The Good House

by Tananarive Due

  For the first time, as Corey stroked Becka, he noticed that the collar of her dress was ripped nearly to her mid-chest. He could see now that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and too much of her bosom was showing, the pale flesh quavering when she moved. Corey knew, then. Knowing felt as if someone had jabbed an ice pick into his spine.

  “Who hurt you? Becka, who did this to you?”

  Her only answer was a sob. She clung harder, her weight nearly pulling him from his feet.

  “Let’s get her to my house, Corey,” Sean said. “We should call the sheriff.”

  Hearing those words, Becka pulled herself from Corey’s arms, red-faced.“No!” she screamed. “That’s astupid thing to say!” She was hysterical.

  Seeing her face more clearly, Corey noticed that her jaw looked swollen. Therewere bruises on her face. Someone had beat the hell out of Becka. And she was shaking. She looked like someone had just pulled her out of freezing water.

  “Oh, shit, Becka,” Corey said, holding her shoulders. His ignorance was making him miserable, as if he might cry. “Who did this? What did they do?”

  “Corey, seriously, we should take her and go until we know what’s going on,” Sean said.

  Sean’s words made sense. Corey heard them, and he felt himself wanting to say,Yeah, you’re right, let’s get her to a doctor. We’ll let the police take care of it. His parents would know what to do. Sean’s father would know what to do.

  But he couldn’t make himself say that.

  The wondering was too much as he stared into Becka’s eyes. The wondering was worse than a fever, more like the bonfire lighting everything in his sight. He had toknow what had happened. He had toknow who had put his hands on her. There was something about the way she was clutching her dress to herself, bunching it up near her thighs. A word came to his mind, and he felt tears in his eyes even tothink the word, but he had to ask.

  “Becka…did somebody rape you?”

  Becka shook her head, but the shake didn’t seem to mean no. It meant something else:Stop asking me. Corey felt bad about how tightly he was gripping Becka’s shoulders, but his hands were thinking on their own now. His hands had become the part of him thathad to know. “You tell me what happened,” Corey said, locking their eyes. “Tell meexactly what happened.”

  Becka turned her face away. She was blushing bright, ashamed. “They saw me and jumped on me. They knocked me down, and I fought them, but they kept hitting me. They wouldn’t stop.”

  A rocket burst in Corey’s skull.“Who the fuck jumped on you?”

  “They’ll hurt you if they find you here.”

  There was more to it. Corey knew that by the way Becka’s eyes looked away from his.

  “Who,Becka? Who is it?”

  Becka whispered. “I think he’s called Bo. I don’t know the other ones.”

  The mention of Bo’s name made Corey remember the flash of fire near his leg while he was riding Sheba, the way she had been so terrified, bucking.Who the fuck are you looking at, nigger?

  “Bo Cryer?” Sean said, standing closer, until they were both huddling around her.

  Becka nodded, raising her hand to her face, trying to hide herself.

  Sean’s voice was hushed. “A girl at school said he did that to her last year. Becka’s right—we have to take her and get moving. If there’s a lot of them, this is bad news.Really bad news.”

  Suddenly, Corey couldsee Bo’s hand ripping at Becka’s dress, burrowing between her breasts, groping and pulling at her soft flesh. He saw Bo sitting atop Becka while he lashed her face with his open palm, and then his fist. He saw Bo thrust his hand between Becka’s legs, then hoist her leg around him while he thrust himself inside her, invading her. As the images swallowed him one after the other, Corey heard a voice from the woods, from the direction where Becka had come:“You guys are so fucking dead!”

  Bo’s voice, full of careless laughter. The voice was far off, but coming closer.

  Corey felt his face smolder. “Get back,” he said, pulling Becka toward the huge fallen tree where he’d left food for her, a tree with a trunk five feet tall on its side. It was hollow enough for Becka to hide inside if it came to that, but for now he thought she would be safe enough behind it, out of the firelight. He gently pushed her until she was crouching, and he gently kissed her lips, trying not to hurt her where she was sore. Her lips belonged to him. All of her belonged to him.

  Becka squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry about what? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I’ve got this, Becka.”

  “Corey…” Sean sounded nervous, always afraid of a fight.

  “Shut up, man. This isn’t on you. Go run home if you want.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to Becka, but do you know what you’redoing? There’s just two of us! This is crazy. I mean it, Corey.”

  As Corey walked back to Sean, he accidentally stepped inside the ancestor altar, spilling some of the holy water from the bowl into the soil. He felt wrong about it, that he should tend to it somehow, but he couldn’t take his mind away from Becka hiding behind the dead tree, violated, shaking, and scared. He stood an inch from Sean, staring him down. “What if somebody did that shit to your sister one day?” Corey said. “What would you do?”

  Sean didn’t blink. “I’d go call the cops. Same as now.”

  “That’s why you’re a punk,” Corey said. He had to restrain himself from shoving his palms against Sean’s chest, because he felt sickened by him. “You take care of yourown . That’s why Bo does this shit, ’cause of people like you. You watch this.”

  Corey wished he had T. with him; T. and his brother and maybe Levon, a black belt in his tae kwon do class who moved like a cat. Levon could kick you before you saw him lift his foot. But it didn’t matter. No matter what—if Corey had to pick up those stones to knock somebody out or throw somebody into the fire, whatever it took—anybody who had touched Becka was going to pay for it.Anyone . Two, three, or four, it didn’t matter to him.

  Only one person emerged on the trail.

  Bo was running in a near-silent sprint, but he stopped when he came to The Spot, seeing them. Corey wouldn’t have recognized him except for the white streak in his hair, because his face was covered with soot or grease and he was wearing plastic goggles. Bo was dressed in camouflage pants, almost like a soldier except for his orange vest with yellow strips that glowed in the dark, an appearance so unexpected that Corey wondered if he could be dreaming. Bo had a long, black gun in his hand that looked almost like a machine gun. Becka hadn’t said anything about a gun.

  “What are you doing here?” Bo said. He whipped off the goggles, and Corey could see his eyes, two pale rings. “We’ve got a game going. Get moving.”

  “You guys are playing paintball at midnight? How can you see anything?” Sean said to Bo, making conversation as if Bo hadn’t raped Becka, as if they were just catching up on things. Except that his voice was so shaky.

  Corey was glad Bo didn’t have a real gun. Corey had never seen anyone play paintball, but he’d heard about guys who went out into the woods and played war, trying to shoot each other with paint. Well, Bo wouldn’t have to play at war. He had found a real war now.

  “I said to get the fuck out of here, asswipe,” Bo said, ignoring Sean’s question.

  “This is my family’s property.Asswipe,” Corey said. He took three steps toward Bo, his fists tight. “Why’d you put your hands on my girlfriend?” Corey said, sounding as if he were the one with the gun instead of Bo. His rage had taken control of his mouth.

  Beside him, Sean made a sound like a groan. So softly that Corey barely heard.

  Bo let out a laugh. “What?”

  “You heard me. Why’d you put your hands on my girlfriend?”

  “I wouldn’t put my hands on any slut who’d letyou touch her, monkey.”

  “She says you did. You and your friends. You must like forcing yourself on girls. Maybe you learned it watching your da
ddy fuck your mama.”

  Bo’s face hardened, and his eyes suddenly reminded Corey of how his own eyes must look, boiling with rage. “You crazy motherfucker,” Bo said. “I never forcednobody.”

  Corey heard a shriek behind him; again, he thought of the monster from his dreams. Becka was lunging toward them, pinwheeling her arms. She stopped beside Corey, just short of Bo. “Youliar!” Becka screamed. “You’re aliar! You know what you did!”

  In retrospect—in the two days Corey would have to think about this night, recalling it detail by detail whether he tried to or not—Bo looked shocked at the sight of Becka, with her torn dress, swollen eye, and bleeding lip. She was bleeding more now than when Corey had last seen her, a line of blood spilling across her chin. Bo’s face lost its anger, becoming empty as he stared at her. Corey didn’t recognize it at the time, but there was something else in Bo’s face: fear. Cold and deep.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Bo asked Corey.

  Becka shrieked at him. “You and your friends Trey and Scott and Griffin saw me walking on the trail and you jumped me, and you tore my clothes, and you beat me, and you put your hands all over me, and you stuck your thing in me. You were laughing and you said, ‘Let’s do her like I did that bitch Ariel,’ until I ran away.You know you did it, so don’t lie and say you didn’t. I’ll swear it in court. I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles.”

  “You goddamned liar,” Bo said. “Did Ariel put you up to this? Arieladmitted it was all a lie. She was mad I broke off with her.” He was making his case to Corey and Sean, trying to reason with them, man to man. His voice sounded as scared as Sean’s had been.

  “You just wait until I tell Sheriff Graybold. He’s gonna lock you up!” Becka screamed. “You’re gonna go to the state pen like your grandfather and your daddy and your uncle. And youknow what happens at the state pen, because even though your daddy won’t tell you,something happened to him in there. You know he’s not a man anymore, not areal man. And it’s gonna happen to you, too, because that’s what you did to me!Then you’ll be just like him!”

  Bo couldn’t have looked more startled if Becka had thrown a rattlesnake at him. His eyes went wide, and the gun in his hands popped suddenly. Even Bo jumped at the sound.

  The paintball hit Becka. Her white dress was suddenly showered with red paint across her chest, like bright blood. She hissed low through her teeth, although she didn’t move, as if she hadn’t felt any sting. Paint covered her exposed bosom and her neck, as high as her chin. Her eyes leveled at Bo as if she could make him drop dead from a stare.

  Corey felt his mind recede, and he heard himself give a yell. He spun, his right leg flying to kick Bo squarely in the gut. The kick was a thing of beauty, faster and more accurate than any kick he’d ever produced at the dojo or a tournament. Bo was too surprised to try to block, and the kick landed with all the force of Corey’s training. It was the best kick he had in him. Corey’s heart swelled with triumph.

  For a time.

  Underneath that blubber in Bo’s belly, there was a shelf of muscle. Corey felt the unexpected impact against his foot, unyielding. Bo grunted, knocked off-balance by the kick for a single backward step. But he didn’t fall. He didn’t even double over. He just looked madder than before.

  Shit.This couldn’t be happening. He’d given Bohis best kick.

  Suddenly, Corey remembered that Bo was six inches taller than him, and twice as wide. He snatched the gun from Bo’s hands to try to club him, but Bo was quick for someone so big and solid. Bo sidestepped Corey’s chopping blow and lunged, bear-hugging him. The gun flew from Corey’s fingers. Bo pinned Corey’s arms to his side and pitched him off his feet, landing with his full weight on top of Corey.

  Corey couldn’t catch his breath. His ribs felt crushed. He wished he’d been taking wrestling instead of tae kwon do, because Bo had him pinned.

  “Don’t you listen to that lying bitch,” Bo breathed into his ear, tightening his arms until Corey groaned. “Me and my friends never touched nobody. We’re playing paintball, and I’ve never seen that crazy bitch in my life. Say it and I’ll let you go.”

  “Fuck you!”Corey said. He knocked the side of his head against Bo’s, hoping it hurt Bo as much as it hurt him.

  “Say it!”Bo roared, and hoisted himself high before burying his knee in Corey’s groin.

  This pain was so raw that Corey screamed, sure his crotch must be gushing blood. Corey had been kicked in the balls accidentally before, and it hurt even with a cup, but he’d never been hit by anyone Bo’s size, or with Bo’s driving strength. It was like aclaw, he thought. Bo had clawed out his midsection, leaving his guts dangling. He couldn’t move, because all his strength had vanished. Corey understood how Becka must have felt beneath Bo’s weight, helpless.

  “Say she’s lying or I’ll do it again!” Bo said.

  Corey saw Sean reach under Bo’s armpits to try to pull him away, and he tried to open his mouth to cheer Sean on, but his mouth wouldn’t move. When Bo’s fist ground into Sean’s nose, Sean fell back with both hands pressed to his face, bloodied.

  When Bo leaned over Corey again, Corey elbowed him in the jaw, hitting him squarely, which felt like a miracle. Bo stumbled backward, standing up, but the blow didn’t buy Corey enough time. When Corey got on all fours to try to stand, Bo’s foot flew into his stomach with awhump.

  Corey wheezed. He’d felt like he couldn’t catch his breath when Bo first jumped on him, but this was worse. Now, all the air felt like it was gone. His body was stone.

  He could die tonight, Corey realized. This guy might be beating him to death.

  “If anybody raped that trashy whore, it wasyou,” Bo said. He kicked Corey’s stomach again, grunting with the effort, and this time Corey felt something give inside him, folding on itself. He fell into the fetal position, sparks of red light flying before his eyes. Somewhere behind him, Corey heard Becka crying, the only thing he was aware of except how much he hurt.

  And how much he wished he could breathe.

  “Sayit wasn’t me!” Bo said.

  oh jesus please don’t let him kick me again please don’t let me pass out

  “Wasn’t…you,” Corey panted. Tears spilled from his eyes.

  No kick came. Bo grinned a bitter grin at him.

  “Fuckin’ right it wasn’t, and I better not ever hear you say different. You got it? You will bedead,” Bo said. He scooped up his gun, which had landed a couple of feet in front of the fire. “If this thing’s scratched, I’m gonna break your head open, crybaby. I thought niggers could fight.”

  Suddenly, Corey’s throat opened, and he could taste the air again. His lungs sucked at it, desperate. One breath, two. He was breathing.

  He saw Becka sitting cross-legged close to him, sobbing into her paint-stained hands. When her eyes found his, Corey felt hot shame far worse than any physical blow. He’d been taking tae kwon do for three years, competing in bullshit tournaments, and he couldn’tfight? He couldn’t step up for his own girl? Thank God his father wasn’t here to see what had happened, or Tariq Hill wouldn’t believe Corey was his son.

  With one arm braced against the ground, Corey sat up. His stomach flared, constricting. The air thinned out again, his lungs hitching in protest.

  “What the hell is allthis? You say your girlfriend was raped, and you’re having a little picnic?” Bo said, walking to the other side of the fire. He kicked at something Corey couldn’t see, and Corey heard the breaking sound. One of the bowls.

  With all his effort, still hunched over, Corey pitched to his feet. Between the agony in his balls and his cramped abdomen, he could barely take a step, but he tried. His own weight burdened him. “Leave that stuff alone,” Corey wheezed.

  “Or what?”

  Corey didn’t dare provoke Bo again. He had only one plan: Once he retrieved the petition and Gramma Marie’s papers, he’d get Becka the hell away from here. Sean was right. They should have called the police right away. What had beenwrong with him? />
  Corey limped, making one painful step, then another, toward what was left of his altar. Bo had stepped on the parchment, leaving an ugly scuff down the middle. One of the bowls was broken, and jambalaya had spilled all over the ground. The satchel with Gramma Marie’s papers was safely off to the side, but the parchment and index cards were in plain sight. Under Bo’s nose.

  Bo gave Corey a shove, and Corey had no idea how he didn’t fall.

  “If you’re still here when me and my buddies get back, we’ll show you what happens to liars. It’s not gonna be pretty,” Bo said, kicking soil and index cards at him. “Got it?”

  “Yeah,” Corey said. He crouched to pick up the parchment, but Bo snatched it from his fingertips. It was too sturdy to tear, but it was gone.

  Bo only scanned the paper before grinning and dangling it above the fire.