by Karen Bass
Something inside gave a victory shout. Payback time.
James stood at the sink, back to the room, downing a glass of milk. Sid saw the open bottle of antacid tablets on the counter. Victory burned to ashes in a flash of guilt.
“I had to tell him,” Brock whispered. “It should’ve been you, Sidney. You should’ve let him know what was happening.”
She almost dropped the F-bomb, something she’d promised James she’d never do. He hated that word above all words. She glared at Brock. “Did he see it?”
He shook his head. Sid’s relief was short-lived.
The doorbell rang. James turned. “I’ll let you get that, Sid, and since you don’t seem to want to keep me informed, I’ll be in my office.”
“Dad...” He strode past her without looking. “Dad!”
He hesitated by his office door. “You’re right, Sid. I’m never around for you lately. This promotion has consumed my life and I let my job become more important than my family. But this... I’m sorry. I can’t listen to you tell a police officer what you wouldn’t tell me. That probably makes me a lousy dad. I think I already was one.” He disappeared into his office.
Sid swore in her mind. Her mouth was so dry nothing came out.
Brock said, “Do you want me to stay?”
She nodded. She didn’t want to face this alone.
Brock laid his hand on her shoulder. It was the first time he’d ever touched her. “I like you, Sid. I like your dad. The pair of you need to work out some stuff, but I’m sure you know that. I run a private practise on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and I’d really like to counsel you together. Think about it, okay?”
Sid moistened her lips. “Dad’ll never agree.”
“Actually, he already has, but he’s leaving it up to you.”
Talk about dropping a bomb. Sid frowned at him. “Yes, no, maybe, I’ll think about it.”
“Well, that about covers it. Bad timing, I know. We’ll talk in a week or two.”
Officer Downing was about the same age as Brock, or a few years younger. And female. That made things easier. They sat at the kitchen table and Sid outlined what had happened. The officer wanted to know what had led up to this incident, so Sid found herself having to tell all, starting with the party and the audition and how trying to change her image blew up in her face. On one level it was humiliating, but on another, Sid felt a lead weight lifting. She was finally getting to talk to someone. She almost forgot Brock was there, taking notes in his mind.
When she was done the officer threw another curve ball at her. “You realize, Sidney, that this might be more serious than cyber bullying, as if that weren’t enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if things happened as you claim, then we’re talking alleged sexual assault.”
Sid gaped at her. “When Brock mentioned charges, I thought he was talking about posting the video on the ‘Net.” She squinted at him. “Did you know about this?”
“I thought it might be a possibility.”
“But...it was just a kiss.”
“No,” the officer said. “You’re talking like it was a peck on the cheek. His tongue was down your throat. A very sexual act. The video clearly shows that. And if it was forced as you allege, that makes it sexual assault, which is very serious. Criminal code. You need to decide if you’re going to press charges.”
Sid was silent as Brock showed the officer out. She tried to wrap her mind around everything that had been said. She drifted to the front entrance.
“Sidney,” Brock said, as he slipped into a jean jacket, “take one more day of grace if you like, but you have to come to school on Wednesday. Without fail.”
That cleared the mist from her thoughts. She bit her lip, then made herself stop and said, “Do you have any idea how crappy that day will be for me?”
“Way crappier than you know.”
“Meaning?”
“I mentioned Officer Downing is part of a police-school liaison team. She and her partner will be talking to the whole student body in an assembly.”
“About the video?” Sid’s voice cracked.
“Yes. And about the lies and manipulation and sexual harassment.”
“I have to sit through that? Even if they don’t name names, everyone will know it’s me.”
“I think you should hear it, but I can arrange for you to be backstage.”
“And the guys?”
“They’ll be there. Right after, the police will meet with them and their parents.”
“I still don’t see why I have to be there.” She forced bravado into her voice, but inside felt sick at the prospect of even accidentally coming face-to-face with those guys. Especially Rocklin. Just thinking of him made her want to gag. The coolest guys around had talked to the police because of her, might be facing charges because of her. What was she supposed to do?
Taylor’s accident had given her an excuse to hide from the whole mess, and she realized now that she had done just that. She really wasn’t sure she could go through with Wednesday. But she realized that to not go through with it was to face another day just like it when she did return.
“I’m starting to think that dropping out is a better and better idea. Or home schooling.”
Brock smiled, unperturbed by the suggestion. “Only if you want to spend your life being afraid, Sidney. And you don’t strike me as the type who likes to do that.”
“I’ve been doing it.”
“And how do you feel?”
“Like I want to hit something.”
Brock laughed. “Pretty normal reaction, I’d say. Make sure you tell your dad what’s happening Wednesday. He needs to know. And you’ve got a lot to think about. I’ll leave you to it.” He handed her a business card. “If you want to talk, call my cell. Any time. Okay?”
“3 a.m.?”
“I’ll probably be awake.” He winked and walked out the door.
27 | eighth-note triplets
Tuesday Sid alternated between stewing and doing the homework Brock had so kindly dropped off. In the evening James took her to visit Taylor. James never left the room – part of the grounding he had meted out for skipping school Monday was not being out of sight – and even though Taylor was awake, she never got the chance to catch him up on what was happening. But she didn’t need Taylor’s advice on this one, anyway. After the day she’d had she’d pretty much decided she wanted the police to throw the book at Wes and the band. More than that, use the book to squash them like the bugs they were.
She’d told Brock she wanted to hit something – now more than ever. She wondered if she should take up boxing.
When they left the hospital, James said he had to stop at Aunt Kathy’s. That suited Sid. Heather owed her a few answers. Aunt Kathy answered the door and told Sid to go to Heather’s room, that she was doing homework.
Sid tapped on Heather’s door and walked in without waiting for an answer. Her cousin was on the floor, wearing only her panties and bra, and blowing on her fingernails as she read a magazine spread out on the floor. She looked up in total unconcern and returned to her reading.
Sid dropped onto the creamy satin duvet. “Cosmopolitan? What class is that for?”
Heather shook her head. “My efforts were so lost on you. Look at yourself. The jeans are fine, but another stupid band shirt. How many of those do you own?”
“Not enough.” Sid smiled pleasantly. “I kind of like mixing and matching. You taught me lots of good stuff. But some of the tops you picked out feel too...skanky.”
“Oh? I hear that’s your new style.” Heather said it lightly, as if discussing the merits of yellow jelly beans over green.
Sid slid to the floor with a thud and rested fists on thighs. She tried to keep images of the video out of her
head, wishing she’d pocketed another roll of antacids. Her voice was raw. “I was framed.” She cleared her throat. “So who did you tell about me and Brad? Because somehow it got to our school.”
Heather paused with her brush fanned across her thumb nail. “That little infatuation? You might say you prefer nice over cool, but when that dishy guy came to me and started asking about you I knew you’d changed your mind.”
Sid leaned forward and scowled at the makeup ad on the magazine page that lay open. She had said that. Nice was important to her. That’s why she was friends with a couple of nice guys. Why hadn’t that counted for her? Had she been temporarily insane, thinking that being in the band was the absolutely, most important thing?
She leaned against the bed and sighed. “With dating, yeah, I like nice. I wish you hadn’t told Brad that crap about Taylor being my boyfriend and me going wild because we’d split.”
Heather carefully replaced the brush in the nail polish bottle and secured the lid. She twisted to face Sid, her puzzlement written on her face. “I never said that to Brad. Though come to think of it, the second time the dishy guy talked to me, I pointed Brad out to him and he talked to Brad after he left me. Maybe he was eliminating the competition.”
She looked and sounded so sincere. Sid tapped her knee harshly. “Hang on. What dishy guy are you talking about?”
Heather blinked rapidly. “How could you not know? He was so intense. Wanted to know everything about you. Wanted to hook up. At least, that’s what he said.”
“Did he have a name or did he just call himself Dishy Guy?”
“Of course he had a name. It was almost a girl’s name. Oh! I remember. Because after he walked away, Coral and I started singing, ‘Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling, Clementine’.” She giggled. “So, did this Jeff Clementine guy ask you out?”
Clem. Sid’s stomach churned and rage thundered in her ears. “That jerkwad. He didn’t ask me out. And he won’t.” He had found out about Brad from Heather and had told him that crap about Taylor and her. Clem had been the driving force behind everything. Sid wanted to drive, too –
her fist into his face. She struggled to relax her fists. To breathe.
Heather interrupted Sid’s racetrack of thoughts. “So Coral was practically salivating on Thursday, just had to tell me a rumour about you and a nasty video. I told her no way would you do that.” She paused. “I was joking earlier, you know. I didn’t teach you to dress skanky. Nothing we bought was at all sleazy. That was just a dig about this video Coral mentioned, which wasn’t even there when I checked, by the way. But that’s what you meant isn’t it? About being framed? The video was real?”
Sid bit the inside of her lip, frowned at Heather’s orange nails and nodded. “Clem set it up.” Breathe-2-3-4. Exhale-2-3-4. He wasn’t worth losing her cool over.
Heather lifted her shoulders almost delicately. “If it means anything, I am sorry. I wish now I hadn’t talked to him.”
Like Heather would not talk to a cute guy. Sid stood. “Sure. Listen. I’m going to let you finish up. Maybe I’ll get some fresh air.” Clear the stink from her thoughts.
James, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Peter were talking over coffee in the kitchen. Sid paused by the table. “Take it easy on the coffee, Dad. You’re past your limit for the day.” She glanced at Uncle Peter. “Mind if I go sit on your deck?” He waved his permission.
The deck had three levels. The highest had a hot tub and French doors that led to the master bedroom. The middle and lower decks were dotted with padded chairs and potted plants. Flower beds nestled against all three fences, separated from pristine grass by a brick retaining wall that curved in and out to give the impression of waves. It was beautiful and looked just like Sid’s living room: a place where no one lived.
Sid went to the top deck and leaned against the rail. The neighbour to the left had an equally manicured yard, but the one to the right was messy by comparison. The owners were even allowing a few dandelions to invade, which was probably totally against neighbourhood policy. There was a vegetable plot speckled by weeds and half hidden by a lengthening fence shadow, and a chest-high portable pool glowing blue in the evening sun.
While Sid watched, Brad entered the yard pulling a hose. Sid had expected that he lived a few houses away, like Taylor did on her block. Brad tugged the hose to the back of the yard. He plucked a few weeds from the garden, then stood back and turned on the hose’s nozzle.
Sid headed to the fence, picking up a chair as she went. She straddled the chair over a clump of green shoots and balanced on its frame as she hoisted herself up. Her elbows hung down into Brad’s yard. He hadn’t noticed her.
Someone small with a black mop of curly hair, who could only be Brad’s sister, opened a back door and yelled at Brad to remind him to water her pumpkins. The girl spotted Sid and stared for a moment, then yelled, “Brad’s got a girlfriend!” and ducked back inside.
He startled at that and looked all around. He turned the hose at the same time and a spray of water almost caught Sid. It did get the fence. Brad was facing her now, ears like red flags.
Sid said, “If you step a little closer you can soak me...if that’s what you’re trying to do.”
“What? Oh.” Brad released the nozzle trigger and dropped the hose. He advanced toward her warily. Did she look like she might bite? “What are you doing here?”
“Dad came over to see his sister. I’m grounded so was forced to come.”
He stood an arm’s length away. His head almost came to the top of the fence. “Why grounded?”
“For skipping school on Monday.”
“So you could be with your boyfriend.”
“Don’t start that, Brad.” Sid looked both ways, saw no one, jumped so her waist was folded over the top of the fence, swung a leg over and leaped down. She fell by Brad’s feet. He made no move to help her up. She brushed herself off and planted her fists against her hips. “Taylor has only ever been my friend. Period.”
“You must have a boyfriend. You kiss too good to not have experience.”
“Funny, I thought the same thing about you.” Surprise claimed his expression. Sid shrugged. “Maybe we just fit when it comes to that.”
He considered this for a moment. “And the video thing?”
She sighed and leaned against the fence, then straightened and brushed at her now damp sleeve. “Can I tell you a story? Then I’ll go. I promise.”
He stood for a full minute, studying her, the fence, the sky. Finally he motioned toward dry grass, and they both sat. He edged away so they weren’t in danger of touching. Sid told him the same thing she’d told the police officer the day before, but in shortened form. It was less painful this time, because she’d done it once, but also because she found Brad so easy to talk to. When she was finished, he sat in silence.
Sid stood and brushed off her backside. Brad stayed where he was, frowning at his hands. Sid crouched back beside him and he looked up. She wanted, more than anything, to give him one last kiss. She leaned forward slightly, stared into his ocean-coloured eyes, wishing she could lose herself in their depths. With a quiet sigh, she said good-bye and walked along the fence to the front gate she’d only just spotted.
With each step she reminded herself, Don’t look back.
28 | dynamic range
Sid arrived at school at 9:15 and went to Brock’s office. He wasn’t there, but shortly returned from getting the police officers set up for the 9:30 assembly. He escorted Sid to the backstage area, out of sight of anyone in the auditorium, just minutes before the announcement came for classes to make their way to the assembly. The well-practised drill took less than fifteen minutes.
Sid was deep in shadows when she noticed Brock across the stage in the other wing, showing some adults to chairs. The parents of Wes and the band? Sid pulled out a fresh roll of antacid
tablets and popped two into her mouth.
The police officers did their schtick, telling the students about cyber bullying and how easy it was to manipulate information on the Internet, giving all the usual warnings against such behaviour, moving on to how certain types of behaviour qualified as sexual harassment. Sid could hear
rustling and could imagine how bored all the students were. Even she was bored.
Then Officer Downing said, “Now we come to the specifics of why we’re here. We want to address a case of cyber bullying that happened last week in this school.”
Dead silence. Sid sank onto the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. It was hard to hear over the thrumming in her ears and she figured she missed half of what was said as the officers discussed the “case,” minus names, its seriousness and possible outcomes. They included a warning that any harassment of the girl involved, or of any girl in a similar manner, could result in charges. The male officer finished off by saying, “You are all over twelve years of age. That means you are all old enough to stand before a judge and be held legally accountable for your actions.”
More silence. It stretched and stretched, wrapped around Sid’s throat. Squeezed. Needing air, she slipped away. She couldn’t leave the school, so she retreated to Brock’s office and opened a window. Cheek against the screen, she counted her breaths. Four counts in; four counts out.
They were going to do it. They were going to charge the guys. Yesterday that would’ve thrilled her. Why didn’t she feel happy? Why did she feel her insides tying into endless knots?
Footsteps tramped by the door. Sid glanced and saw the adults who’d been in the other wing filing past Brock’s window. She turned her face away, not wanting any of them to look her in the eye. They must be meeting in the staff room. The parents, the guys, the police and, no doubt, Brock. His hand was in all of this.
