Going Under (4 page)

“You have any interest in going with me to
register for classes?” I asked. I knew I’d be the only senior there
with a parent, but I didn’t care. I wanted to start over—look sweet
and innocent—and I thought that Dad accompanying me would give that
impression perfectly. God knows I needed a new identity.

“Well, I don’t want to be in the way,” Dad
replied.

“How would you be in the way?” I asked,
hopping up from the bed. “Come on. Afterwards you can take me
shopping for school supplies.” If he wanted to give me things, who
was I to refuse?

“Okay,” Dad said, a note of excitement
underlining the word.

***

You know when someone is staring at you. You
feel it. The hairs on your neck stand up if it’s an odd feeling, if
you’re not quite sure you like it. If the person makes you uneasy,
even if you haven’t spotted him yet. Or you might feel the wave of
heat crash onto you starting at your head and swooshing down your
body to your toes. If you like it. If it’s a good feeling, even if
you haven’t spotted him yet.

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up because
I knew who it was. And I didn’t like it. Or him.

I looked down at my outfit. I don’t know why
I cared, but I was starting over at a new school, and I wanted the
first impression to be the right one. Dark jean shorts with a
see-through billowy top. I wore a camisole underneath the top and
let it hang off of one shoulder. My feet sported jeweled sandals. I
wore just a bit of make-up. Mostly I focused on accentuating my
dark blue eyes. Gold tones to make them pop. Thick mascara on my
upper lashes. I kept my lower lashes naked. I liked the contrast. I
even curled my hair and left my locks loose, cascading down my back
in soft blond waves.

This was so important—first impressions. I
was trying to start fresh. I was confident that most students at
Charity Run didn’t know who I was because my old high school wasn’t
a rival. They wouldn’t know my history with Beth, my history as a
terrible friend. I had a chance at a real transformation. I would
be a good girl my senior year. I would walk the halls every day and
feel Beth’s ghost—a constant reminder of my betrayal—and welcome
the pain. It would be punishment I deserved. And if I was lucky,
eventually I would be reformed.

Dad struck up a conversation with the
teacher helping me, so I decided it was time to turn my face, to
let my surveyor see me fully. I jumped when I saw him. I thought he
would be somewhere across the gym, but he was standing right behind
me. The heat crashed over me then, but not the good heat. I was
nervous, and my skin burned with it.

He smiled at me. I returned my own, shy and
uncertain.

“You a senior?” he asked casually.

He towered over me, brown hair buzzed,
chocolate eyes dark and foreboding. His arms were thick with years
of competitive swimming, and for a split second, I imagined Beth
trapped by them, unable to move, to escape as he took whatever he
wanted from her. A violation of the most personal nature. Too
devastating for Beth to overcome, so she took her life in her
bedroom closet instead.

A righteous anger flared in me immediately,
and just like that, I discovered a purpose.
My
purpose. It
flooded me instantly, a great wave slamming into my mind and my
heart, carrying with it the courage and conviction of my newly
formed plan. I knew how to apologize. I knew how to make things
right with Beth. I was a warrior in that moment, and I was going
into battle on behalf of my friend.
I’ll fucking bury this guy,
Beth. I’ll do it. Just watch me do it.
And I transformed into
the predator
.
He just didn’t know it yet. He thought I was
the prey, and I’d let him.

I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said, combing my
fingers through my hair. I wanted it to look like a sweet little
nervous habit. I cocked my head playfully as I looked up at
him.

“That’s gotta be hard. Moving to a new
school your senior year,” he replied.

“Not really,” I said. “My old school
sucked.”

I watched as his eyes roved over my body. He
was covert about it, but I wasn’t blind. My skin crawled, and I
felt an overwhelming urge to attack him. I’d be no match, I knew,
but perhaps I could claw his eyes out before he slammed me to the
floor, knocking me unconscious.

“Well, I hope you like this school better,”
he said after he finished his assessment.

“I guess it doesn’t matter either way,” I
said. “It’s our last year.”

“True,” he replied. “But I plan on making it
a good one.”

Yeah, I bet you do, you fucking asshole.

“Oh, me too,” I said a little too
enthusiastically. He seemed to like it.

“I’m Cal, by the way,” he said, extending
his hand.

I took it tentatively. I didn’t want to.
Adrenaline was pumping overtime, and I was afraid I’d squeeze his
hand so hard I’d rip it off.

“Brooklyn,” I replied. “But everyone calls
me Brooke.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Brooklyn,” he said,
curling his lips into a pleasant smile. He squeezed my hand before
releasing it.

Hmm, so he had no plans to call me “Brooke.”
At least not yet. What was he playing at? Perhaps he didn’t want me
to think that I had captured his attention. Maybe he didn’t want me
thinking we would even be friends. He was, after all, one of those
popular guys. I, on the other hand, had no social status and had no
ambitions to be popular.

“Nice to meet you, too, uh . . . what was
your name again?” I worked my hardest to suppress the grin.
You
don’t wanna give me “Brooke?” Okay then. I won’t even give you a
name.

He chuckled. “Cal.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Cal. Is Cal short
for anything?”

He smirked and looked over his shoulder
before turning back to me. “Yeah. Calvin. But everyone calls me
Cal.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Calvin,” I
said. I cocked my head to the side and grinned.

“Hmm,” he replied, and I imagined he was
thinking about the type of panties I wore.

Dad tapped my shoulder at the perfect
moment. I had to get away from this guy. I wanted to throttle him,
knowing what he did to my friend, and I was heady from the plan
still unfolding in my brain. And frankly, I was scared of Cal’s
physical size.

“Ready?” Dad asked.

I breathed deeply, then thought of the
perfect response. “Yes, Daddy,” and he looked at me strangely. I
watched Cal’s reaction to my words, certain of his arousal. “Bye,
Calvin.” I lifted my hand in a tiny wave.

“Hey wait,” he said hurriedly. He reached
for my registration card. “Can I see your class schedule?”

“Sure,” I said, handing him the card. “Any
particular reason why?”

“Uh, well, I can tell you about the
teachers,” he said.

Bullshit. He wanted to know what classes he
could take with me. Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitch, and the image of a
big, fat tuna wriggling on a tiny hook came to mind. A slow,
tortuous death, and I smiled, imagining the last desperate
flop.

“Like Ms. Walker. She’ll have you doing all
sorts of presentations in class. Good if you like public speaking,
but I think most of us freaking hate it,” he said.

I nodded.

“And Mr. Hatchet—”

“Yikes, that’s a scary name.”

“No kidding. He’s a jerk. Just so you know.
Don’t try to win him over with your feminine charms. It doesn’t
work on him. He won’t even take legitimate excuses for missing
class. Not even doctors notes.”

“Sounds like a jerk,” I echoed.

“Um, the rest are okay. I see you’re doing
Yearbook? I was planning on that, too,” Cal said.

Were you, Cal? Were you really planning on
doing Yearbook? Give me a break.

“Well, if you do, maybe we can work
together. You know, go take pictures together or whatever,” I
offered. Sickly sweet. Good girl.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, and handed me the
card. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. See you next week, Calvin,” I said as
he walked away.

“Making friends already, huh?” Dad asked as
we made our way out of the gym to Dad’s old pickup truck.

“Hardly,” I replied. “Though he seemed nice
enough.”

The lie felt heavy in my mouth. He wasn’t
nice enough. He wasn’t nice at all, and I knew it.

***

Make him pay
.

That much was settled. I’d make him pay. I
just didn’t know if I’d do it by taking a baseball bat to his
balls, putting a 9 mm to his head and pulling the trigger, or
something more subversive. The idea came to me in the gym, and I
entertained it now. The idea of letting him have me. Seduce him
without him knowing, give him the perfect opportunity to take
advantage of me, then make him pay for it afterwards. Could I
actually go through with it, though? Could I give up my body as a
sacrifice to seek vengeance? Was I strong enough? Crazy enough?

I could never do it if I was a virgin, but I
wasn’t a virgin. Not that it makes being raped any less painful or
traumatic. Still, I thought that having my virginity out of the way
made it less life-shattering. And would it really be rape, anyway,
if I lured him into doing it?

I’d never been sexually assaulted, had
absolutely no idea how that affected a woman, and felt a little
ashamed for thinking that I could handle it. Like I had a clue
about the reality. My arrogance knew no bounds, and I convinced
myself that the emotional impact would be miniscule because I was
strong enough to handle it. Honestly, though. Could I really
testify in court, go through all of that, without the certainty of
getting him behind bars? Could I risk being thrust into the public
eye? Not every state protected the identities of rape victims once
they came forward. Did North Carolina? I’d have to research it.

My God. My mind was spinning, entertaining
grand ideas of revenge. I wanted this for Beth. I wanted this for
me. Perhaps it would bury my guilt and grief for good. I considered
the type of guy Cal was. What if he’d raped other girls? Was it my
duty to seek revenge? I felt in that resolute moment that I had no
other choice, that my entire existence was defined by this crazy
plan.
There’s something really messed up about you, Brooke,
I heard myself saying. Maybe. But it felt right. I hadn’t felt
right about anything in a long time.

I lay on my bed, my brain flooded with
question after question. It was working overtime, and I couldn’t
keep up with it. Maybe I was just going crazy. Maybe I would wake
up tomorrow and scratch the whole plan. But who was I kidding? The
anger I felt in the gym when I stood before that predator was too
real, too powerful and right to ignore. There’s anger, and then
there’s righteous anger. I felt the righteous anger, and I knew I
had to act on it. I would purify my heart by becoming impure.

I fell asleep knowing old events would
resurface, creep into the forefront of my mind from my
subconscious, make me relive the pain all over again to solidify my
decision. I would wake up determined because I had no choice. And
if I fought it, the dreams would continue to haunt me until I
surrendered to my fate.

“
You have to tell me what’s wrong,” I
pleaded.

Beth sobbed into her hands, rocking back and
forth like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I didn’t
want her to have a breakdown. I didn’t know what to do if she
did.

“
Beth, please,” I urged, wrapping my arm
around her and drawing her into me. She rested her head on my
shoulder.

“
He raped me,” she whispered.

I immediately thought of Finn, and my heart
sank. It couldn’t be Finn. Finn would never do such a thing. I
couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it, because I was sleeping
with him. I was head-over-heels for him.

“
Who?” I croaked. My pulse sped up as I
clutched my best friend.

“
You don’t know him,” Beth answered. “He
goes to my school. His name is Cal.”

I pulled away and took Beth’s hands. “Beth,
you need to tell me what happened.”

Beth shook with a fresh wave of sobs as she
nodded reluctantly.

“
I went to a party. That party I told you
about,” she began.

I cringed. It was the party I didn’t attend.
She wanted me to, but I made up some lousy lie about hanging out
with my mother when I was, in fact, going to see Finn.

I felt like shit.

“
I think he drugged my drink,” Beth
continued. “I started feeling really out of it. Lightheaded, I
guess. He took me upstairs to his room so I could lie down. I
didn’t want to. I kept telling him I didn’t want to!”

She burst into tears, long ragged sobs that
sounded painful in her chest.

“
It’s okay,” I said, stroking her back.
All I could think was that I wasn’t there. If I had been there,
this wouldn’t have happened. My fault. My fault.

“
He took my clothes off,” she said. “I
told him no. I tried to scream it, but my tongue felt so huge. Like
it was swollen. He said I wanted it and that I was just a
tease.”

“
You don’t have to tell me anymore,” I
whispered. I couldn’t stand to hear it.

“
No! I have to! I have to get it out!”
she screamed, and I nodded.

She took a deep breath, trying to settle the
hitching in her chest.

“
I cried, and he licked my face. I think
he was licking my tears. And then he had sex with me while he
covered my mouth, and he told me not to tell anyone because no one
would believe me. He knew I wasn’t a virgin. He knew I had slept
with guys on the swim team. Those idiots must brag about it or
something.”

My head swam with a mixture of guilt: guilt
for not going to the party with Beth, guilt for her attack, guilt
for sneaking around with her boyfriend, guilt for lying to her.

“
He’s right, Brooke,” Beth said. Her
voice quavered uncontrollably. “No one would believe me. He’s
all-American swim team champ. I’m the girl who’s fucked three guys
at school. No one would believe me.”