, this doesn’t require quite as much mental energy. Using shades of gold and pale green, I imagine what this grassy meadow might smell like in late August. I imagine myself lying quietly in the grass, watching the blue sky and clouds rolling by. Will I ever have a peaceful experience like that again? Or is my life forever ruined by the horrors of one awful night? How does a person recover from that kind of betrayal?

“Poppie tells me you and Harris broke up,” Zach says in an offhanded way, like he thinks I want to talk to him, then plops himself down at my solitary table.

I just give him a very blank stare.

“Oh … ?” He blinks like he’s offended. “So you’re giving me the cold shoulder now?”

I just shrug. Perhaps I will give up speaking altogether, for all the good it does me.

“Let me guess,” he continues, unflappable, “Harris dumped you and now you’re brokenhearted.”

I continue with the silent treatment.

“The thing is, Haley, he’s not worth it. Take it from me. I’ve known Harris since grade school and he’s always been too full of himself. In fact, I didn’t want to say anything to you before, but Harris is pretty much a selfish jerk.”

I suck in a fast breath, controlling myself from speaking something in Harris’s defense, which is perfectly ridiculous.

“You know what they say, Haley.”

I roll my eyes at him, then look back down to my mixing tray, where what was once a nice golden green has become muddy.

“Easy come, easy go.”

I glare at him now.

“Oh, I see I’ve got your attention. How about another euphemism.” His brow creases. “Oh, yeah. There’s always more fish in the sea.” He smiles, jerking his thumb to his chest. “Like me, for instance.”

“Please, leave me alone,” I seethe.

“You’re handling this all wrong,” he continues. “The best way to get even is to live well and act like you’ve never been hurt. Don’t let them see you crying. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and all that rot.” He laughs in a sarcastic way, like he’s questioning his own advice.

I soften slightly. “I know you think you’re making me feel better. But you’re not.”

“That’s because you won’t let me. You’re building up a wall, Haley. If you’re not careful, you’ll shut yourself in there so tight that you’ll never find your way out.”

“It’s my life.”

He nods. “That it is.” Now he stands, takes a mock bow, and goes back to the table where Poppie has been watching the whole thing. I see them talking, heads close together, and although I can’t hear what they’re saying, I can see they’re amused. Well, let them be amused. Let the whole school be amused. See if I care.

Finally the bell rings, but as I’m leaving class, Ms. Flores is looking at me with an intensity that makes me wonder if even she knows what happened to me. But that’s impossible.

So far I have managed to avoid seeing Harris, but as I come out of PE, I nearly run right into him. I blink, then step back, biting into my lower lip, which is still sore. The pain brings tears to my eyes … at least I think it’s the pain. But instead of letting him see me like this, I glare at him. I want to tell him I hate him and he is the slime of the earth, but the words won’t come out. Instead I just narrow my eyes, shake my head in disgust, and hurry on past him. And as I’m walking, I hear him laugh. At least I think it’s him. It’s so weird and heartless I almost think I imagined it. What kind of beast is he?

By the end of the day I am emotionally exhausted. Fortunately, my last class is choir and requires little effort on my part. Just open your mouth and pretend to be singing. No one will know. Unfortunately, several of Emery’s friends are also in this class. They’re all talking about me now. I don’t know what they’re saying or how they know what happened, but I have no doubt that everyone knows something.

After class, Libby hurries to catch up with me as I’m leaving. “Wait.”

I pause and just look at her. “What?”

“How are you doing?” she says quietly.

I make what feels like about my tenth shrug today.

“I heard what happened.”

“What do you mean?” I hold my head high.

“With you and Harris.”

“You mean that we broke up?” I actually am curious as to what everyone knows … and also how they found out.

“That and a lot more.”

I sigh. “Do you mind telling me how much more? Just so I can be on the same page as everyone else.”

“You want the details?” She looks surprised.

I shrug again.

Now she seems uncomfortable. She glances around to see if anyone can hear us and lowers her voice. “Everyone is saying that Harris, you know, spent the night at your house and that you kind of, well, freaked out on him.”

“Freaked out on him?”

She nods uneasily. “Because he told you that you weren’t any good in bed, you know? And then you guys got in a big fight and broke up.”

“Oh …” I’m trying to absorb this. “And how did this story get out? I mean, how did everyone find out so quickly about this so-called big fight and all?”

She holds up her iPhone. “Harris texted the whole story to Cal and he forwarded it to Saundra and, well, you know how that goes.”

I want to set Libby straight and somehow clear my name, except no words come to me, and I’m on the verge of tears again.

“I just thought you deserved to know the truth,” she tells me.

“Right,” I mutter. “The
truth.”
I just shake my head and walk away.

She calls out to me but I keep on going. I head straight for the nearest exit and hurry out, and then I jog all the way home. When I get to the condo, I’m breathless and crying so hard that my side and my stomach ache.

I wish I were dead.

...[CHAPTER 13].................

I
’ve heard of date rape before, but it always sounded like something weird and ugly and out of control — something that would never happen to a girl like me. Even now I question whether that’s what really happened or not. To be fair, I think I may have sort of led Harris on by dressing provocatively, inviting him into the condo, consuming alcohol with him, kissing him, and letting him take me into the bedroom … so how can that be called rape? Or even date rape?

And even if it was date rape, what am I supposed to do about it now? Harris has already spun his story all over the school — everyone believes him. Even if I could open my mouth, which I seriously doubt, it would be his word against mine. My stomach growls, reminding me that I missed lunch and only had juice for breakfast. I fix a bowl of cold cereal, and as I eat it, I attempt to think clearly. I usually consider myself to be fairly smart and on top of things, but I can’t seem to figure this thing out. Mostly I just want to escape it. I want to run and hide.

I put the bowl in the dishwasher, then go to my room, climb into bed, pull the covers over my head, and close my eyes. If I can’t just die, I want to will myself to sleep for about a hundred years. Or at least until I’m an adult and can leave on my own and begin a new life without this kind of torment.

I wake up around seven and am not surprised that Dad’s not home yet. He usually works late. At first this annoyed me, but now I think it’s a blessing in disguise. One problem with Mom was that she had too much time on her hands. She was always hovering over me, asking questions, making accusations, and hatching plans to lock me safely away. Of course, in light of what I’ve done with my newfound freedom, a part of me wonders if Mom might’ve been right.

I pick up my phone and, in a moment of weakness, dial her number. I’m tempted to hang up on the first ring except she has caller ID and she might already know it’s me. I remember how the last time I called her, shortly after Dad got me this phone, she laid into me about how a cell phone would only get me into trouble.

“Hello?” Her voice comes through loud and clear.

“Hi, Mom.” I hope she can’t hear the tremor in my voice.

“What’s wrong, Haley?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I just wanted to call and say hey.”

“Hey? You mean hello?”

“Yeah, hello.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, Mom. Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“What’s your father doing?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“He’s working?”

“At home?”

“No, at work.”

“So he left you home alone?”

“Mom, I’m sixteen.”

“Precisely. You’re sixteen and home alone at night. Doesn’t your father realize what kind of trouble a teen girl can get into if she’s left home alone?”

“Oh, Mom.” I let out an exasperated sigh but at the same time realize she’s right.

“Why is he working at night? Is his job in jeopardy?”

“No, not at all.” I try to think. “He just had something he needed to take care of. He should be home anytime now.”

“Well, let’s hope so. I told you over and over, Haley, your father does not know how to parent. He does not want to parent. He abandoned you and Sean, and why you chose to go live with him defies all reason.”

“How is Sean?” I ask, hoping this will change the subject.

“The same. He won’t go to church with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with you kids. The Bible says that if you raise a child in the way he should go, he won’t depart from it, but you two children certainly departed. However, I lay the blame for that at your father’s feet. You’re both following in his wicked footsteps.”

“Well, I just wanted to say … hello…. I should probably go. I have homework to do.”

“How are your grades?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to know, Mom.”

“Well, you better stay on top of your studies. Not that your father will be any help in that department. You chose to be on your own when you left. As my mother used to say, you made your bed and now you’ll have to lie in it.”

“Yes, I know.” I glance over at my unmade bed — the same bed where Harris raped me just two nights ago. “I’ll talk to you later, Mom. Please tell Sean hello for me.”

We hang up and I begin to cry all over again. Why on earth did I think talking to Mom could possibly make anything better? It only made everything worse. Whether she’s right or wrong … I’m not even sure. What I do know is her words are like knives slicing into fresh wounds. I so don’t need that.

I attempt to do some homework, which is a challenge since I left some of the books I need in my locker. But now I’m thinking about that anonymous warning letter I got last week. I wish I had saved it and I’m trying to remember exactly what it said … and how it said it. At the time I thought it was from Emery or one of her friends, trying to scare me away from Harris. Now I wonder if it was written in sincerity. It seemed like it was written by a girl, so maybe someone else has been through something like this with Harris.

I do recall Libby mentioning how Harris was unfaithful to Emery last summer. Was it possible he did something like this then, too? Too many questions and not enough answers.

Dad comes into the house around ten. I go out to say a perfunctory hello — mostly so I can retire back to my room on the pretense of going to bed.

“Sorry to be so late,” he tells me. “Tyson at work talked me into a racquetball game and I didn’t think it’d last so long.” He lets out a tired sigh. “I’m beat.”

“Me, too. I just came out to say good night.”

He smiles. “You’re a good kid, Haley.”

I just nod, then turn and go back to my room. A “good kid” whose life is seriously messed up. I briefly wonder what my dad would do if I told him what happened on Saturday night. But I think I can guess … it would make him extremely uncomfortable and ruin everything.

One thing I decide as I get ready for bed is that I’d like to find out who wrote that warning letter. I’m just not sure how to go about it. I really don’t enjoy talking to anyone at school — at least not about Harris. Still, I feel like if I could get to the bottom of that letter … well, maybe it would help.

……….

My second day at school (following the incident) isn’t much better than the first. I would think people would find something or someone else to talk about, but they seem to be primarily interested in me. I feel like a shadow as I walk down the halls, keeping my eyes down, not speaking to anyone. Even when I venture into the cafeteria at lunchtime, I keep to myself, getting a cheeseburger and finding an isolated table in a corner.