by Zoey Long
I swallow a few times, then nod and thank Joe for telling me the whole story.
“Do you see why I was just going to drop it now? I had to ask you about the photograph, but other than that, without substantial proof I can’t do anything. Are you sleeping with any of your students, Clark?”
He asks me in a half-serious manner, but the directness of the question makes me spit out a staccato, “No. No, of course not,” I add, shaking my head.
“Good. Keep it that way. Now, I might have to do something about that lottery system.”
Joe starts to laugh.
”Do you think Alexis, I mean, Ms. Schiff would like to come in here and talk to me directly?” I ask. “We both know I didn’t take that photograph, that Carrie is the one who did. If I confront her with you here, we can put the matter to rest…”
“No, not at all. I don’t really want her in here at the same time as you, it’ll just be a he said she said situation. A potentially volatile one. Alexis seems like she’d keep her cool under pressure if you ask me. The matter is put to rest. You told me who took the picture, that it was part of an assignment, denied any further allegations, and that’s that.”
I say goodbye to Rose on my way out the door. She smiles at me, her mauve colored lipstick rubbing off on the end of a pen she has in her mouth. I quickly head out of the main office. That was close. Too close for comfort. Just because I am not sleeping with Alexis Schiff doesn’t mean I’m innocent here, even if Carrie and I are in love. I take out my phone to text Carrie.
“Can you meet me somewhere tonight? Private? We need to talk.”
I worry immediately that sounds too ominous. I don’t want to worry her out of nowhere, but I do need to talk to her. I see bubbles pop up on the screen, indicating that she’s going to respond immediately, but then they disappear. I wrack my brain and try to think about somewhere we can meet off campus that would be secluded. My apartment is the best place.
I’m still walking, phone in hand. A group of female students in hoodies pass me by and smile at me, nod in recognition of my presence. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing at all, but I feel exposed. How widespread is this rumor? It’s like being in high school but worse because you could lose your job. Or be brought up on criminal charges in some cases.
“Come over? I’ll be home all night. I love you.” I type to Carrie and hit send, slipping the phone back in my pocket. I check the time and see if I get to the train station in twenty minutes, I can catch a train home. I’m eager to get off campus as soon as possible.
Her heavy, book laden leather satchel hits me hard in the stomach before I have a chance to register her face, and I’m doubled over in pain, standing smack dab in the middle the main campus lawn.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Carrie is panting, her chest heaving, her pale skin flushed red. She’s nearly growling at me, screaming, baring her teeth behind red lips, her hair in her face as she swings her bag way back behind her body and then up and forward to hit me once more, this time right in the side.
“HOW MANY ARE THERE? HOW STUPID DO YOU THINK I AM? You’ve got to be kidding me! I have to hear from my best friend? My BEST FRIEND?!”
I fight to take breaths, to organize my thoughts. I put my arms up to shield her blows, another of which is about to hit me in the back of the head.
“CARRIE, STOP!” I yell, grabbing the handles of her bag, stopping her before a hardcover knocks me unconscious. She fights to jerk it back out of my hands quickly, to hit me again. I take the bag from her.
“If I put this on the ground, do you promise not to hit me with it?”
“Why the fuck would I promise that, you son of a bitch?”
“Because homicide wouldn’t work out so well for either one of us. So... please,” I lay the bag down on the ground next to me, and she makes no move to retrieve it.
A small crowd of students have gathered around the perimeter of the lawn, and those crossing the lawn are trying to stay out of our way, but they’re stopping and turning their heads to catch the action. More students join, including some from our photo class. They may as well have bowls of popcorn, considering how enthralled they look. Some jaws are dropped, some phones are out.
“Fuck you. Fuck you, Adam. I should have known. You’re disgusting.” She’s shouting now, attracting even more students to the scene.
“Calm down. I didn’t do anything. Please calm down. Stop shouting, you can’t do this here.”
“Are you fucking some of them, too?” Carrie screams, pointing to the students in the class. “All of them? What number am I?”
“Carrie, stop. Please,” I beg her, using my most sincere and measured tone. I try to grab her hands, very cognizant of the security guards starting to make their way toward us. “It’s not true. It’s not. I didn’t do anything. Please. Let’s not do this here.”
I make eye contact with her, saying this in the most genuine tone possible, willing her to believe me. Or at least calm down before there’s an even bigger scene. I look over at the security guards, one of which is nearly on us.
“Don’t touch me...” she spits at me. “No. Don’t touch me. Never. Never again.”
I drop her hands at once and my heart is racing when a tall, burly security guard reaches us in the middle of the lawn. He’s got on a black puffy coat and is carrying a radio.
“Is there a problem here, sir? Mr. Clark?” He knows my name. I guess they need to familiarize themselves with all the faculty and staff. Or I’ve somehow become just that infamous.
“No. Not at all. She’s just upset. Please let me handle this.”
Carrie has positioned herself decidedly away from me, her arms crossed. He steps back a moment, ready to let me diffuse the situation, but the look in his eye is stern, letting me know he’s willing to step in at any moment if need be.
I lower my voice to a firm whisper and direct it at Carrie. She’s holding her hands firm at her sides now, her eyes wet with tears.
“We need to talk. Please, just come with me right now. I’ll call us a cab. I didn’t do anything. I’ve just come from a meeting with the dean. It’s... I’ve been accused of something I didn’t...”
She looks at me with more venom in her eyes than I’ve ever seen. “You’ve been accused. Yes, I’ve heard all about what you’ve been accused of. I don’t want to hear your sob story. I’m humiliated, and now so are you.”
She doesn’t understand. I have no way of knowing what exactly she’s heard or if she knows about the photograph accusation or anything at all. Does she think I’m sleeping with all my students? That’s ludicrous, what did her friend tell her?
“Carrie, Joe Sterling took me into his office just now and...”
“Sorry, sir. I’m fine,” she says to the security guard, cutting me off, her tone of voice warmer than before, but only slightly. She picks up her bag from the ground, wipes her eyes dry, and turns to walk away. She walks briskly away from us, leaving me alone in the middle of the main lawn with the security guard, surrounded by no less than thirty students. I feel like I’ve just been tarred and feathered in the middle of the town square. Students are whispering, some laughing, some had out their phones to take a video of the incident. Luckily, I don’t see any faculty standing around. I look over my shoulder toward the visual arts building, hoping I don’t see Joe. Rose is standing in the doorway, her hair up, holding a large ceramic cup in both of her hands. She’s far enough away to recognize me and see that there was an incident of sorts, I wonder how long she’s been standing there. That means Joe will find out about this, I’m sure of it.
“All right, people. Nothing to see here. Move it along,” the security guard shouts, turning down his radio, offering a half-hearted attempt to disperse the crowd.
I see a girl I recognize at the edge of the crowd, one with big glasses and curly hair, standing off to the side with a distressed look on her face. She’s wearing all black. I know she’s Carrie�
�s friend, I’ve seen them around together. I have half a mind to go talk to her, but she turns and walks away before I have the chance. I don’t even know what I’d say to her. I also know that’s a terrible idea right now. I just want some way to get to Carrie again. To let her know what happened. The truth. That she’s the only one there’s ever been, she’s the only one there ever would be.
Chapter 17: Carrie
I’m sitting on the edge of my bedspread in my dorm room with my head down. Michelle is holding my wrists and hands together, kneeling below me on the hardwood floor. My skin is prickling with adrenaline. The back of my neck feels clammy. I haven’t spoken for a long time. It feels like whatever fight Michelle and I were in the middle of has been eclipsed by this bigger one I just had with Adam. I can feel her eyes on me, she’s comfortingly squeezing my wrists. I open my mouth to speak, in a low tone.
“Michelle, can you open Facebook and see if anything there yet?” I ask her, my eyes wet. “I saw people with their phones out.”
“Are you sure you want to… you don’t think that’ll make things worse right now?”
I look up at her sternly, blinking back tears. “I need to know.”
Michelle begrudgingly takes out her phone, nodding. “Oh, these assholes,” She’s scrolling through her feed, shaking her head.
“What? What is it?” I ask, wiping my eyes and rubbing tears off on my thighs.
“People are tagging you in posts already. Are you sure you want to hear any of this? People are insensitive sons of bitches. You know that.” I nod. I’d rather know what’s being said than not. She winces and shakes her head. “All right. These are pretty innocuous. Queen Carrie, why were you brawling with Mr. Clark? #drama #omg #wtf, maybe it’s a real Caesar and Cleopatra”
“Ha, at least that’s creative. That’s not so bad.”
Michelle scrolls further in her Facebook feed. “There’s a lot of Mr. Clark is a dog… Maybe a photoshoot gone wrong … Oh my God, someone uploaded a video.”
“Are you serious? Can you report it as abuse?” I ask her, eyes wide. I don’t want to see the video. I can hear the audio coming from her phone and that’s bad enough. I hear a rustling of someone’s clothing, but mostly it’s me screaming expletives at Adam.
“Already on it,” Michelle says, pressing innumerable buttons on her phone. The audio shuts off.
“Thanks.”
Michelle puts her phone down and looks me in the eye, my green eyes locking with her large brown ones. Her look is warm and comforting, but she’s still confused.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is happening now?”
I guess I don’t have a choice. “Have you heard anything from Alexis? She came to me in the library and told me that Adam was sleeping with all his students.”
She nods. “Alexis? Yeah, she started that rumor a while ago. You haven’t been on campus so much. It’s an easy rumor, if you ask me. He’s gorgeous, he’s young, he teaches a dirty picture class.”
I laugh at that. “You think she started the rumor? Have you heard it from anywhere else?” I ask her, sitting up straight. There’s more urgency in my voice then there should be. I look Michelle right in the eye, tears moistening my cheeks.
“I haven’t heard it from anywhere else, no. Well, not as fervently. Why?”
I look into her eyes again, imploringly. “What if was sort of true?”
“Oh fuck,” Michelle exhales, looking down at the floor. “You’re sleeping with him aren’t you? Like, actually.”
Her arms are strong and all-encompassing as I fly into them, releasing long sobs into her neck and chest. She holds me close to her, petting my hair. I breathe out heavily, tears and sobs releasing out of me from deep in my gut.
“My God… All right. Okay, it’s okay. Shh, Carrie. Let it out, it’s okay,” she whispers.
I let the wails speak for themselves for a few minutes longer, clutching Michelle even more tightly, the clean laundry smell of her black t-shirt punctuating my sharp inhales. She says nothing else, but just holds me steady, letting me lean on her. We’re sitting in the middle of the floor, and even with my eyes open all I can see is the blackness of her shirt, feel the softness of her curls against my face. I begin to catch my breath, match it to hers, and look into her eyes again. I stand back up and sit on the bed. She stands and sits next to me.
I look at my reflection in the full length mirror affixed to my closet door. My face is red and puffy, my eyes are the same, my lips are swollen. I wipe my eyes with my hands as Michelle gets up to fish something out of her bag. She hands me a few tissues.
“Thanks,” I dab my eyes, blow my nose.
Michelle sits back down, moving her curls out of her face and putting her hand flat on my upper back.
“I... Adam and I...” I realize don’t quite know where to begin. Michelle nods encouragingly, her hand still firm on my back. I tell her the story of how we connected mentally at first. “At first, I was just playing around. I mean, I was pushing boundaries here and there. He’s hot and young and interesting. I kept going forward and I didn’t think anything would actually happen.”
Michelle looks at me skeptically.
“I guess in the back of my mind I knew. He invited me to his apartment, well... we first kissed in the dark room and then he invited me to his apartment.”
Michelle’s eyes widen. “And you don’t think he knew exactly what he was doing? That he took advantage of you?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No. No. Please, it’s not like that. He didn’t want anything to happen, he was trying to be in control of the whole teacher-student relationship the whole time. We opened up to each other. It’s not just sex. I love him.”
Michelle removes her glasses and puts her head in her hands, wiping her eyes.
“God damn it,” she says. “God damn it.”
“I know it sounds insane. It’s been going on for a long time now. He loves me too. He tells me all the time. I know he does. Now we’re both in the middle of this and neither of us know what to do next. Except keep it a secret.”
“Well, that’s shot to hell now, isn’t it? I wish I had a drink. I need a drink,” Michelle jokes. “He said he loves you? I don’t want you to be naive, Carrie.”
“He does love me. I know it.”
She takes a deep breath and puts her glasses back on. “All right, fine. Let’s say he loves you and you love him. So why the fuck were you wailing on him with your bookbag? Did Alexis tell you... what did she tell you?”
“Alexis came up to me in the library and told me that it was common knowledge that he’s fucking like, the entire photo class. All my insecurities about us and him and the relationship flooded my brain. I started going back in my head and wondering if that could be true. I thought it had to be true, there’s girls throwing themselves at him every second. He told me he’d been accused…”
Michelle stands up to face me. Her face is serious.
“All right. Let me get this straight. You’ve been sleeping with Mr. Clark forever, you two have been skipping around on a fluffy cloud of love since the beginning of the semester, and then Alexis comes to you, tells you he’s a lying, cheating dog. Even though no one knows about you guys?”
I shake my head no. “No. Alexis has no idea about me and Adam. He didn’t say he was cheating on me. That’s what made me believe her.”
Michelle clears her throat and starts shaking her head.
“What?”
Michelle straightens up. “All right. Here’s the thing, Carrie. Alexis DOES know about you and Adam. She has to. She must.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. She can’t know. No one knows.”
Michelle seems unphased by my denials. “She does. Okay? I am going to tell you something now and I haven’t before because I respect your friendship with her but this is fucked up. She’s crossed a line.”
I feel queasy and my heart is pounding. “What? Tell me what? What the hell
are you talking about?”
“Alexis is not your friend.”
I feel like I’ve just been slapped hard across the face. My mind doesn’t compute what she’s saying to me. I shake my head, as if to shake the thought loose from my brain. Michelle continues.
“I’ve never gotten involved because it’s not my business. But Alexis is seethingly jealous of you. She always has been. I’ve seen her in the theater building, signing up for auditions, and then scratching her name out. She tried to get into that class with you, she got bumped. That’s why she’s always running off to the city, dragging you with her to pick up guys. It’s the only thing she thinks she can beat you at.”
I start to laugh in disbelief. That’s crazy. Alexis doesn’t want to be an actress. She’s not into photography. I’m ashamed to realize I don’t exactly know what Alexis IS into, aside from partying and going to concerts.
I still feel nauseated.
“That’s crazy. We’ve been friends for years. You think she just... made all that up? No way. For what?”
“Look, I am not vouching for Clark. I don’t know him. But this seems fishy to me, that’s all. If she did make it up, my guess is she found out about the two of you somehow, and did it to expose you. Split you up.”
“You’re talking like she’s evil,” I say.
“No one is one hundred percent one thing or another, Carrie. Besides, why do you think her hair is dyed red?”
“THAT’S HER HAIR COLOR! She’s strawberry blonde. Reddish...blonde.”
Flashes of Alexis’s hair come to my mind, her long, wavy hair. I’d always assumed that was her natural hair color. When we met, she had pink hair. Then I assumed she’d gone back to her roots.