Bittersweet Dreams (30 page)

Dear Diary,

A terrible thing happened today. I can hardly write it, but I had to write it.

I heard Mr. Taylor tell Mayfair that he was going to get engaged.

I think my heart must have stopped.

I'm sick to my stomach.

Now, when he sees me, he doesn't act any differently from how he acts with the other girls in the class.

I don't want to hate him, but I can't help it.

I feel like running away or dying. All I do is cry when I'm alone, and when I'm not, I cry inside.

I think I'll cry for the rest of my life.

Only Lisa knows and understands why I'm so sad.

I closed the diary and sat there.

Were these just the fantasy ramblings of an adolescent girl? They convincingly described the slow and deliberate approach of a sexual predator, the gentleness, singling her out, touching her innocently at first, just the way he had first touched me, and then the credible advances. Look at how easily he had turned himself on to me and then turned himself off when he had gotten what he wanted. Reading her diary made me feel as if I had been violated again.

I went from being fascinated by it all to blind, bloody rage.

Allison was just the type of girl who could be easily victimized. She was searching for a father figure since her parents' divorce. My father was providing something for her, but it wasn't really enough for a girl who was just blossoming into her full female emotions. The first part of her diary described someone desperate for significant, loving relationships. Julie certainly couldn't compensate for what Allison was missing, and I hadn't done much of a job of it.

Alan Taylor had pounced on her the way he had pounced on me.

Of course, it reinforced my opinion of Julie, too. How could any mother miss all this? A mother as self-centered as Julie could. I stared at the diary. Yes, to anyone else, it might just be the ramblings of a lovesick teenage girl fantasizing, but to me, it was as good as a legal brief.

I had to help her, I thought, and in doing so, I would get my own revenge and justice.

I laughed to myself, because an added bonus would be shaking Julie out of her tree of selfishness, arrogance, and insensitivity. Maybe then, maybe finally, my father's eyes would be opened and the hold she had over him would evaporate.

I knew just what I had to do for Allison and for myself.

I never liked believing in the power of coincidence or fate, but even I had to admit that something, maybe the spirit of my mother, had put me in a position to do what had to be done.

And I would do it.

Maybe I should be a writer of fiction, I thought as I sat in my room after putting Allison's diary back on the shelf. I loved to plot. The obvious occurred quickly. I couldn't reveal that I had sneaked into Allison's room and read her diary, and whether it was my pride or something more, I couldn't get myself, even now, even with this added potential evidence, to tell my father and especially Julie why I had a good reason to believe what Allison was claiming. For now, maybe forever, that would have to remain a deep secret buried in the darkest place in my heart. Too often, the messenger gets punished for the message, anyway. Julie would accept no favors from me. That was for sure. She would find some way to blame me and convince my father that she was right. At a minimum, she might point to the things I told Allison and the book I gave her to read.

“You put sex in her mind and all this has resulted because of it,” she might say, as ridiculous as that was.

Suddenly, I would become the biggest influence on Allison, and whatever I would have done to her, I would have done out of some meanness, some anger against her mother. Look at what I had done with Dr. Burns, how I had used him. Nothing I did was by accident. I was far too intelligent to do anything accidentally.

I could hear it all now.

No, this had to be done more subtly. It was a matter of planting seeds and using the system, which had also let me down when it came to what the bitches of
Macbeth
had done to me. This truly looked like the way to get back at everyone.

And I knew just how to start.

After Julie had picked up Allison and brought her home, Allison went directly to her room. I waited a few minutes and then knocked on her door. She was getting ready for bed and was already in her pajamas.

“I need to talk to you,” I said. “It's very important.” I closed the door.

She sat on her bed and waited with a look of concern. “What is it?”

“I know you're upset about Mr. Taylor. You have a right to be upset. What else did you hear him say to me besides telling me about his engagement?”

“Nothing else,” she said. “I mean, I wasn't listening until he said that word. Engagement.”

“Okay. Did you talk to anyone about what you heard him say to me?”

She started to shake her head.

“You'd better not lie about this. It's very serious. I'll tell you why, but you have to tell me the truth.”

She looked sufficiently frightened.

“You told your best friend, Lisa, right? If I had a best friend, I probably would have told her, too. Well?”

She just stared at me.

“Look, Allison. You know you can trust me, and you know I'm smart enough to help you if you get into big trouble.”

“Why would I be in big trouble?”

“Just tell me the truth, or I'll turn around and walk out of here. I mean it,” I said sharply. “Did you tell Lisa or anyone else about Mr. Taylor, about being in love with him and his being in love with you?”

She still hesitated.

“You're luckier than I am, because you have a best friend you can trust, don't you?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Did you tell her anything about Mr. Taylor?”

She thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Do you know what happens to people, especially young girls, who make up stories about their teachers and what could happen to their parents?”

She shook her head.

“For starters, all sorts of legal troubles and lawsuits, not to mention what would happen to your mother's and my father's reputations. Now, if you didn't make up any stories, you wouldn't get yourself or your mother and my father into any trouble. Did you make up any stories about Mr. Taylor, stories you might have told Lisa?”

She shook her head quickly.

“Are you sure, Allison? This isn't some kid's game, now.”

“I didn't make up any stories,” she said. “Besides, I wouldn't even try to lie to you, Mayfair. You're too smart to fool about anything.”

I widened my eyes.
Forget the compliment
, I told myself,
she does sound credible
. “What makes you think Mr. Taylor liked you so much that you would think he loved you?”

I saw that she was reluctant to answer.

“Did he favor you in class, touch you?”

She nodded.

“Did you help him correct quizzes or something with no one else in the room but you and him?”

She widened her eyes. “Yes.”

“Did he touch you then? Tell me,” I demanded.

She nodded. She looked like she might start crying, so I decided to stop.

“Okay, okay. Don't be frightened. You have nothing to worry about. You just listen to me. Even if you elaborated on something that happened between you and Mr. Taylor, embellished what happened a little because you wished it was more like that, don't ever say you made up any stories, understand? No matter what, don't ever say that, because once you say one thing is not exactly how it happened, they'll believe that nothing was, understand?”

“Okay. But why? Why are you asking me all this and saying all this?”

I paused and sighed as if it were a great effort for me to talk about it. “I heard lots of gossip today. I think some of the older girls wanted me to hear it. Did you ever hear that expression ‘Two can keep a secret if one is dead'?”

“No.”

“Well, people can't keep secrets. Sometimes they don't even mean to reveal them, but they do accidentally. Lisa might have done that. She might have told other girls about the things you told her.”

“No, she wouldn't. She's told me her secrets, and I wouldn't tell anyone.”

“Whatever. If someone asks you about it, though, you'd better be sure you don't say you made things up. Okay? I can't stress this enough.”

She nodded. “I'll ask her if she told,” she said.

“And she'll say no, because she doesn't want you to be angry at her, or she might admit that she thought she could trust someone just like you thought you could trust her. She might have another friend she thinks of as a best friend, right? But she might think you'll be jealous, so she might not even tell you that. It probably won't do any good to cross-examine her.”

I could see she was thinking.

“Right?”

She nodded.

“All right. Don't worry about it. I'm here for you. I'll make sure nothing happens to you and, that way, nothing happens to your mother and my father. Okay? It's too late for us not to expect some trouble.”

She stared at me, her eyes filling with panic. “When?”

“Relax, Allison. I said I would protect you, and you know I can do that, right?”

“Right,” she said.

“I'm trusting that you're telling me the basic truth about all this, Allison, trusting you the way an older sister would trust a younger sister. You realize that?”

She nodded. Again, she looked like she was going to burst into tears. I had pushed her far enough, I thought.

“Okay. Just go to sleep, and don't say anything to anyone about this, especially your mother, because once you tell her, she'll be very disappointed in you and maybe get sick or something. And that will be entirely your fault. It's better if you don't ever tell her you and I talked about it, either. Can you promise not to do that?”

She nodded.

“I don't hear you.”

“I promise,” she said.

“Good. This time, we have a secret,” I said. “And I don't tell anyone anything that I don't want them to know,” I added sharply. “You know you can depend on me, and I want to believe I can depend on you. That's what sisters do for each other.”

She looked sufficiently impressed that I had referred to her twice as my sister.

“Good night,” I said, and started out, stopped, and then returned to touch her hand. I saw how much that pleased her.

“Thank you, Mayfair,” she said in a loud whisper.

I looked at her and smiled. She didn't know it, but it was I who should be thanking her for not only helping her but helping me.

Allison's depression was replaced with abject fear the following morning, but it had the same appearance as far as her mother was concerned. She was just as quiet as the day before, maybe more so, because she was afraid to say anything about school in case she would make some mistake. She looked to me every time her mother asked her a question. I tried to answer for her, but I could see Julie was getting very concerned now.

That was good.

That was perfect.

I would go directly to stage two of the plan. I felt confident that I could carry it all out for both of us.

After my third period in the morning, I went to Mr. Martin's office and told his secretary I had to see him. I tried to be as dramatic as I could, emphasizing how important it was. She was impressed and went quickly to his inner office. Seconds later, she was out, telling me he was finishing a phone call and would see me immediately. For her benefit, I tried to look as troubled as I could.

“Mayfair?” Mr. Martin said, coming to his door moments later. “Come in. Please.”

“Thank you,” I said, and entered his office.

“Have a seat,” he said, closing the door. “How can I help you today?”

“It's not me,” I said. “It's my stepsister.”

“Oh?” He sat behind his desk.

“Mr. Martin, I'm going to tell you some very personal things so you will understand why you have to protect me.”

“Protect you?” He sat forward. “What's this about?”

I looked down for a moment and then pulled myself up more firmly in the chair. “I was never happy about my father's remarriage,” I began. “Julie knew that from the start, and consequently, we've never had a good relationship. I do what I can to keep the peace for my father's sake, but as you saw when she came in to talk about my situation with the other girls and their families, she was not what you would call a real advocate for me.”

He didn't respond, but he didn't have to. I saw his agreement in his face.

“I'm not here for that,” I added quickly. “I'm here for my stepsister, Allison. What goes on between her mother and me is not her fault. I've tried to be as good an older sister to her as I can be with her mother running interference all the time. She simply doesn't trust me with Allison. Allison, however, would like an older sister and does turn to me for help, not only with her homework but with other things.”