The Color of Hope

by Kim Cash Tate

  She looked down, racked with emotion. “I can’t.”

  “Sam . . .” Stephanie lifted her chin with a finger. “Yes, you can. Tell me everything.” She reached for a box of tissues on the floor in the back and gave her one.

  Sam blew her nose and stared out the side window. After at least two minutes, she said, “He called me after the game tonight, said he wanted to celebrate.”

  Stephanie heard the backdrop in that one statement. Ben had already been working her.

  “I thought we were going out somewhere”—her breath caught as the sobs came from her chest—“but we went back to his house and watched a movie in his room.”

  “What time did he pick you up?”

  “Eleven thirty.”

  Jerk. Probably had already been out with another girl for the real aftergame celebration.

  “Okay, so you watched a movie . . .”

  “No.”

  Stephanie waited.

  “It was only on maybe ten minutes, and he started feeling on me and kissing me. And . . .”

  Stephanie’s stomach tightened.

  “. . . and . . .” Sam let out a low wail. “He started taking off my clothes . . . and I told him no . . . I told him I was a virgin, and he didn’t care.” She blew her nose again. “I scratched his back hard, but he wouldn’t get off me. He was too heavy . . . so heavy . . .” She turned red eyes to Stephanie. “It hurt.”

  “Oh, baby girl . . .” She embraced the younger girl, tears flowing down Stephanie’s face faster than she could wipe them.

  “I feel so ashamed. I was trying to look cute. I wanted to look sexy. If I hadn’t—”

  “Uh-uh.” Stephanie looked at her. “You’re not going there. You can look cute all you want. This is the bottom line—he had no right to touch you. This was rape. What he did was criminal.” She pointed down the street. “We need to go back to that police officer outside the house and tell him what happened.”

  Stephanie thought of the irony. They can haul away both of those jokers.

  “No, no.” Sam was shaking her head again. “I’m not telling anyone else. Please don’t tell anyone. It’s too humiliating.” She stared downward, still shaking her head. “I hate my life. I hate that I never had a dad. My Grammie was taken from me. You were taken from me. My virginity was taken from me.” She rolled the tissue around her finger. “My mom doesn’t care about me. She was more excited about my going out with a boy than going to a Bible study. I’m just . . . sick of my life. It’s not worth living.”

  Stephanie put her hand on her shoulder. “You have everything to live for, Sam. I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again that you have no idea how much God loves you. He loves you. Life can be horrible at times. People can do horrible things. Moms and dads might not be all that they should. But I want you to keep your focus on God. He never fails.”

  “Miss Stephanie . . .” Sam looked at her. “He failed tonight.”

  Lord, what am I supposed to say to that? I’m not good at this stuff.

  “Sam, all I can tell you is I believe the Bible—it took me awhile, but I do—and the truth is that God never fails. It doesn’t mean He controls our every action. We’re sinful people. We do sinful things. And He allows that. But you know what?”

  Sam stared at her.

  “Those sinful things let us know how much we need Jesus,” Stephanie said. “I need Jesus, right now, because I hate Ben for what he did, and I’m supposed to love him and pray for him. Ben needs Jesus—clearly. And, sweetheart, you need Jesus. That’s been my prayer for you, Samara.” Stephanie squeezed her shoulder. “That your eyes will be opened to the truth of your desperate need of Him—just like the Samaritan woman at the well.”

  Sam was quiet a moment. “I don’t know about anything right now. But I know I’m not going back to that school. I can’t face him.”

  “Sam,” Stephanie said, “you need to talk to your mother about all of this. She needs to know what happened. And you should talk to her about going to the police.”

  “I’m not telling her.”

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “That wouldn’t help. And anyway, she wouldn’t care.”

  “Oh, Sam, yes she would. Let’s just—”

  “No.” She shook her head for emphasis.

  Stephanie blew out a breath and tapped on the steering wheel, debating her next step. She suddenly threw the car into reverse.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

  “I have to take you to the police station.” Tears started again. “I have to.”

  “I’m not telling them anything,” Sam said. “You can’t make me.”

  “Sam, this makes no sense. You can’t let Ben get away with this. Anyway, if you change your mind—and you will if I have anything to do with it—this is for your protection, for the police to have the evidence they need.”

  Stephanie had never been to the police station, but she’d passed it enough in town to know where it was. She pulled into a parking spot—and thirty minutes later she was pulling back out.

  “I told you I wasn’t saying anything,” Sam said. “I just want to put it behind me.” She added, “And I wish you hadn’t told them it was Ben Willoughby. They probably have kids at my school. People will know.”

  “They’re professionals, Sam. They’ll keep it confidential.” She looked at her. “I just wish you would have cooperated.” She got an idea. “I know,” she said. “We can go to the hospital in Rocky Mount and do a rape kit. That way—”

  “Noooo.” Sam began crying. “I would’ve walked home from Ben’s house if I knew you were gonna do this. Please, just take me home.” She was sobbing now, the weight of the evening hitting her again. “I want to go to bed. Please!”

  Stephanie wanted badly to at least take her to her house, let her be loved on by her and Janelle. If Sam’s mom wasn’t home, she would’ve done just that.

  She pulled in front of Sam’s house again, checking the clock on the dash. “We’ll talk again in the morning,” she said. “I want you to really consider telling your mom. She needs to know.”

  Sam sighed. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

  “I love you, Samara.” Stephanie didn’t know why she was suddenly using Sam’s whole name, but she liked the sound of it. “And see, I wasn’t taken from you. As God would have it, I’m still here.”

  Sam reached for her and held her tight. “I love you too, Miss Stephanie. Thank you.”

  “Look for my call later this morning.”

  “Okay,” she said. “And, Miss Stephanie, please promise me you won’t tell anyone what happened.”

  Stephanie sighed. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Please. You have to.”

  “I’ll respect your wishes,” she said, “but only until we talk again. I really don’t want him to get away with this.”

  Sam got out and went into the house.

  Stephanie drove off, her mind in a million directions, her heart torn to shreds.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Saturday, October 2

  Charley was dead tired. With so much going on, this wasn’t the time for a Saturday morning volleyball game. She’d been up half the night dealing with the fiasco her grandfather started—which he said she started because of her relationship with Marcus. The scene with the police officer alone consumed much time.

  “Mr. Willoughby, I think it’d be best if you come down of your own volition,” the officer had said. “I know you don’t want me to do it by force.”

  “You would slap handcuffs on an old man? You’ll lose your job,” Skip said.

  “Actually, sir, I don’t think I will. The sheriff is the one who told me to bring you in.”

  “Jack and I go way back,” Skip said. “He knows there’s nothing to these charges. I don’t know why you all are wasting my time.”

  “It’s merely procedure, sir,” he said. “We can’t ignore the report that was made.”

  Her grand
pa finally went, seeing the benefit of doing so in his own car, and was ultimately let go after being charged with a misdemeanor. An hour of argument at home followed, in which her grandfather denied Marcus’s version of events—“I didn’t stick the gun in his face; I just showed him I had one on me”—and alternatively argued he had a right to do what he needed to do to protect his family.

  Charley had awakened bleary-eyed, further upset because Marcus’s phone kept going straight to voice mail and he hadn’t answered her texts. They had a ritual of texting before bed and first thing in the morning. But today she was looking for more than a good-morning ritual. She wanted him to know she had no hard feelings about involving the police. She even agreed with it now. The whole thing was a mess, but she hoped they could weather it together.

  And then there was Ben. What was going on with him and Sam? She didn’t even know they were in contact with one another. And had she known, she would’ve told Sam to stay away from him. She’d knocked on his door before she left at eight thirty this morning, but he was still sleep. Stephanie wasn’t answering her phone either. She’d have to wait until after the volleyball match to find out what happened.

  “Awesome, Mary!” Charley said. “Keep it going!”

  The Hope Springs crowd cheered as Mary served her third straight ace, putting the team up by thirteen. They were only two points away from winning the final match. Charley had benched most of her starters and put some of her backup in the game to give them some playing time. Mary was proving herself in the opportunity.

  Mary served again, and the libero on the opposing team got this one, passing it to the setter, who set it to the middle hitter, who spiked it against Hope Springs. The opposing team cheered the point and got ready to serve.

  “That’s all right!” Charley walked along the sideline, clapping to keep them—and herself—energized. “Side-out, girls, side-out!”

  One of the players passed Kelsey a phone. Kelsey stared intently at it, growing visibly upset. Tia pulled out a phone and looked at hers. And seconds later the entire bench was gathered around, looking animated and horrified.

  Charley walked over. “Girls, you know my policy. No phones during the game. No tweeting, texting, or Facebooking.”

  Tia looked up. “Coach, this is some serious stuff right here.”

  “Put the phones away,” Charley said.

  The crowd cheered a long series of volleys that ended with the point for Hope Springs.

  Charley pumped her fist. “Game point! Come on, Hope Springs!”

  She looked back at the bench. None of them were paying attention to the game, engrossed still in those phones. She called over, “Fine. From here on out, you will give every phone to me prior to the start of the game.”

  Hope Springs won the final point easily, and the entire team got up to shake hands with the visiting team.

  Charley shook hands with the visiting coaches and shared a few words with them, encouraging their players as well. When she turned back around, almost every team member had a phone in hand. In the bleachers, the opposing fans were filing out. But the scene among Hope Springs students was beginning to mirror the one on the bench, as they were either riveted to a phone in hand or gathered around the phone of another.

  But only one person was crying—Kelsey.

  Charley strode over to her. “Kelsey, come with me to the athletic office.”

  Phone clutched in her hand, Kelsey walked alongside, and all eyes seemed to follow.

  Charley turned to her the moment she stepped in the office and closed the door. “What is going on that’s captured everyone’s attention? And why are you upset?”

  Kelsey cut her eyes away. “Ask your brother.”

  “Ben has something to do with this? Is this about another fight between you two?”

  Kelsey flicked a tear, her predominant emotion clearly anger. “He’s still mad about me going out with Roger, which was because he went out with someone else.” She pulled something up on her phone. “So now he put this on my Facebook wall, for all of our friends to see.”

  Charley took the phone. Ben had indeed posted on her wall. It said, This is what payback looks like, you slut. By the way, enjoyed her much more than you.

  A forty-seven second video was attached. Charley clicked Play and saw Ben on top of some girl, with sensual music added for effect. She pushed Stop.

  “I’m not watching that foul video.” Charley gave her the phone and paced the room, so angry she didn’t know where to start. “How is this even allowed on Facebook?”

  “It’s not,” Kelsey said. “People post all kinds of stuff that’s not allowed. If it gets reported, it might get deleted. But thousands of people have seen it by then.” She sighed her disgust. “I can’t believe he called me a slut for everybody to see.”

  Charley looked at her. “That’s not nearly the worst part of this. He took video of himself and some girl—who knows if she knew she was being taped—and posted it.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone again.”

  Charley clicked through several Facebook screens until she’d reported the post and the Facebook user in violation of the rules, Ben.

  “Wait a minute,” Charley said suddenly. “Why didn’t you delete this the minute you found it? Then other people wouldn’t have seen it.”

  “He posted it to a dozen other walls—and people are sharing it like crazy.” She huffed. “And when I find out who that girl is . . . probably Alisa. He was flirting with her at the after-game party last night.”

  Charley gave her back her phone. “I have to go.”

  Her sights were set on home, but seeing numerous students in the gym, still milling around phones, she reacted.

  “Listen up.” Her voice echoed. “You’re looking at and gossiping about real people with real lives and real feelings. If you’ve posted that video to your own page, I’m asking you to do the right thing and delete it. Now. Don’t spread it around.”

  If one person listened, she’d be shocked. Still, it needed to be said.

  Charley burst through the door at home and doubled up the steps to Ben’s room. She’d seen his car outside, but the room was empty.

  She stopped in the upstairs hall. “Ben! Where are you?”

  “What?” he called. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  She’d hurried right past him. Hastening back down, Charley entered the kitchen, where her mom and Ben were eating lunch—Ben only somewhat. He seemed more preoccupied with the laptop on the table in front of him than with the sandwich off to the side.

  “Checking comments on your vile post?” Charley asked.

  Ben sat back, looking satisfied. “I hear the whole gym was captivated. Sorry if I distracted your players.”

  “This is sick and slimy even for you, Ben.”

  Her mom looked up. “What’s this about?”

  “Ben posted a video of himself and some girl having sex. On Facebook. All the high schoolers were looking at it at the game.”

  Her mother put down the newspaper. “You did what? I don’t even know what to—Ben, what on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

  Ben didn’t respond, so Charley responded for him.