Honorable Disgrace

by Stephanie N. Pitman

  “I’m going to get help.”

  She turned to leave, but I grabbed her wrist, jerking her to a stop. “No, don’t.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to see someone.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  She leveled a hard stare at me. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t get your mom right now.”

  “Because …” I floundered, repeating, “Because I’m fine.”

  “Not good enough.”

  Yanking free, she spun on her heel. Scrambling to my knees, I reached my hand toward her. “JJ, please don’t. Please.”

  Tossing her hands into the air in a gesture of defeat, they slapped against her sides. She stalked back, the bed dipping as she sat. “I know I said I wouldn’t ask you questions, but really I thought you’d have told me by now. Something bad happened. I know it because, well, I can’t even imagine what would make you break it off with Cory, but I’ve seen your arms, the blunt, raw edges of your fingernails like you’ve been chewing them, and the haunted look in your eye. It’s like you’re not even there anymore. Angie, please don’t keep this from me. I want to help.”

  She faced me, my hands clasped in hers, her tone of voice, her expression so sincere it pained me to look at her. I stared at our joined hands instead and opened my mouth. But then I snapped it closed. I swallowed and tried again, my chin trembling, “I … um, the other night … no, I can’t. I can’t.”

  Shaking my head pitiably, I squeezed my eyes closed against the onslaught building up behind them.

  “What can’t you tell me? Angie, please, please tell me.” Her voice a whisper, she tightened her grip. “Did Cory hurt you?”

  My eyes flew open. I shook my head frantically. “No, Cory didn’t do anything.”

  “Then what happened? Did someone else hurt you?”

  Her question hung in the air between us.

  “Who, Angie? Who hurt you?”

  I turned away, my eyes downcast. She breathed out heavily and released my hands. Pushing up from the bed, she collected the pizza box and other garbage, my uneaten slice sliding around inside.

  “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.” It wasn’t unkind, but there was a note of frustration in her voice.

  “JJ, wait.”

  She turned expectantly. “Yeah?”

  “Uhh, you’re not gonna tell my mom, are you? ’Cause she’s already freaking out because I won’t eat and I sleep all the time. She’s gonna make me go to the doctor.”

  “And you should go.” She stared at the floor, her hand pressed against the doorframe. Silence hung between us, and then she sighed, her shoulders sagging perceptibly. “No, I won’t tell your mom. At least not yet.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Yeah.” She sighed again. “Well, see ya later.”

  I watched her leave, and wiped at my damp cheeks. I’d almost told her. But if I did, then it would be real. I wasn’t ready to face her look of pity, of possible disgust.

  I had decided one thing though. I had to go back to school. My mom would force it out of me unless I went back.

  ><><><><><

  I braced myself before pushing the locker room door open with my elbow. JJ, who was casting worried glances my way when she thought I wasn’t looking, followed me out.

  Underneath the dread threatening to consume me over being near Cory again was the familiar yearning to see him, to drink in his raw, handsome masculinity.

  After he’d left the flower with the hidden poem, despite our heated words in the field, I thought I’d hear from him again. But I hadn’t.

  His back was to the door as I entered the weight room, helping to set up the equipment for the day. My heart did a relay race in my chest. Just seeing him made me feel fuzzy, and I watched him with covert longing, surprised by the unyielding look on his face when he caught my eye. Averting his gaze, he was careful not to look at me again, his stance stiff and angry. He sat next to his friends on the mat, his shoulders set and resolute.

  I fought tears. It was because I cared for him so much that I’d broken it off. But I couldn’t tell him that. It was better he hate me. I swallowed back my grief and found my own place on the mat.

  When class began and Cory came over to spot my efforts, he made it clear he didn’t want to talk, his eyes flinty and hard. I wanted to apologize, to at least ask if we could be friends. Yeah, that’s lame. I know I hurt you, but let’s be friends.

  My hand slipped off the barbell and it nearly landed on my foot. He thrust his hand out and caught it. “Thanks, Cory.”

  He nodded his chin in acknowledgement but said nothing, placing the bar back into my hands. Inwardly, I grieved the loss of his warm friendly banter, thankful when Coach called me over for my weekly strength test.

  The coach made a few marks on his clipboard, then nodded at me. When I moved to leave, he looked up. “Good to have you back, Angie.”

  I smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

  Reluctant, I headed slowly back to Cory. He indicated the bench, the bar set with my standard weight. I hesitated. Should I try to lift it? If I couldn’t and it slammed down on my throat, would that be so bad? I shook my head. No, I wasn’t going to think like that anymore. I’d decided to be done with that.

  “Not sure I can manage that much today,” I said quietly and removed a third of the weight.

  He grunted his acknowledgment, and helped put up the discs.

  I lay down on the bench, positioned underneath the bar. I kept my eyes on the crosshatch pattern, determined not to look at Cory. He stood just above me, ready to grab the bar if necessary.

  As soon as I took the full weight of the bar onto my arms, I knew I had too much. But I stupidly lowered it and held. It was on the upraise it all went wrong. The bar tipped to the left and Cory seized it, putting it back on the rack.

  I sat up, my body trembling. “I can’t. I can’t.”

  “Ang, you alright?” Cory’s hand was on my back, his musky scent, his warmth, his rumbling voice. It was too much.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Without asking to be excused, I fled and barricaded myself in a shower stall, sliding to the floor, my back in the corner, and pressed my palms to my eyes. Cory’s poem ran through my head over and over, the words losing their meaning, blurring together.

  I could ask my mom to pick me up. But, no. She’d haul me straight to the doctor. I had to stay here.

  I peeked out of the stall at the clock. Class would be over any minute and I didn’t want anyone to see me, let alone JJ. I couldn’t face her. I was too close to telling.

  With five minutes to spare before class ended, I slipped outside and set out around the building. I did not want to run in to anyone. I re-entered around the other side, darting through the still thankfully empty halls to the biology room.

  As soon as I reached the room, the bell rang and I found myself fighting my way past the outgoing students. I could have waited, but the need to get to the back of the room, to get to a safe vantage point, overruled my logic. I took a seat I’d never sat in, in the far back corner. I couldn’t bear Cory sitting behind me. My eyes on the door, knuckles white from gripping the edge of the desk, I tried to remember to breathe normal. The guy who usually sat there scowled at me as he and his friend angrily took the two chairs to my right, but I hardly spared them a glance. Next through the door was Tanya, whose face split into a grin when she saw me, and made a beeline for me.

  I exhaled and relaxed slightly, grateful in this moment to be surrounded. No one else could sit by me now.

  “You were gone awhile.” Tanya swiveled to face me.

  “Yeah … I guess.”

  “What’d you have?”

  “Umm, what do you mean?”

  “You were sick, right? What’d you have?”

  “Mono,” I lied. If only I’d been so lucky.

  “Oh man, that sucks.” Tanya leaned back, withdrawing her hands from my desk and setting them in her lap, her e
xpression slightly pinched. “I knew this boy who had it, and he wasn’t able to come to school for, like, a whole year.”

  I let Tanya ramble on while I kept an eye on the door, my pulse racing when Cory walked in. He froze in the doorway, his eyes met mine for the first time today. His expression reflected pain for a fraction of a second. It changed so quick I thought I imagined it.

  His face was stony calm, the only sign of his agitation a pulse hammering slightly above his collarbone. Then he headed straight for me, ignoring the only vacant seats in the room, his usual swagger absent. I clutched my bag to me, preparing to take flight, but he stopped at Tanya’s desk.

  The low rumble of his voice set my emotions into a flurry of responses, my heart aching with a powerful kind of hurt, half joy, half terrible sorrow. I chewed on my stubby nails as I watched their interaction through my lashes. What was he up to?

  “Sure, no problem.” Tanya stood and slid her books off the desk. She shot me a small smile as she moved to a seat in the front.

  When Cory took her place, I half expected him to turn around, but he kept his back to me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Why would he ask Tanya to move, obviously going out of his way to sit by me, but then ignore me?

  I reached out to him, but pulled my hand back and clenched it into a fist.

  “Everyone please take your seats.” Ms. Baxter waddled in on her too short legs, her walk always reminding me of a penguin. Students shuffled unhurriedly to their chairs, their conversations continuing. She started right into her lecture, the chitchat becoming quieter, but not silent. I tried to focus on her instruction about ribosomes and the lab we were going to have to complete come Monday, tried to pull my emotions back from the brink, but I was too baffled by Cory’s behavior.

  Halfway through class, Ms. Baxter paused. A request came through the intercom to answer her phone. Cory faced me, hard lines etched into his impossibly handsome face, his mouth open like he was going to say something. But he only shook his head, like I’d done something wrong, and closed his mouth. He snapped around returning to his Angie-doesn’t-exist-game.

  Angrily throwing my books into my bag at the sound of the bell, I sprang to my feet well ahead of the jam of bodies shuffling to get out the door. Why was I so angry? This was what I wanted, right? So why did it hurt so much? And why was he being so cruel? To go out of his way to sit by me and give me dirty looks? It was as though he was purposefully trying to hurt me. That wasn’t the Cory I knew.

  I was about to duck into the bathroom, when a strong hand seized me and yanked me back.

  “No!” I twisted out of the grasp, the horror of that night surging up, sending me in to a panic. I began to tremble, small whimpers clawing their way up my throat.

  “Whoa.” Cory stared at me, eyes wide, his hands held up in surprise, everyone in the vicinity giving me the same wide-eyed stare. He looked like he was about to pull me into his embrace, but I stepped sharply back.

  “Cory?” My pulse still frantic, my voice quavered.

  He looked away, over the heads of the sea of students, before making eye contact with me, his normally bright blue eyes shifting as he looked into my eyes. His expression morphed into a severe scowl, his whispered question almost like a plea, caught me off guard. “Why, Angie?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

  “The truth … about what?” A cold weight dropped into my stomach like my belly was full with frigid boulders. I took an unconscious step back, my gaze flicking to the safety of the bathroom.

  “About what?” He scoffed loudly. The hallway had been quickly emptying, but the flow of students slowed, some forming a semi-circle around us. Noticing the attention we were getting, Cory lowered his voice to a growl, and pulled me away from the bathroom’s open door and into a sheltered locker-lined alcove several feet away. He lowered his voice. “You and Brad.”

  His words hit me like a blow to the face. He knew? No wonder he was looking at me with such disgust and loathing.

  “Cory, I’m sorry. I didn’t want … Brad, he …”

  Cory cut me off, his lips curled back. “I don’t want to hear it.” He walked off, leaving me reeling in pain and humiliation.

  He swung around and got in my face, his distorted with rage. “You know the worst thing about this? I found out from him. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me yourself. You make me sick.”

  His last words cut through me, straight to my heart. So severe was the ache in my chest I lost my breath. I stared at him, my natural instinct to breathe, forcing air into my constricting lungs. His look of revulsion before he turned, his evident hate, was the final blow. He stalked off without a backward glance, and I reached out silently to his retreating back as I crumpled to the floor, uncaring of my surroundings.

  I don’t know how long I lay in a mess of grief, but at some point I felt arms encircle me. Without looking to see who they belonged to, I turned into them, gut-wrenching sobs encompassing my body. It wasn’t until my cries began to subside, my body shuddering with each breath that I became aware I was being led down the hallway. A hand rubbed my back, a voice murmuring soothingly into my ear.

  Halfway to the commons my brain started working, if somewhat hazily. Where was I going? Who was leading me? But I shook it off. It didn’t matter. Woodenly, my legs continued to carry me into a small office.

  “Angie … Angie!” Someone was shaking my shoulder. Theirs was a new voice.

  Slowly, despondently, I raised head, dimly recognizing the dark brown eyes. I registered the worry in them, but could only stare back, feeling like an empty husk. My eyes passed slowly over my surroundings, the padded leather chair I sat in, the cluttered oversized desk dominating the cramped space, the framed certificates adorning the stark white walls, and then back to the worried gaze of the school counselor.

  “Angie?”

  She spoke softly, crouched in front of me, one hand on the arm of the chair, the other barely touching my knee. “I know how you’re feeling. I’ve had my heart broken, too. It will be okay.”

  Heartbroken? That hardly began to describe it. My heart had been ripped from my chest and crushed and pummeled and stomped, each agonizing beat slower than the last until it lay mangled at my feet, nothing but echoing emptiness and degradation left. And that was after what I’d endured a week ago. How could anyone begin to know how I felt?

  Her kind eyes, mingled with the sincerity in her voice, made me want to talk to her. I felt dizzy, like I didn’t know where up or down was. I was torn between wanting to speak, and wanting to guard my fears, keeping control of them, keeping them private. The words came out before I could think them through.

  “He hates me. And he should. He told him, and now he hates me.” My voice broke as I continued. “I didn’t want to, I … I told him no. Brad … but he forced me. I begged him, fought him, told him no, but he didn’t listen.”

  Her brows pulled together then rose toward her hair. “Angie, were you raped?”

  “Why would you ask me that?” I scooted to the edge of my seat, gripping the arms of the chair and shook my head. My insides were a jumble, a swirling mass of emotions: fear, anger, frustration, grief, regret. “This was a mistake.”

  I stood abruptly. Still crouched by my chair, she almost fell, but righted herself as I threw the door open wide.

  I stopped dead, the sight of the stooped figure making me see red. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, which had obviously been pressed to the door. Liz straightened quickly, her eyes wide.

  I felt dangerously out of control, words welling up, ready to spew forth, but instead I heard myself give a shrill cry as I vaulted at her, the fierceness and unexpectedness of my attack allowing me to knock her to the ground. “I hate you,” I spat vehemently, my fist smashing into her face, her cheekbone tearing the skin on my knuckles, tears blinding me again. I pummeled her. “I hate you, I hate you.”

  “Someone help!” Miss Bradbury called loudly
, but calmly, as she tried to pull me off Liz. I landed another blow before she got between us. She supported Liz as she climbed to her feet. “Angie—Liz brought you here. She helped you.”

  Anger swelled in my chest, a welcome sensation to the bleakness. I curled my lip. “Helped me? Liz doesn’t help anyone but herself. She only takes advantage of weakness so she can use it against people.”

  My eyes narrowed, my fury and anguish of the past week directed at Liz. I shoved past Miss Bradbury and seized Liz’s shirt, slamming her into the wall. Blood trickled from her nose onto her shirt. “What did you hear?”

  Miss Bradbury struggled to get between us, my hold on Liz too unyielding. Then large hands grabbed me from behind, and together with Miss Bradbury’s efforts they were able to pry me off.

  Mr. McMahon scowled at me, Miss Bradbury busy with an agitated Liz. I slid down the wall, all the fight fizzling out of me. What was I doing? So what if Liz heard? Cory was the only one I cared about, and now I knew just what he thought of me.

  I dropped my head into my hands, tears dripping off my chin.

  ><><><><><

  My mouth felt dry as I contemplated my hands in my lap. My mom sat stonily across from me, every now and then she’d either shake her head, sigh heavily, or say something like, “What were you thinking?” or “Can’t believe you got suspended,” her voice tighter and angrier than I’d ever heard.

  Through it all I didn’t say a word. Not at the school, not on the car ride into town and not in the waiting room. Now we sat in the exam room waiting for the doctor. I tried to figure out a way to get my mom to leave. Did doctor-patient confidentiality apply here? Would she tell my mom? The school counselor hadn’t told her, I knew that much.

  A soft knock brought me out of my trance and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

  “Angie, hi.” Dr. Sloan had been my physician since I was little, which was both comforting and awful. Her engaging smile elicited a flutter of fear. I released my pent up breath and tried not to hyperventilate. “What brings you in today?”