Read Want to Go Private? Online
Authors: Sarah Darer Littman
It takes all my powers of persuasion and best-friend blackmailing guilt-tripping to get Abby to agree to come see the final performance of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near school unless she has to, and I can’t say I blame her. People are being such … jerks. Someone scratched
Slut
on her locker. I tried to cover it with a Post-it note before she saw it, but it was too late.
I would have cried, but Abby just got all quiet, opened her locker, and got her books to go home, like nothing happened. I was like, “Come on, Abby, we have to go report this to the principal!” but she just shook her head and said, “What’s the point?”
It’s almost like she feels like she deserves it. Kind of like Ted said she did.
I miss him so much. Why did he have to be such a jerk about Abby?
He’s standing a few feet away as we wait for the houselights to dim before the performance. I want to go over and put my head on his shoulder, to run my fingers through the dark curls at the back of his neck. But I can’t. We’ve barely spoken since that
day we fought. I hoped he would call me or something. But nothing.
I peek from behind the curtains into the audience and see Abby sitting with her parents and Lily. My parents and my brother and sister are next to them, and right behind them is Billy Fisher. Billy is leaning forward and whispering to Abby. I actually see her smile, something I haven’t seen her do since … the whole Luke thing. She told me Billy has been calling her practically every night, just to talk and see how she’s doing. She seemed so surprised by that.
“You know he really
likes
you, Abby,” I told her.
“But I … really treated him kind of badly before and now … well …”
“Now, what? You should walk around wearing the scarlet letter for the rest of your life?”
“Yes. No … I don’t know.”
I’m really glad Abby’s started seeing a therapist. She totally needs one.
The lights in the auditorium dim and the curtains open. The play starts and as always I’m caught up in the story. Until I sense Ted standing a few inches behind me. I’m so aware of him I can’t concentrate on the dialogue. I just want to lean back against his chest. Then I feel his hand on my shoulder, rubbing the spot where he knows I always get tense. I hold my breath, hardly able to believe that I’m feeling the warmth of his fingers.
“Breathe,” he whispers, his words tickling my ear. “You can’t relax unless you breathe, Faith.”
I take a deep breath in and out, and lean back against him. He rubs my shoulders for a few minutes more, then folds his arms around me.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.
“Ditto,” I whisper back.
I wish we could go somewhere to talk, to figure out what happens next. But there are scenes to change and props to move. So I just stand there, watching Puck sprinkling love-in-idleness juice on Titania’s eyelids onstage, but feeling the real magic offstage with Ted. For this moment, that’s enough.
Whoever invented family therapy was meaner than a middle school gym teacher. It’s serious torture. We’re all sitting around the shrink’s office — and guess who gets the least comfortable chair — and then we have to talk about how we’re
feeling
.
“I’m feeling that I would rather be home watching
Degrassi
, because it’s not
me
that ran off with some perv,” I say, earning myself dirty looks from Mom and Dad.
Abby just stares at the little fountain in the corner. She does a lot of that recently. Just zones out of whatever conversation. I feel like waving my hand in front of her face and shouting, “
Yo, Abs, it’s because of
you
that we’re stuck in this place!
”
“I sense that you’re angry with Abby, Lily,” Dr. Binnie, the shrink lady, says. “Are you?”
“What, just because I’m a total social reject because of her? And my parents are fighting, like, nonstop? Why would I be angry at
poor, wittle Abby
?”
“I understand your anger, Lily, and you have a right to feel angry. But you need to remember, Abby was a victim here.”
Yeah, yeah. It’s always about Abby
.
“Like how? She got in that freak’s car by herself. It’s not like he kidnapped her.”
I know Dad’s on my side, because his head is nodding the tiniest bit, and this is the same thing I’ve heard him yelling at Abby over and over.
But boy, do we get schooled. Dr. Binnie gives us this whole lecture about Internet predators and how they “groom” kids and how we shouldn’t be blaming Abby so much because she was a victim of a devious manipulator who spent all this time gaining her trust just so he could abuse her. And how now we’re abusing her all over again by blaming her for it.
I feel about an inch tall by the time she’s done. I look at Dad for moral support, but he’s just staring at the pattern on the rug.
Abby is sitting in a black leather armchair, her legs tucked up under her, like she wants to curl up into nothingness. I guess I don’t blame her. Even if she did go with the guy willingly, maybe, just maybe, it’s time for us to start cutting her a little slack. Especially since she’s been getting all this flack at school, too.
I look over at her.
“I’m sorry, Abs.”
She doesn’t look at me. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s
not
okay. I’ve been mean to you. Get mad at me. Be a beeyotch like you normally would.”
“
Lily!
” Mom snaps.
The shrink puts up her hand, to shush Mom up.
Abby finally looks at me.
“Why should I? You guys are right. I
did
get in the car with Luke. I
did
mess up everyone’s life.”
“But it’s like the shrink — I mean, Dr. Binnie — said, right? Perv Face was a manipulating, grooming liar. He
made
you think you were in love with him.”
“I should have been smarter than that,” Abby says, her voice beginning to tremble, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m a straight-A student, after all. Right, Dad?”
Dad still can’t meet her gaze. I want to shout at him,
Look at her, you jerk!
“I don’t understand it, Abby. I still can’t get my head around it,” he says. “We talked to you about using the Internet safely. You had assemblies about it at school. But you did it anyway. And you …
exposed yourself
… and … I don’t think I’ll ever understand as long as I live how
my daughter
could do something like this.”
OMG. The way he says “exposed yourself.” No wonder Abby feels like dirt.
“Mr. Johnston, right now it’s not necessary for you to
understand
Abby,” says Dr. Binnie. “What’s important is for you to
accept
that she’s a victim in this, and treat her as such.”
I look over at Abby and she’s gazing at Dad’s averted face with pleading eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Look at her, Dad. Come on, look at her
.
“Rick. He was a predator. He preyed on Abby,” Mom says. “These people … have websites where they give each other tips on how to do it. Agent Saunders gave me some links and I’ve been doing research.” It’s true. I don’t know if it’s because she feels guilty about not knowing what Abby was up to, but Mom’s in serious danger of turning into some kind of crazy Internet Safety Guru. “You can’t believe the things they —”
“F-forget it, Mom,” Abby sniffs, her eyes downcast, her body starting to curl up into itself again. “J-just f-forget it.”
“No, don’t,” I say. I get up and stand right in front of Dad, where he can’t help but look at me. “Dad. Look at Abby. Look at her. It’s not her fault. Stop blaming her.”
No one speaks. Abby’s weeping mingles with the tinkling of the fountain in the corner.
Dad still can’t bring himself to look at my sister. I want to take his head and yank it in her direction.
“Do you want to know w-why, Dad?” Abby says suddenly. “D-do you want to know w-why it was so easy for L-luke?”
“His name is Schmidt,” Dad snaps. “Edmund Schmidt.”
“Whatever.” Abby sighs. “The man I knew was Luke Redmond. And the reason I went off with him, the reason I thought I loved him was because …”
She breaks off and blows her nose, and takes a deep breath and continues.
“The reason I thought he loved me, and I loved him, was because he
listened
to me. Do you hear me, Dad?
Because he listened to me!
”
Abby’s practically shouting at him, and he finally turns and looks at her.
Go, Abs
.
“And you’re saying I don’t?” Dad asks. “That this is all
my
fault?”
“No! But … high school’s been really hard and it’s not like you’ve been around all that much since you started the new business. And things were getting weird with Faith, like she was making all these new friends and I wasn’t and I was … lonely.”
“So you had to make friends with a pervert?”
Sometimes parents are so freaking dense
.
“Mr. Johnston, I think what Abby’s trying to tell you is that she was lonely and the predator was very clever in sensing her needs and trying to fill them in order to manipulate Abby for his own ends,” Dr. Binnie says. “That’s how the grooming process works.”
“Why couldn’t you just talk to
us
, honey?” Mom asks. “Why couldn’t you just
tell us
you were lonely?”
“Yeah, right,” I say. “Like
that’s
going to happen.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad says, all mad at
me
now. I don’t care. As long as it takes some of the heat off of Abby.
“Seriously, think back to the prehistoric era when you were teenagers,” I say. I see Dr. Binnie raise her hand to her mouth to hide a smile. She seems okay for a shrink, not that I actually know any other shrinks except for Mr. DiTocco, the counselor at school. “Would
you
have told
your
parents that you felt like a total loser with no friends?”
I glance at Abby.
“No offense, Abs.”
And believe it or not, I really didn’t mean any.
“None taken, Lily,” Abby says.
She’s still facing Dad with that sad, pleading expression. His gaze jumps from her to the floor to the tinkling fountain to the ceiling and finally settles on a spot on the wall to the right of Abby’s head.
“When I think of him … touching you … I just …” Dad’s hands clench into fists. “It makes me … I want to kill … I —”
Suddenly, he covers his face with his hands, and his shoulders slump over. And then he’s making these awful sounds, like a dying walrus. Mom puts her arm around him and murmurs, “Rick, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
And then Abby uncurls herself from the black leather chair and crosses the carpet. She stands in front of Dad and goes to put her arms around him, then stops, like she’s afraid, like she’s worried that he won’t want her to because she’s too dirty ’cause she’s been contaminated by that freakazoid perv she ran off with. So she just touches his shoulder, lightly, with her fingertips, enough to let him know she’s there but without risking giving him perv cooties. And Dad uncovers his face and looks at her. Really
looks
at Abby. He sees her eyes, which are bright red from crying, and the look on her face that’s begging him to still love her, even though she fell for that creep’s lies and did all the crazy, stupid things she did.
“Christ, Abby, when I thought you were dead, it almost killed me,” Dad says, pulling Abby into his arms.
Okay, I’m crying now, too. Who wouldn’t be? Yeah, the shrink, but that’s because this is all in a day’s work to her, I guess.
I know school’s still going to suck — it’s not like this family therapy crap is going to magically change my status as a social leper with a crazy sister. But I guess this was worth missing
Degrassi
for, if it means maybe our family has some remote shot at being normal again someday.
“Abby, wake up! You’re having another nightmare,” Lily says, shaking me.
She looks pale in the golden light of my bedside lamp.
“That must have been a really bad one,” she says, handing me a tissue to dry my tears. “You were crying and you shouted ‘Help me!’ in this really pathetic voice.”
“At least I didn’t wake up Mom and Dad,” I say. “I’m … really sorry I disturbed you.”
“It’s okay.” She squeezes my leg gently. “Really.”
There are so many ways I screwed up by getting in Luke’s car, but for some strange reason, once she got over her initial pissed-offedness, this whole thing seems to have made Lily and me closer. I mean, I don’t think we’ll ever be the sharing-clothes-and-makeup kind of sisters. We’re still very different. But somehow we seem to have found a way to talk without fighting. At least some of the time anyway.
“Abs …” Lily says. “What … what is it that you’re dreaming about when you freak out like this? Is it what HE did to you?”
Lily refuses to call him Luke. She’ll only call him Schmidt or Perv Face or HIM. In a way she’s right because there is no such
person as Luke Redmond. But it’s hard for me to give him up so easily, because of what he meant to me. Or at least what I thought he meant to me.
I think back to my nightmare and a shiver passes through me. Wrapping my arms around my shins, I curl up tight and rest my chin on my knees.
Don’t get coy with me now, Abby. You know you want it. You’ve wanted it all along
.
Lily’s looking at me, her sleepy eyes filled with love and concern. I don’t want to pollute her dreams with the filth inside my head. But she’s waiting for an answer, and knowing Lily, she won’t leave until she gets one.
“Some of it’s … what happened. But then … it’s like … I dream … that he’s going to … kill me. That I’m going to … die … in that room … without ever seeing Mom or Dad … or you … or anyone …” My voice catches and I can’t stop the tears from starting again. “I dream I’m going to die … without seeing any of you … ever again.”
Lily’s eyes glisten and she suddenly throws her arms around me.
“Oh, Abby!”
She rocks me gently, and rubs my back, like
I’m
the baby sister.
My mother finds us curled up next to each other in my bed the following morning. She doesn’t say anything, but her mouth is a compressed line of worry.
“Another nightmare, Abby?”
I hesitate before telling her the truth. “Yes … A really bad one this time.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“It’s okay.” I look at my sister breathing softly on the pillow next to me. “Lily was here.”
The victim support specialist at the FBI calls us periodically to update us on the investigation. They found all kinds of sick stuff on Luke’s computer — not just the pictures of me, but videos of really young girls, like as young as five even, having sex with older guys. I ran to the bathroom and threw up when Mom told me that. I can’t believe that I thought I was in love with someone who was capable of something so incredibly sick and gross.
But I wasn’t in love with that guy, really. It’s like there are two separate people. There’s Edmund Schmidt, this perverted pedophile Internet predator who had disgusting porn on his computer and was busy “grooming” several girls besides me. Then there’s Luke, the guy I was in love with — or at least who I thought I was in love with. Luke, who listened to me, who seemed to understand me better than anyone else. But the thing is, Luke isn’t real. Luke is just a fictional character that Edmund Schmidt made up to trick me.
Dr. Binnie has been trying to help me understand how predators work so I will stop blaming myself so much.
“The predator’s greatest tool is listening, Abby,” she told me. “That is how Luke was able to gain your confidence and your trust … and ultimately, your love. Because he listened to your problems and reflected them back to you, but without any genuine empathy.”
“Yeah, that’s what hurts so much, I guess. And what makes me feel … like such a first-class idiot. I’ve always thought of myself
as smart. Everyone always
told
me I was smart. Being smart is the one thing I’m supposed to be good at and now I’m not even good at that.”
“Abby, there’s a difference between academic intelligence and emotional intelligence. Clearly, you’re a very bright girl. But you’re also fourteen, and emotional intelligence develops as you mature. That’s part of the reason your age group, young adolescents, are the group at highest risk for being targeted by predators.”
“Great. So I’m just another statistic.”
“I didn’t tell you that so you could feel like another statistic. More so you could understand that there’s a good reason predators like Schmidt are on the lookout for boys and girls your age. Because they know you’re at a point where you’re starting to explore your own identities. And you’re also trying to be more independent from your parents, and that, as you know from experience, causes conflict. When kids argue with their parents, it gives the predator an opening, one that they’re expert at exploiting.”
I remember how Luke always took my side when I complained about my parents. How he took my side about everything. How it felt so good to have someone who agreed with everything I said, instead of telling me that I was being negative, like Faith.
Faith, the one who has stuck by me through all of this, defends me to the people who bad-mouth me, and calls me every night to make sure I’m okay.
“I guess … I guess
real
friends tell it like it is, even if you don’t want to hear it.”
Dr. Binnie nods.
“
Especially
when you don’t want to hear it. But they do it in a kind, loving way.”
We’re both silent for a moment. The ever-present waterfall tinkles in the background.
“What if I have to testify at his trial?” I ask. “I don’t know if I could handle seeing him again, knowing that everything he said to me was a lie just so he could … do stuff and … put it online.”
“Is that a possibility? Has anyone spoken to you about it?”
“No. But, like, they did that forensic exam at the hospital. And when the FBI questioned me, they recorded everything and warned me that it might be used in a court of law and stuff. They still have my computer and my underwear as evidence.”
“The victim support specialist can probably tell you more about the likelihood of having to testify,” Dr. Binnie says.
“I guess. I’ll ask her, the next time I speak to her.” I take a deep breath. “Maura says the FBI can notify me whenever they arrest someone who’s downloaded the ‘Abby Series.’ I don’t know what to do.”
“What would be the advantage of knowing?”
“I guess that some other creep has been arrested and won’t be able to do what Luke did.”
Dr. Binnie nods.
“Can you think of any drawbacks of knowing?”
Can I ever
.
“Well … it’s like sometimes I have nightmares about people all over the world watching me naked. Like millions of computer screens all filled with that video of Luke … you know … doing it to me.”
I take a tissue out of the box on the table next to me, not because I feel like I’m going to cry, but because I need something to fidget with while I’m talking.
“I wake up and tell myself that it’s only a dream. Then, sometimes for a day or two, I can forget about it.”
I roll up the tissue and twist it into a pretzel shape.
“But, like, if they tell me they’ve actually arrested someone for downloading it, then it’s not just a dream, is it? It’s real. And it’s like it’s happening all over again.”
“That’s a good point, Abby. It’s important whatever choice you make, that you protect yourself and allow yourself the space to recover from the trauma you’ve been through.”
I start shredding the tissue into small, neat strips. Dr. Binnie just sits there observing me, her pen poised above her notepad, the fountain tinkling away in the corner as if to say, “Ask, Abby, ask.” It’s not until I’ve totally decimated the tissue that I finally take a deep breath and pose the question that’s really on my mind:
“Dr. Binnie, do you think I’ll ever be, like, normal again? Or am I going to be ‘That Girl Who Ran Off with the Internet Skeev’ for the rest of my life?”
She doesn’t answer me right away, and I get this sinking feeling like,
Oh man, I’m doomed forever
.
“I’m not going to lie and say your life will go on as if this never happened, Abby. A trauma like this can take years to overcome. But can you go on to have a happy, productive life? I certainly hope so. That’s the goal of therapy. Talking about what happened certainly will help. But it’s definitely not going to happen overnight and you shouldn’t expect it to. Take it in baby steps and realize that there will be times that for each step forward
you’ll take a few steps backward. And remember, by helping to put Schmidt behind bars you are preventing him from doing this to other girls.”
Preventing him from doing this to other girls
.
That’s got to be a good thing because I don’t want anyone else to have to go through this. Ever.