I tried to ruin him. I wanted him to pay. But I’m the one that’s losing everything. I slam my hand on James’ locker out of anger and frustration.
“Ohhh…” I hear a guy call out. “Watch out for the West Side princess’ temper tantrum!”
Everyone in the hallway just laughs as they look at me. It's lunch so there are only about ten people in the hallway in scattered groups of two or three. "Going to spray paint James' locker now?" someone hollers.
I just want to feel my emotions. I just want to be angry, but I can’t do that anymore. Not without being ridiculed.
“Oh, don’t piss her off now,” another guy calls. “She’ll spray paint your locker too!”
I have to get away. When I turn to leave the hallway, I run into a tall, strong guy with tanned skin and black spiked hair, who is purposely blocking my way. “Leaving so soon?” He smiles at me.
“Be careful not to touch her,” I hear a male voice say coming up behind me. “She might call you a rapist too.” And then I feel a hand on my hip that moves under my shirt to touch my bare stomach. I feel him pressing his hips into me. “I’m curious, is this rape?” he says into my ear.
“Fuck off,” I say and then turn away from him, out of his grip, to now face him, my back to the other guy. He’s just slightly taller than me. Messy brown hair and a cocky grin.
“Careful, I like girls with a feisty side to them,” he says to me. “You know, most guys are scared of you. Scared that you are going to call them a rapist if they do anything to you, but not me. I see it as an opportunity. Because why would anyone believe the girl who cried rape?”
I turn to leave, to get away from these two guys I’m sandwiched between. When I try to turn away, the tall guy pushes me to the other guy that is enjoying taunting me too much. Crashing face first into him, I feel his hands on my hips, his fingers looping around my jeans belt loops so he can hold me close to him. I push myself away from him, but he just holds me closer, enjoying every minute of this.
He smiles at me and I know that no one in this hallway is going to step in. They are just going to watch, eagerly waiting to see how far this will go. “The hotter the girl, the crazier she is. You seem to fit that description perfectly,” he says to me. I don’t like how close his face is to mine. I can feel his breath on me.
“Get your hands off of me,” I say sternly, glaring at him.
“We’re just gonna have a bit of fun first,” he says, and then pushes me up against the lockers, trapping me there. He’s strong despite his lean body and I am sure he has no problem showing off that strength if he needs to.
“We’re in a fuckin’ hallway,” I say to him. Is he really going to do something more with everyone watching? I try to step on his foot, but my leg can’t move enough to get any impact. I push him, knowing that it’s no use, but I can’t just stand here and do nothing.
"Don't resist," he says. "It just turns me on more." He's a monster. He's sick. He doesn't care if the girl wants it or not. No, he's worse. He likes it if she doesn't want it. "I don't like easy girls. I like a challenge." He comes up close to my face as if he would kiss me, but both our eyes stay open, our noses almost touching. "You come to this school, walking around with your fancy outfits, perfect hair, perfect makeup, thinking that you are better than everyone. Thinking you are above every guy here. But it turns out you're just a West Side slut." He laughs. "I was curious about what was underneath all these clothes. I've wanted to bend you over and fuck you for a while now. Something that a lot of other guys want to do too."
The bell has to ring soon. It will be my only saving grace. Stalling him until the bell rings or a teacher comes. I turn my head away from him, praying for a bell to stop this madness. He takes his right hand away from my belt loop and feels under my shirt, across my stomach, starting to reach his hand down inside my jeans. I lift my knee to try and knee him where it hurts, but I barely make an impact.
“You don’t want to do that,” he says, taking his hand away. I stomp on his foot, and I finally make an impact. Enough that I can knee him between the legs and make an impact there too. “Fuckin’ bitch,” he says under his breath, and I know I hurt him. I turn to get away from him, but he grabs me, drags me, and then pushes me through the doors of the boy’s bathroom, throwing me up against the wall. “You are going to regret that,” he says to my face. He grabs a fistful of hair from the back of my scalp, tilting my head back. “You have a really pretty mouth,” he says. “There’s somewhere I’d like to see it.”
He starts undoing his belt buckle and I hear him undo the zipper of his jeans. I don’t hear anyone else in the bathroom and I fear that the bystanders in the hallway will just remain bystanders and ignore the terrible thing that is about to happen in here. Pretend that they had no idea. Say it wasn’t their problem. Are they afraid of stepping in? Do they think I deserve it?
“I trust you have done this before,” he says, pulling on my hair to try and get me to my knees. I resist, trying to get his hand off of me, but he just pulls harder. I hold back a scream, feeling my eyes water at the pain. When he kicks my shins to get me to the ground, I let the scream out, my knees slamming to the floor. I close my eyes, feeling the tears on my cheeks. I don’t want to see anything. He takes a stronger grip of my hair, weaving and digging his fingers in painfully, trying to pull me closer to him. I still try to resist, pulling away from him, but I know he’s enjoying this. And we both know who is the stronger one of the two of us. “You have five seconds before I smash your fuckin’ head against this wall.” I’d rather he smash my head against the wall. Knock me unconscious so I don’t have to remember this ever happened.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I hear a voice say, coming into the bathroom. When I open my eyes, I just see a blur of two guys throwing my attacker away from me. I move from my knees to sit on the ground, leaning against the wall, frozen, trying to calm myself.
“What the fuck, man?!” the attacker yells at my saviours that I recognize as Grade 12 football players. My attacker is on the ground, trying to do up his pants.
“You need to leave her the fuck alone,” one footballer says over him.
“And you need to mind your own business,” the attacker says, getting up.
“If you don’t leave in the next five seconds, we will beat you to the ground,” the other footballer says, and the attacker just glares at them. The footballer grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “Fuckin’ leave!” he yells at him and then he starts dragging him to the bathroom door and throws him out.
I just curl my knees to my chest amid all the madness going on around me.
"You okay?" the one footballer comes up to me. He's big. He towers over me in height and width. I'd hate to be against him in any scenario. The other one is small but strong.
“Yeah,” I say softly, feeling more tears about to come. “I mean, thank you. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you guys didn’t come in.” I run my hands through my hair, not looking at these footballers that saved me when everyone else was just going to let it happen.
The larger of the two comes up and sits next to me, leaning against the wall, while the shorter one just stands there in front of us. "I'm sorry that happened," he says. I can tell he doesn't know what he should say, but that's okay because I don't know what he should say either. Just being here is enough.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say either. I just can’t believe how crazy he went and what he was going to make me do. The bell rings, signally lunch is over. For fucks sake, now the bell rings?
“Can we walk you to your locker?” the one standing says. Class and then our first soccer game. I don’t want to move.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” the one on the ground says. I look at him and find him staring at me with a straight face. “Is there somewhere else I can take you? The office, outside, anywhere?”
"I should probably get to class," I say and look away fr
om him to the ground, but I don't move. He must give a look to his standing friend because I hear the bathroom door open and then it's just the two of us.
"You're the West Side girl that everyone has been talking about," he says, and I just ignore him. My silence should confirm his answer. "I have a feeling you didn't falsely accuse anyone of anything." I turn my head to look at him. This is a guy I don't know that helped a stranger because he saw it as the right thing to do. That's it. It didn't matter who I was or what I've done.
I can’t stop the tears, so I just let them out. I don’t know what the tears are for exactly. Is it for being given the decision between giving a guy oral or having my head smashed? For the destruction of my life because of a West Side jerk? Or is it that things were going so well and now they are going so wrong and I don’t know how to fix it? He puts an arm around me, and I just lie my head on his shoulder, letting the tears out while he just sits there and lets me, never saying a word. He lets me cry through the warning bell and the final bell which means we are both late. Any time the door of the bathroom opens, he just yells at the person to get lost, which they quickly do for the large football player.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting my head and drying the tears.
“It’s fine,” he says. I start to get up and he follows. “I’ll walk you to your locker.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say.
“I know it’s not,” he says. “But let me do it for my peace of mind over yours.”
I smile. “Thank you,” I say. “For you and your friend saving me when no one else would. For staying here when I just needed someone.”
“I’m a pretty good listener if you ever need as well,” he says.
“I might take you up on that,” I say, and then we finally leave that awful bathroom.
No POV – Before the attack
“What the fuck is going on in there?!” Alexander, the large Grade 12 football player, yells running towards the tall guy standing in front of the bathroom door.
“Nothing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“You better move out of the fuckin’ way,” Sebastian, another Grade 12 football player, says coming up behind him. “He’s going to rape her!”
“They’re just having a bit of fun,” the guy says, and then they hear a female scream.
"Fuck this," Alexander says, and both of them easily wrestle the guy at the door, throwing him aside and rush into the bathroom to see a sight that they wish they could unsee.
Chapter 38 – Jealous
“'Cause you're too sexy, beautiful / And everybody wants a taste / That's why (that's why) / I still get jealous” – Jealous, Nick Jonas
James
"What took you so long?" Richard yells from near the back of the bus as I get on. Richard and Malcolm are sitting together on the right side, while Samson sits in front of them. I take the empty seat next to Samson and throw my bag under the seat, ignoring Richard's question.
“Everyone here?” Mr. Quirrel says as he steps onto the bus.
“Yup!” a bunch of guys call out and then the bus starts to leave the parking lot.
“Where were you, Fox?” Richard asks again, tapping me on the shoulder from behind. “You almost missed the bus.”
"None of your business," I say in a more irritated voice than I intended.
“Why are you so pissed?” Samson says, leaning against the window while I sit looking straight ahead.
"He's been like this ever since he started ignoring Arya last week," Malcolm says.
The sound of his voice saying her name aggravates me. I get up to put my knee on the seat so I can face all three of them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Malcolm. Why don’t you just mind your own business for once in your life? Okay? And stop trying to butt into mine!” and then I sit back down.
“What’s your problem, James?” Malcolm says, and I can hear the anger building in his voice. I shouldn’t be angry with him, I shouldn’t yell at him, but I can’t help myself, the anger inside of me needs to come out. When I saw Malcolm hugging Arya yesterday, I wanted to punch him then and there.
“I saw you with her!” I turn and yell at him.
“I was trying to get her to talk to you!” Malcolm yells back at me. “You’ve been all miserable and closed off this past week! I was trying to help!”
“By hugging her?” I demand, already knowing that the hug was just between two friends, but unfortunately, the mind has a way of playing tricks on you. In my head, he wanted to hold her, he enjoyed having the little body enclosed in his arms. In my head, he smelled her hair, wondering why he doesn't just take her for himself now that her boyfriend has abandoned her. In my head, there's a part of him that still wants the only girl that's ever rejected him, that his best friend took the girl he liked first, so why shouldn't he take her back? “Trying to be a fuckin’ knight in shining armour for her?”
“It’s not like that and you know it!” Malcolm says back to me, the anger only growing inside of him. I’m pushing him to the edge and if I’m not careful, I might push too far.
“I don’t need your pity.” I say. “Don’t interfere in matters that have nothing to do with you. I don’t want Arya coming up to me to try and talk after she talked to you.”
“Is that why you were late?” Malcolm asks. “Were you talking to her?”
"Again, none of your business," I say angrily.
“Was she trying to explain her side of the story?” Malcolm asks and I just glare at him, “You know as well as I do that there is more to that story. What? Did you just cut her off? Did you let her explain?”
"She doesn't trust me," I say, still angry with Arya. "She won't tell me the whole story. She’s holding back from me but there’s nothing I can do to make her open up.”
“So you just gave up on her?” Malcolm says. “You don’t know what happened, James! Maybe no one knows. You can’t just give up on her now.”
“I asked her if that guy hurt her,” I say, “and she said no.”
“Do you believe her?” Samson asks.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. She didn’t blink when she said no. She made me believe that he didn’t hurt her, but I don’t know anymore.
“So just because she won’t tell you everything right now, you give up on her?” Malcolm says. “It’s been, what? A week? You closed yourself from us for two years, James! We’ve had to deal with you bailing on us, not talking to us for two years! And we never gave up on you. We remained your friends.”
"Malcolm, watch it," Samson warns.
“No!” Malcolm says to Samson. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of tiptoeing around James’ feelings. I get it, James. You know I do. My mom ran away when I was five. I know when you lost your dad it was horrific. Nothing can ever fill the void of a missing parent, but I am not going back to how it used to be. I’m not going back to you closing yourself off from the three friends that care about you the most. That girl finally brought out the old you that we thought was gone forever.” Malcolm pauses, thinking about what to say next. “And I’m not letting you mess up the best thing that’s ever happened to you because you think this whole thing is about Arya not trusting you.”
“It is though!” I yell at him. “How can I be in a relationship with someone that keeps something like that from me? And now she won’t tell me anything. She won’t let me in.” It hurts me more than I describe that the only girl I have ever felt a connection with, the one person that I have shared everything with and have held nothing back for, can’t do the same for me. I let her in, I let her see all of me, good and bad, and she knew. She knew that but she won’t do the same thing for me.
“You can’t give up on her, James.” Malcolm says. “You know that deep down you can’t. Girls don’t spray paint ‘RAPIST’ on a guy’s locker for fun.”
“I think you dodged a bullet there, James,” I hear Daniel call from one of the seats at the back of the bus.
No POV
Daniel wasn
't even listening to their conversation, but at hearing the name 'Arya' and 'rapist', he decided to join in. The truth was that Daniel, although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, was jealous of James. This Grade 11 is a soccer superstar and would have beat him out of the captain spot if he was a year older. Heck, he almost beat him out even though he was a Grade 11! And then, on top of that, he had been dating the new girl that had caught Daniel's attention. What was a Grade 11 guy in comparison to a Grade 12? Obviously, she would pick Daniel if he showed interest in her. But she didn't. He approached her, he talked to her, but no matter what he did, she always looked at James like he was the only person in the room. She always went to him and that was just another thing James had that Daniel wanted, but Daniel would never admit it. When he heard that they were no longer together, he thought this was his chance to have Arya to himself, there would be no James blocking his way. He knew James wouldn't be able to keep that girl satisfied. But when he found out why they had broken up, he knew that he couldn't go anywhere near that girl.
James
"She may be hot, but she's not worth going through that," Daniel says. "That Lisa girl did you a favour, Fox. No guy is going to want to date her now, scared that she may accuse him of rape if they touch her or piss her off." A bunch of the Grade 12 guys nod and grunt in agreement. "That poor guy, people just automatically believe the girl. Guys have no chance if a girl accuses them of rape, even if he did nothing wrong. I bet I know what happened." Daniel readjusts himself in his seat before telling his story, all the guys in the back hanging on his every word. "I bet it was the classic case that she slept with this guy, and then after, she wanted a relationship with him, but he said no. So, to get back at him she accused him of rape to protect her reputation so that she didn't look like a slut." All the Grade 12 guys call out in agreement with Daniel's prognosis. It sounds ridiculous coming from him. How could he think this about a girl he doesn't even know? It's not Arya. She would never do something like that, and hearing Daniel drag her name through the mud is just too much. "I dodged a bullet too!" Daniel exclaims. "I'm glad I never slept with that girl, even though I know she wanted it." Calm yourself, James, you can't start a fight on the bus. "She would have been begging me for a relationship afterward and then accused me of rape when I said no!" Daniel hive fives the open hand of the guy next to him.
East Side Academy Page 25
