And I just looked at her with incredulity before heading off to my next class.
It was as much interaction as I’d had with her since her “apology.” Chad had been keeping a respectful distance, and even though talking to him that day made me realize how much I had missed him, I did think it was helping to keep Cheryl’s aggressions at bay. Or perhaps he was right, and there was something going on between her and Trevor and she had simply – finally - lost interest in Chad.
I had gone down to the dining hall for a snack one evening when I got bored of working on homework. It was practically empty except for Lisa sitting by herself in the corner, nursing what looked like a cup of tea.
I don’t know what emboldened me so, but she looked so sad and pathetic sitting there all by herself, and I contemplated that she had never really done anything so horrible to me except make snarky remarks now and then. What her involvement had been at the stables, I didn’t know, but I didn’t think she was the type to commit such things on her own. If it weren’t for Cheryl, she’d probably be a shy, studious girl with few friends. So I walked right over to her and asked if I could join her.
She looked up at me, startled. She had been a thousand miles away, completely lost in thought and it took her a moment to come back to earth.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” she said abruptly and I knew that I had caught her off guard, or perhaps she might have told me where I could stick it.
“Everything alright?” I asked gently.
“Yes,” she snapped back. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know – you just looked really deep in thought,” I said casually.
“Yeah, well, I have a lot of things to think about these days,” she grumbled.
“Can I ask you something?” I decided to lay all my cards out. “Do you hate me? It’s okay if you do, I’ll just get up and leave you alone. But I just don’t understand why. I really don’t understand what the hell has happened to me since I started going to school here. As far as I can tell, I’ve never done anyone any harm. I get the idea that if it weren’t for Cheryl you wouldn’t be like this with me.”
Lisa was taken aback. I’m quite sure this was just about the last thing she imagined me saying to her.
She took a few deep breaths and she seemed to be thinking long and hard about how she was going to respond.
Finally she said, “No, I don’t hate you. But your arrival and your inclusion into our little group was just really bad timing. And just the fact that you were there irritated me. And once I started being irritated with you, it just became how it always was.”
“Okay,” I shrugged with acceptance.
“But with everything that’s been going on lately,” she continued, “I see now that it didn’t matter whether you were there or not. It wouldn’t have changed who Cheryl is and what she says and what she does, and it wouldn’t have changed who Trevor is and what he says and does…and you should just know that if you think that you have been sad and suffering because of those two, that you’re not the only one.”
We each had our eyes locked on the other and I thought for just one fleeting moment that I caught a glimpse of Lisa’s soul and that she was just as scared and as lonely as I was.
“Well, if there’s ever anything I can do…” I offered an olive branch to her.
She nodded her head.
“Thanks,” she said as she continued bobbing her head up and down. “But I think that after everything that’s gone on, I really don’t have any right to ever ask you for anything.”
“No. It’s done,” I stated plainly. “Done.”
“Well I appreciate that, but…” The corners of her mouth turned down grimly.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone now. Have a good night,” I said as I stood up to go.
“Hey – did you tell Trevor about…my procedure?” she called out to me as I was walking away.
I came back to the table and sat down again.
“I did. I’m sorry. It just came flying out of my mouth. I didn’t plan on it,” I admitted.
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you did. It lifted a weight off me,” she said.
I sat there for a few moments regarding her blank face, and I realized she was wearing the same psychological armor that I had been hiding in all too recently.
“Okay, well, talk to you later,” I said.
I sighed and felt bad for her. Could we have been friends in other circumstances? I guess I’d never know.
I went back up to my room and read over what I had written for the paper. I had shoved it in a drawer and forgotten about it for a few days so that I could try to read it again objectively before I handed it over to Chad.
It read:
Recently, rumors of the principal’s house being vandalized have been flying around the Brandenhurst campus. According to the gossip, the vandals might have been politically motivated. They are alleged to have scrawled “woman hater” and “racist” and “where is the justice?” in spray paint over Mr. Coffey’s personal property. If true, what could have motivated such a crime? It’s not surprising to hear that the principal of a school, the over-seer of over a thousand angst ridden teens, is made into a target for the pent up frustration of a few. Surely that sort of thing must happen all the time. But in this case, something deeper seems to be going on.
As anyone who has read my previous columns will know, I am a newbie here at Brandenhurst. I have yet to complete even a single term. And yet, I have already felt the sting of injustice and experienced the failure of this institution to protect my most basic of human rights.
I won’t mince words. I admit to you all that perhaps I don’t fit in around here. I don’t come from old money, my parents have no political influence, nor are they involved with the school as donors or members of the Board of Directors. I’m just an average middle-class girl from the Pacific Northwest whose parents happened to come into money and decided to send their daughter off to get a fancy education. By what means did they come into their fortune, you ask? My father is not a great inventor, nor my mother a brilliant entrepreneur…in fact it’s rather tawdry: they had a big win on the lottery.
So I ask you before you read any further, does my humble background nullify my human rights?
I attended the fall dance this year, full of anxiety and expectation, of hopes and fears like I imagine most students do. Something rather commonplace happened: I danced with a boy who attempted to “cop a feel” and my reaction was to slap him. Hard. Across the face. I think at that time, all accounts were settled: he attempted to violate me, and I defended myself. Action. Reaction. Over. Done.
But it didn’t end there. This particular boy was humiliated by my slap in front of all of his friends. He followed me in the dark one night to tell me so. He then proceeded to threaten me, and his words and the tone of his voice carried so much weight that I was left shaking and could hardly get my key into the door of the dormitory. I reported the boy and his threat to the guidance counselor the next day. My primary concern was my own safety. I didn’t care if he was punished or reprimanded, I just wanted there to be a record of my complaint, and for him to be aware of it, so that he’d think twice about ever trying to harm me.
But if the boy didn’t take kindly to my slap, he certainly didn’t appreciate me reporting him to the guidance counselor. I was summoned from class one morning to go and have a meeting with he and the principal, Mr. Coffey, about it.
The upshot of the meeting was that “boys will boys” and Mr. Coffey acknowledged that the boy had indeed “gotten a bit fresh” with me. But my reaction was a violent one and therefore could not go unpunished. I was sentenced to thirty days detention and banned from attending school social functions.
Mr. Coffey presented this to me as if he were doing me a favor. He could have had me suspended or expelled. It could have gone on my permanent record, so how fortunate was I that he decided to be lenient?
The boy who had groped me went completely unpunished.
&
nbsp; But of course, it’s not that simple. There are mitigating circumstances. The boy in question, I’ve been told, has a very powerful father who donates lots of money to the school. The boy’s friend, whom he brought with him to the meeting as a witness and for moral support, has a parent who sits on the school’s Board of Directors. My father was a middle manager at a manufacturing firm and my mother stayed at home.
So I guess that means that it’s acceptable for whoever wants to to put their hands on me? Because I don’t have powerful or important parents? Knowing as I do from my own experience that that’s how it is at this school, I feel terribly vulnerable. And unsafe. And unprotected. And I wonder if there are others like me who have felt this way before and if that is what provoked the alleged vandalism at Mr. Coffey’s private residence.
And I say to all those of you out there reading this whose families are just scraping by to send you to this school, or who are here on scholarship, or who are not from the right kind of old money background, your physical safety is at risk and nobody is going to defend you or protect you.
This school thinks it is exempt from democracy. It sees itself as a little microcosm with laws unto itself.
And that should leave us all asking, “Where is Justice?”
I liked it. I was proud of it. I stood behind every word I said. So before I chickened out I wanted to get it into Chad’s hands and let him decide what to do with it. I sent him a quick text asking if we could meet so I could give him my column. He texted back right away and told me to meet him down in the dining hall.
I crossed my fingers that Lisa had left by now and headed out the door again.
I was surprised to see that Chad had made it there before me.
“Hey! How did you beat me here? You have farther to come!” I asked him.
(Whereas, we simply came down the elevator and turned down a hallway that led to the dining hall, the boys’ dorm was connected by an underground tunnel that crossed underneath the girls’ dorm.)
“Truth be told, I was hungry and already halfway here!” he grinned. “It’s nice to see you,” he added.
“Thank you,” I smiled back at him.
He really had been too good to me.
“I wanted to give you this. You can do with it what you want, but I’ve read it over a million times and I stand by what I wrote. So I’m prepared for whatever fallout might come from it,” I said.
“Okay,” Chad looked at me. “Well, let’s get something to eat and sit down and I’ll have a look at it and tell you what I think.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Once we had gotten settled and Chad had gotten a few mouthfuls of food into him he took the carefully creased sheets of paper out of my hands and began to read.
I sat there with my hands folded, nervously awaiting his opinion.
After a minute or two, he laid the papers down on the table and cleared his throat and just looked at me. I mean, really bore his eyes into mine. I felt myself flushing and I couldn’t stand it so I looked away and drummed my fingers on the table top.
“So?” I asked him, dying to know what he had thought.
“It’s perfect,” he said. “It’s absolutely perfect. You say everything that needs to be said. But there’s no self-pity, you make yourself accountable for your actions…you even make sure to use words like “allegedly” as if you’d run this through legal already!” Chad chuckled.
“I want to print it exactly as is,” he continued, “And you’re right – there may be fallout. There will be fallout. But if you’re willing to take it, then I promise I’ll have your back,” he assured me.
I nodded my head and said, “I trust you.”
He smiled and I think even reddened a bit.
“Help me eat these fries. Please,” he said as he shoved his plate towards me.
CHAPTER 29
The month of October at Brandenhurst brought all of the most beautiful fall colours with it. More than ever, I missed going riding in the mornings. Sometimes I would go out to the back of the campus and just walk through the woods. I loved looking at the contrast of the scarlet and amber against a blue sky while leaves crunched under my feet. The air was crisp now, too. My breath created visible puffs of vapor as I walked, and it served to remind me that winter would be next.
Stefano visited me much more often in those days after my attempt with the scissors. If Margie left the room for even five minutes he was there, and he often accompanied me on my walks through the woods. I was very grateful to have someone who cared so very much for me. Ever since my family had moved to Florida, I had felt very much unloved and alone in the world and I took solace in Stefano. I don’t know how I could have made it through those first few months at Brandenhurst without him.
One afternoon I received a text from Chad. It read:
Paper is hot off the presses.
Your column made it – fully intact
A little electrical jolt ran through me. I wondered how the student body would react, but more importantly I was filled with dreadful anticipation for the faculty’s reaction. I was prepared to be kicked out of school for my words. In fact, a tiny little part of me hoped it would happen that way.
It didn’t though. I was summoned from class again that same day to speak to the principal. As I made my way down the hallway wondering what fate awaited me, I texted Chad to let him know.
But this time it was just me, Mr. Coffey, and Mrs. York.
“Hello, Miss Sullivan, it’s nice to see you again,” Mr. Coffey greeted me warmly. “Please have a seat.”
I sat down without having uttered a word so far.
“Miss Sullivan, it was drawn to my attention that you wrote a rather unflattering article about me in the Chronicle,” he smiled his benevolent smile that masked all the malevolence underneath.
I said nothing.
“I understand it was in reaction to what you considered to be unjust treatment over the altercation you had with Mr. Trevor Murray,” he continued.
My lack of response was beginning to irritate him and he cleared his throat while he thought of what to say next.
“We take no bias against any student based on their financial background,” he chuckled as if it were the most preposterous idea in the world. “You do understand that you were not punished for your previous middle-class background, don’t you?”
I was still and quiet as a stone.
“Well, since you seem to have nothing to say for yourself, I’ll tell you what Mrs. York and I have in mind. We’d like you to write a retraction, explaining that your original perception was incorrect and that there was no bias. Your punishment was appropriate for your offence.”
His aggravation was beginning to show in his tone.
I smiled to myself, thinking that not doing or saying anything at all rattled him the most, and I looked as serene as the Mona Lisa sitting there.
There was silence as they both waited for a response from me. But I gave them none.
“Very well, Miss Sullivan. You are dismissed. And mind you go straight back to class this time. We’ll expect the retraction in the next edition,” he said as he stood up to usher me out.
I rose calmly and made my way out the door into the greater office and then into the hallway. They had known I had skipped two classes after the last time? Oops. I wondered why nobody had ever said anything and was bemused that I had gotten away with it.
As I sauntered along down the hallway, I heard high heeled shoes clicking along behind me trying to catch up.
“Catherine!” Mrs. York called out to me.
I wheeled around to face her.
“Catherine! I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you before, but…well, never mind. Listen, strictly off the record, I loved your column and I applaud you for it. I never wanted you to be given detention – but it was the best I could do. Coffey wanted to suspend you to placate the Murray boy. I was only able to talk him down to detention – but I tried – I want you to know that.”
I was stunned.
“Thank you,” I said with some awe and disbelief. “Thank you. I didn’t know…”
“No, I know you didn’t. Believe me – I was nearly as enraged as you must have been. Unfortunately, my hands are tied by the bureaucracy. But I just wanted you to know that I did do, and I still do, what I can for you.”
Her eyes were both apologetic and entreating at the same time.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” I whispered.
I was so touched I could feel my eyes beginning to well up and I turned to walk away before she could see me crying.
That same day, Cheryl came and sat next to me in English. We had fallen back into the old seating arrangements we had chosen at the very beginning of the year. We would say hello and make cordial small talk, and sometimes Cheryl would ask me questions about Jane Eyre, but it had all been very superficial up until now.
On that particular day, English was the last class before lunch. As the bell rang, Cheryl practically pounced on me and asked if I would like to go and eat with her and Janice.
I took a moment before I responded. Initially, I thought, why not? It’s not like I have anyone else to eat lunch with. But then I realized it was precisely that attitude that had caused me to become entangled in her web in the first place and I hesitated.
“Oh come on, I’m starving already,” Janice intervened and grabbed my arm and began to lead me out of the classroom.
Once we had all gotten our food and were settled down at the usual table in back, I noticed that Lisa was absent.
“Where’s Lisa?” I asked innocently. “She’s not eating?”
“Oh, god, who knows?” Cheryl did one of her patented eye rolls. “She’s been nothing but sulky lately – I’ve given up.”
Janice shot her a knowing look which Cheryl returned.
“But who cares about Lisa. Are you going to the Halloween dance?” she asked me excitedly.
“I can’t. I’m barred. Remember?”
“Oh whatever – it’s Halloween! You can get a costume that covers your face and they’ll never know!” she laughed.
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