“Funny, huh?” Zoe looks up, her eyes glittering with tears. There’s absolutely nothing funny about this. “Mom and Dad wanted me to go to the police and for everyone to be questioned. They wanted to find out who did this to me. But then... everyone would have known. And Charlotte... She said the same thing as her parents, that I was lying because I wanted attention. And besides, I... I couldn’t do it. There were so many people there. Your whole graduating class. Almost all of mine. The college guys.” Now she’s talking faster, like she wants to get it over with. “I couldn’t bear the thought of spending my last year of high school as the girl who said she was raped. And Charlotte’s father is the mayor. He knows so many people.Everyonewould have been judging me. I know it was wrong, but I...” tears roll down her cheeks, and now I can’t hold back anymore. I sit next to her on the bed, but not close enough that we’re touching.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We both know that’s not true.” She sniffs but doesn’t dry her tears. “I pushed you away and ignored your notes. Your calls. Everything. Even thoughyouhad done absolutely nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve that. But I couldn’t... I was so ashamed. I felt dirty, and I was afraid. I was so fucking afraid of everything, and I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to see me that way. As a girl who things like that happen to. Because there must be a reason it happened to me.”
I want to tell her that there’s no reason. Not her behavior or her outfit or anything. But she’s already ahead of me.
“A few days later, the panic attacks started. Every time someone touched me. Mom, Dad, Caleb—it didn’t matter who. It was terrible. I started therapy because I felt like there was no other choice, even though I’d refused at first. I hated losing control of myself, not having control over my body. Shit, I’m a dancer, and that’s exactly what I’m supposed to be able to do!” A strangled sound escapes from her throat, and my fingers run over the back of her hand all by themselves. She doesn’t flinch. But she doesn’t look at me either. “Anyway, last year was pretty awful. But I’ve got it under control now. Don’t ask me how. I was fine for a while. At least I could dance again. Even with a partner. Until—” she breaks off, but she doesn’t have to complete the sentence. I know exactly what she’s trying to say. Until she had to dance with me.
“Why—” I start to say, but she silences me with a wave of her hand.
“I have no idea. But it wasn’t your fault,” she says, and I really want to believe her. But a part of me refuses.
We’re silent.
Zoe was raped. She doesn’t know by whom, and that means the bastard is still walking around free instead of rotting in prison.
At some point, she sighs softly and picks up the hairpins she’s dropped. I tense as she stands up. “I didn’t tell you this so you would forgive me. It doesn’t fix what happened or the hurt I caused you. What you’ve been through... I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you and that I made it even worse.”
I want to shake my head and deny it, but she’s right. She gave me an explanation, and I understand it. I understand everything, and Iwish that was enough. But it doesn’t change what happened and how terrible I felt last year. How alone. How lost. How much I hated the whole world. How much I still hate a big part of it. It always works out in movies, doesn’t it? The two main characters talk it out, forgive each other, and get their happy ending. What bullshit.
Reality doesn’t work like that.
In my reality, I’m overwhelmed and have absolutely no idea what to do next.
* * *
“Jase! Are you deaf? Jesus.” Skye’s pissed off voice finally gets through to me, past the layers of fog wrapped around my brain. It could also have something to do with the headphones I’m wearing, turned up so loud that my ears are ringing. I’m hoping that they’ll drown out my thoughts, but unfortunately, it isn’t working. My thoughts are way too loud.
My muscles are burning with strain when I put aside the weights I’ve been lifting. Everything hurts, and I’m breathing heavily, but it’s not enough. The pain is nothing in comparison to what’s going on inside of me.
I look up. Skye is standing in front of me, her eyes flashing with anger, her hands on her hips.
“What?” I say rudely, even before I take off the headphones.
“You’ve got to stop.” She points at the weights and then at my trembling legs.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“Yes, you do. We lift weights to prevent injuries, not to cause them. You’re overdoing it.”
I shake my head, even though she’s right. I’ve gone way over the top, and I’m trying to justify it with the fact that we have two hours of weight training built into our schedules on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s supposed to make us less likely to be injured; protect our hips, knees, and ankles; and make lifts easier. Heavy weights, few repetitions. Every one of us has a workout plan.
But today is Monday. I skipped a theory class this afternoon, and I’ve been here far too long.
“Leave me alone.”
She laughs in disbelief. “Forget it. What’s wrong with you? You’ve never skipped class before, not once. And today—”
“Forget it, all right?” I say harshly, but Skye doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Stop messing with me. What did Pearson want anyway?”
I frown, irritated. It takes me a moment to remember what she’s talking about. I was late to the pas de deux class because I had just been to the principal’s office. Fuck. It was only a few hours ago, and I’ve already forgotten. Or rather, I repressed it.
Because at least one of my problems was just solved. Lia paid my tuition fee for the semester without waiting for my decision. I should probably be grateful to her. But actually, I’m just angry.
Angry at her, Mom and Dad, Caleb and Zoe. At myself. And the whole rest of the goddamn world.
