My Name Is Chloe (17 page)

“This stuff happens all the time,” I told her. “Some people simply cannot accept that other people are different. Then if someone different actually starts to succeed at something, well, that really makes her mad. Do you understand what I’m saying here?” I’m afraid I probably sounded a little desperate—like I was ranting or something, but I really wanted to make my point. Then, to my surprise, she actually smiled.

“I probably understand better than you think.” She pushed a gold bracelet up on her wrist. “I know how it feels to be different.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Despite how you perceive me, I’ve experienced the same thing myself. And, what’s worse, I see what kids do to each other—every single day.”

“And you can’t do anything about it?”

“I’m trying, but believe me it’s an uphill battle.”

“So, what should I do then? I mean, about Kerry pressing charges and everything?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really know, besides waiting, that is. Although, I do think an apology is in order.”

I looked down at my lap. Just then I was thinking, it doesn’t seem fair, Kerry and Tiffany attacked me first; I only reacted.

“But you’ll have to decide what’s best for you,” she said as she set down her pen. “And even if you apologize, Kerry may still choose to press charges. Do you think Laura Mitchell would be willing to make a statement about how these girls have harassed you in the past?”

“She might. You could ask her.”

“Okay, then. Anyone else?”

So I told her a couple more names, including Allie, who’s been the target of some of their snipes in the past. “Do you really think this will help?” I asked as I stood up. “I mean, I hate getting all these guys involved if it’s only going to turn into a big mess. The reason I never told anyone about getting beat up before was because I figured it wouldn’t solve anything—I thought it would only make Tiffany go after me harder. And back then I didn’t even have any friends to back me up.”

“I’m afraid a lot of kids feel that way. A bunch of stuff goes unreported around here. And then even when something is reported, you can never tell which way it will go. It’s usually just one person’s word against another’s. Unless there’s a reliable witness. Still, if anything is going to change, people have to come forward and tell the truth.”

“Thanks for listening, Mrs. King.”

She nodded. “I hope this turns out okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

So tonight I told my parents about the whole thing. And instead of getting upset, which for some reason I’d expected (probably due to some of the scrapes I’d gotten into during the past year), they were surprisingly supportive.

“I wish you’d told us about all this when that awful girl beat you up the first time,” my mom said as she started clearing the table.

“Yeah,” my dad agreed, “then we could be witnesses for you. Did you tell anyone about it when it happened?”

I shook my head. “I was kinda embarrassed, and I didn’t really have any close friends at the time. In fact, the only way I had to vent was to write about it in my diary—”

“That’s it!” My dad almost dropped a plate. “Your diary! That could be used as evidence in a court of law.”

“My diary in a courtroom?_But I don’t want anyone reading my personal—”

“They wouldn’t need to read all of it. Just that particular—”

“Oh, honey,” my mom interrupted. “Surely, it won’t go that far.”

But I’m not so sure anymore. Tonight I decided to write a letter of apology to Kerry. Because, despite the fact that she and Tiffany started the whole thing, I am sorry that I didn’t control
myself, and that her nose got broken. If I could do today all over again, I would definitely
not
sling my backpack at her.

So I tried to put all these thoughts, as well as many others, into what I hoped was a sincere and sensible letter. And then, probably as a result of all this legal mumbo-jumbo, I slipped down to my dad’s office and made a copy of my letter to keep on hand. Who knows why? But I’m tucking it into my diary just to be safe. Tomorrow, I plan to give Kerry my letter, as well as say I’m sorry in person—face-to-face. I don’t expect it to be easy, but I believe that’s what God wants me to do.

As I walked down the halls today, I felt like a convicted felon. It seemed as though everyone at school was staring at me or whispering behind my back. As if they all knew that I’d broken Kerry’s nose.

It was some consolation that I had the support of my friends.

“I wish I’d waited for you yesterday,” said Laura. “We should know better than to leave anyone isolated when Tiffany’s on the prowl.”

“But why was she on the prowl?” I asked.

“Didn’t you hear?” said Laura. “LaDonna said that she overhead Tiffany make a mean remark about you to Torrey Barnes in choir yesterday, and Torrey told her to shut up.”

“Man, I wish I’d known about that yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this whole thing?” demanded Allie. “You should’ve at least called and told me what happened. I only found out about it this morning when I saw Laura. She said you called her last night.”

“Actually, Allie, I tried to call you, but your line was busy.”

She patted me on the back. “Sorry ‘bout that. My mom was talking to her sister last night.”

“What happens now?” asked Laura.

“I’m not sure. Mrs. King said we’d just have to wait and see what happens, like whether or not Kerry presses assault charges.”

“You gotta be kidding?” Allie shook her head. “But those two started it.”

“I know, but it’s my word against theirs. And there are two of them.”

“But everyone knows they’re liars and bullies,” said Laura.

“I don’t know about that. They’re pretty good at keeping up a good image when the right people are looking their way. Anyway, maybe it’ll just blow over. I went ahead and wrote an apology to Kerry last night. Have you guys seen her anywhere?”

“Yeah, I saw her in first period,” said Allie. “She’s got this big, white bandage on her nose. And to be honest, I didn’t feel a bit sorry for her. But now I feel sorta guilty about it. I mean, I know it’s wrong to hate her.”

“Yeah, I’m really praying about this whole thing and that God will help me to love her—and Tiffany too.” I swallowed hard. “But it’s not easy.”

Allie shook her head. “Man, I’m glad it’s you and not me. I know I would handle it all wrong.”

I finally saw Kerry on my way to choir, but she
had a horde of girls around her, including Tiffany. I could tell by their expressions that there was no way I was going to get through to Kerry without risking either serious physical injury or perhaps more accusations. It might’ve just been me, but it felt as though even Mr. Thompson was looking at me with suspicion. It’s as if everyone thought I was this horrible bully, so I left the minute choir was over and went straight to Mrs. King’s office.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at lunchtime,” I said.

“That’s okay; come on in.”

I handed her the letter. “I wrote this for Kerry, but she’s got all her friends sticking really close, like they’re protecting her or something. So I thought maybe you could give it to her for me.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you stopped by. I was going to call you in here this afternoon.”

“Why?” I felt my heart sink. Was Kerry pressing charges against me? Would the police come to school and pick me up, frisk and cuff me in front of everyone?

“Sit down, Chloe.”

I sank into the chair and leaned over and put my head in my hands. Why was this happening to me? I’d been trying to do everything right, and it seemed as if things were really changing for me—with God, with friends, with music. And now this.
“I just don’t get it. I don’t know what to do.”

“Kerry’s parents were in this morning, and they plan to press charges.”

I shook my head. “It figures.”

“Does your family have a lawyer?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you want me to call them?”

“If you want. But it’s okay; I can call them.”

“You’ll need to make a statement for the police. It’d probably be good if your lawyer was present.”

Now I started to cry again. I mean, how could this be happening? Just because I reacted to being picked on? Because I’d slung my backpack? It all seemed so unjust. What was God doing about it anyway?

“Are you listening, Chloe?”

I nodded. “It’s just, uh, pretty upsetting. It’s so unfair.”

“I know. There’s a lot about life that’s not fair.”

“What am I supposed to do now? Do I go back to class? Will the police come and get me?”

“I suggest that you call your parents and your attorney and go directly to the police with your story. It will save you some embarrassment.”

“Okay.”

“Go ahead and use my phone if you like.”

So I called my dad and told him what Mrs. King
had just said. I could tell he was irritated by the edge in his voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was about the situation or just me. Then I waited in the office for him to pick me up. I haven’t felt so low since before I asked God into my life. I reminded myself about the roller-coaster metaphor. But this felt worse than a bad dip. This felt like a major derailment.

My dad was pretty quiet as we drove to the police station. “Jim’s going to meet us there,” he said as we got out of the car. “I told him about your diary and he thinks that might help.” Then he cussed. And my dad’s not the kind of guy who normally does that. “This is just so stupid!”

“What?” I wondered if he was mad at me.

“That parents would press charges about something that happened in school. It’s like we live in this lawsuit-crazy era. I don’t know. But it’s moronic.”

I nodded. At least he didn’t seem to be mad at me. Still, we wouldn’t have been walking into the police station if I had controlled my temper.

After a long wait, we went into a small room with a policeman and Jim Collier, our lawyer. They filled out some preliminary paperwork, and then the officer asked me to tell him what happened. I told them everything I could remember, including the time when Tiffany and Kerry had beaten me up.

“But there were no witnesses that time either?” asked the officer.

I shook my head. “And I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

“Embarrassed?” the officer looked confused.

“Well, I was trying to act like a tough girl then.” I tried to smile, but I’m sure it looked pathetic.

“But she wrote about it in her diary,” my dad offered hopefully. “That’s evidence, isn’t it?”

The officer looked back down at his paperwork. “Which arm did they punch yesterday?”

I rubbed my right arm. “This one.”

“Are you willing to roll up your sleeve?” asked the officer.

“You don’t have to,” Jim said quickly.

I shrugged. “I don’t really care. I doubt that there’s anything to see anyway.” So I rolled up my sleeve.

“Hey, there’s definitely a bruise there,” said Jim. “Can we get someone in here to photograph that?”

“Yeah, in a minute.” The officer looked over his notes again. “And no one was around to witness the fight yesterday?”

“It wasn’t really a fight,” I said again. “And, no, I didn’t see anyone. Not until Mr. Thompson came out.”

“Apparently he didn’t see anything, just heard yelling in the hallway.”

I considered telling him about what LaDonna had overheard—when Tiffany dissed on me and Torrey Barnes told her to shut up. But I wasn’t sure if he would understand the implication there, or maybe he’d just think I was being petty.

“I think that takes care of it, for now anyway.” The officer gathered his paperwork and stood. “I’ll send in someone to take a picture of that arm.”

After he left I turned to Mr. Collier. “Are they going to put me in jail now?”

He smiled. “No, Chloe, I don’t think so.”

“This is so stupid!” My dad hit his fist on the table.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

He put his arm around me. “No, that’s not what I mean, Pumpkin. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it is. If I just hadn’t swung my backpack …”

My dad turned to Mr. Collier. “Maybe we should press charges against Kerry and Tiffany for their attack on Chloe last fall.”

“We might consider that.”

I put my head down on the table and groaned. The idea of taking those girls to court made me feel sick. “Oh, Dad,” I moaned. “I just want this to be over with. I want my life back.”

My dad didn’t want me go back to school afterward. That was a relief since I knew everyone
would still be staring at me. It’s possible that this whole thing would’ve blown over by now—if Kerry and her parents hadn’t decided to press charges. As it is, Mr. Collier warned us that even the press would get involved now.

“As crazy as it sounds, this is just the kind of story they love—school violence—no one is safe. Sure, it’s not as big as McFadden High School or someone carrying a firearm, but it’s worth a blurb on the six o’clock news when nothing else is going on in town.”

My dad warned me not to open the door or answer the phone. So I went to my room and replayed the whole thing over and over in mind-trying to figure out what I could’ve done or said differently (other than the obvious, like not slinging my backpack). But the more I thought about everything, the more confused I felt, and finally I just got down on my knees and prayed.