Canary (26 page)

“I need a break to figure things out.”

“This is moving too fast for me.”

“I'm not good enough for you. You need to be with someone who will treat you right.”

Any of these excuses would be better, even the bad ones that sound made up, because at least I would have a reason.

Any reason would be better than the silence that screams in my ears when Jack doesn't even try to understand what happened that night at his party.

When he doesn't want to fight for me.

When he doesn't want to acknowledge what he saw.

When he acts as if he never knew who I was.

When he moves on with his life, while I float by as a ghost.

His smell, so familiar, and mine, haunting me as he blows away, the thin wispy vapors of our relationship evaporating behind him.

Posted By: Your Present Self

[Wednesday, December 18, 7:37 PM]

Dad followed through with the deal made during our conversation. He let me stay home one more day and then told me I had to go back to Beacon. The ironic thing was that, after pretending for almost a week, I really was sick this morning.

I was terrified of running into Luke and threw up while getting ready, which made everything worse.

I waited to go inside Beacon until the warning bell rang. I checked my phone one last time. Jack still hadn't called.

I felt as if the whole world was watching me as I walked into the hallway. I kept my head down. Every whisper I heard I assumed was about me. I was sure by now they all knew a version of the story that was nothing like what had really happened.

Jack was the only one I wanted to see. There wasn't a question whether I'd run into him; it was a certainty. I'd stolen a hall pass from Dad's briefcase. He had a ton and would never miss it. Jack would see it and believe Dad was asking him to come to his office during lunch. Dad wouldn't be there—he ate lunch with the other coaches in the athletic office—but I would be. It was devious and could totally backfire, but I needed to talk to Jack. I wasn't going to sit around and wait for him to finally decide to pick up the phone. He'd made it clear that wasn't going to happen.

I spotted an office aid and handed her the pass.

“Coach Franklin needs to get this to Jack Blane. Can you deliver it?”

“No problem,” the girl said, grabbing my pass and glancing at me before heading down the hallway. I wondered if she knew what had happened, if she believedwhat everyone was saying. I moved through the hallway with my head down, slipped between bodies, and pretended I was invisible. It was easier to think I could just disappear, because I imagined they were as disgusted with me as I was.

I hurried to Dad's office when the bell rang
before lunch. I sighed in relief when I saw Jack wasn't there yet. I sat on the couch and picked at its loose threads.

I didn't have to wait long.

Jack entered without knocking and walked right past me, not even seeing me on the couch.

“Jack.” I stood and blocked the door. It was a pathetic thing to do, but I was desperate. I needed to make him listen.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Talk?”

“You haven't answered any of my messages, and I had to get you to listen.”

“What could you possibly say that you didn't the other night in bed with Luke? What?” He yelled the last word with so much force that spit flew onto my face.

I didn't wipe it off. I didn't move. “I need to
explain.”

Jack stood there, wearing the gray hooded sweatshirt he'd let me borrow so many times, the one with the small hole in the left sleeve I used to poke my finger through.

“You don't,” he said.

“I don't?”

“You don't need to explain. I don't give a shit what you have to say. I'm done, Kate. With everything. You told me exactly how you felt when you were in my bed with Luke.”

Jack pushed past me, my shoulder banging into the door. Pain shot up my arm, but I was too busy feeling a different kind of pain, the kind that enveloped me, saturated me, and dripped into every single part of me.

It was as simple as that. The breaking apart. A quick crack with his words, and we were no longer together.

www.allmytruths.com

Today's Truth:

It is possible to lose everything.

I make a list of things I found . . .

Jack

Ali

Beacon

Friends

Happiness

Noise

Life

Smiles

I then make a list of things I have lost . . .

Jack

Ali

Beacon

Popularity

Friends

Happiness

Noise

Smiles

Laughter

My mother

My father

My brother

When I compare the list

I see that the things I have lost

are more than the things I have found,

leaving

me

with

negative zero.

Less

than

nothing.

Posted By: Your Present Self

[Thursday, December 19, 3:10 PM]

Julia cornered me in choir. It was one of Mrs. Reid's voice rest days, and I was sitting next to three boys who were laughing at some lame Japanese comic book they had. I'd been trying my hardest to ignore Ali at the top of the choir risers. She was talking loudly about some party she was planning on going to with Luke. She looked pointedly at me, and I knew she wanted me to know she was still with him. It made me sick that she still wanted to be with him after what had happened.

I tried to look busy, as if my math homework was the most exciting thing in the world, but Julia wasn't buying it. She sat behind me and whispered in my ear, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I'm not. I really haven't talked to anyone.”

“Brett's really worried about you, and so am I. What's going on?”

I glanced toward Ali.

Ali caught my eye and whispered loudly, “Slut.”

A few of the girls laughed.

“I'm sure the rumors have reached you too,” I said.

“I've heard what people are saying, and I know none of it's true. What happened, Kate?”

I started to shake. This was so unfair. Ali sat up there as if she was perfect, judging me like I was a piece of trash.

I turned to face Julia and pretended it was only the two of us in the room. I shut out all the noise around me and started to talk. “Jack did find Luke and me together. But it wasn't the way everyone is saying it happened.”

“I never thought it was,” she said.

I hated myself for keeping this from her. Of course she wouldn't have believed Luke and Ali. She'd listen to the truth.

She sat quietly as I relived what happened two weeks ago at Jack's party.

When I finished, she hugged me and asked, “Why didn't you tell me when it happened?”

“I didn't want to lose you too. I was afraid of what you'd think.”

“I'll tell you what I think. Luke is an asshole. He's worthless, and the last thing you should do is keep this inside.”

I twisted my hair around my fingers and let it go. “It made me feel so dirty to think about what he tried to do. It's next to impossible to speak the words out loud.”

“You need to tell someone,” Julia said firmly. “He can't get away with this.”

“No one would believe me. Why would they? Ali is right. It'd be my story against everyone else's version.”

Julia leaned forward, looking me straight in the eye. “He tried to rape you, Kate. You've got to go to the police.”

I ground the pencil I was holding into my math notebook. The thought made me feel sick. “There's no way.”

“They 
would
 believe you. You also need to talk to your dad.”

“My dad would not be able to handle this. He treats the team as if they're his own kids.”

“This isn't something you can ignore. You need to speak up or they're going to keep doing the same thing.”

“Who?”

“The basketball players,” Julia said. “They can't get away with this.”

“It's not their fault. It's Luke's.”

“Are you kidding me? You cannot still be supporting them.”

“I'm not.”

“You are. And they need to be punished. All of them. They've been getting away with things like this forever.”

“Everyone thinks they can't do anything wrong. Including my dad.” I drew circles around and around in my math book so I wouldn't have to look Julia in the eye.

“People only believe it because no one will stand up against them.”

“Maybe nobody has said anything because they're afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

“If someone were to speak up loud enough that people had to take notice, how do you think that person would be treated? The town loves the basketball players. They act as if they're gods.”

“You need to try. You need to do something, or it's going to keep happening.”

“I'm not strong enough,” I whispered. “I can't do this.”

“You're wrong. Think about all you and Brett have been through during these last two years. You're tough, and you'll do the right thing.”

“No one is going to believe me,” I repeated, but I also knew I couldn't let Luke get away with it. I wasn't that kind of person. I refused to be weak anymore.

The bell rang, and everyone started packing up their stuff.

Mrs. Reid made some lame comment about us being ready for class tomorrow now that our voices were good and rested.

“I believe you. And your dad will believe you. Talk to him.”

I shoved my books in my bag and stood with Julia. “I'm not sure that will help. My dad hasn't
listened to me in years.”

“He'll listen,” Julia said.

I sighed, wishing I was as sure as she was.

I didn't have to wait long for the opportunity to talk to Dad. He found me sitting in my room in the dark. I was looking out the windows facing the pool, staringoutside, trying to figure out what to do. It was too cold to swim, but somehow seeing the pool made me feel a little better.

“Kate,” he said, exercising his talent of avoiding my gaze. “Jack said something at practice today that didn't seem quite right.”

My gaze shot up at the mention of Jack's name, and my stomach turned at the thought that he'd talked to my dad about me. I looked down when I saw not concern or sympathy on Dad's face but anger.

“His games have been off. He hasn't been playing well. I've been on him, asking if he's not been sleeping enough, worrying about school, or having problems with you.”

“Dad,” I said hoarsely. “No, don't ask about us. We aren't together.”

“I know. Jack said you're the reason his game is off.”

“He did?”

“You need to stop being the problem. We have a real shot at making the play-offs, and I'm not about to let anything or 
anyone
 screw that up. He said he broke up with you last week, but you won't leave him alone.”

I turned away.

“Have you been calling him? Texting? Following him around school?” Dad went on talking, not waiting for me to respond. “Don't make yourself into a fool, Kate. Leave him alone.”

I opened my mouth to argue. I wanted to tell him how it was over forever with Jack, but he wouldn't understand unless I told him everything. My stomach turned around and around, an angry black hole. My body felt like wet, dripping cotton, dragging me so low I didn't know if I could stop falling.

“Something happened,” I whispered.

“What?” Dad asked, his voice still loud and angry.

I spoke louder, matching his volume. “Something happened last weekend at Jack's house. I wasn't sick this week; I didn't want to go to school.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're not going to like what I have to say.”

“You're not making sense.”

“I went to a party. I was sleeping, and I thought it was Jack, but it was Luke, and he . . .” I couldn't go on. I glanced out the window at the pool, my vision blurred by tears. I imagined Mom out there swimming. I pretended she was still strong, healthy, and would get out and come upstairs and wrap her arms around me.

“And he what?”

I shook my head. I couldn't say this, not to Dad. What kind of person would he think I was?

“He what, Kate?” Dad walked to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I leaned against Dad. I liked the way his touch felt, safe and strong. Ever since Mom had died, he didn't hug me anymore. Right now, his hand on my shoulder, standing next to me, he cared.

I took a deep breath and let the words fall out. “Luke tried to rape me.”

Dad pulled his hand off my shoulder as if he'd been burned. He stepped away and now, instead of standing with me and offering support, he towered over me. “What are you talking about?”

“I was sick. I went to sleep in Jack's room.” I spoke quickly, trying to get him to understand what had happened. “When I woke up, I thought it was Jack, but it wasn't. It was Luke. But I stopped him. I stopped him.” The words came out
disjointed, broken. They crackled off my tongue, the meaning in each confession full of electricity that shocked me.

“No,” Dad said.

“What do you mean, no?”

“You can't talk like this. The team. The play-offs. My job.”

“Your job?”

Dad paced the room. He ran his fingers through his hair, and I knew what he was thinking and it wasn't about me. I felt sick. He had the disheveled look he got when he was working through plays for the team. He stopped abruptly and grabbed my shoulders. “Who have you told this to?”

I let out a cry of surprise. He acted as if he was going to shake me, but he didn't. He dropped his hands. He was scaring me. How could he even think about the team right now?