Hot Little Hands (11 page)

“Hey, that happened to me once!” Hayley said.

“You can't talk unless you have the torch,” Kirsty said.

Hayley took it from her and began to speak. “That happened to me once, in Princes Park. I was waiting with my sister for our brother to finish footy practice, and this guy was sitting near us under a tree and he was hanging out of his shorts. We didn't move. It was weird. Jodie wanted to leave but I felt like it would be mean to the guy. Like he'd be angry or something. Or maybe he'd follow us.”

“Yeah.” Skye reached for the torch. “Like sometimes on a crowded tram, a guy will pass me and I'll feel him brush up against my bum. But I can't do anything about it because, like, who would I tell? And anyway, it's impossible to know if he did it on purpose or not.”

Amber was next. “When I was going out with that guy Tyler last year, he made me give him blow jobs all the time. Like every time we were together. We'd be kissing and stuff, and then he'd put his hand on my head and push me down there.”

“This isn't about me,” Danielle said, “but my cousin Marnie was raped once. It was by a guy she was going out with but they hadn't done it before, and that's how she lost her virginity.”

“I once saw a prostitute doing it doggy-style in an alleyway in St. Kilda. The guy was just, like, a business guy in a suit.”

“My brother downloads this porn with these guys being really mean to women, calling them bitches and forcing them to do stuff. I don't think his girlfriend knows about it.”

“About a month ago—” Kirsty was whispering now. The torch batteries were dying and the light was dimmer than before. “Me and Jeremy got really stoned with some of his friends. We were all in his room watching a movie and he pulled his pants down under the blanket and I gave him a hand job. And the others could see what was going on under there and they didn't say anything. I felt weird about it but I kept going. For, like, ages. Maybe it was because he was stoned, but he didn't come.” She looked at Ramona. “One of the guys in the room was Adil.” Just then the torch flickered and the bedroom door creaked open.

“Aaaah!” All the girls screamed.

“Girls?” Ramona's mother stood in the doorway with a plate in her hands.

“God, you scared us,” said Skye.

“Yeah,” said Kirsty. “We thought you were a man coming to get us.”

“Don't be silly,” said Ramona's mum. “It's just me. I thought you might like some Anzac biscuits.”

“What's happening?” Steve appeared behind her in the doorway, craning his neck to try to see into the room.

“None of your business,” their mother said. “Good night, girls. Don't forget to brush your teeth. There's quite a bit of sugar in those.” She pushed Steve away from the doorway and turned on the light in Ramona's room before she closed the door.

In assembly Monday morning, during the singing of the national anthem, Amber put her hand to her forehead and collapsed into the aisle. The teachers found an empty bottle of liquid laxative in her bag. They called her father and sent her to the nurse's office. At first recess, the girls stood in the corridor exchanging hugs. When Ramona asked if anyone could come keep watch for her behind the gym, they shook their heads and went off to visit Amber, with an oversized get-well card they'd made in art class.

“Hi,” Ramona whispered when Adil picked up. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Really?” he asked. “Is that why you called?”

“No, that's got nothing to do with it.”

He took a moment to answer. “Sure. Umm. You know, Jules's sister is in eleventh grade. She goes to Kenley.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, she, um. She told him the rumor about you and what happened, with Tony. Is it true?”

Ramona fidgeted with the zip on her uniform. “Yeah.”

“Like, when did it happen?”

“Last year, when my leg was bandaged. Before I met you.”

“Man. I want to kill him. Could I kill him? I guess I can't kill him.” There was another silence and then he asked, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“I thought we were talking about it.”

“Did he do that thing to your leg, too?”

“No,” she said. “That was the heater.”

“Well, if you don't want to, you know, have sex with me anymore, that's okay. I mean, I think I'd feel bad about it. If I hurt you or something.”

Ramona rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said. She wished he were there so he could see her roll her eyes. “Hey, Kirsty told me you were at Jeremy's place once when they were fooling around in his bed.”

“Oh yeah,” Adil said. “Yeah, I remember that. It was weird.”

“Why? Were you turned on by it or something?”

“No,” he said, “oh my God, no. I just felt, I don't know, sorry for her, I guess. It was embarrassing.”

“Ramona MacKenzie.” Ramona looked up to see Mrs. Parker coming toward her. For a second she thought about running. “Hand over that phone immediately.” The teacher put her hand out. “And come with me. The principal's looking for you.”

The phone had rung twice by the time they got to the principal's door. Mrs. Parker didn't know how to turn it off, so she handed it to Ramona and instructed her to do so.

“Can I just tell the person that I can't talk?”

“No,” Mrs. Parker said. “No phone use on school property. Isn't that right, Principal Valetti?” The principal's door swung open and Ramona could see into her office: to the principal's desk and filing cabinet, to the armchair, the coffee table, and the couch on which sat, Ramona could see now, her mother.

“Come in, Ramona,” Principal Valetti said. “Have a seat.”

“Hi, honey,” her mother said. Seeing her there in the middle of the day made Ramona feel like she was back in kindergarten; like it was her birthday and her mum had brought an ice cream cake for the class to share.

The principal thanked Mrs. Parker and shut the door. No one spoke. Then Ramona heard someone clear their throat and a voice came from the other side of the room.

“Ramona?” the voice said. “This is Mary. I've just been talking to your mother and your principal about what's been going on.” It took Ramona a moment to see the phone on the principal's desk, and to place the voice on the speaker as Dr. Carvden's. She'd never known her as Mary before.

“These are very serious allegations, Ramona,” Principal Valetti said. “You're lucky Minyung's mother called me and not the police, or family services. Now, I'm in a difficult position here.” Principal Valetti looked over at Ramona's mother, then back at her. “Under mandatory reporting rules, I'm obligated to notify the authorities. But I want to hear from you before I proceed.”

“What do you want to hear from me?” Ramona asked.

“Once I report this, it's out of my hands,” the principal said.

“Then what'll happen?”

“Well, first child protection would be notified. And they would do their own assessment. The worst-case scenario might be that you're taken away from your mother and stepfather. Your siblings might be as well.”

“That would be the
very
worst case,” Dr. Carvden said. “And, I imagine, not very likely.”

Ramona's mother was leaning on the armrest of the couch. She had her eyes closed and her thumb and forefinger pushed into her eyelids like she did when she was stuck in a traffic jam, or when Ramona and Steve were fighting and she couldn't make them stop.

“It's also possible you'd be taken out of Kenley,” the principal went on. “And sent to another school, somewhere else.”

“I don't want you to report it,” Ramona said, her voice straining around a fast-forming lump in her throat. “There's nothing to report. I don't need child protection. I take it back.”

Principal Valetti nodded very slowly but no one said anything.

“I take it back. I lied. Please don't get me in trouble.”

Her mother started to cry. “Why did she do this?” she asked. “Is it the PTSD?”

“I don't know,” Principal Valetti said. “There's been an awful lot of drama with the ninth-grade girls recently. I can't explain it. Mary, do you want to field this one?”

“Well—” Dr. Carvden exhaled. Ramona knew the therapist was making a decision. “Maybe Ramona perceived something as a boundary cross and it wasn't. Maybe Tony was just trying to help but, in doing so, made Ramona feel uncomfortable. There are a lot of mixed messages out there for young women these days. Scare tactics, even. It's very confusing for them. Ramona and I will continue to discuss this in our therapy sessions, but I have to get going now. My next client has arrived.”

When the meeting was over, Ramona walked her mum to the car. As they neared her English classroom she hoped the other girls would be looking out the door, so they could see the two of them there together, and wonder what was going on. But they were all leaning over their exercise books, writing, and none of them noticed as they passed.

“Thank goodness that's over,” her mother said when they got to the car park. “I didn't enjoy that one iota.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Honestly? I haven't got a clue what to do with you anymore. You've put me in a terrible position. Do you realize that? Now whenever I come back here, for parent–teacher or sports day or to pick you up, all the other parents and teachers are going to be staring at me like I'm a terrible mother. Like I'm married to some kind of monster, instead of to sweet old Tony, who's working nonstop to help me pay for everything and raise you kids. Do you understand?”

“I wouldn't worry about it. In, like, two weeks, no one will even remember any of this happened.”

“I hope not.” Her mother opened the car door and tossed her handbag onto the backseat. “Now I have to go pick up Steve's new goggles from the optometrist's, rush over to drop off these cake pans at Rob and Lynne's, get Lockie from soccer, and come home and make dinner. Jesus, what a day.”

“Can I come with you?” Ramona asked. “I can help. I don't have any important classes this afternoon.”

“No, just stay here,” her mother said, getting into the car. “For once can you just stick to the rules and do what you're supposed to do?”

Before therapy on Wednesday, Ramona saw one of Dr. Carvden's other clients. Ramona was sitting in the waiting room, staring at the poster on the wall of a marathon runner, below whom was printed the word
ENDURANCE,
when Dr. Carvden's door opened and a man walked out. He was in his twenties, with light-brown hair and glasses, and he kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the floor all the way to the exit. Ramona wondered what Dr. Carvden did in the ten minutes between the man's session and her own.

“You were put on the spot,” the therapist said, once Ramona had come into her office and taken the seat opposite hers. “And I'm so sorry about that. But I'm glad your principal won't report this. I'm glad you told them you take it back.”

“You said it wasn't my shameful secret.”

The therapist nodded and used her left foot to pull the heel of her right shoe off. “That's right, I did say that. It isn't your secret. You can keep fighting this if you want, and I'll support you if you do. But I don't think the best thing for you right now is for child protection to get involved, or for you and your stepdad to be dragged through the family court system. I'm thinking about you, Ramona, and your healing process. I hope you understand that, and we can keep working together.”

There was silence after that, several minutes of it. Ramona sat very still and listened to some kids playing in a nearby yard. She thought about how Dr. Carvden had said she wasn't damaged. Did she really believe that? Or was that what therapists were trained to tell abused people, so they could try to get on with their lives; to give them the illusion that they might be just like everyone else one day, even though they obviously wouldn't.

“I haven't told Adil I'm seeing you,” she said finally.

Dr. Carvden shifted slightly in her seat. “Well, that's not unusual. You're pretty early on in the relationship. Maybe one day you'll feel comfortable telling him.”

“I think I'm gonna break up with him,” Ramona said.

“Why?”

“I'm just not into him.”

“What do you think it is that he can't provide?”

“He's just too normal, too nice. It's boring.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

Ramona shrugged. “Since the beginning, I guess.”

“So why have you stayed with him?”

“I wasn't that popular in first term. He was probably one of the only guys I could get.”

“Is that the only reason? Because he was accessible?”

“I don't know. I guess I feel like I
should
be into him. He's cute and funny and fun to talk to. He's so nice, he doesn't even know there's bad things in the world. I'm scared that if I can't be attracted to someone like him, there must be something really wrong with me.”

“Well, you could try being attracted,” Dr. Carvden said, sneaking a look at the clock on the side table by Ramona's elbow. “If you really want to, I think it's certainly possible. You could try being in the moment. Concentrating on the details of what's going on. Thinking about all the things you like about him. It might not work right away, but after a while you might find you can appreciate the excitement in the even-keeled.”

When Ramona came outside after the session, the station wagon was parked in the driveway, with Tony in the driver's seat. She slid in next to him and put on her seatbelt.

“Your mother had to cook,” he told her. “I said I'd come get you.”

“Okay.”