Let Me Know

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “Are the rumors true? You broke up with Amber?” Her voice holds a note of anger I didn’t think would be possible with Jordan. She’s one of the most optimistic people I know.

  I can’t even answer the question. Technically, I haven’t broken up with Amber. I can’t bring myself to say the words to her. Instead, I’m the asshole who’s not saying anything at all. I’ve read her texts and listened to her messages over and over and over again. Each time I do, I feel like I did every time Frank hit me, every time I feared I could be the one he raped next. Helpless.

  I might not say the words to confirm that I’ve broken up with Amber, but I can tell Jordan interpreted my silence correctly. She gapes at me, fighting for the right words to say.

  “Oh my God,” she whispers. “How can you do that to her? I thought you loved her.”

  Chase looks at me like he’s wondering the same. I haven’t told him about the nice little chat I had with Amber’s mom last week. Every time I’ve come close to telling him, so he can lie to me and tell me everything will be okay, the words remain wedged in my chest. It will never be okay. I chose my education over Amber. I have a signed contract to prove it. Amber’s mom came prepared and didn’t give me the chance to dwell on it. It was either sign the contract then, or she would have contacted the university and destroyed my future. But without Amber in my life, my future is destroyed either way. All I can hope for is that one day she’ll meet a guy as great as Trent, a guy she deserves.

  Jordan lifts her hand. Before I can register what she plans to do, her palm strikes my face. I swear everyone in the hallway heard. They watch us with growing interest. Jordan is oblivious to this as she glares at me. Chase glances back and forth between us, unsure if he should defend me or support the girl he’s falling for.

  “You selfish jerk,” Jordan says, voice filled with tears. “Ever since your video showed up on the internet, guys have been harassing her. And now that you’re no longer a threat, because of the rumors you dumped her, it’s been open season on Amber.”

  Fuck. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with the trial. “Who?” I snap, and ball my hand into a fist, suspecting I know who one of the assholes is.

  Chase puts his hand on my shoulder. “Dude, don’t shoot the messenger. Jordan and Amber don’t know who the guys are.”

  I glare at him. “What do you mean they don’t know?”

  Jordan answers. “One of them is the guy you almost got into a fight with in the food court. He grabbed her yesterday at lunch.”

  “Has anyone else touched her?”

  “No, but guys have been sending her drawings and letters that are pretty explicit. She’s filed complaints with the university and police, but until they can discover who’s sending them, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

  I drag my fingers through my hair. When did things get so fucked up?

  *

  By the time I return to my apartment building several hours later, after driving around aimlessly, Chase’s car is parked in his usual spot. I left the engineering building after my run-in with Jordan, and since then I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about Amber’s situation. As long as I’m not around to protect her, she’ll be at risk. Her mom never thought of that when she planned to eradicate me from her daughter’s life.

  Feeling like I haven’t slept in a thousand years, I plod to the building. I have a test this week I need to study for, but I don’t have the energy right now. Soon Amber’s mom won’t have to worry about my attending the same university as Amber. The way I’m going, I’ll flunk out on my own. In my head I hear Frank laughing, telling me I’m just a worthless piece of shit.

  I enter the apartment. Chase is sitting on the couch, TV off, a beer in his hand. He’s slouched forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at a pile of papers on the table in front of him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  He glances up, face pale. “What the hell is this, Marcus?” He lifts the top piece of paper.

  I shrug. “Looks like paper to me. Why?”

  “It’s a contract. A fucking contract you signed.” He slams it on the table. “Why the hell did you sign away your rights to see the girl you supposedly love?”

  Compounded with everything else, his anger and staggering disbelief at what I did goes beyond what I can handle. I slump against the wall, my legs barely keeping me up. Chase is used to my crazy shit, but clearly he never expected me to pull a stunt like this.

  “Why were you in my room?” I mentally kick myself for leaving the contract on my desk.

  “My calculator batteries died. I figured you’d be okay with it if I borrowed your calculator for my math assignment.” He’s not the slightest bit remorseful for entering my room without permission, even though we respect each other’s privacy. That’s why I hadn’t been worried about leaving the contract out. Reading it again and again and again has been my punishment for walking away from Amber.

  “Why the hell did you sign it?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t, I would have lost my scholarship. And then I would have lost Amber for sure.” I would have had nothing to offer her.

  “Shit” is all Chase has to say.

  “It’s killing me. I can’t even explain it to her, because if I do, I lose everything.” Her mother covered all her bases to keep me away from Amber.

  “Shit. What are you going to do about it?”

  I flop onto the couch next to him and press my elbows into my thighs, my face into my hands. “The hell if I know.”

  I somehow manage to hold back the bitter laugh boiling inside me. Ryan sacrificed himself so I could have a future. And now I’m sacrificing myself—my happiness and my dreams—for Amber’s future.

  And like with my brother, I won’t be around to see her live it.

  Her mom made sure of that.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Amber

  Inhale. Exhale. I walk across campus, my mind a jumble of emotions. The side effect of watching an all-night Friends marathon after I woke up from a nightmare, combined with a grande dose of nervousness.

  Not a good way to start a presentation.

  I sit in my usual seat near the back of the classroom and wait for Emma. People keep peeking over their shoulders to glance at me. They know my presentation is today.

  My palms grow clammier. I tighten my grip on my phone. It’s been two weeks since Marcus’s video surfaced and since the last time he called me. Jordan talked to Chase about it, and he couldn’t tell her anything. I’m not sure if that’s a “couldn’t” or “wouldn’t.” But despite the silent treatment, I keep checking my phone in case Marcus finally decides to contact me. In case he has a good reason for not telling me that we’re through.

  Ahead of me, several students are bent over a newspaper and frequently glance back at me. It’s got to be the latest news about Paul and the trial. And the petition someone started, claiming that I should be the one on trial and not Paul. It’s already garnered several thousand signatures thanks to Marcus’s video. The regular news has at least decided to ignore it, but that hasn’t stopped the local tabloid from running the trash. It hasn’t stopped people from believing a petition is enough to change the justice system.

  Emma slides onto her seat and throws me a look that says she’s sorry for being late.

  “How are you holding out?” she asks.

  “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  Emma laughs. “I don’t get how you can play basketball in front of a huge crowd and not be even the slightest bit nervous. But do a class presentation and you’re ready to hurl.”

  “That’s different. I don’t pay attention to everyone watching and cheering. I only notice the ball and my teammates. Everything else doesn’t exist.”

  Emma nods. It’s the same for her. The difference between us, though, is her confidence goes beyond the court. Mine stops at the out-of-bound lines.

  “Okay, class,” Professor Hale says. “We hav
e a number of presentations to do, so let’s get started.”

  The presentations start, but since I’m last, I get to sit, bouncing my fingers against my thigh, wishing time would either speed up so that I’m finished sooner or slow down so that I don’t have to go up there yet. For the next forty minutes, it’s all I can think about.

  “Amber Scott, you’re next.”

  I take a deep breath. I can do this.

  “Good luck,” Emma whispers.

  I’ve never been jealous of anything about my best friend. She’s gorgeous, an amazing player, smart, popular. But as I walk down the steps to the front with everyone watching me, knowing I’m her—the girl the media loves talking about—I’m jealous at Emma’s ability to not let things like this bother her. If our places were reversed, she would own the audience and make the most of her situation.

  My legs feel like I’m skating across a frozen lake. At any second the ice could crack and I’ll disappear into the deadly waters. They’re shaky, uncertain, wondering if it’s better to turn and run and hope for the best—or to keep going and take a chance that everything will be all right.

  Because I don’t need to start new rumors, like I’m pregnant with Marcus’s child and had to run to the bathroom to puke—especially since puking is a real possibly right now—I stand my ground and take my place behind the lectern.

  A few individuals lean toward the person next to them and say something. Their friend either giggles or whispers back. I swallow, trying to ease the sudden dryness in my mouth, and shuffle my index cards.

  Emma smiles and nods for me to start. While everyone else wants to believe the lies, Emma’s here for me. Even when her brother died because of me. Even when I turned my back on her because the guilt of what happened overwhelmed me. Even when I caused her and her family insurmountable pain, Emma has been there for me, except when I wouldn’t let her.

  Relieved no one can see my fingers tap-tap-tap behind the lectern, I take in another slow breath. “We, as members of our community, have an obligation to protect children and their fundamental rights. But often children are the forgotten members of society because they aren’t vocal. They’re expected to trust adults, but often it is the very individuals they are supposed to trust who let them down the most.”

  I pause and gauge the audience’s reaction. They weren’t expecting me to talk about the role of advocacy in children’s rights. I can see it on their faces.

  I continue my presentation and with each word I gain a little more strength. It’s no longer Emma I see in the back row. It’s a younger Marcus, Ryan and Alejandro who watch me, silently cheering me on. My heart beats fast. If it had wings, it would soar around the room. I’m lighter and freer than I have felt in a while.

  The words slip out easily. A little too easily. And I have to focus hard on not sounding like an out-of-control train. I want to make sure that even on some deep unconscious level, everyone is thinking about the most vulnerable part of society, the part with the least voice.

  I conclude with why community psychology is important for children’s rights. Everyone’s attention is solely on me. They’re not thinking about Rosemary’s allegations that I seduced her brother, or the allegations that I’m into violent sex. They’re thinking about the forgotten kids like Marcus, Ryan and Alejandro.

  I smile as everyone applauds. The relief of being finished surges through me and chases away the last of the adrenalin overload, which has plagued me since the beginning of class.

  I scan the audience, one last time. A girl near the back row bends down.

  And that’s when I see him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Amber

  I blink at the sight of Marcus. He’s not really here. He’s a delusion brought on by my lack of sleep. My body aches at the sight of him. If this is how it responds to my delusion, how would it respond to the real deal?

  I keep staring at him, afraid if I blink again, my delusion will vanish. If I can’t have the real Marcus, the delusion will have to do.

  “Amber,” Professor Hale says, intruding on my runaway thoughts. “Amber,” she repeats. “Are you all right?”

  Groaning inwardly at how stupid I must look, I tear my gaze away from Marcus and turn to her. “Sorry.” I gather my index cards from the lectern.

  “Can I talk to you after class?”

  I nod, doing my best to avoid looking freaked out at the request, and return to my seat next to Emma. What the heck could Professor Hale want to talk to me about? I didn’t bomb the presentation. At least I don’t think I did.

  “Thank you, everyone, for your presentations today,” the professor says. The room fills with the rustle of winter coats and backpacks, accompanied by laughter and murmured voices as everyone files out. A couple of students walk to the front. I glance back at my delusion. Without even looking at me, he leaves with everyone else.

  Disappointment stumbles through me that my delusion couldn’t even smile at me like the real Marcus would—if he were talking to me. Great, even my delusions are ignoring me.

  “Why was Marcus here?” Emma pushes herself out of her seat and picks her backpack off the floor. “I thought you guys broke up.”

  “You saw him?” I squeak. “You saw Marcus?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Yeah.” The word is drawn out, almost a question. “Didn’t you see him? You looked right at him.”

  “I thought I was imagining him,” I mumble and shove my binder into my backpack. I want to race after him, to see why he was here, but I can’t. Professor Hale is waiting to talk to me.

  Emma sits back down. “Amber, he must still care about you. I don’t understand any more than you do what’s up with him, but he wouldn’t have been here if he didn’t. He knew your presentation was today.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t matter. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, and clearly he doesn’t, there’s nothing I can do.”

  Emma shakes her head and stands again. “For someone who’s so smart, sometimes you’re pretty dense. You’ve sent him texts and left messages, right?”

  “And he never responded to them.”

  “When was the last time you tried talking to him face-to-face?” When I don’t answer, she says, “That’s what I thought. If you love him, Amber, you need to talk to him and find out what’s going on. You two are great together. Don’t let him walk away.”

  I stand and she hugs me. Then I walk down the steps to the front. As I approach Professor Hale, the two students talking to her walk off, leaving me alone with her. Emma has left for her next class.

  “That was a great presentation, Amber. Both your research and arguments were impressive, as was your delivery. You had everyone hanging on to your every word.” She smiles. It’s a comforting smile, like chicken noodle soup when you’re suffering from a cold. “And I don’t believe for a second the lies circulating about you. No one can give a speech like that without having been impacted the way you obviously have been. Have you given any thought to a career working with children and teens who are victims of crime?”

  “I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I only know that I want to help victims find a way to move on.” Like I’ve been trying to move on.

  “Well, if you’re interested, I know of a summer internship that you’re the perfect candidate for. It’s nothing heavy. Considering what you’ve been through, it could be a while before you’ll be ready to deal with anything too emotional, but it’s a great place to gain experience, and I know you’ll have a lot to give the kids.”

  “I would love that.” The lightness I felt during my presentation comes back for an encore.

  “Good. Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow and I’ll give you the application. And I’ll be more than happy to be a reference for you.”

  I smile and thank her for thinking of me.

  As soon as I exit the classroom, I dodge past students and run to the engineering building. Emma’s right. I need to talk to Marcus. Enough with his stupid silent
treatment. I want to know what’s going on with him. And if the relationship really is over, then he owes me the closure I deserve.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Marcus

  Amber scans the room and her gaze settles on me as the girl in front of me bends down. She stares for several seconds, blinks, then at the sound of her name, turns to her professor.

  The woman talks quietly to her. Amber nods and returns to her seat.

  “Thank you, everyone, for your presentations today,” the professor says. The room fills with laughter and talking as everyone packs up to leave. Two students walk down the steps to the front.

  I glance toward the door, then at Amber. The dark circles under her eyes warn me she’s had as much sleep as I’ve had. I can’t tell if they’re because of her presentation, which I knew she was dreading, the harassment Jordan told me about yesterday, or because we’re no longer together.

  I clench my fingernails into my palms. All my life I’ve been given the fucked-up end of the stick. I finally get something good in my life and it gets fucked up too—and hurts the girl I love.

  I leave the room without looking back at her. Coming here was a mistake. I’m supposed to pretend she has never been part of my life, but damn if I can do that. I needed to see her one last time. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice me. The last thing I wanted was to make this harder on her than it’s already been. Chase has been updating me, thanks to Jordan, on what’s going on with Amber and the upcoming trial. Jordan has no idea he’s been passing the info on to me. She can’t know, or else she’ll tell Amber that I still care about her—and that’s the last thing Amber’s mother wants.

  I head back to the engineering building. I don’t have a class for another hour, so I don’t exactly rush. Normally, I’d be studying in the library, usually with Amber, but ever since her mom visited me, I’m having a harder time focusing on my studies. Even math is a chore. Maybe it’s because I can’t focus on the subject without thinking of the lame math jokes I used to tell Amber, and how she laughed whenever I did. Every time I do my homework, the beautiful sound of her laughter plays in my head. It’s the only time I’ll hear her laugh again, and that hurts worse than my gunshot wound ever did.