Mistrust

by Margaret McHeyzer

  I look over to Sophie, who’s in my art class, and shrug my shoulders. These last few days of school are a real waste of time. But, school doesn’t finish until tomorrow, and I think most parents are happy to have us out of the house for as long they possibly can.

  When art finishes, Sophie and I head over to the cafeteria and grab a table as far away as we can from my former friends. “I wonder what’s going to happen after lunch?” Sophie asks while she picks at her lunch.

  “Who knows?”

  “Maybe it’s going to be the ‘have a good summer, and when you come back you’ll be young ladies and young gentlemen so we expect you to act the role,’ speech like they did last year before we broke up for vacation.”

  Sophie squints and crinkles her nose. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Yeah, but they didn’t split us up, they had us all in the gymnasium.”

  Sophie shakes her head. “Nah, I don’t remember. Anyway, who cares? It’s probably only for their duty of care or some crap like that.” She chuckles.

  “Hey, why are you sitting over here?” Reece comes and sits beside me placing his tray down on the table. “You should come over. You too, Sophie.”

  Sophie nearly spits out her drink and begins to cough as she quickly swallows the water she had in her mouth. “Whoa, you’re so funny. Hi, I’m Sophie. I’m the black sheep no one wants to talk to or acknowledge,” she says as she holds her hand out to him. Her words are sarcastic as she rolls her eyes at Reece.

  “That’s not true, you can come sit with us.”

  “Seriously, Reece. You really think they’ll accept Sophie when Levi and Lindsey have made it very obvious how they don’t even want me hanging around? Especially after their stunt yesterday.”

  “What stunt?” both Sophie and Reece ask.

  Sophie looks at Reece, and smiles. Reece looks at Sophie and shakes his head, but his face is filled with an easy smile.

  I spend the next few minutes telling them about the crumpled up note that was thrown at me, and what happened afterward. By the time I finish, leaving out Mr. C’s actions at the end of class, both are looking at me with their mouths open in a perfect ‘O.’

  “Are you kidding me?” Sophie asks.

  “You’re just bullshitting, right?” Reece questions.

  “I’m afraid not.” I let out a humorless rumble deep from within my chest.

  “I’m going to kick his ass.” Reece stands abruptly and I register exactly how angry he is. The deafening sound of blood in my ears makes me leap to hold onto his shirt. “Let me go, Dakota.” Reece’s face is colored with fury. His cheeks are flushed red, but his eyes are narrowed in rage. His shoulders are back and he’s standing at his full height, ready to fight—ready to fight for me.

  “Please,” I beg him. “Don’t bother. I don’t know what was on the paper, and truthfully, I don’t want to know.”

  I watch as the determination to beat Levi slowly recedes from his body. “It’s not right. He shouldn’t be treating you like this.”

  There’s something shifting inside me; a small candle that’s been sitting idle since that night has sparked. The flame is tiny, but it’s there.

  “No, you’re right, he shouldn’t. He’s being an absolute jerk, but honestly it’s Lindsey who’s hurt me the most.”

  His shoulders relax and he finally sits back down. “It’s not right,” he says again.

  “Hmmm,” Sophie huffs while her eyes flicker from to Reece and back again.

  “What?” I ask.

  She curves her mouth up into a half-smile and looks down at her food. “Nothing.” Her features are relaxed and amused. “What would I know?” Weird.

  Reece’s gaze reaches Sophie and he offers her a shy smile. I’m sitting, looking at both of them and wondering what the hell I’ve missed. “Look,” I start, interrupting the awkward silence amongst us. “You should go over there, and don’t worry about me. Sophie and I are fine.”

  “Like hell. He’s an ass and she’s a bitch. I don’t want shit like that in my life.”

  “Really, Reece, what are you going to do? Ignore them? Levi’s your best friend, and well, now he’s with Lindsey. You guys hang out all the time, and I’m not going to be the one to get between you two.”

  “Ex-best friend. If a guy can be such a dick to a girl he’s broken up with, the girl he claimed to love, then I don’t want to be around someone like him. As far as I’m concerned, they can hang out with each other as much as they want. I’m not like him, and I don’t want him making me look bad by association.” He points over to their table, and then back to himself. “I’m telling ya, Dakota, it’s not right.”

  Taking a deep breath, I try and wrap my head around Reece’s protective behavior. But the fact of the matter is, I still can’t trust him. He was the one who got me the drink and handed it to me. He had ample opportunity to slip me the drug, and he had even more of a chance to do what was done.

  Reece talks easily to Sophie and when the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, he stands and grabs our trash to throw out.

  “I can do that,” Sophie protests as she grabs her rubbish.

  “So can I.” He snatches it back from her and playfully runs in front of her to the trash can. “See,” he teases her. “Easy.”

  I can’t help but laugh at those two. Maybe, he’s interested in her. That would be pretty cool, I think they’d make a nice couple. But still, I don’t trust him completely, and until I do, I’m going to remain quiet.

  “What do you think this is about?” Sam asks me as she, Sophie, and I sit on one of the front rows in the gymnasium bleachers.

  “Have you met Sophie?” I whisper. Sam shakes her head. “Sam this is Sophie. Sophie this is my younger, though so much smarter sister, Sam.”

  Sam leans across me and extends her hand to Sophie. “Hi,” she says.

  Sophie smiles warmly at her and takes her hand. “Hi,” she responds. “We were saying at lunch how we think this might be a ‘have fun and don’t do drugs’ speech.”

  Sam laughs and leans her elbows on her knees. “Who knows?” She shrugs.

  Quickly, everyone shuffles in and are now sitting and waiting. I look around the gymnasium and I spot Lindsey, Jordan and Mariah. Lindsey’s looking straight at me but the other two are talking with someone sitting in front of them. Lindsey flicks her hair out of her face, then scratches her cheek with her middle finger. Clearly it’s directed at me. “Whatever,” I mouth to her and turn away.

  “Want me to smack her one?” Sam asks following my line of sight to Lindsey. “’Cause I so will.” She throws a punch into her palm, her chin is high with confidence and her shoulders are ready to fight.

  “Neither you nor Reece are going to hit anyone.”

  “Reece? What did he do?”

  I quickly tell her what happened at lunch. “He did? Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Both of you are feisty and I don’t want the argument. It’s not worth it.”

  “They’re not worth it.” She points over to Lindsey. “But you are.”

  My heart bleeds and opens for the best sister and friend in the entire world. “Thank you.” I lean in and give her a hug.

  “Eeew, Dakota. That’s embarrassing.” She pushes me off her, but smiles.

  “Ladies,” Miss Johnson, the head of the sports department, yells out. A hush falls over the vast space, all eyes shift forward and we all await the reason for this gathering. I notice out of my peripheral vision three women, all dressed in smart pantsuits, walking out to join Miss Johnson. “Detectives Miller, Garcia and Young have joined us because they want to talk to you.” She looks over at three police officers and smiles. “They’re all yours.” Miss Johnson moves to the side, and sits down at the front.

  “Hello everyone. I’m Detective Garcia and my fellow officers and I are here to talk to you about your summer vacation.” She walks back and forth, commanding our attention. She attracts it easily. Everyone is listening, looking between her and the
other two detectives. “We want all you girls to have a great time over the next three months. We’re sure you’ll be going to the beach, going to the mall, maybe even attending a few parties. You may even have a few drinks, although we can’t condone that.” She smiles and half of us giggle. “Some may even have sex for the first time.” Cringeworthy. But more laughs.

  “We’re not here to tell you you can’t, although you really shouldn’t. We’re sure you’re all aware of the legal drinking age. But again, that’s not why we’re here,” Detective Miller cuts in and everyone’s attention shifts to her. “We’re here specifically because we want to bring to your attention something that’s been happening for a few years now, and will unfortunately continue until we stamp it out. Date rape drugs.”

  Sam’s hand discreetly moves to engulf mine. She gives me a small squeeze and shifts her body closer to mine. My body reacts to the words ‘date rape,’ every muscle in my stomach tightens painfully and I have to make a very conscious effort not to double over in pain.

  Out of the corner of my eye I notice Sophie’s shoulders tense, and the muscles in the side of her neck stiffen. I hear her inhale sharply and breathe out just as viciously. I’m fighting with myself to not look over at her. Slowly I move my right hand down to find Sophie’s clammy one, gently clutching it with mine.

  “Who here knows what RAINN stands for or who they are?” Detective Young now steps in and starts talking. We all look around the gym to see only a few hands have risen. “You there, what is RAINN?” she points to someone on the far end. I can’t hear the answer, but I can see Detective Young nodding her head. “That’s right. RAINN stands for; Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. It’s an Internet site set up to help survivors of sexual assault. There’s no judgment and anyone who listens to you will believe you. RAINN—that’s rain with an extra N on the end. Now I want to give you some statistics that have come directly from RAINN.”

  “But first, I want to ask a question,” Detective Garcia steps forward, and in synchronized movement, Detective Young steps back. “How many sexual assaults do you think go unreported to the police every year? Here are your choices: thirty-two percent, forty-four percent or fifty-five percent?”

  There’s low murmuring among the girls, but Sam, Sophie and I remain quiet. I mean thirty-two percent is huge, so I’m hoping the figure isn’t any higher than that. “Hands up. Who thinks it’s thirty-two percent?” Detective Young waits and most of us put our hands up, including Sam and me. “Now who thinks it’s forty-four percent?” A smaller number put their hands up. “And who thinks it’s fifty-five percent.” An even smaller number put their hands up. “Interesting.”

  “Okay, everyone put your hands down. Now I want this side of the room to stand up.” She indicates my side of the gym. I look to Sam and Sophie and give them both a smile as we stand, still holding hands. The three cops are circling each other, when one speaks the other two step back.

  “Do you know the name of every girl who’s standing?” Detective Garcia asks. “Just a yes or no.”

  Collectively we all shout out the answer. Most girls say ‘yes,’ with a few saying ‘no.’

  “All those girls have been sexually assaulted.” She points to those of us who are standing. The hair on my arms stand straight and a feeling of nausea rises up. “Just over four out of ten people are sexually assaulted. Forty-four percent.” She goes quiet and walks the length of the room. The three female police officers keep their eyes on us.

  The room is chilly, the atmosphere thick from shock . . . or maybe terror. “Scary number, isn’t it?” Detective Young says in a solemn, heavy voice. “But do you know what’s worse than that number?”

  Not a sound can be heard; it’s eerily silent. Everyone’s looking toward the cops, who have our complete attention. I can’t help but sneak a look sideways to see how everyone’s reacting to these horrific stats.

  “Here’s the scariest part: the first two rows standing, keep standing, the rest of you sit down.” Sam, I, and Sophie all sit down along with most the other girls. There are only a few left standing down the front. “See these girls standing?” Detective Miller stands right in front a handful of girls. “These are the girls who go to the police and report it.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper tightening my grip on Sam.

  “Sixty-eight per cent of you will not tell anyone. You’ll hold that in you, and never say a word. Maybe you’re too ashamed or maybe you think it was your fault. What you need to know is sexual assault is never the victims fault,” Detective Garcia takes over. Her words are harsh, but her tone is soft. Holy crap, she’s describing me.

  The room breaks out in horrified gasps. “What’s even worse than those figures is that four out five assaults are committed by someone the victim knows. Four out of five. Think about that for a moment, because it’s not the creepy old man your parents have told you to avoid, it’s not a random act someone commits because they see you walking home from school. Four times out of five the attacker is someone you know.”

  My hands tremble with fear. I’m trying to calm down, but my body is betraying me. “It’s okay,” Sam whispers, clutching my hand even tighter.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Scary, right?” Detective Young says. “To think so many of you have been or will be sexually assaulted by the time you turn eighteen. Your friend, the one you’re sitting next to, or the little sister you love, maybe she’s already been assaulted, or maybe she’s being groomed by someone she knows.”

  Spit gathers in my mouth, but I seem to have lost the ability to swallow. My jaw is tightly clenched and all I can think about is Sam. I’m praying she hasn’t been touched. I sneak a look beside me, and catch her looking at me. There are tears in her eyes. My heart drops to my stomach and I can’t help but cry. My greatest fear has now come to light. By her reaction I think maybe she’s a victim, too.

  “We’re here because we need to educate you on the facts. Summer vacation is hours away. You’ll be spending time at the beach, at parties, maybe even camping with your friends. But do you know the most common way these assaults take place?” she pauses and looks out over the sea of girls. “A drug is slipped into your drink.”

  Oh my God.

  “Remember, four out five assaults are perpetrated by someone we know. It could be anyone—a friend, boyfriend, brother, uncle, father or even a friend of theirs.”

  The statistics are abhorrent, vile. My body’s reaction is even worse. I’m hot and cold, and I’m shaking uncontrollably. My skin is covered in pebbly goose bumps while my breath is caught in my throat.

  “There are ways to safeguard yourselves so you don’t become statistics,” Detective Miller says. “First of all, don’t accept a drink from anyone. If you want a drink, go get it yourself. Don’t take a drink from anyone, not even your friends. Why? Because someone could have slipped a drug in there and even your friend didn’t see it. So it’s best to eliminate that threat completely and get your own drinks.”

  “Second.” Detective Garcia holds up two fingers and continues, “If you put your drink down for any reason whatsoever, do not pick it up and drink it. It doesn’t matter if it’s full or almost finished. The drugs they use are tasteless. Some will knock you out within minutes; some may take half an hour. Some will immobilize you but you’ll still be awake and aware of everything being done to you.”

  “Third, keep your hand over the top of your drink. Or better still, take a bottle of water with you and keep it in your hand and capped the entire time. If you put it down . . . tip it out and recycle the bottle,” Detective Young says.

  “Remembering these actions may save you, but they’re only tips to help prevent an assault from happening. We can’t be everywhere at once, but we can give you the tools so you don’t put yourself at any higher risk then you already are.”

  “We believe knowledge is power, and if you know these small life hacks, then maybe you won’t become a statistic,” Detective Miller says in a straight,
no nonsense voice.

  Nothing can be heard, not a word, not a whisper. Just the harsh reality of what almost half of us have already or will experience sinking in.

  “And one of the most important things we will tell you is something you won’t believe if you are assaulted. You need to know you are not responsible for an abuser’s behavior. You are not at fault if this happens to you. You weren’t asking for it, you weren’t flirting, you weren’t dressed slutty.” Detective Young air quotes ‘slutty.’ Her piercing gaze captures each of us, but I feel like it lands and stays on me.

  Shivering, I look away and focus on nothing. I heard what she said, I’m not responsible and it wasn’t my fault. But I can’t tell anyone now. It’s too late.

  By the time the three detectives finish talking, there are a lot of tears and an air of heaviness in the gymnasium. The atmosphere is thick with worry and dread, and there are many hushed whispers as we all file out. There’s a distinct shift in all of us. The detectives went over everything with us. From the affects a drug can have on us, to what we should do if we suspect we’ve been drugged.

  Too late for me.

  “We need to talk,” I say to Sam the moment we’re home. Grabbing her arm I drag her into my bedroom and close the door. “Tell me, Sam. Tell me it didn’t happen to you.” My heart stops as I wait for her to speak. “I saw the way you had tears in your eyes when the detective was talking about the statistics.” I begin to pace in my room, terrified of the words about to spill from her mouth.

  “I was crying because it happened to you. And if those stats are correct, it won’t happen to me. You’ve taken something which could’ve made me the victim instead of you.” Her eyes are brimming with tears as she tries to hold them back.

  “You’re the prettiest girl I know,” I say to her, trying to coax her into a sense of normalcy. “You know, you look exactly like Mom. You have this beautiful, thick blonde hair.” I gently reach out and brush my palm down her silky strands. “Your gorgeous, dark eyes.”