by Nikki Harmon
“Well,” I say, “Professor? What is going on? Do you owe these guys money or something? And why am I here? I haven’t done anything!”
He lowers his head. “I’m so sorry, Kim. No, you haven’t done anything, and you shouldn’t even be here. I’m very sorry they got you.”
“But got me for what? I don’t have anything! I have nothing but a math textbook, a book for bioethics and my notebook. I don’t even know what they did with that stuff.”
“No, it’s me they want. It’s me who owes them something. You … you just happened to have the misfortune of working for me. Maybe they think you can tell them something about me. I don’t know.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask because I don’t know what else to ask.
“A few days. They got me … Saturday, while I was on Kelly Drive for a run. My family is probably so worried about me …”
“Professor … you haven’t said what they want. What do you owe them? Can you give it to them so we can get out of here?”
“Sorry Kim, I don’t think it’s going to be so simple.” With that, we heard the lock turn and the door open. A thin bespectacled man in a blazer descended the stairs with an air of intellect and authority. All eyes turn to him.
Dr. Patel appears unnerved even when the man approaches him with his hand out. The gesture is friendly, but his eyes are cold. “Good to see you again, Patel. Unfortunate circumstances notwithstanding.”” Dr. Patel shakes his hand but backs away when they release their grasp. He inclines his head and says, “Dr. Wasserman, I’m pleased to meet you in person. What a privilege.” He glances toward me. I nod as well, and Dr. Wasserman turns to me. “Ahh, Kim Thornton. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I reach to shake his extended hand but instead of shaking my hand, he holds it for a beat before releasing it. I pull it back and shove it in my pants pocket as he turns back to Dr. Patel.
“Now, are you ready to give me the information I want, or do we continue to have a problem?” he says in a very controlled voice.
Patel starts to answer, but he ends up stuttering and stammering and making no sense whatsoever.
“Enough!” demands Wasserman and he slaps Dr. Patel hard across the face. “Give me what is rightfully mine, and I will try to forget that you stole from me, hid from me and then lied to me about it. You used to be such a man of integrity, Arun.”
Dr. Patel looks conflicted. He looks at me and says, “Let her go, Wasserman. She has nothing to do with this. She’s just a student.”
Wasserman stares hard at Dr. Patel. “Is that so? If she has nothing to do with this, then why have you been studying her? What is all this?” He gestures to bouncer guy who, from over his massive shoulder, swings forward and drops a bag of videotapes on the floor.
“You’ve been recording her work sessions since last year. Why? And I’ve studied your lab tests. Why does each one include a separate human DNA scan? Her DNA scan? She may be a fool, but I am not. It’s clear to me that you have not abandoned the work we began together, the work I funded. I want your research, Patel and I will have it!” At that last, he steps up to Dr. Patel and is scant inches from his face.
Dr. Patel is swallowing hard and looking from Dr. Wasserman to the bouncer to the stairs, his intentions written clear all over his face. The bouncer guy steps over the videotapes towards Patel. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” But it’s too late; Patel shoves Dr. Wasserman into the bouncer guy, who stumbles back. He bounds up the steps and slams open the door. I think he gets one step into the kitchen when a hand shoves him back in. Wind milling his arms, he can’t catch his balance and tumbles backwards down the steps, cracking his head on the old concrete floor. The sound is horrifying. Throwing a disgusted glance at bouncer guy, Dr. Wasserman walks over to Dr. Patel. He checks his breathing by bending low over him and putting his ear to Patel’s mouth. He mutters, “good” and stands up. Giving Patel a swift kick to the ribs, he walks up the stairs. “Take care of him,” he commands bouncer guy “… and her … I guess we’ll have to keep her. Bring her upstairs, too. We have a lot of work to do.”
Bouncer guy looks at me and shrugs. I look at Dr. Patel lying on the floor out cold. Bouncer guy picks him up by the armpits and drags him back up the stairs. His legs thump, thump, thump. I hear the door lock when they clear it. I walk over to the bag of videotapes. I pick one up. The label, handwritten in black ink, consists of my initials, KT1 and a date. I look through the bag, and it seems that there is a tape for every session I worked in the lab. There are about 100 tapes in the box, each labeled with my initials. My stomach sinks. Maybe he is obsessed with me? Maybe he thought I would steal something? Then I think back – how many times did I pick my nose? Pull out a cranny? Act out scenes with Mabel? And just act weird because I thought I was alone? Ugh. But Wasserman said he did DNA tests on me, why? I quickly understand that it has to do with this thing I can do now. Has to. That would explain the metal walls, the “jumps”. I don’t know how and I don’t know what, but it has to be Patel who did this to me.
I sit down and try to think about getting out of here again. I have to think long term; I have to think a big jump. Maybe before I went to Temple? Then I will never have met Dr. Patel. But I’m not even sure I can do that, and I’m not sure I want to. Besides this … craziness, I’m happy with my life … kind of … I’m on the path I chose. I’m in college and doing well and about to go to MIT, I think … oh … I don’t know what to do.
I hear the door unlock and bouncer guy comes down. I look for any sense of compassion in him but I see nothing. He has a small tray with food and another bottle of water.
“I’m not coming up yet?” I say, hoping to start a conversation.
“No, we have to prepare your room,” he says pronouncing each syllable. “Enjoy your food,” he adds as he walks up the stairs. That would have sounded like sympathy if it didn’t sound so much like “Enjoy your last meal.” Ok. No more equivocating. I have got to get out of here.
∆∆∆
I spend the next two hours going over in my head all the risks of trying to jump again. The last two were ok, but I didn’t end up changing much of anything. I’m trying to remember the moment of a choice from more than two years ago and not too much seems significant. I’ve been on the same course, my life just following along some assumed trajectory. I’m running out of time. I can feel it. I hear a lot of walking back and forth above me. I hear a lot of grunting like they are lifting things and carrying things and the knot of fear is growing ice cold in my belly. I am starting to panic. I try to think logically but I’m also worried. What if I jump and don’t go to Temple, and never meet Patel and then lose the ability to “jump” if I get into a bad situation? What if my “choice” gets me or somebody else hurt? And there’s something else I’m not admitting to myself: somewhere in the back of my mind I think I don’t want to lose Meer. The memory of last night (was it just last night?) is still fresh and it felt like love and I don’t want to let it go. As I’m thinking about her and the way she smiled at me while we danced, I have a flash of a memory that is not a memory. I close my eyes and try to tease it out. I reach towards this other memory and pull at a thought. I looked into her eyes on a date (what date?) at a restaurant? (did we have a date?). I jumped and went back. I was at a party (I don’t remember a party); there were guys I didn’t know and that girl, Amber. I remember her. Did she invite me to a party? Yes, but I didn’t go but I remember going … and then the guys. Amber was there with the guys, and they tried to get me, but Meer came. And she saved me.
I hear voices just outside the door. It sounds like maybe two or three men making plans for me in thickly accented English. I’m wracking my brain but I don’t have any better ideas. I grab for the memory that I don’t really have. I try to imagine looking into her eyes and that I pushed but went backward. I hear the click of the lock above me. I snap my eyes shut and summon the roar. It comes, but faintly. I’m afraid. I hear feet on the stairs. I block it out and concentrate on
her eyes. I bring the roar and hold the vision of Meer’s eyes, but I feel hands on my arms. I stay in my head, but somebody is shaking me. I open my eyes, but my vision is blurred. I smile and close them again. I focus on losing myself in the roar but hold on to Meer looking at me. I push through hard. Like a diver off a cliff, I feel my body fling itself backward as I throw myself back into time and towards Meer. The roar is agonizing and I scream from the pain of it.
∆∆∆
I am sitting up in my bed. It is dark. I just screamed out. My mother comes down the hall and sits on my bed. She reaches for me and holds me. I cry. I don’t know why, but her compassion, my fear and the release of the scream bring me to tears. The memory of what those boys and that girl did to me come back to me, and I cry the same tears but new pain. My mother just holds me, rocks me, and tells me she loves me. I hold on to her as my life now takes shape around me. I am sixteen. I am in high school. I was almost raped. I told a girl I liked her, and she tried to have me raped. I was saved. That was … how many days ago? I rack my brain. Maybe it was three or four days ago? The weekend has passed. Everyone knows what happened. My mother is here. I have school in the morning. I am humiliated. We are not going to the police since “nothing” happened. The boys don’t go to my school but she does. Amber. I am filled with fury, helpless, hopeless fury. My mom said it would go away. She said it like she knew from experience, but I didn’t ask any questions. From the hallway, I can hear a whimper turn into a cry. “Mommy”. It stretches into a wail. It’s my little brother, Walt. He’s two years old. He keeps calling. I can feel my mother stiffen. I know she has to go to him.
I let go of her and say, “It’s all right. I’m all right. Go get him.”
She says, “Are you sure? It’s probably nothing.” But we hear him again, getting louder, sounding more and more awake.
“Go get him before he wakes Maya,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she says and starts to get up. She dips down and kisses me on the forehead.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart. But I promise you, it will get better.”
“Thanks mom,” I say.
She leaves, closing the door behind her. I hear her open my brother’s room and start shushing him and comforting him. The sound muffles as she closes that door too. I lie back down in my bed and pull up my comforter. I kind of remember that I was in a basement, that somebody was coming to get me, but none of that makes sense. Maybe it was a dream. But the image of the basement doesn’t fade and I remember a man being dragged up the stairs. Thump, thump, thump. I fall asleep to its rhythm.
Chapter 12
It’s been two weeks since “the incident” and I am hiding in the bathroom. Why? Amber. I cannot believe I ever, ever, ever liked that girl. She is the worst human being on the planet ever, EVER. Because she is pretty and because she is popular and because she is fucking awful, she has started a campaign against me! As if I did anything to her. She told everyone at school that I tried to kiss her – a lie! And touch her – double lie! And that’s why her friends had to do what they did. Of course, I told the truth, and she called me a liar and a dyke molester. This was today at lunch. I don’t think anybody believes me except my best friend, Jen, my STEM crew and Meer. But nobody wants to say anything. Nobody wants to get involved. Nobody will say anything to her; they just are waiting to see what happens. She wants to fight me. I want to kick her ass badly, except, I know this will get me kicked out of my STEM clubs, kicked out of the Honor Society and maybe kicked out of school. And I have a meeting today, a genetics experiment with my science club that will count for AP lab credit, and I’m going to miss it if I don’t get out of here. But she is out there, somewhere, waiting to jump me. I know she won’t come in the bathroom. There are security cameras in here.
I’m holding onto the window grate struggling to distinguish anything through the bleary glass when I hear voices in the hallway. Sounds like a teacher … sounds like Jen … sounds like Amber. The door slams open and in walks Jen with Ms. Feinberg, the school counselor and resident disciplinarian.
“What are you doing in here?” asks Jen. I don’t answer. I just look at Ms. Feinberg.
“Kim, is there a problem? Mr. Hawkins called my office to say you were missing, then Jen came in and told me there is a problem between you and some other girls. Is Amber one of those girls? I saw her in the hallway with some other girls.”
Ms. Feinberg crosses her arms and looks at me with raised eyebrows. I look at Jen and shake my head.
“Kim, if there is a problem you can tell me about it, we can go to my office if you like, but you can’t stay here in the bathroom.”
“Um, there’s no problem, Ms. Feinberg, I just got caught up thinking about stuff. I’m just going to go to genetics now.” I start to sidle past her, but she puts a hand on my arm.
“Listen Kim, I’ve heard some rumors and I just want you to know that you can come talk to me. It might help to talk about it, and maybe we can come up with a solution to your problems,” she says looking towards the door.
I look at Ms. Feinberg. Despite her bird nose, pursed lips and cold demeanor, she seems sincere, and I am grateful for her kindness, but she has to know that I can’t go to her or any teacher. It would just make things worse.
“No thanks,” I say and grab Jen. “I’m good, thanks for checking on me, though.”
Jen walks out first, then me, then Ms. Feinberg. The halls are quiet now. There are just a few students here and there making their way to after-school clubs. Jen puts her arm around me and walks me to the fourth floor. Even though she couldn’t hurt a fly, I feel protected.
After the lab, I decide to leave the school through the back door just in case Amber is out there waiting for me. I go down the back stairs and end up near the gym. The custodian is in the doorway, leaning on a mop, watching someone shoot hoops and counting the made shots. I hear just one person running, dribbling, and jumping. As I walk by, I peek in. It’s Meer. I pause and watch. She’s sweaty and breathing hard but she looks obstinate and takes one last shot. Swish.
The custodian yells, “Twenty-five! Ok, you gotta go, I have to mop!”
Meer practices a cross-dribble and makes her way over to her pile of stuff on the floor. She pauses just long enough to throw on her coat and backpack and starts dribbling onehanded to the door. She looks up to say something to the custodian but she sees me. She breaks out into a huge grin and catches the ball. The custodian snorts and walks past us pushing his bucket and whistling.
“Thanks, Sean” she murmurs. To me, she smiles and says, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” I reply.
“What are you doing down here?” she asks.
“Hmm … just leaving … going the long way, I guess.”
“Oh yeah. I heard Amber is being an asshole. You hiding from her?”
“More like avoiding trouble. I can’t risk being expelled. I’m trying to get a scholarship to go to NASA camp this summer.”
“NASA camp? What’s that?”
“Space camp. For teens who want to study space travel or be astronauts.”
“That’s what you want to do? That’s crazy! But cool I guess.”
“What about you? What do you want to do?”
“Me? Ball. I want to play ball. Maybe overseas, maybe for the WNBA. But basketball is my thing.”
The custodian is making a racket as he folds up the bleachers and rolls the carts of balls to the side.
“Hey, let’s go. Want to come over to my house? I have some homework to do, maybe you could help me, smarty pants.”
“I don’t know. I have a lot of homework to do too and most of my books are at home.”
“Oh, ok, well I’ll just walk you out then, you know, like a bodyguard.”
“Ok.”
We walk down the hall and out the back exit. It closes with a loud metallic slam behind us. As we walk out through the parking lot, we see a group of girls walking up the street away from us. I think it’s Amber and he
r crew. Meer sees them too and tenses up a bit. I look at Meer and say, “Maybe I will come to your house for a while if that’s ok.”
“Yup”, she smiles. “I have no idea what I’m doing in biology anyway.” She puts her arm around me and steers me down the street, the long way to her house, which is just fine by me.
∆∆∆
Now, I go to Meer’s house every day after school for homework. It’s worked out well for both of us. She practices basketball, either with her team or by herself, and I get to go to all my afterschool clubs. Sometimes, her brother Quadir and his friends meet up with us, and we all walk home together. I don’t know what happened, but he must have said something to somebody because Amber never bothered me again at school. She did troll my Facebook page, though, so I just shut it down. Jen told me she started a new one bashing me called, “stupid molester dykes to watch out for”, but Facebook shut it down after a few days.
Meer is nothing like I thought she would be. I thought she would always be loud and bold and audacious. Turns out she can be shy and silly and insecure, especially when it comes to school. We have become a “thing”, but it’s weird. Quadir is very protective of her, and so are all his friends. None of them say anything to us about our friendship. They just assume we are together and they leave us alone. Even my best friend Jen assumes we are a couple. Since she can’t quite wrap her head around it, she doesn’t ask for details and gives us plenty of space. My STEM friends are in awe of my association with her since she is so popular and we are so geeky. My mother, so far, is unaware as she is busy with the babies and happy that I am just busy with school. The problem is us.
I had a boyfriend in 7th grade and a better one in 9th grade, Jackson. They were very nice and I liked them a lot. I just wasn’t super excited about them or in love or whatever. But I knew what to do, how to act. I knew they were supposed to call me first and ask me out. I knew they were to hold my hand and try to get a kiss. I knew what to expect and what my appropriate response should be. I have watched movies and television and my family my whole life. I know exactly how to be heterosexual. But gay? I am not sure about that at all. Because Meer is athletic and tall and bigger than me, sometimes I act like she is the boy and I am the girl and I giggle and flirt. Sometimes that’s good and she comes up to me with that swagger and smile and makes me weak at the knees. But other times, we are just like two girl “friends” and we gossip or tell secrets or confess our complete ignorance of politics or Spanish or whatever. And I feel so close to her, like she is my soul mate and I can be myself, and I feel so free. It’s at those times that I find her intensely attractive and sometimes I want to throw her down and kiss her. But I don’t. I feel like I shouldn’t and I get nervous. I’m not sure how she would react and I don’t know if I can go through with it or if I will do it right. So, I wait for her to make the moves, and she sometimes does, but most of the time she doesn’t. And then I get frustrated but I don’t say why ‘cuz it’s stupid and we argue. One time I stormed out her house and ran to Jen’s house crying.