"Yeah, Andrew Craig. Mr. Big Man on Campus. Basketball star. Why should he get all the attention?"
Ignoring his bitterness, I drew a breath to straighten the boy out. "Rick, it wasn't Drew's fault, it was mine. I slept with Mackey, and that's against school rules. That's why he was suspended."
Rick flinched when I made my confession. "But…when?"
"When what?" I asked, confused.
"When did you sleep with him?" The question was impertinent, embarrassing and none of his business, but I felt compelled to answer.
"The weekend before Spring Break. Why, Rick?"
Rick's wail drowned my last question. He was crying in earnest now, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Alicia got up to give him a hug and try to calm him down.
"He told me he was going out of town, that's why he couldn't see me. He cheated on me!"
I felt the blood drain from my face. "Rick, are you saying you were with Justin before that?"
"Y-yes. I thought he loved me." If I'd had to draw a picture of misery at that moment, it would have had Rick's face. However, I had urgent concerns. I was trying to think of a way to ask delicately when Ri beat me to it.
"You little fag, you better not have AIDS," she said, again snarling as before.
"I d-don't. I get tested all the time."
A weight lifted from my chest and I was able to breathe again, but we still had a problem. He hadn't admitted he'd heard Justin threaten me.
"Ri, that's enough. Rick, you lied to coach. You need to tell him the truth. Will you go with us?"
"What will he do to me?" he quailed.
"We'll protect you. He won't do anything, but Drew has never done anything to you or to Mackey except defend me. It's not fair to ruin his life."
A huge bubble of rage was keeping me from breathing deeply. If I had anything to do with it, Mackey would never teach here again. He'd led this poor boy on, for God knows what reason, and he'd knowingly disregarded my health and safety, not to mention everyone else he'd played with for who knows how long. As soon as I straightened things out for Drew, I was going to start a campaign to ruin Mackey.
~~~
I didn't stop to think what Coach would think when three angry woman, a distressed boy and one of his players tumbled into his office. Coach jumped to his feet, sending his desk chair crashing backward into the wall. Before he could even ask why we were there, the story started pouring out of me, with Coach looking from one to another of us in growing dismay. Finally, I stopped to draw breath.
"Hold on just a second," he said, holding his hand up palm out to stop me from resuming my tale. "You're the one who made that call?" he asked Rick.
"Y-Yes, sir," Rick mumbled, his head down and his voice so soft we could barely hear him.
"Speak up, son!" Coach boomed, causing Rick to start shaking again. I put my arm around him.
"Don't yell at him. You don't know what he's been through. He said yes." Coach opened his mouth, but my glare evidently made him reconsider whatever he intended to say. After a moment, he spoke, this time in a more moderate tone of voice.
"You're here to tell me that you made the call, and that you were lying?"
"Yes, sir." Rick had gathered some courage from somewhere. His head was now up and he spoke clearly.
"Why would you do that?" Coach asked.
"It was a misunderstanding, sir. I thought he'd harmed someone I…care about."
"Who?" I must have been speaking too quickly when I'd gone over this before, but now it occurred to me that it really didn't matter and was actually none of Coach's business.
"Why does it matter? Making him say more will just embarrass him for no reason. Just take it at face value, would you?" If I'd stopped to think about what it must look like, my defiant but relatively frail body in a battle stance against Coach, easily six-foot-six and approaching three-hundred pounds, I might have laughed, or been too struck by the incongruity to keep it up. But, I didn't. I felt like Joan of Arc, and I wasn't going to let this boy be sacrificed, no matter what harm he'd done. Far more harm had been done to him.
It seemed the tableau we were locked in was frozen for an eternity, before Coach broke it by turning to find his chair. He sat down heavily.
"Well, it appears that I've acted without all the evidence, but this doesn't mean the investigation can be called off. I'll have to give it some thought. Young man, I'll need your name and contact information, and I'll ask you to come in and give your statement to the faculty committee that will be assessing the results of the investigation."
Rick turned even whiter, and I braced him, trying to tell him without words that it would be okay. My thought was selfish, too, as I was already scheming to get him to testify as to the nature of his relationship with Mackey. It would be different in a formal setting; important to his motives. Once that information was given to a committee of faculty members, they would have to report it to the Dean as well. Then Mackey's suspension would be made permanent no doubt, and good riddance. If what I suspected were true, I no longer had any compassion for him or his career.
I also had a more immediate concern. "Coach, you told me you'd let Drew play if I brought evidence."
"No, I didn't. I said I'd take it under advisement. That's what I'm doing. I haven't said he can't play, but I need to consult with my assistant coaches and possibly the Dean before I decide. The sooner you people get out of here and stop interrupting my work, the sooner I can do that."
I slumped. I'd done my best, and it wasn't good enough. Glumly, we all shuffled back out into the hall, there to separate and go our own ways. However, I wanted to talk to Rick alone.
From the time Alicia reminded me of him, I'd been trying to put my finger on what was so off about Rick. Yes, he was effeminate, but that wasn't unusual. I hadn't been well acquainted with anyone who was gay before, but some gays made themselves very noticeable on campus, so I had a stereotype in my mind. Rick didn't match it. Nor, now that I thought about it, did he match the perceived age of the other sophomore boys in class.
I was familiar with the appearance of age and physical development of boys from about sixteen to twenty or so, because Russ took in so many at the ranch. Unless I missed my guess, Rick was no more than seventeen, maybe younger. Why he could be that age and a college sophomore escaped me, but I had to find out.
"Rick, how old are you?"
He gave me a desperate look, his eyes so wide that virtually all I could see was white. "I'm guessing seventeen. Am I right?"
He dropped his head into both hands, shaking once more, and nodded. I had two burning questions.
"How did you get to be a college sophomore at seventeen, Rick?" I asked, using the softest voice and gentlest words I could think of.
"I was home-schooled until my mom sent me to private high school," he said. "I graduated at sixteen, and advanced-placed most of my freshman requisites."
Unbelievable. I was in the presence of a probable genius, and yet Mackey had taken him in as much as he had me. I began to feel better about myself. The evil bastard was just good at his hobby. This brought up my next question. Mackey had once commented on my youth. If I hadn't been eighteen, would he have found a way to justify his actions anyway?
"Did Justin know how old you were when he first…touched you?" I asked, not knowing how to describe what gay men might do together. I simply had no idea.
"Not at first. I lied, told him I was eighteen. Later, I had my birthday and accidentally let it slip."
"Wait, you were sixteen the first time?"
"Yes."
"And then, when he found out, he still…"
"Yes. I told you, he loved me. Or I thought he did," Rick added with a bitter twist to his mouth.
"Rick, when you talk to the faculty committee, you have to tell them this." What Mackey had done wasn't just unethical; it was criminal. I had good reason to know that. He needed not only to lose his job permanently; he should be in jail. How many more were there? Did he seek out the yo
ungest-looking and then justify his actions by reasoning that if we were in college we must be of age? I shuddered. He was no better than my ex-husband, who was serving his sentence for statutory rape because of me and my four sister-wives that Russ and Charity had rescued.
Rick had a question of his own. "What will they do to him?"
I answered truthfully. "I don't know for certain, but whatever it is, he'll deserve it."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I should have been happy. Drew got to play that night, and they won. Rihanna pointed out a well-known pro scout in the stands, and we quickly turned to see his reaction after every play in which Drew excelled, gratified to see him making notes. I felt sure he'd approach Drew, though Ri told me there were strict rules about when and how, and not to get excited just yet.
Furthermore, Rick told the truth, including his age, with the result that Mackey was arrested. Once that news became public, an astounding number of students came forward with their own tales. Mackey had successfully intimidated them into silence with the threat of ruining their college grades if they talked. For a while, I was bitter at the other victims, since their silence had let him get away with his predation for so long.
I fell into a pattern of sleeping whenever I wasn't in class, and paying too little attention to personal hygiene. I'd go to class with unwashed hair, wearing whatever I happened to be wearing when I woke up, usually flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top with flip-flops on my feet. Easter came and went, but I didn’t attempt to go home for it. In hindsight, I just existed until I could leave and never come back.
I didn't count on Ri's interference, though. After several weeks of enduring my lethargy, she pounced on me one Friday evening. "Get up and go shower. You stink."
"Who cares?" I retorted.
"I do. And you should. Get up or I'll get some of my guy friends to get you up and throw you in the shower with all your clothes on."
I opened my eyes. Ri was fully capable of doing that, and I knew it. I groaned as I rolled over and up to a sitting position.
"That's better. Come on, I'll help you."
It was only Ri's threat to come in with me and wash my hair that animated me beyond the bare minimum. "I can do it."
"Then do it. We're going out."
"Ri, I don't want to go out."
"Do I give a shit? I have a date for you, and you're going. We're doubling, I'm going out with his friend, and I'm counting on you."
With much groaning and protesting, I managed to shower and then sit patiently while Ri fixed my hair and put on my makeup. She'd laid out some clothes for me, a cute sundress with spaghetti straps that tied at the shoulders and matching strappy sandals. I couldn't find my strapless bra and she told me to forget it. A wisp of lace that she called a thong and I called a torture device was her choice of my underwear. When I got home, I intended to burn it, along with the several other examples in my lingerie drawer, thanks to Ri.
Two cups of terrible dorm-room brewed coffee later, I looked much better than I felt, and Ri pronounced us ready to go.
"Where are we going?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," she teased. Since there was no one to pick us up, I assumed we were meeting our dates later.
"Give me your car keys," Ri demanded.
"What?"
"Your car keys, bi-otch. I'm driving, and I don't want to take my old beater. Give me your keys."
Still without much volition, I dug in my purse and found the keys, handing them over dutifully. Ri drove like a maniac, but I couldn't summon the energy to care. Half an hour later, we were walking into a club at the south end of the valley, where I'd never been before.
I didn't know what to expect, but when we got inside after Ri paid the cover for both of us, it was as if we'd entered an alien world. Instead of a small, ill-lit space with a tiny dance floor like most of the places we'd been near campus, we were in a huge space with an unfinished ceiling, revealing metal tRuss’s, wiring, light fixtures and other mysterious objects, like the large pipe that looked like it was wrapped in aluminum foil snaking around the entire area.
The noise was incredible. A live band was on-stage, and the large dance floor was filled with people of all ages. I turned to Ri to comment on the fact that there were two bars, to find her standing on tiptoe and looking around.
"What are you looking for?" I shouted into her ear.
"Our dates," she mouthed back at me. I couldn't help her, since I didn't know who my date was, so I kept people watching until I spotted the last person I would have expected to see here. I clutched Ri's arm and pointed.
"What's he doing here?" I shouted.
"He's your date," she shouted back, then smirked at me. Just then, he spotted us, and dragged someone else up with him to come to us. Drew and Greg. What was Ri thinking?
"Give me back my keys," I growled at her, but of course, she couldn't hear me. Then the guys were there, and there was no escape.
"Hi, Janey," Drew said, with a big smile. I looked suspiciously at him. What kind of a game was this?
"Hi?" I returned.
"Want to dance?" Well, it would keep us from talking, so sure. I handed my purse to Ri and followed Drew onto the dance floor. The song was fast, easy to dance to and loud enough to make any conversation impossible. I actually enjoyed it, to my surprise. It felt good to move, after weeks of sitting or lying down. I didn't realize how much I missed simple exercise. The next dance posed a problem, though. We'd joined the crowd late in the song, so it was over within a minute or two, and the band switched up the tempo. This was a slow dance.
Before I could object, Drew pulled me into his arms and led me deeper into the crowd. I had tensed up, so I kept stumbling when he turned us, but he kept a firm grip on me and didn't comment. Wrapped in his arms, I laid my head on his chest, the most comfortable place to put it due to the ten-inch difference in our height. Only Drew could make me feel small, I thought.
I caught his familiar scent and my body remembered the good times and relaxed. Nothing could have broken the ice better than that slow dance. By the time it was over, I was resigned to my evening with Drew. I actually hoped that we'd finally be able to resume our easy friendship.
When we got to our table, Greg and Ri were missing, but both purses were tucked into the seats at the back of the booth. I checked mine quickly and found everything as it should be. Then, from sheer spite, I checked Ri's for my car keys. They weren't there. Now I was well and truly trapped with Drew, and since I'd already decided to make the best of it, I plastered a smile on my face and asked him for a margarita.
During the short break between the next two songs, I asked about Ri and Greg. "I thought they didn't hit it off?" I said, avoiding the occasion because of our own history.
"They didn't, but after you guys got together to do battle for me, they tried again. This time they clicked." Why hadn't I known this? Because you've been so self-absorbed you wouldn't have known if the sky had fallen, my conscience told me. It shook me to realize I didn't remember anything that had happened for the past several weeks. What else had I missed? I didn't even know whether I was doing well in my classes or had blown off all the homework. I must have suddenly looked lost, or frightened.
Drew put his hand over mine. "What's wrong, Sugar?" It was the first time in months that he'd called me that, and my heart lurched.
"I, I'm not sure," I confessed. "It's like I just woke up from a long dream, and I don't know where I am." Suddenly, I felt sick. I slid to the edge of the booth and jumped to my feet, looking wildly for a restroom. Drew was beside me in seconds.
"What can I do?"
"Restroom! I'm going to be sick," I gasped. Drew snatched my purse from the table and carried it with him as he hurried me to the nearest ladies' room.
"Do you need help?" he asked.
"Find Ri for me, please. Hurry!" Drew rushed away, and I went in to splash cold water on my face and try not to throw up, at least until Rihanna came. After only a few minut
es, she came rushing in with a wild look of concern on her face. When she saw me at the row of sinks, she stopped, confused.
"Drew said you were sick," she accused.
"I was. I am. Ri, how long have I been out of it?"
"Out of what, your mind? I'd say about three weeks," she said, one eyebrow raised.
"Have I been going to class?" That question made her look at me more closely.
"Yeah, but you haven't done much homework. Every time I come back to the dorm, you're crashed in bed. I haven't seen you eat in three weeks, either. Janey, you're depressed. You need help."
"No shit," I answered.
We managed to get through the evening, Drew treating me as a fragile invalid, dancing only the slow dances and insisting on feeding me when Ri mentioned I hadn't been eating. I was mortified. How could he not know that he was part of my funk, despite my hope to keep it from him? To disguise my unsettled feelings, I flirted with him and pretended my momentary illness had been nothing. I noticed that Ri kept her eyes on me all evening, though, before she deemed it time to go.
"Greg, I need to drive Janey back to the dorm. Do you and Drew want to follow us? I'll drop Janey off, and then we can go somewhere else if you want." I didn't miss the wink that accompanied that observation, nor Greg's brightening countenance. No doubt, there was a hookup in progress. I was glad for them.
~~~
Drew hopped out of the car when Janey stopped to drop me at the curb, coming around to my door to open it and accompany me to the dorm's front door, just like old times. With each step toward the dorm, my anxiety increased. Would he try to kiss me? If he did, would I let him? I'd sworn off men, I reminded myself. Three or four weeks weren’t long enough. I still didn't know what I wanted from a man. A casual friendship? Sex? Forever after? Until I knew, it wasn't fair to date and lead them on. Not to mention the fact that I apparently had no clue how to judge a man's intentions or how to protect myself from actual or emotional harm.
Step by step, we approached the dorm, with my thoughts in turmoil. I imagined it felt like this to a condemned man walking toward the death chamber. Drew may have been going through the same uncertainty, as his hand was squeezing mine tighter and tighter. When we reached the stand of trees that used to be our trysting place, where he kissed me so sweetly before our fight, his step hesitated. I heard him draw a deep breath.
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