by Patty Blount
—Ashley E. Lawrence, victim impact statement
NOW
ASHLEY
“I am so full,” Justin groans from my left. He’s sprawled in the corner of the sofa, belt loosened and feet propped up on the coffee table.
“Me too,” Derek adds from my right in pretty much the same position.
My lips twitch. “Maybe you guys shouldn’t have bogarted the drumsticks.”
“Oh my God, Ash, you didn’t starve, did you?” Justin reminds me.
“No, but I did want a drumstick.”
“Yeah, well, turkeys only come with two, and there are three of us.”
“Don’t remind me.”
A finger drills me in the ribs, and I squeal, slapping Derek’s hand away. The three of us are huddled under a blanket, and bowls of popcorn—untouched—sit on the coffee table in front of us. Aunt Pam, Aunt Debra, our cousins, and grandparents have all gone home—finally. Mom is already asleep on the far end of the huge sectional sofa. Dad’s asleep in his chair.
I swear they’re both smiling.
It’s just like those sappy pictures Mom took of us when we were little. Except this time, I’m in the middle.
I actually kind of like it.
Thanksgiving had been quiet this year. Real quiet. Calm, maybe. Yeah. That’s it. Calm. Derek woke up me early, said he was heading out to meet Brittany for breakfast, and asked if I wanted him to bring me back a bagel. When I made it downstairs, I found Dad sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, waiting.
For me.
“Ashley, I know I don’t deserve it, but I would love if you could just forget every word I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was angry at all of you. Had been for a very long time.”
Dad’s words reminded me of Derek’s at last night’s GAR meeting. I’d never noticed how that tension had impacted everybody else in this family. I may have been the one who’d been raped. But I was never in this alone. I wish I’d seen that. I wish I hadn’t been so blinded by my own torment.
“The truth is, I’m proud of you. Proud of the fearless way you’ve approached life since the assault and proud of the way you saved us all last night.”
I stared at his profile while he sipped coffee. Proud, fearless and saved? I didn’t know if any of those words applied to me. “Dad, I’m not fearless at all.”
He shook his head. “You are. Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you tense up when you have to leave the house, but do it anyway? I’ve been watching you carefully, Ashley. I wasn’t careful before, but I am now. I watched your video. I’ve talked to the principal at your school and know how many signatures you got for Raise the BAR. I read the letter you sent to the judge, to the newspapers. And the stuff on your Pinterest page is brilliant. I’m damn proud of Derek, too. He was willing to remove himself from our lives to give you the space you needed. Did you know he was thinking of enlisting?”
A wave of nausea swelled, and I bit my lip. I hadn’t known that, and the thought of him fighting a thousand miles away does me in. Dad reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“Ashley, I promise—no matter how angry one of you three makes me, I will never say something as cruel as I did last night. I hope you can forgive me.”
It occurred to me in that moment that forgiveness was one of those concepts that everybody thought they understood but didn’t. It was so easy to say, “Sure! I forgive you.” But meaning it? That was a whole other story. Forgiveness is rarely this once-and-done thing. It’s an ongoing battle, a struggle to remember that love is worth more than pain, and that fighting for it matters more than a grudge.
“Okay, what are we watching?” Justin grabs the remote, jerking me back to the here and now.
Derek’s cell phone buzzes.
“Is that Brittany?” I ask when he tugs it from his pocket.
“Mmm-hmm.” He taps out a reply and puts the phone away.
“Derek, you talked to her, right? Apologized? She was seriously worried about you.” So was I.
“Yeah, yeah, relax, Mom. I went over there this morning and took her out to breakfast. Everything’s cool. She just wanted to make sure you haven’t poisoned my pumpkin pie or anything.”
“You noticed I didn’t have a piece, right?”
His eyes snap to mine, and it takes him a second before he grins. “Touché.” He settles deeper into the sofa. “I told Brittany something this morning that I guess you guys should know because…well, you’ll hopefully be seeing a lot more of her.”
“Yeah? What?” Justin asked in a sleepy voice.
“I told her I love her. You know. Like, in love with her.”
Justin and I exchange surprised looks. “Holy crap, bro.”
“Did she say it back?” I demand to know.
Derek’s face splits into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Yeah. Don’t ask me why, but she did.”
A warm tingle spreads over me. I know why.
And then Justin opens his mouth. “Dude, you’re such a girl.”
Derek reaches over me and punches Justin in the arm. “We’ve talked about this, J. That’s sexist and misogynistic.”
I offer Derek my fist to bump. Justin manfully doesn’t let out a peep. But he rubs that arm for the next twenty minutes.
The credits are just starting to roll on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation when a knock on the door makes us all jerk.
“I’ll get it,” Justin offers since he’s closest to the door.
A few seconds later, Sebastian walks into the living room. When he sees the blanket covering Derek, me, and the spot where Justin had been sitting, he smiles.
“Hey, Sebas. Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
Shrugging, he jerks his head to the side, flipping his hair. “Not bad. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Good,” I tell him.
And yeah, I really mean it.
“We’re about to watch a sappy Christmas movie. Want in on that?” Justin asks.
Sebastian laughs. “Which one?”
Derek ticks them off his fingers. “Uh, we’ve got Home Alone and Home Alone 2—anything after that doesn’t really count—and Elf.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Nah, I just wanted to check up on my girl.”
His girl.
Derek and Justin exchange a look that’s so evil, I immediately brace for impact.
“Awww,” they say in perfect unison, complete with matching levels of sarcasm, and it’s so normal, so incredibly typical, I just smile and let them have their fun.
I can always get even later.
“Give us a few minutes.” I detangle myself from the blanket and tug Sebastian into the kitchen. I grab two forks and cut us a piece of leftover apple pie to share. When I hand Sebastian his fork, he’s staring at the oven we rented for the day.
“What’s this?”
“Rental oven,” I tell him proudly. “It’s a de-stresser, trust me.”
This time, he looks at me, angling his head to study me carefully.
“You look good, Ashley.”
I’m wearing pajama bottoms and an old ratty flannel shirt. “Um, seriously?”
“No, not the outfit. I mean, you’re…” He trails off, circling his hands to find the right words. “You’re like really relaxed and happy.”
I am.
He grabs a chair and leans forward. “So what happened last night? When you didn’t text me back, I got scared.”
Yeah. I was scared, too. “Derek took off, but we went after him, and we talked.”
“So everything’s okay now?”
“It got…pretty intense.” I pull out the chair beside him and sit. “Derek said he’d see Dr. Joyce with me and maybe separately, too,” I tell him. “Oh, and Justin, too. He’s tired of punching people.”
Sebastian’s eyes bulge. “Punching who?”
I shrug. “Apparently, anybody who talks shit about me.”
“Well, hell.”
“Yeah.”
I guess it’s true that still waters go deep. I was weirdly touched by Justin’s attempts to defend my honor and horrified that I’d become so furious with one brother for not defending me, I never noticed the other brother had been doing exactly that.
“And your dad?” He takes my hand, and I look up at him, smiling.
“Everything’s not quite okay yet. But it can be. It will be.”
His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, crinkle at the corners. “Yeah. It will be.” He reaches over and cups my face in both hands…and waits for me to decide if I’ll choose fear or love.
I lean in and touch his lips with mine, and it’s this perfect moment when there’s no pain, no scar tissue, no shame or guilt or grief—just a girl who’s a little bit in love with a boy with Nike swoosh hair and magic eyes who maybe loves her back and is willing to let her set the pace. His lips are warm and firm, and his hands gently caress my face, my hair, my neck, making me feel like something valuable, something treasured, something that matters. We angle our heads, move closer, and let the kiss go on for a long time. I’m warm, soothed, and stirred up and can feel all these dark and hidden parts of me ignite, parts I was sure had been drowned in hurt and anger.
Every last bit of the pain and shame and guilt and grief I’ve carried since my freshman year drips from my soul, collecting in a reservoir. They’re not gone for good though, and I know they’ll leak out sometimes.
But my dam is stronger now. Higher walls. Reinforced not with concrete and steel, but with unbreakable family ties.
For more Patty Blount
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Resources
The statistics in Someone I Used to Know are frighteningly true. Sexualized violence is more prevalent at colleges as compared to other crimes. But you can help. If you’re interested in creating a rally at your school similar to the ones depicted in this novel, please contact these organizations. They’re happy to help you get a program off the ground.
•Take Back the Night: Visit takebackthenight.org to learn how you can organize rallies, glow runs, and other events to encourage activism in your area, as well as support healing and end sexualized violence.
•End Rape on Campus (EROC): Visit endrapeoncampus.org and learn how you can help change the sexual assault policy at your school. This organization directly supports students as well as their communities.
•Students Active For Ending Rape (SAFER): Visit www.nsvrc.org/organizations/3521 and learn how to draft a campus policy for your school including information about federal law, training programs, and mentoring that brings about change through community mobilization.
•National Sexual Violence Resource Center: Visit www.nsvrc.org for access to a national library of resources related to sexual violence and its prevention including publications, projects, and organizations committed to eliminating such violence.
If you or someone close to you experienced sexualized violence including molestation, assault, or rape, I urge you to seek help from organizations like the following, where team members are skilled in helping you cope with the crime committed against you, no matter when or how it occurred:
•Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN): This organization is the United States’s largest anti-sexual-violence organization and operator of the National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-HOPE). RAINN can help you find medical treatment, help family members learn how to support your recovery, and help you navigate the legal system. Visit rainn.org for more information.
•National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC): This organization can help you find a local chapter if you or someone you love is a survivor of sexual violence.
If you’d like information about Ashley’s pledge form and want to create your own, start here:
•It’s On Us: Visit itsonus.org to take the pledge.
•Men Can Stop Rape: Visit mencanstoprape.org to take the pledge against domestic violence.
•Men’s Involvement: Visit the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence’s links page at www.ncdsv.org/ncd_linksmaleadvoc.html for a list of ways men can help prevent sexualized violence.
•#HowIWillChange: Follow this Twitter conversation, along with #MeToo and #YesAllWomen and listen to the stories.
If you’re a relative or friend of someone who’s survived sexual violence, understand that you are also a victim and need help. Don’t try to go it alone. These wonderful organizations are staffed with experts and volunteers who know exactly what you’re going through. They can help. Please let them.
You are not alone. I believe you.
Acknowledgments
Usually, this is where an author thanks the people without whom a book could not have been written. Well, in this case, this book truly would not exist without Annie Berger, Evan Gregory, and Annette Pollert-Morgan. For most authors, ideas abound and are so plentiful, they fret over not having the time to write them all. For me, ideas are scarce…a feast during a famine. When I find an idea, I write that book and then starve until another one grows. It was during one of these idea famines when the four of us hopped on a conference call to discuss a possible Some Boys sequel. Out of this discussion, Ashley and Derek were born. Originally titled Boys Will Be Boys, this story explores the toxic masculinity we’ve been seeing unfold in Hollywood, in Washington, DC, and in various other segments of society. We later changed it to Someone I Used to Know for several reasons. First, the idea of a sibling fallout intrigued me. Blood’s supposed to be thicker than water, so the idea of exploring issues so divisive they actually break up a family became something I needed to explore. Second, we thought the original title might turn male readers away from the story. Third, because so many sexual assaults are perpetrated not by strangers, but by friends, relatives, or acquaintances, this new title took on more than one meaning.
Thank you to my son, Chris, whose experiences at a local state university fueled many of Derek’s chapters.
Special thanks to Katie K. and my friends Laura Cassini, Geoff Symon, and Deb Z. All provided essential realism to significant sections of this story. Katie, from the Take Back the Night organization, helped me obtain permission to use the organization’s name in this story. Laura, an attorney, explained trial process and rape sentencing. Geoff, a forensic investigator, described the purpose and procedure of collecting evidence during a sexual assault examination, better known as a rape kit. Deb, a rape survivor, shared the painfully personal details of her assault to help me inform Ashley’s healing process. Any inaccuracies in my portrayals of the Rocky Hill University Take Back the Night rally, Victor’s rape trial, and Ashley’s experiences are my mistakes.
Thank you to all the members of RWA, especially the LIRW, CTRWA, and YARWA chapters, whose blogs and emails provided support and the knowledge that though it may often feel otherwise, I’m never alone on this journey.
Thank you to every reader who sent messages thanking me for writing a strong heroine like Grace Collier. I hope you’ll find Ashley Lawrence a worthy successor.
Finally, a personal note of thanks to every survivor who shared a #MeToo story.
I hear you. I believe you. And I’m fighting for you.
About the Author
Powered by way too much chocolate, award-winning author Patty Blount loves to write and has written everything from technical manuals to poetry. A 2015 CLMP Firecracker Award winner as well as Rita finalist, Patty writes issue-based novels for teens and is currently working on a romantic thriller. Her editor claims she writes her best work when she’s mad, so if you happen to upset Patty and don’t have any chocolate on hand to throw at her, prepare to be the subject of an upcoming novel. Patty lives on Long Island with her family i
n a house that sadly doesn’t have anywhere near enough bookshelves…or chocolate.
SOME BOYS GO TOO FAR.
SOME BOYS WILL BREAK YOUR HEART.
BUT ONE BOY CAN MEND IT.
“A bold and necessary look at an important, and very real, topic. Everyone should read this book.”
-Jennifer Brown, author of Thousand Words and Hate List
Chapter 1
Grace
No Monday in history has ever sucked more than this one.
I’m kind of an expert on sucky days. It’s been thirty-two of them since the party in the woods that started the battle I fight every day. I step onto the bus to school, wearing my armor and pretending nothing’s wrong, nothing happened, nothing changed when it’s pretty obvious nothing will ever be the same again. Alyssa Martin, a girl I’ve known since first grade, smirks and stretches her leg across the empty seat next to hers.
I approach slowly, hoping nobody can see my knees knocking. A couple of weeks ago during a school newspaper staff meeting, Alyssa vowed her support, and today I’m pond scum.
“Find a seat!” Mrs. Gannon, the bus driver, shouts.
I meet Alyssa’s eyes, silently beg her for sympathy—even a little pity. She raises a middle finger. It’s a show of loyalty to someone who doesn’t deserve it, a challenge to see how far I’ll go. My dad keeps telling me to stand up to all of Zac’s defenders, but it’s the entire bus—the entire school—versus me.