Good Girls Stay Quiet

by Jo Cassidy

  My back felt like it was on fire. I needed some space. We were shoved in too tight. Everything closed in on me, and it suddenly was hard to breathe. I’d never been surrounded by so many people. I felt claustrophobic, and I wanted out.

  "I have to use the restroom," I said, standing. I pushed down the stands, muttering apologies I didn't mean. When I cleared the last person, I took off out of the gym, bypassing the bathroom, and headed straight for the front office.

  I didn’t belong there, stuffed in that gym, surrounded by people whose world was nothing like mine. I’d never had to experience creepy men or uncontrollable feelings before I started public school. But if I didn’t belong there, and I didn’t belong with Daddy, where did I belong?

  My hand wrapped around the handle and tried to yank open the door. It was locked. I needed to call Daddy. I needed to go home, lock myself in my room, and hold Noah.

  "Cora!" Jenna ran up to me and put her hand on my arm. "What's wrong?"

  "I need your phone." I glanced behind her, expecting Brendon to show up, but he was nowhere in sight.

  "He stayed in the gym," Jenna said, handing me her phone. "He wanted to keep his eyes on perv man."

  I stared at the screen, a pair of puppy eyes staring back at me. How did you call someone on it? Where were the numbers? It was nothing like the phone Brendon had given me.

  "That's Louie," she said. "My newest pup. You should come over and meet him! He's the most lovable thing ever."

  I didn't care about a dog. I wanted to go home. "I need to call my dad."

  When I continued to just stare at the screen, Jenna pressed a button on the bottom, and a screen of numbers popped up.

  My fingers fumbled over the phone. I wasn't used to using a cell phone with a touch screen. Once our home phone was entered, I glanced up at Jenna. "Now what?"

  Her jaw dropped. "You've seriously never used a cell phone before? What year are you living in?" She pressed a button.

  I stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen.

  "You need to hold the phone to your ear if you want to hear your dad," she said, her eyebrows furrowed.

  "Right. I knew that." I put the phone to my ear.

  "Uh huh." She folded her arms and stared at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was.

  Daddy's voice rang out from the phone. "Hello?"

  "Daddy?" I licked my lips. "It's Cora. Can you come get me?"

  "Is the game already over?"

  "No," I said. "But I've seen enough. I just want to go home."

  He sighed. "I knew it was a bad idea to let you go. Too overwhelming." He paused. "Whose phone are you calling from?"

  "Jenna's." I put my hand on my forehead. "Can you come now?"

  "Of course, angel. I just finished with my appointment. I'll pick you up outside of the gym where I dropped you off."

  "Just hurry." I didn't know how to end the call, so I handed the phone back to Jenna.

  She pressed a button on the phone and tucked it in the band on her arm. "He won't hurt you."

  Sweat formed at my temples. I craved air, even though we were outside, the temperature perfect. "Why would my dad hurt me?" Did she know? Had she seen the scars? Maybe Brendon had mentioned something to her.

  Jenna frowned. "The perv. Why would you think I'm talking about your dad?"

  I forced a laugh, the sound unnatural. "No reason. I should probably go wait out in front of the gym." I took off at a fast pace.

  Jenna ran to catch up with me. "Are you nervous or something?"

  "Nervous?" My legs somehow carried me forward. The rest of me felt like collapsing. "Why would I be nervous?" With a strange man taking pictures of me and constantly lying to Daddy about what I was doing, I was a pile of nerves, about to crumble to the ground.

  "About kissing Brendon," Jenna said. Her short legs worked hard enough to keep up with me that she almost stumbled when I stopped walking.

  I just stared at her. Did she know about our kiss? I couldn't imagine Brendon telling her. I’d thought about talking to her about my crush, but I was too embarrassed to bring it up.

  "Now that you're officially together, this means you'll have to kiss at some point." She rubbed my arm. "Don't stress about it. I'm sure it’ll be amazing." She squeezed my arm. "I'm so jealous! I've been dying to get my first kiss but haven't had any options." She pointed at her braces. “These aren’t helping, either.”

  The smallest sigh escaped my lips. She didn't know.

  "I really need to be less picky," she said. "The guys at our school gross me out. They're so immature." Her eyes widened. "Not Brendon, though. He's wonderful." She sucked in her breath. "Not that I want to be with him. I meant for you."

  A laugh bubbled up and burst out.

  She slapped my arm. "Don't laugh!" She glared at me for only a moment before she busted out laughing as well.

  "You'll find someone."

  Jenna smiled, her eyes sparkling. "I hope so. It better be romantic."

  A honk broke up our fun.

  I gave her a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow." I took off, running straight for Daddy's van.

  He had the passenger door open. He was leaning toward me, watching me run.

  I hopped into the van and shut the door. "Hi, Daddy."

  "You okay?" he asked, giving my leg a little squeeze.

  I nodded. "Better now that you're here. My teacher better be happy I went. Basketball is so not my sport."

  I stared out the window as he drove away from the gym. The creepy man stood under a tree, watching us leave. He snapped another picture before we were out of sight.

  Chapter 29

  Rubbing my eyes, I held back a yawn. Every few nights I had been sneaking out and burning a few of my journals. It cut into my sleep. But they needed to be destroyed.

  My hands shook as I taped the envelope of money to the inside of my locker. A part of me wanted to be there when the person picked it up. The other part didn't want to know the truth. I just wanted it to end. Go back to my normal routine and not have to worry about any of it.

  I wasn't sure if I wanted Brendon to tell me who it was. But I had to know so I could stop them from blackmailing me further.

  "Snow!" My P.E. teacher's booming voice broke me from my trance. "You going to join us today? Or do you have another excuse?"

  Shaking my head, I shut my locker door and ran past my teacher and her snarl. She hated me. I didn't blame her. I was a terrible athlete and came up with excuse after excuse as to why I couldn't participate in P.E.

  We were playing volleyball on the asphalt courts outside. It was a nice day, the sun shining, but not too hot. I looked up at the blue sky and soaked in the warmth. Daddy had bought me a cotton, long sleeve shirt to wear underneath my gym clothes so my arms would be covered . . . along with my bruises. I always changed in the bathroom stall where no one could see me.

  "You better help today," Dalton said. He stood next to me, hugging his arms close to his chest. "Last time, Easton practically had me burned at the stake for not picking up your slack."

  I frowned at him. "It's not your job or anyone else's to handle my position."

  He grunted. "Well, you certainly can't do it."

  I punched him in the arm like I’d seen guys do with their friends. "It's just P.E. Why do you guys take it so seriously?"

  He rubbed his arm where I hit him. "It's our grade. We actually want to pass P.E."

  I rolled my eyes. "Why does it matter if I'm athletic or not? It's not like I'm going to be playing professional volleyball after high school." Or ever.

  "Ain't that the truth," Easton said, walking up to us. “It’s not about being athletic. It’s about staying in shape.” He ran his fingers through the top of his brown hair. He had the sides completely shaved, which was the style for some strange reason. I didn't get it. Then again, I didn't get a lot of the trends.

  Easton gathered our team. "I'll start as server. We can rotate." He looked at me, opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut. He
probably realized no matter what he said, I wouldn't be a good player.

  I stood next to Easton so I'd be the last server in the rotation. Easton's plan was to get us as far ahead in points as we could before I had to serve. I wanted to let him know that it wouldn't help, but I decided to keep my mouth shut as well. No point in arguing about something neither of us could change.

  For the first few serves, I stood in the back, keeping out of the way. Our teacher gave me some disapproving shakes of the head. She thought being a terrible participant was better than not participating at all.

  When I circled to the front, my invisibility decreased. I became a target for the other team. Before the other team served, Dalton put his hand on my shoulder. "You over think it. Just hit the ball when it comes at you." He demonstrated a few different techniques, showing me how to use my hands. "The ball won't kill you, I promise."

  I'd been watching the other players, trying to learn how to play. The reason I wasn't any good was because I had no experience. Before I'd gone to public school, I'd had no chances to play sports. Daddy didn't play any with me and he didn't watch them – starting P.E. had been a big eye opener.

  "Cora, hit it!" Dalton said.

  I glanced up to see the ball sailing toward me. I'd seen the tall girl on the other side of the net stick her fingers straight up and hit the ball that way. They'd called it a set.

  Taking a deep breath, I raised my arms, stiffened my fingers, and connected with the ball. It soared back up, and Dalton hit it hard, forcing it over the net and whacking into the asphalt.

  Dalton held his fist out to me. "Nice job!"

  A fist bump. Knuckles. Or something like that. That was what he wanted. So I fisted my hand and hit his. Not too hard, though, like when I’d high fived Julien.

  "Where have you been hiding that?" Easton asked.

  I shrugged as I stepped back. My foot connected with a crack in the asphalt and I stumbled to my spot.

  Easton smiled at my clumsiness. "Just do the same thing again."

  Each time the ball came at me, I set it so Dalton could spike it. It was something simple I could do. The P.E. teacher actually smiled at me. Smiled. At me. So rare.

  When it came my time to serve, both Dalton and Easton crowded close.

  "Okay, Cora," Easton said. "Just swing your arm back and then forward, using your fist to hit the ball."

  I furrowed my eyebrows. "You throw it up and then hit it with your palm."

  Easton snorted. "Let's start the easy way. Just because you've done a few decent sets doesn't mean you're a professional now." He slapped my shoulder.

  Dalton gave me another fist bump.

  I hated that something insignificant got me so nervous. It was high school P.E. volleyball. Yet my palms were sweating so bad I had to wipe them on my pants a few times.

  My fist shook as I held the ball out, ready to strike. It was just a serve. Just a ball in my hand. For some reason, though, I felt like the moment meant so much. It was approval from my peers. Approval from my teacher who loved nothing more than to shake her head at me and mumble things under her breath.

  You can do it, Cora. Sally's voice came into my head. I'm with you in spirit. I always will be.

  A smile found its way to my lips. I wasn't alone. It was just a ball, and I could hit it hard enough to go over the net.

  Swinging my arm back, I pictured myself doing it, and then let my arm fly forward, my fist connecting with the ball. It soared up into the air and over the net.

  Everyone was so surprised, even the other team, that they let the ball fall to the ground. Easton, Dalton, and the rest of my team cheered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my teacher do a little fist pump.

  I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Noah. "I did it!"

  Easton pointed his finger at me. "You did. But don't let it go to your head. The game isn't over yet."

  My next few serves were a little shaky, but they went over the net. So, I wasn't completely hopeless. I'd still never become a professional athlete, but I had a chance at passing high school P.E.

  We'd just rotated spots when my skin pricked. The smile on my face fell and shattered on the asphalt. I scanned the field, searching for something – someone. I could feel them.

  Behind an ash tree, I spotted him. The man from the basketball game. He barely peered out, but I remembered his calm and self-assured stature. His frame. I'd tried to memorize everything about him so I'd never forget.

  My hand wrapped around my braid. The man wore a hat and shades, but it was him. Staring at me. At my school, watching me play volleyball. Watching me. What did he want? He couldn't do anything on the school property. Not with that many witnesses. But him standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cell up, and his gaze on me was enough to terrify me.

  Pain radiated through the side of my head and I stumbled back.

  "Cora!" Dalton ran over to me and took hold of my arm to keep me from falling.

  "What were you looking at?" Easton asked.

  The side of my face stung. I pressed my hand to my cheek. The volleyball had smacked right into me.

  "Dalton, take her to the nurse," the teacher said. She patted my shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Cora. Just put some ice on it." She squeezed my shoulder. "And pay attention. No day dreaming."

  As Dalton escorted me off the court, I looked over my shoulder at the tree, but the man was gone.

  Chapter 30

  The right side of my face had swollen. The nurse had given me an ice pack and some ibuprofen. She was nice enough to let me stay in the office until school ended. For some reason, I wasn’t ready to face the truth behind the blackmailer. I’d find out from Brendon later.

  "What happened to you?" Daddy asked.

  I sat down in the passenger seat of his van and shut the door. "Volleyball." The immediate smell of sweat and grease overwhelmed me.

  His nostrils flared, and his knuckles around the steering wheel turned white. "Why didn't they call me?"

  I gently pressed my fingers against my swollen skin. The ibuprofen seemed to be helping. I wished Daddy let me use it. "Getting hit in the face with a volleyball doesn't qualify for alerting the parents. This kind of stuff happens all the time."

  The day before, Dalton had taken a volleyball to the groin. He'd fallen down, curled up, and grimaced in pain. For some odd reason, I’d found it funny.

  "You're probably going to get a black eye," he said.

  A car behind us honked.

  Daddy reached his hand out the window and flipped them off, which was completely out of character. He pounded his palm against the side of the van. "They should have called me."

  "Daddy, it's okay," I said, still touching the swollen skin. "I've been hurt worse. This is nothing."

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Why had I said that? It would only make him angrier, which was never good for me.

  He peeled out of the parking lot and rushed home. He rarely drove fast. He always insisted on obeying the law and driving safe. But he flew through stop signs and took sharp turns.

  The second he turned off the ignition, he turned to me. "Inside. Now."

  My hand fumbled on the door handle. A part of me wanted to run and never look back – scream and shout for help – but fear sealed my lips. My whole mouth went dry. Would he beat me again? I fisted the front of my shirt, worried he’d ruin this one as well.

  If I did run, where would I go? Now I knew where Brendon lived, but going there would be admitting something was wrong at home. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, either.

  Grabbing my backpack, I hurried into the house and hung it up on the hook next to the door.

  Daddy slammed the front door closed, took me by the arm, and dragged me down the hall. I expected him to throw me downstairs, but he tossed me to the floor in the middle of the hallway.

  "We're going to finish installing the wood flooring, and then you can spend a few nights in the basement." He bent down and lifted my chin, squeezing
tight. "Cora, you call me when you get hurt. You tell me right away."

  "Yes, Daddy," I managed to get out through the aching pain from the wounds in my back and his hold on my chin.

  His cloudy eyes stared into mine, somehow stripping me of my innocence. "Change into work clothes and then we'll get started."

  I desperately wished my door locked from the inside and not the outside. I wanted to lock myself away from Daddy – away from the world. I wanted to be alone, safe and warm on my bed, with no one to stop me.

  Instead, I changed and met Daddy in the hallway, and we went to work.

  What was going on with him? Something bothered him deeply, and I wished I knew what it was. Did he know the truth? That I kept a journal and it had been stolen? It didn't seem likely. He would have said something by now. It had to be something else, which somehow worried me more.

  Daddy sent me to the basement at one in the morning. My whole body ached. Installing wood flooring was harder than I expected. It required certain muscles I didn't have.

  The one light bulb flickered above me. He had locked the basement door and closed me off. It wasn't the kind of alone I wanted. It hadn't been my choice – it was Daddy's. It was always Daddy's choice.

  My stomach rumbled – a mix of worry and hunger. He’d never fed me dinner. I still didn't have a mattress. The old one was so ruined, we'd thrown it out. All I had in the basement was hard concrete floor – no blanket or warmth. How my life was destined to be forever. I'd never be safe. I’d never be able to make my own choices, have friends, be a teenager, or be a real person.

  Until Daddy died.

  I had a feeling he never would. He'd make sure I went with him when he did. He wouldn't want to leave me alone in the world.

  My feelings feuded with each other. There was still the part that wanted to be under Daddy's control. It took some stress out of planning a future, worrying about what college to go to and what to major in. I could count on my life staying the same. Always provided for and looked after. Fed – usually. A roof over my head.

  All I had to do was be better. Be careful. Get rid of Brendon and Jenna in my life – Dalton as well. We'd grown closer from the guitar lessons. Not totally close, but enough to consider him sort of a friend. He was nicer to me and didn't tease me. He treated me like a person.