“That’s my girl.” She came back over and kissed me on the top of my head. “See you tonight.”
I nodded and forced a smile. But as soon as I heard the garage door slam, I sank back into bed. The thin veil holding my emotions in check ripped in two. Pulling the covers over me, I was finally able to cry again. Desperate sobs rolled through me as my emotions raged like a storm, shaking my body so hard the bed creaked and groaned beneath me.
Once I finished crying, my thoughts turned over like a switch, and I seared with white hot anger. I began screaming and thrashing like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. The range of extreme emotions frightened me.
Finally, I was spent. Exhausted and hoarse, I tried catching my breath. It came in short, sniffling hiccups. As I lay there with my arm draped over my eyes, I thought about Coach T. I wondered if he was glad I wasn’t going to be at school or practice, or if he worried that my avoiding him meant my resolve was breaking. But knowing him, he probably wasn’t worried about me telling. After all, he could prey not only on using Will against me, but the shy part of my personality that would loathe the attention that coming forward would bring. He had me trapped in more ways than one.
Even if he knew I wouldn’t tell, I wondered if he was worried about facing me again. Like me, did he worry what he would say when he was around me? Or how he would act? Did he wonder how he could possibly stand next to me and act like everything was all right?
The thought overwhelmed me, causing my breath to quicken into anxiety-ridden pants. But thankfully and mercifully, I fell into a deep sleep.
***
Sleep on Tuesday turned into a self-induced coma. I barely woke up long enough to speak to Mom and curl my nose up in disgust at the offer of food. I slipped in and out of consciousness—in and out of the nightmare that had taken over my life. Light turned to dark and then turned to light again.
Wednesday dawned, and I knew whether I wanted to or not, I had to go to school. It wasn’t just about facing my fears, but it was more about getting Mom off my back. I didn’t want her hovering around me, worrying that the bump on my head was the cause of my problems. As long as she was around me, I was afraid I might blurt out the truth.
As I rolled out of bed, I grabbed my cell phone. I glanced down at it and groaned. I had a million new text messages. I imagined they were from Lauren and other team members, and there were probably some from Will. Just the thought of scrolling through them overwhelmed me, so I just turned my phone off.
I didn’t bother fixing up. After I showered, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I slipped on a pair of jeans and team hoodie. When I got downstairs, I found the kitchen empty. Luke had early practice this morning, so Mom had left to take him. I grabbed a piece of toast and a water bottle and headed out the door.
As I drove to school, everything seemed the same as it had before—the same traffic, the same early morning radio station’s corny jokes, the same morning parking lot antics at school. The world had kept right on turning despite what had happened to me.
But everything normal changed when I entered school. I heard it the moment I pushed through the double doors into the front lobby. It was a slow whine like an annoying gnat interrupting a picnic. The kind you couldn’t drive away by furiously swatting your hands.
As I started down the blue and white tiled hallway, it became a low rumble—ominous and dark like a storm brewing on the horizon. I glanced at the faces around me, my heart thudding to a stop. The usual goofy grins and wide-eyes of gossipers had been replaced by masks of shock and horror.
My first thoughts were that someone had been killed. The air constricted in my lungs. It was the same somber atmosphere as two years ago when a popular junior died in a car accident. Who could it have been? Suddenly Will’s face flashed before my eyes.
Oh, please, God. Not Will!
But as I passed by each buzzing group, conversation silenced. I bit my lip and shifted my book bag that suddenly felt like lead on my shoulder. It took only a second for me to realize that a death wouldn’t silence conversation. No, that kind of swarming hum was reserved for rumor and accusation. Someone was in trouble. And then I knew.
The masks of horror were for me.
Numerous pairs of eyes burned through me, questioning, judging, mocking. At that moment, I would have done anything to escape—sold my soul if I had to. The slow burn on my face crept down my neck, and I began to wonder if it would spread out onto my arms as well.
There’s no way they know. Only you and Coach T know what happened, and there’s no way in Hell he’s told!
As much as I tried to calm myself down, it didn’t help very much. My heart continued pounding.
Just let me make it to my first period class.
But when I hurried around the corner, I skidded to a stop. Dr. Micheltree and two men stood outside the classroom.
Suddenly, I forgot how to breathe. A voice in my head screamed, “
In and out, in and out!”
Picking up my feet seemed foreign, and if someone hadn’t bumped into me, I would have been forever cemented in that spot.
When they saw me, Dr. Micheltree started forward, parting the crowd like Moses with the Red Sea.
“Melanie, will you come with us please?”
Speaking was not even a possibility. Fear wound tightly around my vocal cords, restricting my air. I merely nodded. I followed her and the men back down the hallway.
The looks were even more intense now. I made the mistake of glancing up once, but after the expressions on people’s faces, I ducked my head back down again.
They don’t know
.
They don’t know. They don’t know!
Once again I rationalized that only Coach T and I knew, and he would never,
ever
tell. He had sworn me to secrecy, hadn’t he? There were no cameras in the gym, and no one had been left at school that late besides us. No one could know!
As much as I tried believing that, I couldn’t possibly understand why I was being summoned to the office not two days after what had happened, nor why everyone looked at me like I was diseased or something.
I was thankful when Dr. Micheltree ushered me into the main office. It was virtually empty this time of the morning, so there was no one else to stare at me. The clicking of her heels echoed off the tile floors as we made our way down the long corridor to her office.
When we got inside, she motioned for me to have a seat. I eased down in the leather chair, never taking my eyes off of the two men in suits.
They must’ve noticed my apprehension because they smiled. The tallest one stepped forward and extended his hand. “Melanie, my name is Jay Pendley. And my partner is Lewis McKay.” He paused for me to shake both of their hands. “We’re investigators with the SVU of the Sheriff’s Department.”
My heart pounded in my ears. “SVU? Like the television show?”
Detective Pendley laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. We’re here to investigate a claim of sexual misconduct.”
“S-Sexual misconduct?” I repeated, lamely.
Don’t let your voice crack, Mel.
Then the familiar Miranda rights echoed in my head..
. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law.
“Yes, by one of the coaches here at the school,” Detective McKay replied.
I glanced across the desk at Dr. Micheltree. She briefly met my gaze before averting her eyes to her desk calendar.
Keep yourself together. Don’t blush, don’t stutter, don’t give them anything.
I played dumb as best I could. “Um, who are you supposed to be investigating?”
Detective McKay exchanged a glance with Detective Pendley. There was so much eye-shifting and strange looks it made my skin crawl. Finally, he spoke. “Mark Thompson.”
I jolted back in my seat like I had been stunned with a taser.
Oh God, they know. How do they do possibly know?
At my reaction, Detective Pendley nodded. “I know it probably sounds unbelievable at the moment, but we do have some evidence to back it up.”
Evidence? What kind of evidence could they possibly have? Pictures, video, an eyewitness? “But what does this have to do with me?”
Give them something good, Mel. Push the heat off you anyway you can.
I gasped and brought my hand to my chest almost theatrically. “Did one of the other players accuse him of something?”
“No, it wasn’t one of the other players.” Detective Pendley hesitated. He looked over at Detective McKay who nodded. “It was Jordan Solano.”
I was stunned. It took a moment for me to even put a name with a face. Suddenly, a scene flashed before my eyes. It was of Jordan and Coach T at the ball game a few weeks ago. Plainly, I could see her flirting with him, but I also saw the look of amusement on his face. He certainly wasn’t reciprocating her advances. I couldn’t imagine why she would lie about such a thing.
I shook my head at the officers. In a voice that didn’t sound like my own, I blurted, “Coach T would never do something like that.”
“Melanie, we—”
For Will and for my fractured sanity, I continued coming to Coach T’s defense. “She’s lying. I know she is.”
“That’s a pretty hefty claim,” Officer McKay countered.
“But I know her. Jordan’s always in trouble. And when she’s not in trouble, she’s lying to get herself out of trouble. Don’t you know she’s a slut!”
“Melanie!” Dr. Micheltree admonished.
I couldn’t blame her shock. I acted like someone even I didn’t recognize. The Old Melanie would have never thought of calling someone a slut in front of the principal. I would have blushed and died a thousand deaths. But the Old Melanie was dead—staked through the heart on an old futon in Coach T’s office.
So, the New Melanie shrugged my shoulders in total apathy. “Well, she is.”
Detective Pendley shook his head. “Ms. Solano’s character outside of this investigation is not our concern.”
“But how can it not be?” I protested. “I watch enough TV to know that an accuser’s character is always taken into consideration.” When they didn’t respond, I continued on, “I know she had crush on Coach T, and she flirted with him all the time. But I know he would never have acted on it.”
Right, Mel. He’s one hell of a stand up guy. He doesn’t hit it with the flirty slut.
Oh, no, he just rapes his star player on the futon in his office.
Detective Pendley held up his hand. “Melanie, there’s more.”
I shifted nervously in my seat. “More?”
He nodded. “Yes. Ms. Solano alleges there was another victim.”
“Who?”
Detective Pendley cocked his eyebrows. “You.”
The wind left my body, and I wheezed. Detective McKay stepped forward, but I shook my head. Slowly, I tried calming myself down.
Breath Melanie!
In and out, in and out, in and out
. Finally, my voice came back to me. “She said he…” I couldn’t even utter the word. I thought if I said it, then it might make it true. Worse, it might give away my secret. The one I clung to so viciously it hurt.
Keep calm, don’t freak out!
Frantically, I searched my mind for answers. There’s no way she could know. There were no windows in the office, so she couldn’t have seen what happened. But why? Why was she saying that? What could she possibly gain by telling such a thing about me?
Detective McKay nodded in response to my last question.
Heat radiated through my face all the way down to my neck. I burned so hot I felt like I was on fire. I imagined flames licking at my arms and legs, scarring me physically like the ones I carried on the inside.
Stop it. They’re watching you. Tell them something, anything, so they’ll stop staring at you.
Thankfully the New Melanie took over. I threw my shoulders back. “That’s crazy! Why would she tell such a lie?”
Detective Pendley stepped forward. “Is it a lie, Ms. Reeves?”
My mouth gaped open.
Keep it together, Mel. Don’t let him in. Don’t let him see through to the truth.
“How can you even ask such a thing?”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he pressed.
Rage like I had never known spilled out of me. I bolted up out of my seat. “Yes! Yes, of course it’s a lie! Coach T would never do that to me!”
Screaming those words was almost liberating—like I really could pretend it never happened.
That’s right. He would never do that to you. You don’t have to believe it, think it, or feel it because there was no way it happened.
Before I could say anything else, I heard a commotion outside of the door. There were raised voices out in the hallway, and I could hear Mrs. Tillery, Dr. Micheltree’s secretary, arguing with somebody. She wasn’t successful because without even a knock, the door blew open.
Then my parents burst into the office.
“Excuse me, this is a closed meeting--,” Detective McKay began, but my dad stopped him.
He pointed his finger in McKay’s face and shook his head. “Oh, no, this isn’t a closed meeting. That’s my daughter you’re interrogating right now, and she has right to counsel!”
My face flushed. Leave it to my dad to go full on lawyer mode. “Dad,” I began.