Want to Go Private?

by Sarah Darer Littman

  It would be so much easier to just stay in here and listen to my tunes. It’s not like Abby ever wants to talk to me anyway. But I hear her crying even over Beyoncé. Whatever. I rip off my earphones and go to her room. I don’t knock when I open the door, and you know things are seriously bad with Abby because she doesn’t even yell at me.

  She’s curled up on the bed, sobbing.

  I don’t know what to say or do. It’s not like Abby and I get along, even. But I hate to see her like this, even if she has made my life suck. So I lie down on the bed next to her and put my arm around her.

  “Are you okay, Abby?” I ask, even though I know that’s probably the Stupidest Question Ever.

  “D-d-dad h-hates m-me,” she sobs. “He th-thinks I’m a s-sl-ut.”

  “Dad doesn’t hate you, Abs. You should have seen him when you were … you know, missing. He was, like, a total wreck. Mom was in way better shape, and she was pretty much a basket case, too. We all were.”

  “He c-can’t even l-look at m-me. L-like he j-just l-looks over m-my h-head.”

  I don’t know what to say. I mean, Dad’s seriously screwed up, that’s a fact. But then I see Abby’s perfectly neat desk and her totally organized bookshelf.

  “Face it, Abs, you were Dad’s perfect little Abby Angel. You’re smart, you get good grades, you’re totally obsessively organized just like him. You’re almost his Dad clone but a girl. But you did this thing now that he doesn’t understand. I don’t understand either, Abs. And Dad can’t handle it.”

  “Everyone at school looks at me l-like I’m the biggest freak that ever walked the p-planet Earth. I’m like the ebola virus — p-people want to stay as far away from m-me as possible.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  She sits up.

  “What, they’re doing that to you, too?”

  “Duh! My sister ran off with an Internet perv. It was all over the papers and on TV. Do you think they’re, like, electing me student body president?”

  Abby starts crying again.

  “It would have been better for everyone if Luke had killed me and chopped me up with a wood chipper like Faith said.”

  Now that ticks me off. Big-time.

  “Oh, shut up!” I shout at her. “Like that would have been so great for me and Mom and Dad?”

  I came in here to make Abby feel better, but right now I’m just mad, so mad I can’t help myself.

  “And his name isn’t Luke, dammit. It’s Edmund. Edmund Schmidt. He lied to you, Abby! It was all one great big lie and you were stupid enough to fall for it and ruin everything for everyone.”

  Abby just lies there, curled up like a baby, sobbing, and I feel like the Worst. Sister. Ever.

  “I’m sorry, Abby. I suck. I didn’t mean —”

  “What on earth is going on in here?”

  Mom stands in the doorway, glaring at me like she’s just caught me torturing puppies.

  “Lily, out of here. NOW.”

  “I was just …”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Go to your room!”

  I look back at Abby, wanting to make it right, but she’s still crying into her pillow.

  I don’t know if there’s a way to ever make things right again.

  CHAPTER 34

  ABBY DECEMBER 17

  The therapist’s office is modern, with fern plants and one of those little Zen waterfall things that’s supposed to make you relaxed. I was expecting a real shrink couch, where I could lie down and pretend to go to sleep so I wouldn’t have to answer her questions. Instead, I have to sit across from her in a funky black leather armchair that I keep sliding around in. I have to take off my shoes and sit cross-legged to get comfortable.

  My mother is outside in the waiting room. I hope that white-noise thing works, because I don’t want her to hear. Not that I’m planning to say anything, but … whatever.

  “Hi, Abby. I’m Dr. Binnie. What brings you here?”

  Like she doesn’t already know.

  “I thought my parents told you.”

  “I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

  I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want to talk about Luke or about what happened. I want it all to go away. But she’s just sitting there, staring me out, waiting for me to open my mouth. It’s like a game of chicken — which of us is going to break the silence first?

  It’s me.

  “I met this older guy online and I ran away with him. Now I’ve screwed up everyone’s lives, my dad and my sister hate me, and my mom thinks I need a jailor.”

  “Why do you think your father and sister hate you?”

  “Because they think it’s all my fault. Because I was stupid enough to run away with Luke.”

  I give this grim half chuckle.

  “It’s not like they’re the only ones. Everyone at school thinks so, too. Except Faith. And Grace. And well, Faith and Grace might think so, but they at least stick up for me when everyone else is being a jerk.”

  “Faith and Grace are …?”

  “Faith’s my best friend. Since second grade. I just met Grace this year. Through Faith. At first I was kind of jealous of her, ’cause I kind of felt like, I don’t know, maybe Faith would … end up liking her better than me. But she’s been nice to me since … it all happened. Oh, and so has Billy.”

  “Tell me about Billy.”

  “He’s a guy in my science class. We went on a date before … you know … and I liked him … but then when I got all wrapped up with Luke, it got too confusing.”

  I told u, I’m the jealous type. No. I can’t think of Luke.

  “The funny thing is, Billy has every reason to hate me, but he’s one of the few people who still likes me. He calls me a lot — like almost every night — just to see how I’m doing. I mean, he said he still doesn’t understand what made me do it, and he says he really hopes someday I can explain it to him, but it doesn’t stop him from joking with me in class like I’m the same smart, normal Abby I was before. Not the stupid ‘ho’ that everyone thinks I am now.”

  “And what do you think? Do you think you were stupid?”

  Silence, except for the sound of the Zen waterfall, which now that I think about it sounds more like there’s a dwarf peeing in the corner.

  “Well, duh. I mean, like, Luke told me he loved me and I was stupid enough to believe him. Meanwhile he was telling all these other girls that he was in love with them, too. So, yeah, I guess I pretty much should get the Stupid Idiot of the Year Award.”

  “Do you think you deserve everyone at school being a jerk to you?”

  “I can’t blame anyone. I would think the same thing about me if I were them. I mean, Luke’s name isn’t even Luke. It’s Edmund. He even lied about his name. And his age. And where he lived. And it’s not like we haven’t had all those Internet Safety talks at school a zillion times. I just …”

  I pick at a stray thread that’s fraying at the bottom of my jeans.

  “He didn’t seem like a creep. I thought he really cared about me.”

  Tears well up in my eyes, and I reach for the box of tissues on the table next to me.

  “I think that’s what hurts the most. Almost as much as my family hating me and everyone at school being mean. That it was all a lie. I ruined everything because of one great big huge lie.”

  “Abby, it’s important for you to realize that these predators are highly skilled at manipulating young people,” Dr. Binnie says. “It’s a process we call ‘grooming.’ It’s all about winning your trust for the sole purpose of sexual exploitation.”

  I feel my cheeks fire up when she says sexual exploitation. I wonder if she knows about the online pictures, about the video, that I’m Abby the Teen Porn Queen. Imagine how that will look on my college application.

  “You are the victim here, Abby. A victim of a crime. Did you make some bad decisions? Yes. But you are still the victim of a felony crime, and you shouldn’t let anyone make you forget that.”

  “But
it’s not like he stole me off the street and kept me in a shed for eighteen years like that girl,” I say. “She really was a victim. I left by myself. Like, that’s what Dad keeps going on about. How could I have gotten into the car with Luke? What was going through my head? Dad’s totally blaming me for it. He doesn’t think I’m a victim at all.”

  “We’ll be having some family therapy sessions to work through that, Abby. But what’s important is for you to recognize that you were a victim here.”

  I try to absorb what she’s saying, but all I can hear is my dad’s voice: How could you get in the car with that monster, Abby? How could you be so stupid and irresponsible? I don’t even know you anymore. Or Lily: It was all one great big lie and you were stupid enough to fall for it and ruin everything for everyone.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  “Luke won your trust, and then he violated it. I’m not surprised you’re having problems trusting and believing. But I hope we can work on that together.”

  She smiles at me for the first time, and I want to believe her, to believe that maybe I’m not this total piece-of-crap person and that maybe life will be okay again someday. I want to believe her so badly.

  But all I feel is tired. Tired and afraid to believe in anyone or anything. And wishing like hell that I never had to go back to school ever again.

  CHAPTER 35

  FAITH DECEMBER I8

  It takes all my powers of persuasion and best-friend blackmailing guilt-tripping to get Abby to agree to come see the final performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She doesn’t want to be anywhere near school unless she has to, and I can’t say I blame her. People are being such … jerks. Someone scratched Slut on her locker. I tried to cover it with a Post-it note before she saw it, but it was too late.

  I would have cried, but Abby just got all quiet, opened her locker, and got her books to go home, like nothing happened. I was like, “Come on, Abby, we have to go report this to the principal!” but she just shook her head and said, “What’s the point?”

  It’s almost like she feels like she deserves it. Kind of like Ted said she did.

  I miss him so much. Why did he have to be such a jerk about Abby?

  He’s standing a few feet away as we wait for the houselights to dim before the performance. I want to go over and put my head on his shoulder, to run my fingers through the dark curls at the back of his neck. But I can’t. We’ve barely spoken since that day we fought. I hoped he would call me or something. But nothing.

  I peek from behind the curtains into the audience and see Abby sitting with her parents and Lily. My parents and my brother and sister are next to them, and right behind them is Billy Fisher. Billy is leaning forward and whispering to Abby. I actually see her smile, something I haven’t seen her do since … the whole Luke thing. She told me Billy has been calling her practically every night, just to talk and see how she’s doing. She seemed so surprised by that.

  “You know he really likes you, Abby,” I told her.

  “But I … really treated him kind of badly before and now … well …”

  “Now, what? You should walk around wearing the scarlet letter for the rest of your life?”

  “Yes. No … I don’t know.”

  I’m really glad Abby’s started seeing a therapist. She totally needs one.

  The lights in the auditorium dim and the curtains open. The play starts and as always I’m caught up in the story. Until I sense Ted standing a few inches behind me. I’m so aware of him I can’t concentrate on the dialogue. I just want to lean back against his chest. Then I feel his hand on my shoulder, rubbing the spot where he knows I always get tense. I hold my breath, hardly able to believe that I’m feeling the warmth of his fingers.

  “Breathe,” he whispers, his words tickling my ear. “You can’t relax unless you breathe, Faith.”

  I take a deep breath in and out, and lean back against him. He rubs my shoulders for a few minutes more, then folds his arms around me.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.

  “Ditto,” I whisper back.

  I wish we could go somewhere to talk, to figure out what happens next. But there are scenes to change and props to move. So I just stand there, watching Puck sprinkling love-in-idleness juice on Titania’s eyelids onstage, but feeling the real magic offstage with Ted. For this moment, that’s enough.

  CHAPTER 36

  LILY JANUARY 3

  Whoever invented family therapy was meaner than a middle school gym teacher. It’s serious torture. We’re all sitting around the shrink’s office — and guess who gets the least comfortable chair — and then we have to talk about how we’re feeling.

  “I’m feeling that I would rather be home watching Degrassi, because it’s not me that ran off with some perv,” I say, earning myself dirty looks from Mom and Dad.

  Abby just stares at the little fountain in the corner. She does a lot of that recently. Just zones out of whatever conversation. I feel like waving my hand in front of her face and shouting, “Yo, Abs, it’s because of you that we’re stuck in this place!”

  “I sense that you’re angry with Abby, Lily,” Dr. Binnie, the shrink lady, says. “Are you?”

  “What, just because I’m a total social reject because of her? And my parents are fighting, like, nonstop? Why would I be angry at poor, wittle Abby?”

  “I understand your anger, Lily, and you have a right to feel angry. But you need to remember, Abby was a victim here.”

  Yeah, yeah. It’s always about Abby.

  “Like how? She got in that freak’s car by herself. It’s not like he kidnapped her.”

  I know Dad’s on my side, because his head is nodding the tiniest bit, and this is the same thing I’ve heard him yelling at Abby over and over.

  But boy, do we get schooled. Dr. Binnie gives us this whole lecture about Internet predators and how they “groom” kids and how we shouldn’t be blaming Abby so much because she was a victim of a devious manipulator who spent all this time gaining her trust just so he could abuse her. And how now we’re abusing her all over again by blaming her for it.

  I feel about an inch tall by the time she’s done. I look at Dad for moral support, but he’s just staring at the pattern on the rug.

  Abby is sitting in a black leather armchair, her legs tucked up under her, like she wants to curl up into nothingness. I guess I don’t blame her. Even if she did go with the guy willingly, maybe, just maybe, it’s time for us to start cutting her a little slack. Especially since she’s been getting all this flack at school, too.

  I look over at her.

  “I’m sorry, Abs.”

  She doesn’t look at me. “It’s okay.”

  “No. It’s not okay. I’ve been mean to you. Get mad at me. Be a beeyotch like you normally would.”

  “Lily!” Mom snaps.

  The shrink puts up her hand, to shush Mom up.

  Abby finally looks at me.

  “Why should I? You guys are right. I did get in the car with Luke. I did mess up everyone’s life.”

  “But it’s like the shrink — I mean, Dr. Binnie — said, right? Perv Face was a manipulating, grooming liar. He made you think you were in love with him.”

  “I should have been smarter than that,” Abby says, her voice beginning to tremble, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m a straight-A student, after all. Right, Dad?”

  Dad still can’t meet her gaze. I want to shout at him, Look at her, you jerk!

  “I don’t understand it, Abby. I still can’t get my head around it,” he says. “We talked to you about using the Internet safely. You had assemblies about it at school. But you did it anyway. And you … exposed yourself … and … I don’t think I’ll ever understand as long as I live how my daughter could do something like this.”

  OMG. The way he says “exposed yourself.” No wonder Abby feels like dirt.

&n
bsp; “Mr. Johnston, right now it’s not necessary for you to understand Abby,” says Dr. Binnie. “What’s important is for you to accept that she’s a victim in this, and treat her as such.”

  I look over at Abby and she’s gazing at Dad’s averted face with pleading eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Look at her, Dad. Come on, look at her.

  “Rick. He was a predator. He preyed on Abby,” Mom says. “These people … have websites where they give each other tips on how to do it. Agent Saunders gave me some links and I’ve been doing research.” It’s true. I don’t know if it’s because she feels guilty about not knowing what Abby was up to, but Mom’s in serious danger of turning into some kind of crazy Internet Safety Guru. “You can’t believe the things they —”

  “F-forget it, Mom,” Abby sniffs, her eyes downcast, her body starting to curl up into itself again. “J-just f-forget it.”

  “No, don’t,” I say. I get up and stand right in front of Dad, where he can’t help but look at me. “Dad. Look at Abby. Look at her. It’s not her fault. Stop blaming her.”

  No one speaks. Abby’s weeping mingles with the tinkling of the fountain in the corner.

  Dad still can’t bring himself to look at my sister. I want to take his head and yank it in her direction.

  “Do you want to know w-why, Dad?” Abby says suddenly. “D-do you want to know w-why it was so easy for L-luke?”

  “His name is Schmidt,” Dad snaps. “Edmund Schmidt.”

  “Whatever.” Abby sighs. “The man I knew was Luke Redmond. And the reason I went off with him, the reason I thought I loved him was because …”

  She breaks off and blows her nose, and takes a deep breath and continues.

  “The reason I thought he loved me, and I loved him, was because he listened to me. Do you hear me, Dad? Because he listened to me!”

  Abby’s practically shouting at him, and he finally turns and looks at her. Go, Abs.

  “And you’re saying I don’t?” Dad asks. “That this is all my fault?”

  “No! But … high school’s been really hard and it’s not like you’ve been around all that much since you started the new business. And things were getting weird with Faith, like she was making all these new friends and I wasn’t and I was … lonely.”