Mistrust

by Margaret McHeyzer

  Her shoulders drop and her eyebrows knit together in question. “Did something happen, Dakota?”

  Every single hair stands on end and my entire body shivers as a cool breeze touches my exposed skin. “No, why?” I automatically respond, defensive. I close my eyes for a second and regroup. “I mean, no, nothing happened. I just . . .” Crap, what do I say? “I’m really tired. You know dancing and things like that.”

  “Levi called earlier looking for you, and I told him you were still asleep. He sounded funny, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I sit up further in bed and painfully cross my legs. I’m so sensitive.

  “He sounded like he was worried about you. What happened last night? You’re acting all weird and he sounded strange. Did you two have a fight or something? Is it because you told him you weren’t ready to have sex? You know, you can tell me anything; I promise not to tell Mom and Dad.” She reaches out and rubs her hand on my leg. The moment she touches me I flinch, moving my leg away from her hand reflexively. Sam notices and pulls her hand straight back.

  My bedroom fills with awkward tension as she looks at me in confusion “Sorry, I’m just tired,” I say, dragging my gaze away from the hurt she’s obviously feeling.

  “Dakota?” I don’t dare look at her. “Dakota!” she says again in a stronger voice.

  “I’m really tired, Sammy. Can we talk later?” I don’t give her an option to say anything more. I turn over on my side, my back to her, and pull the covers up to my chin.

  I’m hyperaware of her still sitting on my bed, but I have to keep my shit together until she leaves. My heart breaks. I’m so angry, not at Sam for her questions, but at myself for treating her so badly. She’s my little sister and all she wants to do is talk to me. I wish I could tell her, but I just can’t. I can’t tell anyone.

  I feel the bed move, and a few seconds later I hear Sam say, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Dakota but you know you can tell me anything, I’ll always love you.” Then the door quietly closes behind her.

  I want to scream at her, to call her back so I can hug her and tell her what happened. But I know I can’t. It’s too shameful.

  Instead I lay perfectly still and my eyes finally close, giving me some peace and quiet.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Startling awake, I grab the blankets and pull them close to me. “Come in,” I call out in a croaky voice.

  “Sweetheart, are you going to sleep the day away?” Mom asks as she comes and sits beside me on the bed. “Are you feeling okay?” She puts her hand to my forehead and feels for a fever. “You don’t feel warm. What’s wrong?”

  I look up at her and smile weakly. Degradation and humiliation fills every part of me. I want to burst into tears and tell her what’s happened. But I can’t, because then she’ll look at me differently. She’ll think badly of me, and I don’t think I could take it. “I’m okay,” I finally whisper, choking back the tears threatening to fall.

  “You sure?” Mom asks as she strokes the hair off my face. “You look tired.” I nod to her and try to paste a smile on my face, though of course it’s a fake and sickly sweet. “You must have had a great night last night.”

  “Yeah,” I finally respond after a few seconds of quiet. Better I say very little than risk my voice deceiving me and Mom looking at me as if I’m crazy. No matter how much I want to tell her, I know I can’t.

  Mom’s naturally golden hair is falling gently over her shoulders, her deep brown eyes examining everything about me. I have to put on my ‘happy face’ and pretend I’m okay. “You sure?” she asks again, trying to determine whatever’s bothering me.

  I swallow down once, and smile again. “Yeah, Mom, I promise. I’m good.”

  Mom takes a deep breath and stops playing with my hair. “Okay, I trust you.” The moment the word ‘trust’ is said, I have to hold back the strangled cry of shame. “We’re going out for dinner tonight. Just down to Henry’s Pizza House. We’re leaving in about half an hour.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I say, though inside my soul is dying.

  “Okay.” Mom leans down and gives me a kiss on the forehead. She then leaves my room, and I bury myself back under the covers.

  A few moments pass, and I know if I don’t get up, Mom will know something is really wrong. So I reluctantly push back the blanket, and get up out of bed. “You can do this, Dakota,” I encourage myself. Stumbling over to my mirror, I look at my body where I can see every scratch, bruise, and mark made last night. If I can see them, everyone else will see them too.

  Looking at my make-up arranged on my small table, I pick up the concealer and dab it all over the glaringly obvious marks on my face and neck. “Oh my God, I look terrible,” I mumble to myself. I begin to layer the make-up on my skin, masking the horrible marks beneath.

  By the time I finish, I look halfway like my normal self. Almost like the sixteen-year-old version of me before last night happened. But my eyes tell a different story. They tell of sadness, humiliation, betrayal, and guilt. The rock lodged in the pit of my stomach confirms the shame I’m carrying.

  Examining myself, I make sure there are no visible marks and that I look somewhat normal. Putting on an air of fake happiness, I take myself out to the family room where Dad is sitting on his usual chair, reading on his tablet. He looks up when I enter the room and a huge smile brightens his face. My throat tightens knowing how deceitful I am being.

  Man, now I feel even worse.

  “Hi there, princess. How was your prom last night?” he asks as he sits up in his seat and leans forward in anticipation of me retelling my evening.

  “It was great,” I lie. Oh God, Dakota.

  I should tell them, get it over and done with. But, it’s too late. I should’ve done it when I got home instead of waiting for hours. Everyone will think I’m making it up. Besides, I can’t remember anything, so what can I say?

  More guilt consumes me. I’ve lied to everyone who loves me. A colossal wave of remorse overtakes me and suddenly I can feel my heart clamoring to get out of my chest, bile sits in my throat, and I shove my hands in my jeans pockets so Dad can’t see them shaking.

  “Tell me about it. Did you dance a lot?” Dad smiles at me.

  “Yeah, too much. I’ve been really tired all day.”

  Dad nods. “Was the food nice?”

  “Uh-huh. Great. Um, I’ve got to go to the bathroom before we go for dinner.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk more later.”

  “Yep,” I respond and run to the bathroom. When I get there, I let out a huge breath and drag myself to the mirror. “What are you doing?” I ask myself. Shaking my head I look away from the lying eyes of the girl in the mirror. I can’t stand looking at her anymore. She’s such a liar. “I’m not a liar; I’m protecting them. I’m protecting me, too,” I tell myself.

  Finally I’m able to calm myself down enough that I can leave the bathroom. I’ll just keep quiet and only answer questions I’m asked. I won’t say anything, and tomorrow will be better.

  Tomorrow will be a new day. Won’t it?

  “Honey, are you okay?” Mom asks when I come into the kitchen to get a juice.

  “Yeah I’m fine, Mom.” Quickly and discreetly I adjust the long sleeve sweater I’m wearing. Averting my eyes, I pour a glass of juice and turn to leave the kitchen.

  “Hey,” she calls. Stopping dead in my tracks, I take several deep breaths, plaster a fake smile on my face and turn to Mom. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks again, this time with worry clouding her words. “You’re looking really pale, and you’re not wearing what you usually wear to school.”

  I knew this morning when I woke, everything is going to be different. “Yeah, I know. I just feel like jeans and a sweater.” I try to force myself to make eye contact. Instead, I’m looking at the fridge door to the right and behind Mom.

  Mom takes a couple of steps toward me, and I have to force myself not to retreat, and not to flinch when she re
aches out to tuck some hair behind my ear. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right?” her voice is soft and earnest, and I know she’s genuinely concerned for me.

  “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m good.” God, I wish I could tell her. To yell and scream at the top of my lungs how what was supposed to be the best night of my life, turned into the scariest nightmare any person could ever go through. The worst part though, is not remembering. “Really, Mom, I’m good. I promise.” I lean in and give her a kiss, although I know I’m lying to her.

  “Okay. But if you need to talk, I’m always here for you.” Smiling at Mom, I step around her, place my glass in the sink and get out of here so I don’t break down and cry in front of her.

  “Bye,” I shout as I close the door. Walking down the garden path I try and get away before Sam catches up to me, because we always either walk or catch the bus to school together.

  “Dakota.” Crap, she heard me leaving. Speeding up, I pretend I didn’t hear her. “Dakota!” I hear her footsteps as she runs to catch me. “Hey, I was calling you,” she says once she’s caught up to me, puffing.

  “Were you? Sorry, I didn’t hear anything.” I don’t dare look at her, she may see my lie.

  “You sure you’re okay? You’re kinda different.” Sammy shoots me a sideways look as she ties her light brown hair back in a ponytail. “You’ve been a bit off since yesterday.”

  “What the hell is wrong with everyone?” I snap and immediately regret my outburst. “Sorry I shouldn’t have said that.” Gosh, this is so hard. So much more difficult than I could’ve ever imagined it would be.

  Sammy looks at me sideways again, and takes a step away from me, looking down at her shoes. “S’okay.” But her actions speak much louder than her words do.

  I have to make this right with her, although I still can’t tell her what’s happened, I can pretend I’m the way I was before prom night. “How about after school today we go to the mall and we get some frozen yogurt?”

  “I’m not ten anymore, Dakota,” she teases with a smile. “But, if you insist.”

  The lightness of Sam and her gentle personality makes me think there’s hope for me. But the instant I start to forget, the nightmare returns with the force of a blow and reminds me that I’ll always remember.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Levi accosts me the moment he sees me and Sammy walking in to school.

  “I’ll catch you after school,” Sam says as she walks ahead of me.

  “’Kay,” I reply then look to Levi. “I’ve been at home.” I start walking toward class as Levi keeps up with me.

  “I know that, Dakota. But what happened to you?”

  Putting my head down, I try and make an exit without Levi chasing after me. “Nothing,” I answer with no conviction.

  “Dakota!” He yells at me. But I pretend not to hear him. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. “Fucking hell.” He grabs my upper arm and pulls me back against his rock-solid body. “Stop walking away and tell me what the hell happened to you on Saturday night.”

  I can’t bring myself to look at him. There’s no truth I can tell him, only lies, lies, lies. Just like I’ve been feeding everyone else. “I felt sick,” I finally manage to mumble while keeping my eyes on a piece of chewed gum stuck on the floor.

  “You felt sick? So what, you thought you’d leave and not say anything to anyone?” I can see now he’s moving from foot to foot, clearly agitated with me. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve taken care of you? Or is this all because you didn’t want to have sex with me?”

  “What? No.” I look up at him for a second, and see the hurt etched across his beautiful face. But as quickly as I looked at him, I avert my eyes again so he can’t see the secret I’m hiding. “I started feeling really woozy, and I took myself home. I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s night.” I shrug and chance a quick look at Levi. His face is full of hurt, which makes my stomach roil with guilt and my heart leap into the back of my throat.

  “You could’ve told me, Dakota. I would’ve taken you home.” He takes a hesitant step toward me, and slings his arm around my shoulder. I brace myself, and mentally will my body not to flinch and move away from him. This is Levi, he loves you. “Promise me you’ll never do that to me again.” He leans in and brushes a light kiss to my temple.

  Swallowing hard, I nod my head but I can’t say the words. It’ll make me even more of a liar than I already am.

  “Meet at lunch?” he asks as we walk toward our first classes for the day.

  “Yeah.”

  “’Kay, bye, babe.” He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips and heads off down the hall toward where Reece is standing by his locker.

  The moment Levi’s lips land on mine, bile quickly rises to the back of my throat and instantly my stomach knots as I hold in a heave.

  Quickly I run to the bathroom, check there’s no one in here and lock myself in a cubicle. “Oh my God,” I whisper to myself while I sit on the lid of the toilet. Holding my book bag close to my chest I rock back and forth with tears springing to my eyes. “I can’t do this.”

  I sit alone in the cubicle, holding in the tears threatening to fall. It would be a tell-tale sign that I’m not okay. And I can’t take anyone asking me, or even suspecting there’s something wrong with me.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I manage to pull myself together. I know in the next couple of minutes the bell will ring, and I’ll have to take myself to my first class of the day, which, unfortunately, is Mr. C’s math class.

  Standing, I leave the cubicle, wash my hands and head toward class.

  “Dakota,” I hear his rough voice call me from behind. An icy chill snakes up my spine and I freeze on the spot. “I need to speak with you.”

  Rooted to the spot, I wait for him to catch up to me. “Mr. Collins,” I say in a nervous, small voice.

  “What happened on Saturday night? I told you to wait for me and you left. I went looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “I was feeling ill,” comes my rehearsed, stoic answer. “I took myself home.” I look up to Mr. C’s dark, inquisitive eyes.

  “How did you get home?” I feel like he’s interrogating me. “Did you call your parents?”

  “I walked.”

  “By yourself, at night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I see his jaw flex and he runs his hand over his short, crew-cut hair. “You’re telling me you walked home on your own?”

  “Yes.” I look away from him and defensively tighten my grip on the book bag against my chest. “I did.”

  “I came back to the office, found your number and tried calling you. You didn’t answer your phone. I even got in my car and drove to your home.”

  Shit. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you looked like you were going to pass out, and I was concerned for you. I looked everywhere, Dakota. I went out to the bleachers, checked there, I asked your friends.”

  He was at the bleachers? They’re only a few feet from where I woke. “You went to the . . .” I stop myself in time, because if I say ‘bleachers’ he may know something more than he’s letting on. Oh God, could it be him? “You went looking for me?” I regain my composure and try to watch him for any signs. Signs of guilt, sorrow, something. But his eyes are steely, and don’t give anything away.

  “I did go looking for you,” he finally says. “But I couldn’t find you.”

  “I was fine.”

  “You didn’t look fine to me.” He reaches out to touch my elbow, and automatically I retreat with my gaze falling to his outstretched hand. Quickly he shoves it in his pocket and his left eye twitches as he presses his lips to form a thin, strained line. The bell sounds and I cautiously back away from Mr. C. There’s a look of confusion on his face, as his eyebrows knit together. “Get to class,” he calls after me.

  Breaking into a run I get to his class, and sit in the back far corner, not really paying attention to anyone
in the class. Mariah’s in this class with me, and although she said ‘hi’ to me when I came in, I haven’t acknowledged her yet.

  Mr. C is damn creepy. He knows something, and isn’t saying what.

  He waltzes into class, closes the door and his eyes go directly to me. “Good morning, class. I trust you all had a good time at your prom? Considering there’s only a couple of weeks of school left, I could go easy on you and give you light work to do.”

  There’s happy chatter in the class.

  “But I’m not that nice. So open your books, page one hundred and fifty-five.”

  The chatter turns to groans. Opening my book, I focus on the work and ignore everything and everyone. I have to get through this class, then I can get out of here. And hopefully breathe easy again.

  “What happened to you?” Lindsey asks when I sit at our table at lunch.

  “Huh? When?” I play dumb and hope they’ll drop the questioning.

  “On Saturday night. Where did you disappear to? I tried calling you, and someone said they saw you walking home.”

  My head instantly turns to Lindsey. “Who said they saw me walking home?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I was asking around to see if anyone had seen you, and people were saying they hadn’t. Levi was going out of his mind looking for you, and Reece took off running toward your place. Mr. C even asked where you were.”

  I shudder when Lindsey mentions Mr. C’s name. “I went home to sleep. I started getting sick, and I knew I had to get into bed.”

  “You ignoring me?” Mariah asks as she sets her lunch tray down and sits opposite me.

  “What? No.”

  “I was trying to get your attention in math, and you were ignoring me. What’s up with that, Dakota?”

  “I’m sorry, my mind’s been wandering all day.”

  “She went home on Saturday,” Lindsey says to Mariah.