“Next was a slide about victims, right?” Every time I hear that word, my body tenses.
“If you flip to that last tab in the browser, there’s some good information in there,” Emmett says.
I don’t have to look, though. My fingers fly over the keyboard with each bullet point. “Number one, they’re afraid no one will believe them. Two, they’re embarrassed to talk about what’s being said. Three, they’re afraid of retaliation.” I think of Cassie. “Four, they don’t even realize that it’s a form of bullying. Or …,” I swallow as I type out the last one, “they deserve it. They think they deserve it,” I correct, flipping to the last slide.
“What happened in Calgary, Aria?” Emmett asks softly. I love when he calls me AJ, but hearing my real name come from his lips always sends shivers down my spine.
Unfortunately, the shivers are cold this time.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know you don’t, but I’m asking you to, anyway.” His index finger grazes my cheek. “You already kind of told me, right? Don’t you trust me with the whole story?”
“I do trust you.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
“Because you won’t understand.”
“You really don’t think so?”
My mouth has gone dry under the unexpected pressure. If I tell Emmett the whole truth, he’ll look at me differently. Just like everyone else did. But … what if he does understand? What if telling him helps me shed this weight that still lingers after all these months, no matter how far away we’ve driven, no matter how many productive sessions with Dr. C. I’ve had, no matter how many times I tell my mother that I’m fine, that I made a terrible mistake but I’ve learned from it?
How much of the truth can Emmett handle, though? And what does he really need to know?
“There was … this girl.” Yes. Impartiality. Separation.
I stare at my socked feet as I force myself to continue. “There was this girl in my school. She took a candid video of another girl in the library—a girl she didn’t like, who was flirting with the guy she was in love with. So, this girl took that video, dubbed a conversation over it that said all kinds of embarrassing things, and then shared it with a few people who shared it with a few people. Soon it was all over the school. The other girl found out and she was pissed. So, she retaliated by spreading all kinds of rumors—horrible rumors. The girl who pulled the video prank had made the wrong enemy, but it was too late. This went on and on.”
“Did she try apologizing for making the video?” Emmett asked softly.
I shake my head. “She should have, but she didn’t.” Would it have made a difference?
I swallow the ache in my throat. “We had this fundraising program in school. It was called Rosegram. You could pay money to send a rose and a nice message to another student to brighten their day. So, one day, the girl who took the video was sitting in the caf when a Rosegram came for her. It came with this huge sign that everyone could read right away that said, ‘Will you go to prom with me?’ Signed by the guy she was in love with. Who was also in the caf that day. It had been planned out perfectly.”
“Let me guess—he didn’t send it,” Emmett says with a heavy sigh.
I shake my head. “And he wasn’t nice about making that clear in front of everyone. He was a huge jerk anyway. She just couldn’t see it.” I study my socks a long moment, thinking back to that day.
“That would have been humiliating for … the girl,” he offers gently.
“It was. She started to cry, right there, in the middle of the caf. And she already had a lot of things going on—family problems, confidence issues, she was failing some of her classes. Add in months of horrible rumors floating around the school about her and she finally snapped.” I take a deep, calming breath. “About a week later, she swallowed a bunch of pills from her mother’s medicine cabinet.”
I’m going to puke.
I can’t believe I told Emmett that story.
The silence in the room is deafening.
I can feel his concerned eyes on me. I just can’t bring myself to meet them. Because I’ll see pity, sorrow, worry—all the things I don’t want to see. “I really don’t want to talk about it again, Emmett, so please don’t ask me to.”
“Thank you for telling me. I won’t ask again,” he promises.
Clearing the lump from my throat, I open a fresh slide. “So … things that society can do to combat bullying—”
“Do you want me to say something? To Mr. Keen or whoever. Do you want me to report Holly for that stupid Instagram account?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You did enough today.” I force myself to look at him, to smile. “That was chivalrous.”
He snorts. “I wouldn’t call it that. I basically threatened to be an equally shitty person.” His jaw tenses as he studies me. “Everyone’s capable of it.”
I hesitate. “You mean by sharing pictures of her?” I haven’t brought it up, though it’s been on my mind.
“Yeah,” he admits, reluctance in his voice. “She sent me a few a long time ago. You know the kind I mean. Anyway, I don’t have them anymore and I’d never do it. Just like I would never have hit that little shithead ninth grader, even though he was being a dick. But sometimes it feels like the only way to make it stop is to play their game.”
“I get it.” You have no idea how much I get it.
Another heavy silence settles over Emmett’s bedroom, his gaze lost beyond the ceiling, deep within his thoughts. “I worry about what’s going to happen to Cassie next year, when I’m gone. And Zach is gone.”
That hollow feeling in my chest swells with the reminder. I don’t want to imagine the halls without Emmett in them.
I push aside the laptop and curl up against the bed’s frame, resting my chin on the mattress as I stroke his forearm with my fingertips. “I’ll still be there next year,” I assure him.
He smiles, but it’s sad. “And what about the four years after that? You know, when she’s the twenty-year-old and there’s a bunch of fourteen-year-olds in the hall, and no one to defend her because she doesn’t know what’s going on. Or she does, and it makes her cry. I see those news stories all the time, about bad things happening to kids like her, kids who have no one strong enough to defend them, no one brave enough to speak up. Every time I picture someone doing that to her and …” His jaw clenches.
“She won’t be in high school forever, though.”
“Yeah, but then what? She’ll be an adult with autism. I don’t know if that’s easier or harder. I mean, there are plenty of adults out there with ASD who have jobs and houses and kids. But I don’t think that’s going to be the case with Cassie. I could be wrong, she’s still only fifteen, but … to us, she’s always going to be the way she is right now.” He shakes his head. “She’s probably gonna live with my parents forever.”
“You never know.”
He chuckles darkly. “Can you imagine Cassie living on her own? In her own apartment? Have you seen her room?”
“There was underwear dangling from her chandelier the other day when I walked in.” She broke out in hysterical laughter, wondering how it got there.
He shakes his head. “She’ll never be able to focus for long enough to drive a car. I can’t even imagine her taking the subway or a bus on her own. She can barely make herself toast. She’d live off Nutella sandwiches and microwaveable TV dinners. And junk. Cheetos and candy. She’ll end up with type 2 diabetes because of all the crap she’d eat, because no one’s there to stop her.”
“She has no self-control, does she,” I ask.
“None.” He chuckles again, but then his smile fades. “I never used to think about this kind of stuff. She was just my sister with autism. I knew she was different and she needed a lot of extra help. But now I hear my parents talking about her every once in a while. About what she’s going to be like in fifteen years, about saving money so she’s set up to survive after they�
��re gone, about how she’s going to survive, who’s going to help take care of her. My mom worries constantly about money.” He sighs again, and in that sound, I feel the weight of the unspoken words—will responsibility for Cassie fall on his shoulders eventually?
“Well … hopefully you’ll end up making gazillions of dollars in the NFL and it won’t be a big deal for you. Wait—did I get that right?”
“Close enough.” He chuckles. “How did we get on this topic?”
“I can’t remember.” But my heart is swelling with adoration at the fact that he feels comfortable enough to open up to me.
And maybe he feels the same, now that I’ve opened up to him.
The nausea that threatened with divulging parts of my past has begun to subside.
Maybe, just maybe, it was the right move.
“Oh, yeah.” His hand settles on my shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. “All I’m saying is, if Holly does something again, tell me. She shouldn’t get away with it and you don’t have to deal with it alone. Okay?”
I nod. “You know, you’re a really good guy.”
His eyes flitter over my mouth. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I abandon the laptop and climb onto the bed, crawling toward him.
He watches me approach with a curious smile. “What happened to finishing the—”
I cut off his words with a hard kiss, followed by the slowest, deepest one I’ve ever given anyone, dragging it out as long as possible, hoping he somehow feels how hard I’ve fallen for him.
When I finally break away to see the tender look in his eyes, I think I must have succeeded. His fingertips brush my hair off my face and then he pulls me down into a kiss with as much intensity. It escalates quickly, until we become a mess of frantic mouths and wandering fingers, the worry of Cassie coming home or Mark checking on us the farthest thing from my mind.
23
Dear Julia,
I’m in love. I know I said I was before, but now I know for certain. I’ve waited the obligatory amount of time (it’s been a month since the fair, and though we didn’t get together that night, we got together that night). This is not teenaged infatuation. This is not raging hormones—well, there’s definitely that, too. I finally got the nerve to put my hand down Emmett’s pants and I nearly got caught by Mark. He moves a lot faster up the stairs than Cassie …
But I know, without a doubt, this thing I’m feeling is love.
I told Emmett about the prom joke gone horribly wrong. Remember how I swore I’d never tell anyone? Well, Emmett knows now and he doesn’t hate me. In fact, I think telling him has brought us that much closer.
Dr. C. said a day would eventually come when I felt like I could move on. I think I’m there.
~AJ
* * *
“See you later, Cass!” Emmett hollers.
“Yeah. Bye,” she says dismissively, intensely focused on her locker combination.
Emmett slings his arm over my shoulders as we walk along the hall toward our lockers. “I’m so tired,” he groans.
“Aww … Was running with me too hard for you this morning?” I tease with a mock-pout. The sky was murky when we met on the driveway at seven, donning toques and vests. Hope for a mild fall is waning. Halloween is tomorrow and Uncle Merv was grumbling about snow flurries in the forecast.
I get a playful poke to the ribs in return, and then Emmett pulls me into his side with a smile.
I can’t wait to kiss those lips with abandon again.
We’re almost at my locker when Cassie calls out my name. “AJ!”
I turn to see her galloping down the hallway, a stuffed dog in one hand, a piece of paper in the other.
I frown. Cassie never leaves her locker like this. Her routine is clear—empty her bag, go to her community class.
“AJ! I’m going to prom!” she squeals, a wide smile plastered across her face.
“What are you talking about, Cassie?” Emmett asks carefully.
I feel her words as surely as a punch to my stomach.
She shoves the card into his hand. “Zach asked me to prom! And he gave me this! It looks just like Roger Dodger!”
Emmett’s face turns to stone as he scans the card.
Meanwhile, I’m close to losing my breakfast on my shoes.
“Where did you get this, Cassie?”
“It was in my locker.” Her eyes veer behind Emmett. “Oh, hi, Zach. I mean, Farmer.” She giggles, oblivious to the tension radiating off her brother.
“Hey.” He strolls up. “I heard my name. What’s going on?”
Emmett’s teeth are clenched as he shoves the card into his friend’s hand.
Zach scowls as he reads it, whispering softly, “Who did this?”
Emmett’s eyes dart to me, and all I can manage is a fast and furious headshake. I would never do that to her.
But it means someone at Eastmonte found out. It’s too coincidental to be anything else. And I can guess who that person is.
The hallway is spinning as a crowd forms around us, watching the unfolding commotion.
Cassie’s once-brilliant smile has taken on a guarded hue, as her eyes flicker from Emmett to Zach to me. “Cassie …,” Emmett says quietly, gently, though his eyes are brimming with rage. His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “This isn’t from Zach. Someone played a joke on you.”
“It’s not?” She peers at Emmett’s best friend, whose jaw is clenched. “Oh. Okay.” She smiles and gives a little nod as it sinks in.
As she takes in the crowd of faces now watching intently, a range of amusement to pity to horror in their expressions.
As her face turns the deepest red I think I’ve ever seen someone’s face turn.
“Okay.” She keeps nodding and smiling.
As fat, silent tears stream down her cheeks in rivulets. Cassie’s the only person I’ve ever seen cry like that—without making a sound. Somehow it’s more disconcerting to witness than a sobbing mess.
“Well, it’s a good thing I was going to see if you’d go with me, Little Harty.” Zach clears his throat and strolls over to put his arm around her shoulders in a friendly, comforting way.
Cassie peers up at him. “You were?”
“Yeah! It’s just a few months early. I was going to wait to ask, but now you know. Come on, let’s get you back to your class. We’ve got tons of time to talk about it.”
A smile slowly stretches across Cassie’s face as she nods and wipes at her cheeks, her furtive gaze darting from face to face around us. “Yeah. Okay.” She giggles.
And for Cassie, I breathe a small sigh of relief. Zach has truly swooped in to save the day.
Someone in the crowd cheers and then a round of applause quickly follows.
“Zach!” Emmett calls out. They share a long, hard look and then Zach nods once.
“I’ll get her back to class.” He leads Cassie away.
Emmett moves straight for me. “Does Keen or Moretti know what happened to you?”
I shake my head, my eyes darting around. The crowd is dispersing quickly, the excitement over.
“Look … I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we need to report this. It’s obvious Holly found out and wanted to get under your skin.”
“Whatever. It backfired.” Maybe if I tell myself enough, it will be. I need time to think, to figure out a way to shut her up.
“I think I like Wiser better than Jones.”
Blood rushes to my ears as I slowly turn to face Holly’s smug face.
“Gee … A girl named Aria from a school in Calgary with a llama for a school mascot? It took me, like, an hour to find a student who knew you. Bennett Ackerman says hi, by the way.” There’s a wicked gleam in her eye. “You have some dirty secrets, AJ. I was not expecting that.”
“Don’t, Holly. You’re in enough shit already,” Emmett warns in an icy tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says sweetly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
&nbs
p; “Uh, how about that prank you just pulled on Cassie? You know her combination lock, and the whole dog thing, and that she has a crush on Zach.”
“Have fun trying to prove it.” She glances around at the lingering students. I swear, they’re like sharks charging for a drop of blood in the water when it comes to drama. “Maybe you should ask your girlfriend,” she says loudly. “She’s the one who likes to play cruel prom jokes on people.”
Oh God. The nausea is back.
The first bell rings, but no one makes a move. Where are the teachers? Where is McNair? Why aren’t they stopping this?
“What’s wrong with you?” Emmett yells. “Are you seriously doing this just because we broke up and I’m dating her?”
She lifts her chin. “No, I’m doing this because you deserve to know the truth about the kind of person you’re dating now,” she parrots the words I once said to her, almost verbatim. I should’ve known that would come back to bite me in the ass.
“I already know what happened, Holly.”
Holly’s shapely eyebrows arch. “So, you’re okay with the fact that your girlfriend drove a girl to kill herself?”
Oh God.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a long moment. When I open them, Emmett’s deep brown eyes are on me.
“What is she talking about, Aria?” He asks slowly.
“I didn’t lie,” I whisper, silently pleading for him to believe me. I just made you believe a different truth.
Holly folds her arms across her chest. “I’d tell you to ask Julia Morrow for her side of the story, but she OD’d after Aria humiliated her in school.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened.” My voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
“But you said …” Realization sparks in Emmett’s eyes as he no doubt replays the story I told him the other night, only from another angle.
Be the Girl: a Novel Page 25
