by Adalynn Rafe
As I stick to the walls of the hallway, moving swiftly on my way, I stare at the ceiling and search for something more, some sort of insight. Besides, if I look down it will show my weakness, that I’m terrified and vulnerable. So, I look up and walk tall with strength and dignity. I can do this. I can be brave. I’m the hero.
I remember that soon enough I’ll be in New York and none of this will matter.
“Cecily!” someone yells to me.
Ice courses through my veins, freezing me in place.
It’s just a smiling Stacy. Of course, her blue eyes sparkle, and with a smile her face becomes a little wider. “Hey, how are you?” A hand brushes through her brown hair, which is quite long actually. She’s beautiful, like subtle and soft and natural.
I try to smile, but the fact that I feel a little odd showed on my face. The last time I saw her, she was helping my pathetic butt off the ground in front of Leison’s class. She probably thought I was a slut. “Uh . . . hey, Stacy.”
“You know, I had the weirdest dream about you!” She bobs her head as she says weirdest. She’s acting like we’re best buds or something, and nothing about me tripping out of Leison’s class ever happened.
“Like . . . what?”
Stacy sighs and looks down at her full hands. “Well, you were dead.”
My eye starts to twitch. “What the––?”
“No, listen!” she begs, her blue eyes full of remorse.
“Okay . . .” I give her a chance to redeem herself.
“So you were dead and walking the halls of the school. There was like a vigil and everything to remember you. There was something you were trying to tell me, but I didn’t understand you. Someone needed help . . .” She starts to trail off in her own thoughts.
I notice that my mouth has dropped open. “Why did you dream this?”
She shakes her head like she’s scared. “I don’t know why. I can’t control my dreams.”
“We don’t really talk a whole lot,” I remind her. “So this is really weird and you’re freaking me out.”
She looks away silently, as if I have offended her. “I’m sorry.”
Guilt fills me. “Stacy, I’m sorry. Thanks for helping me the other day,” I say, trying to find forgiveness from her.
Stacy slightly smiles. “You know, I’ve always considered us friends.”
“Yeah, me too,” I reply, smiling. Another bullet dodged.
“I’ll let you go,” she says and heads down the hall. “Be safe, Cecily.”
I head toward the cafeteria to meet Hazel. That was weird.
Hazel is sitting at a table, a book in hand, and a carton of chocolate milk. Her leg bounces as she reads, and her shirt is too low. Darien doesn’t seem to mind, though he is watching her from a distance. They aren’t brave enough to commit social suicide yet.
The first thing I do is pull her shirt up for her.
Hazel smacks my hand away and inches it back down. “I’m showing the royals that I can be sexy too.”
“You look like a skank,” I inform her rudely. “Pull your shirt up!”
As she does as she’s told, she sticks her tongue at me. “Grandma Cecily is back.”
I smile, proud of my baggy sweater. “It’s so comfy!”
“Shush!” Hazel rolls her eyes before going back to reading.
After sitting, I sigh loudly. Twenty minutes to World Civ. I look around the room and locate three police officers that were added to the hallway décor thanks to Sheriff Copper and my mother. And I must admit that I am glad. At least I’m not alone . . .
Something smacks the back of my head––and hard. I gasp, my hand reaches to the spot, and I turn around slowly.
Sabrina is standing there with her hands on her curvy hips, scornful gray eyes, and a smirk on her light-pink glossy pout. “Oops,” she says snidely. “I didn’t notice your head in the way of my hand.”
Clenching my jaw, I stand up to face her. “What do you want?” Suddenly, I just want to yank the dark, long hair from her head. But I don’t.
“You owe me,” she hisses. “Big time.”
Anger fills me now and I can’t help but to shove her away from me. “Oh, really? What for?”
Sabrina snickers. “You no-showed Friday!” She shoves me back.
“I do what I want!” I yell, getting right up in her face. “What does it matter to you?”
“I had a lot riding on your attendance to that party, Cecily,” she says, maliciously quiet.
I shake my head in disgust. “What am I, some bargaining chip to you?” I shove her once again, becoming angrier. “You’re sick!”
Hazel stands up and is ready to beat her off of me.
Sabrina grabs my shirt and pulls me over to her. “I will ruin you!” Anger fills her eyes.
I smack her hands off of me. “You’re a selfish brat that knows nothing unless it’s pertaining to you!”
“Exactly! You’ve cost me an A in World Civ.”
She’s sending me a message of some sort. “It’s probably because you didn’t do the work Sabrina. That’s kind of the point of school!” I glare. “Unless you sleep with the teachers to get your way, right?”
Pain fills her eyes but her face contorts in anger. “You slut!” She reaches for me but I dodge her and grab her arms.
“Did I hit a nerve, Sabrina?” I whisper, so low that only she can hear.
Sabrina looks away and hides the fact that tears are filling her eyes. “You’re in trouble,” she informatively whispers.
“Sabrina!” I yell loudly. “What does it have to do with me?” There is absolutely nothing that ties us together aside from a lifelong event of Sabrina’s hatred of me. “I have nothing to do with you! I freaking hate you!”
Fear-filled eyes stare at me before she masks her fright with anger. “You’ll see.”
My brow furrows. “What does that even mean?”
“Stop acting like an idiot!” she screams. Her hair is shoved out of her face and she composes herself once more.
Then I see something. Her eye is swollen and black, but masterly covered with makeup. She has bruises on her biceps. She’s frail and wounded, beaten by someone.
Sabrina a victim? Impossible! That means that I’m not alone in this! My stomach contorts and I’m seriously going to puke now!
“Don’t puke on me!” Sabrina screams as she pushes me away and steps back.
Then it’s all released from my stomach and I’m kneeling on the cafeteria floor with two cops at my side and the school principal. My nose stings, a horrible taste is in my mouth, and my eyes are tearing up.
Hazel is rubbing my back and saying soothing things to me. “Let’s just take you home,” she says loudly.
Even Darien is by my side, helping me to my feet.
Sabrina is glaring at me with so much hatred. She points in the direction of the World Civ classroom. “Don’t be an idiot,” she whispers, well aware that I know her secret now.
“I’m going to class,” I say to Hazel and Darien, just as the bell rings. I give them a look before grabbing my things and heading to World Civ. Something huge is happening and I have to find out what it is!
Chapter 34
Slowly, I enter the classroom. I feel dread, there is no doubt, but he has to be stopped. Am I really the only one to do it? It makes no sense, but I know that if I don’t do it no one will, and he’ll go on hurting girls.
It’s like a prison; instead of having cells, we’re confined to desks that are nearly impossible to slip in and out of. In the back of the room I see a girl––me––and a man––Leison. The girl is crying, begging him to stop . . . and then it disappears in a blink. In reality, there is a group of teens chatting animatedly.
I wipe the wetness from under my eyes and head for the open seat near the front. People look at me, murmuring horrible lies to each other: “The dropout skank. I wouldn’t show my face if I seduced a teacher either.”
My arms cross and I try not to sulk––or wish te
rrible things on those who devalue my name.
A blond jock sits behind me. I don’t really pay attention to him as he passes. He keeps going on about an epic party his brother took him to over the weekend. He’s talking loud enough that I could probably hear him from the gymnasium at the other end of the school. All he says is Aaron this, Aaron that. Who cares about his lame stories!
“Hey, Cecily?” His name is Roy, I think. With blond hair and a steroid injected bod, everyone says he’s a mini-me of his older brother Aaron.
I raise an annoyed eyebrow and turn around to face him. “What?”
“My bro thinks you’re hot. He kinda wants to bang you.” Roy flashes a jerk sneer. “You remember Aaron, right?”
My eyes narrow. “The rapist, yeah, I remember him.” A rumor was passed around when I was a sophomore and he was a senior about how he raped his girlfriend. Everyone knew Aaron as the rapist.
“My brother is not a rapist!” Roy yells, getting all sorts of defensive.
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what the one girl said,” I comment, before facing forward.
And now that Aaron has returned to town, the rumor has resurfaced and everyone is talking about it. Not to say that girls don’t swoon over his athletic body. He has easy enough targets. After the party on Friday, well, all that Hazel has heard is how he shacked up with a girl or two—or ten.
Glancing back slyly, I see that Roy is now fuming and his face has turned red.
And if Aaron says he wants to bang me, he’d have to rape me because I wouldn’t go anywhere near the pig. If I recall right, Sabrina and he were once in a relationship.
“Cecily Wolf,” Mr. Leison says loudly, peering at me through darkened eyes. Some girls say he’s so hot, so desirable, and would do anything to . . . well, I don’t feel the need to finish that sentence. Some people see a tall man, with light skin and dark features. His suave looks and devilish grins seem ever enticing. Me––well, all I see is a pedophile rapist. With dark eyes, frozen hands, and a disgusting amount of charisma.
Looking at him makes me nauseated again, so my eyes find the huge world map that is hanging on the adjacent wall.
“Nice of you to join us again,” he comments sarcastically. “And with such a positive attitude, I might say. Roy seems to enjoy your return.”
Leison is really good at always victimizing the bully. Roy is just as much of a jerk as his brother.
“Today’s lesson,” he announces to the class to quiet them, “is about governments in world history. Let’s start with dictatorships.”
I roll my eyes before staring at the clock above the black board. He loves to remind us of our lack of power while he dangles our lives above our heads.
“Give me a few examples, Cecily,” he orders.
The word you is on the tip of my tongue, but if I say it, the man might kill me where I sit. “Uh––Stalin.”
“Good or bad?” he asks.
“Bad. Doesn’t everyone know that?” My eyes roll at his stupid question and a few kids laugh.
Mr. Leison raises a scorning eyebrow at my behavior. “Why?”
I glare at Leison. “Stalin assassinated Kirov because Kirov beat Stalin for a vote in the government and Stalin didn’t like that. He had to have it his way or no way and made sure everyone knew that. I’m sure, that on some level, you understand how Stalin felt . . .”
“What makes you think that, Cecily?” His lips purse and his eyes narrow.
I look down at my desk with instant regret. “Just a guess, Mr. Leison.”
Leison glances down at the lesson plan and back to me. I can see a hint of anger in his eyes before he turns away to write something on the board. Taking that as a bad sign, I draw circles on my desk with my finger the rest of class, dreading what will happen when class ends.
Me and my mouth.
After a century, the bell rings and I stare at the white board with caution. He has no class next period. If he does something to me, no one will hear my screams for help. Maybe I should have thought before relating him to Stalin.
Leison’s disgusting hands hold my shoulders—and I almost kick and scream, but don’t—and he bends down to whisper in my ear. “Meet me after school. We have your grade to discuss.”
Get off! I scream in my head. I refuse to be handled by his disgusting hands again. This is my time to stop him. Sighing, I remember how scared Sabrina was. She was practically begging me for help, in a silent charade type of way––filled with backbiting and anger.
It has to be due to Leison. And if she’s under his rule, her secret knowledge will only help me uncover his horrible antics. If I can gather a bunch of girls, we’d be strong enough to stop him instead of going at him separately. He can’t really go around telling lies about girls if we all vouch against him.
I mean, if he’s done this to Sabrina and me . . . who else has he done this to? His disgusting charm proves that he’s a predator, always stalking new prey, so there must be more girls. I have to see him and force his secrets from him; it is the only way to stop him.
As much as I hate to do this, I know it has to happen.
“Fine!” I jerk away from him and stand up. It is my time to prove myself as an adult.
With innocence, he smiles before sauntering toward his desk. “You have a lot of late work, Cecily,” he reminds me. “And I mean a lot.”
I’m already at the door. “Okay.” I gulp hard before running out his class room to meet up with Hazel upstairs.
Hazel flags me down with her orange bandana that she keeps tied around her school books. I never have understood the whole bandana thing, but she says it’s classy, found it in some magazine or something. Personally, I think it’s a special bandana, given to her by her grandmother––RIP––and it’s something of sentiment to her. But Hazel would never admit that. Grandma’s old bandana . . . probably not the coolest thing to tote around.
Since we’re late for class, I have to explain the story quietly to her after we sit down and role’s been called. Our English teacher, an old crotchety lady with gray hair, starts to talk about punctuation in our reports and I whisper the story to Hazel.
“He wants me in his room after school,” I whisper, barely audible, my sights kept on the teacher.
“Ew,” Hazel replies. “Good thing you wore your grandmother’s sweater.”
I give her a look and hold back my laughter. I almost ask her if I can use her grandmother’s bandana, but refrain.
“You don’t have to do this,” Hazel reminds me. “Just tell the principal and all will be done. Everyone knows that Principle Smith doesn’t like Leison”
I nod at the insight. No, I did not know that. “Haze, I have a feeling . . .” I admit. “A feeling that there is something bigger going on than just him, something that the cops here can’t see. Sabrina’s abuse only confirms it. I am somehow meant to change this . . . epic disaster––remember?”
Hazel’s brow furrows and we exchange a look for a moment. “You’re such a freaking superhero all the time!”
“I have to do it this way.” I gaze at her seriously.
“Yeah, I got that part,” she whispers back. “Be strong and whatever. Want me to come with you to his room?”
I shake my head. “If I’m not out after twenty minutes, get the cops and come knocking on the door.”
Otherwise, I might be dead.
The teacher glares at us. Half-written on the white board behind her is the starting of a prepositional phrase. “Cecily and Hazel! Would you like to share your story?”
We both shake our heads and move a few inches away from each other. “No, ma’am,” we say in unison.
“If I catch you talking again, it will be detention!” she threatens.
We shut up for the rest of the period.
* * *
At the bottom of the stairwell stands Sabrina. She’s in the middle of the hall, scorning, making her look even more like the nastiest witch I’ve ever seen. Just a few yards down are doors lead
ing into the common area where people are shuffling out of the building.
I ignore her completely, as if she is nothing to me. Because she is. Nothing.
“Cecily!” Sabrina screams and stomps her foot. Her ten inch hooker shoes make the most annoying clacking noise ever. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration.
Very slowly, I turn around to face her. Anger is boiling in my veins. “I am not your minion, Sabrina. Do not scream my name like you own me!”
This makes her super pissed and she charges at me, knocking me into a locker on the wall. A loud moan escapes me and I push her face away from mine.
“You selfish slut!” she screams and starts beating me with her fists. “It’s your fault!”
Now I’m pissed. Beyond pissed.
Red fills my vision as I grab a chunk of her black hair and pull it back to expose her face. “I’m selfish?” I scream and pull harder. “Look in the mirror, you freaking psychopath!”
Sabrina claws my face and I drop her hair to cover the spot with my hands. She backs off of me. It stings and I feel warm liquid on my palm.
“Whatever sick mess you have yourself stuck in has nothing to do with me!” I yell.
Sabrina laughs loudly. “Don’t play so innocent, slut!” She comes closer with a mean scowl on her face. “I know what you’ve done. He’s told me every single little detail. Like how you moaned,” she whispers maliciously.
My hand smacks across her face. “That’s a lie and you know it!” I’m shaking now, nearly uncontrollably. “None of that happened!”
“Have I hit a nerve, Cecily?” She taunts, holding her face where I smacked her.
My fists clench and I try so hard to turn away, but it is impossible. I grab her shoulders and shove her into the lockers, a loud bang on the metal emerging. “I HATE YOU! This is your fault, you—you stupid whore! You’re going to die in some hole all by yourself and no one will care or miss you!”
I look stupid, but it is something that I needed to do for as long as I can remember.
