“He’ll hear you now, and so will the rest of the school. Prepare yourself.”
I walked to my computer. I opened my blog and scrolled through my entries. They all told a story: my story at Beacon, and I wanted everyone to know that story. “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”
“I hope so, because you’re about to get yourself noticed.”
Chapter 82
Julia was right. People were reading my blog. Shortly after I hung up with her, my phone started vibrating. I ignored it until the screen notified me that I had twenty text messages and I knew I had to see what people were saying . . . good or bad.
I held my breath as I read the first message. I slowly let it out as I clicked through each text. The messages were full of hate and contempt. They kept coming: ugly, messy words from people I once thought were my friends:
“WTF? WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”
“YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A SLUT.”
“JACK NEVER LIKED YOU. HE WAS USING YOU BECAUSE OF WHO YOUR FATHER IS.”
“HOW PATHETIC CAN U B?”
“DON’T COME BACK.”
“FIRST U SHOW UR TITS, NOW THIS BULLSHIT. GET REAL.”
“YOU R FINISHED.”
“WATCH YOUR BACK, TRAITOR.”
I imagined my e-mail box would be filled with the same. I vowed not to open any more messages. I closed my phone and got a bag of ice from the freezer. I curled up on my bed and placed the ice over my bruise. It was cold and stinging at first, but it wasn’t an ache caused by destruction. Instead, I imagined the cold could heal. I pretended I could erase the words from everyone that slammed over and over me that day, sharp biting bullets and prickly burrs leaving me bruised and wounded. I let their words and actions slip off me. I had spoken out to Beacon. I had told the truth. Now I let go of everything until I held onto nothing but the words I wanted to say between Dad and me. The words that needed to be said.
Chapter 83
I woke hours later to darkness outside. Dad would be home soon. I forced myself to go downstairs and confront him. I wouldn’t hide in my room any longer. I waited for him in the living room, sitting in the ugly, worn, gold chair. He didn’t come back until after midnight, the start of a new day, the day after.
The beams of his headlights swept across the front lawn. It reminded me of all the times I’d waited for Jack in the mornings before school, watching. Unlike Jack’s visits, though, this time I wasn’t full of anticipation and giddiness. This time my body shook with fear as the lights made shadows on the wall, warped and menacing tree branches reaching out to snatch me with gnarled fingers.
I forced myself to stay in the chair even though I wanted to run and hide and delay talking to Dad. But
I knew it couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to face him. I heard him pull in to the driveway and enter the house.
I sat straight up.
He saw me. He looked right into my eyes and said, “You need to take your blog down.”
“No, Dad—”
“Take the blog down. I don’t want to see it.” He turned away from me and started to walk out.
“Have you even read it?”
“Quiet,” he said in a voice I had to strain to hear.
There was no blowup, no shouting. There was just one word.
I watched Dad and realized he didn’t even look like my dad. He was stooped over and haggard. His shirt was untucked, his pants wrinkled.
I opened my mouth, and he shook his head. “I need you to be quiet. For tonight, be quiet.”
He walked past me and into his office. His words evaporated in the air. I spoke out loud, loud enough for him to hear, but the only one who seemed to listen was me. “I’ve been quiet, Dad. Don’t you
understand? And I can’t be quiet anymore.”
Chapter 84
I looked at my phone and saw the mailbox was full.
I cried out, wishing I could toss it out the window. Instead, I ignored the fact that it was 1:00 a.m. and dialed Julia’s number.
She picked up before the second ring and didn’t sound sleepy at all. “What’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
“I haven’t checked my phone.”
“Why not?”
“I made a mistake,” I told her.
“What are you talking about?”
“The blog. It didn’t work. My phone is full of messages about how much people hate me, and my dad can’t even stand to be in the same room with me now.”
“Have you checked your blog lately?”
“Not since I went public with it. I should sign on and delete it. I thought I could handle this, but—”
“I think you need to look at it first.”
I fell back onto my bed, letting my pillows cushion my fall. “I know what everyone’s saying. They’ve been calling my phone all night.”
“Sign on.”
I sighed and walked to my computer. “I can’t take much more of this.”
“Go to your blog,” she said, her tone growing
impatient.
I typed in my address and stared at the familiar words, the letters I started to write to myself less than a year ago. Letters I thought would chronicle a happy new start, not the story they now told. “Okay,” I told her. “I’m there.”
“Click on November 19.”
I went to the entry. It was the one I’d written about Brett enlisting and how scared I was.
“Click on the comments.”
There were twenty-three. My hands shook as I opened them.
“I really don’t need to read how much everyone hates me. The messages on my phone are already telling me that.”
“Read them, Kate. I promise it’ll be okay.”
I was prepared for words of hate, but the messages from my classmates weren’t anything like the reaction I received when I walked through the hallways. These were full of hope, prayers, and well wishes:
Brett is sooo brave.
My prayers R W/ U, Brett.
Hang in there, Kate. It’ll be OKAY!
Brett is doing an amazing thing. He’s a hero.
Be STRONG. Have FAITH.
“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Brett wrote something.”
“I told him to read your blog. I hope you don’t mind.”
My eyes raced over his words:
“Kate, don’t be afraid of me going into the Army. This is what I need to do. This is what’s right to me.”
“I can’t believe Brett read this.”
“Of course he did. He’s your brother. He cares about you,” Julia said. “That isn’t his only message. He wrote under some of your other entries too. People are listening. People hear you.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“There’s other dates you probably want to go to,” Julia said. “Find October 29.”
I scrolled back and went to the entry. It was the day Jack took my homework from me and I wrote about cheating. I read the comments. There were some expected ones that told me how wrong I was and that the team didn’t cheat:
I’ve had classes for years with members on the team, and I know they don’t cheat. Stop spreading lies.
UR the stupid 1. Stop trying 2 make other
people look bad.
But there were others too. Messages different from the ones above:
I saw Danny complete a multiple choice test in less than a minute, then put his head down and sleep. When he got the test back, there was an A across the top.
I get paid $50 to write papers for players on the team.
I was sitting next to a group of players who were passing around a copy of the midterm they were taking the next day.
“What is going on?” I asked Julia, scanning the other comments. “There must be at least twenty postings from people about the team cheating.”
“Go to November 13.”
It was my post describing how Jack wanted to have sex with me. Again, the comments against the team shocked me.
> At least Jack asked to have sex with you. I went to homecoming with Scott White, and he tried to screw me in the backseat of his car. He ripped my dress, and I had to kick him to get out.
Sex is nothing to the guys on the team. When I started the dance team my freshmen year, it was expected that we sleep with a member of the team at a party they had. It was some sick initiation thing they did. Most of us slept with them, and the girls who didn’t had to put up with so much shit that they quit.
I was at a party once and walked in on 2 Beacon players in a bedroom with a girl passed out. They had her top off and one was pulling off her belt. They acted like I was the one doing something bad by
interrupting them. ASSHOLES!
“This is crazy,” I said as I clicked on different entries.
“I know,” Julia said. “And you’re not the only one who has bad stuff to say about Luke.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go to your last entry.”
I did, and when I saw what was written to me, I smiled for the first time in what had felt like weeks.
Kate, we hear u. Don’t stop making noise.
Luke is a piece of shit!
U R not the only 1 Luke’s done this to. U R the only 1 brave enough to say something.
F*** Luke . . . he deserves what he gets.
There’s a lot of us at Beacon who see through the bball team. We’ll stand behind you if you continue this fight.
“This is incredible,” I said, staring at the words in front of me. “People believe me.”
“Of course they do. So do you still want to delete your blog?”
“No way.” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Not until every single person has gotten to read it and post. I’m not touching this.”
And I wasn’t. No matter what Dad told me to do.
I hung up and printed out the comments. I cut out the ones supporting me and hung them on my walls around my bed. When I turned off the lights to go to sleep, the white paper was visible in the faint glow from streetlights outside my window. They surrounded me, each a reminder that someone was listening and I wasn’t in this alone.
www.allmytruths.com
Today’s Truth:
Life has winners and losers.
Basketball is a lot like life.
It’s a game where there is a defined set of rules.
If you are fouled, that person is penalized.
If you score, your team wins a point.
There are always people cheering for you,
wanting you to win,
and those who want to see you fail.
People who celebrate when you fail.
Basketball has winners and losers,
but there is always a new start with each game.
You’re always able to begin again.
Posted By: Your Present Self
[Wednesday, January 15, 3:38 PM]
Chapter 85
Dad was in his office the next morning when I finished showering. I’d put on my uniform, even though I was unsure of what the day would bring. I wanted to go to Beacon. People supported me, classmates were willing to stand up against the team and speak out alongside me. I wouldn’t let Luke, Ali, Jack, or anyone else push me out.
Dad’s door was closed, and light streamed from under it. How long had he been in there? Had he gotten up a little bit before I had, or had he been up all night? Regardless, he was in there now, and the unwritten rule always had been that if Dad was in his office we were not to disturb him.
Today, I ignored his rules. Dad’s office wouldn’t be his place to hide from me anymore. I wasn’t going to let him close the door and shut me out.
I hesitated for only a second before I knocked. The days of second-guessing myself were over.
“Come in,” he said, and there was a hint of surprise in his voice.
I opened the door, and Dad’s gaze went straight to my uniform. I knew he understood that I wasn’t planning to stay away from Beacon.
“You can’t go to school today.” He didn’t say it like an order. There wasn’t force behind it. It was merely a statement of truth.
“Why not?”
“Beacon wants to suspend you for the time being. They don’t want you in there right now.”
“How can they do that? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t know if they can, but right now it’s not something I want to fight.”
“It seems to me there are a lot of things you don’t want to fight lately.”
“You won’t be going to school,” he said, a bit louder now.
“Why am I being punished for telling the truth?” I stared at Dad, incredulous that Beacon could tell me not to return.
He held my gaze, his jaw clenched. “They need to figure out what to do about all of this stuff you posted. How to deal with it.”
“Everything I wrote is true.”
“True? According to you, maybe. But the school is going to want proof. People aren’t going to believe you. Anyone can post whatever they want online.”
“Have you even read it? Have you read the
comments people posted? Because if you did, they’d show you what I’m saying is true.”
“I saw enough of it, Kate.”
“No,” I shouted. “You haven’t. You need to read it all.”
Dad leaned back in his chair and ran his left hand through his hair. His wedding ring caught in the light, and I thought about Mom.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I was. How could I forgive Dad for putting his team before me? Shouldn’t he be the one apologizing?
On his desk was a piece of toast he must have made for breakfast. The butter soaked through, and the middle was a soggy mess.
I tried to focus on it as my eyes filled with tears. “I had to do this. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You had to ruin my team? Everything I worked for?”
I stared at the plate. The words were stuck in the back of my throat. The words I’d tried to say since Mom died. I wished I could rewind things and go back before Brett enlisted in the Army and moved out of the house and I lost Jack and my friends. I wanted to go back to those days after Mom had died and force Dad to see me, to see Brett. If I could go back to the start, before we all knew what grief and sadness were, maybe things would be different.
I longed for my old life when I’d sit at the table with Mom and Dad, listening to Brett make fun of how tall I was for a seventh grader and having Dad stick up for me, telling us he’s always been fond of giraffes. I wanted us to be a family again. I wanted us to talk to each other.
I played with the bracelet on my wrist. “What I did wasn’t about you. It was about me. I did this for me.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, and it felt as if he hadn’t heard what I was trying to say. “Why did you have to publish all that stuff for everyone to read?”
“You told me you would do something, and you didn’t. This was about protecting myself and standing up against what happened.”
“And so you decided it would be a good idea to punish me too?”
My tears spilled out. They hit my cheek, stinging as if I had been slapped. “That’s not what I was doing, Dad. It’s my life that was destroyed.”
He stood, but he wouldn’t run away this time. I’d make him listen. I stepped in front of him.
“Do you have any idea what your team has done to me?” I shouted, each word coming out harsher than the last. “How much they’ve hurt me? Luke tried to rape me. I found out he put drugs in my drink. He planned what he was going to do. There’s a naked picture of me on every student’s phone now. I can’t even walk through the hallways of Beacon without getting elbowed or called names. And do you know who did all of this? Your team. The boys you think are perfect. The boys you spend so much time with that you can’t pay attention to how much your own kids are hurting. They’re the ones who have
done everything.”
He sank slowly like a flower
wilting under the rain. He put his head in his hands.
“Dad?”
When he brought his head back up, his eyes were glassy, wet. He spoke quietly, “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” I paused, took a deep breath then went on. “You did nothing.”
Dad stared at me.
“I tried to tell you about Luke, but you wouldn’t listen. You told me to be quiet. You’re so blinded by Beacon that you didn’t even believe your own daughter.” I wasn’t sure I could get the rest of the words out, but I went on. “You didn’t do anything, and I’ve been left alone. I lost Mom. I lost you. And now, with Brett gone, I’m terrified he won’t come back and I’ll be left with no one.”
I covered my face with my hands, shaking so hard I choked on my sobs. I let out everything I had been holding in for months, for the last two years.
I waited for Dad to yell back at me, to remind me again how I’d destroyed what he cared the most about. I heard him move around his office, small, quiet movements away from the chair.
I tried to calm down, but each time I did, my mind drifted to what had happened during these last few weeks, and fresh fears and sorrows washed over me.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder, and then he spoke in a voice not loud or angry but full of regret. “I’ve messed up, haven’t I?”
I turned around. His face was no longer filled with fury, only pain. The same pain that reflected in my eyes when I looked in the mirror.
“I’ve let you and Brett down.”
I wiped my eyes with the wet fabric of my blouse sleeves. “Why haven’t you been here for us? You’ve shut yourself away from Brett and me, and it’s as if we don’t even exist. Just like with Mom. We never even talk about her. All I ever wanted was to talk, to remember her, but all you seem to care about is your basketball team.”
Canary Page 24
