But reality keeps swooping in and shaking me with all its might. I can’t keep him from college, from his wrestling scholarship. I can’t even entertain any other option. There is no other option.
Jenna sits up in bed. “Are you up?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna talk about anything?”
I shake my head.
“Wanna eat?”
I’m nervous about seeing Landon now because I don’t know how to face him. But I’ve got to at some point. I’m going to try to act like everything’s fine…try my hardest not to act weird. I’ve got to do this for his sake. I’ll be normal as possible, schedule a lot of babysitting jobs, spend a lot of time doing stuff with Jenna…maybe even schedule something with my dad if he’ll agree to it. I’ll keep out of Landon’s way until the test, and then after that I’ll figure out how to slowly put the brakes on our relationship, as much as it’s going to tear me apart to do it.
We head down the stairs and to the kitchen where Landon sits at the table with his mom. They appear to be deep into a serious conversation, which scares the crap out of me. What’s he doing? Is he telling her he wants to move in with his dad?
Cynthia’s gaze meets mine, and Landon turns to face me as well. They both look at me with eyebrows slightly knitted together and worried eyes.
“What’s going on?” Jenna asks, dumbly.
Landon and Cynthia look at each other again, and Cynthia stands up and comes to me. “Sweetheart, your dad needs to see you in his office.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to figure out what’s going on.
She delivers me to the office door as if I don’t know the way. My dad is on the phone and looks up at me with a furrowed brow that ages him ten years. “She’s up. She’s here now,” he says into the receiver. He hits a button on the pad then hangs up the phone. “You’re on speaker.”
“Who’s on speaker?” I ask.
He looks past me. “Will you please shut the door, sweetheart?”
I turn to Cynthia, and she looks crestfallen as she closes herself off from us.
My belly stings with all of this drama, the stone-cold faces. “Dad, what’s going on?”
He stands up out of his chair and offers it to me. “Sit down, sweetie. Your mother is on the speakerphone.”
I sit in his desk chair, which is so weird. I’ve never even been all the way inside this room much less sat at his desk. I feel a like I’m invading his space.
He puts his hand on the back of the chair. “We’ve got something to talk to you about.”
“Hey, sweetie,” comes from the speakerphone.
“What’s going on, Mom?” I ask, waiting for the news that someone has died, but I can’t imagine who. Grammy died in December, Granddaddy died three years ago. Papa and Mimi are both relatively young for old people. Mimi teaches water aerobics and Papa still kicks butt at tennis.
My dad grips the back of the chair, staring at the phone, silently instructing my mother to take the reins.
“Honey,” my mom says, “something happened here this past weekend. The boy that you…know…? Trevor. He’s been arrested.”
A strange mix of emotions washes over me. I try to process being weirded out by hearing my mother say his name with disgust at the sound of his name assaulting my ears, with bewilderment at the fact that he was arrested, and finally, with guilt and shame that this might have something to do with me. It obviously does if they are talking to me about it like this.
I let out a shaky breath. “For what?”
“He’s been arrested for statutory rape,” my mom says.
I feel like someone kicked the wind out of me. My face tingles as the blood drains out of it. Statutory rape. He pulled it off. He actually forced himself on some girl like he tried to do to me.
His beer breath is back in my nostrils. The foreboding sound of his zipper coming down. But this time I imagine myself being pinned to the wet floor of the pontoon boat, his hands pulling my shorts down, the helpless misery of waiting for it to be over with.
I look to my dad who is shoving a hand through his hair, his face screwed up into a mess of emotions. He can’t look at me. I imagine he wishes he was anywhere in the entire world than here with me now, and that he regrets not only having asked me to come here this summer but the fact that he ever took part in my conception.
“Okay,” is all I can manage.
“Sweetie, your dad and I would like to ask you about the night you had me pick you up from the boat dock.”
A flood of foul emotion washes through my belly. I have no idea how they would know that Trevor was my attacker that night unless they’re just guessing. I cross my arms over my lap, trying to make myself as small as possible in this chair.
“Derrick,” my mother says quietly.
My dad comes to life. “Sweetie, was this boy…Trevor…at the boat dock that night? We know his dad has a pontoon boat he keeps at that slip.”
I can’t imagine how they know any of this, and I have no earthly idea what to say. I wish I had Landon here with me, or even Jenna.
“Yes,” I say in a voice so soft I’m sure my mother doesn’t hear.
I can’t look my dad in the eye, but by his body movements, I can tell he’s agitated.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Honey, tell us what happened.”
They may as well be asking me to recite the Emancipation Proclamation. I don’t know what to say or how to say it. It’d be one thing if my mom was here with us, but it’s my dad who’s looking at me right now.
“Nothing happened,” I say. “He didn’t rape me if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But he tried?” my mom asks.
My stomach twists and turns. “I guess.”
My dad slams a fist into his open hand. “If this kid doesn’t go to jail I’m gonna kill him.”
“Derrick,” my mom scolds.
I’m taken aback at my dad’s anger. He’s not faking it either. His face is redder than a tomato, his mouth wound tighter than a yo-yo. I wouldn’t have imagined him so angry. Irritated to have to deal with it all, sure. Irritated at me for getting myself into the situation, yep. But not angry with my attacker.
“Sweetie,” my mom says, “the police know about your incident.”
My heart pounds against the wall of my chest. “What? How do they know?”
“The girl who was raped told the police she suspected you had been through the same thing with him.”
Oh my god. This means this was someone I know. “Who? Who was it?”
“Her identity is sealed since she’s a minor, but she’s a classmate of yours.”
I process hundreds of girls through my brain, but I can’t lock in on anyone. I’m sure I’m one of many girls who fell for him—one of the countless idiots.
“The police came here to talk to you,” my mom says. “I told them about the night at the boat slip and they confirmed Trevor’s dad has a slip there. They asked us to talk to you and see if you’d be willing to give your statement.”
I rub my temple, my whole body tensed and strained. My dad puts his hand on my back. I look up at him, and his expression has softened. His eyebrows are still furrowed, but he’s not mad at the moment. I think he’s concerned.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Your mom and I will be there with you.”
“You’re coming home with me?” I ask.
He gives a strained smile. “Of course I am.”
This is the moment my tear ducts decide to open up. The ridiculous thing is I don’t think I’m crying over Trevor, or this girl who had to endure what I escaped from, or having to talk to some strange policeman about all the disgusting stuff that happened to me. I’m crying because I’m so relieved my dad still cares enough about me to drop everything and come home when I need him.
I nod as
I swipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “Okay.”
Landon follows me up the stairs to my room. “What’s going on, Chloe?”
I can’t look at him. “I’m packing my stuff. We’re going home.” I pull my pool bag out of the closet and empty the contents on my bed.
“What do you mean? When?”
“Now.” I toss in a couple of random pair of shorts and t-shirts.
“When will you be back?”
“Couple of days. I don’t know.”
“I’m coming with you,” he says.
I look past him to the stairwell. “You can’t. If you do, they’ll know something’s up with us.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you…at the police station.”
So he already knows. That’s what he and Cynthia were talking about earlier. I hold my hand against my forehead, shading my eyes. “I appreciate that, but I doubt you’d be able to be in the room with me anyway.”
“I’ll be outside the room. I’ll be wherever you need me to be.”
“Landon!” his mother yells from the end of the stairwell.
He grits his teeth. “What?”
“I need you. Will you please come down here?”
He shuts his eyes tightly, and then opens them to meet my gaze.
I speak before he can, “Landon, I love you, and I appreciate you wanting to help. But I need to do this on my own.”
Jenna appears in the doorway. “I’m sorry, but your dad told me to pack. He got me a ticket, too.”
Landon throws up his hands, fury exploding across his face. “Fucking fantastic. Glad everyone else gets to go.”
“Landon,” I say.
“Landon!” his mom yells.
He clenches his fists. “I’m coming!”
He takes my shoulders, bearing his gaze into my eyes. I can’t let him come home with me. He’s got his exam next week that he hasn’t even told me about. I won’t let him get even further behind because of this mess with Trevor.
“I’ll be back in a day or two,” I say. “I have to come back for the wedding, and we’re leaving my car. I’m not even packing all my stuff.”
“I’m not either,” Jenna says. “I’m basically just taking my phone and some underwear. This asshole’s done enough. He’s not cutting our summer short. Besides, I have a gig on Thursday night.”
I point at Jenna. “See, she’s got to be back for a gig Thursday. We’ll be right back.”
He searches my eyes, and I swallow hard at his intensity. I want to throw my arms around him and sweep him onto the plane with us. But I have to stay strong in my resolve. If he senses me wavering he’ll take the opportunity to give in. He’s got to stay here and take that test.
His mom appears at our door. “Landon. I said I needed you.”
He exhales a deep breath and turns to her. “Mom, can I have a minute?”
“Now.”
He rests a fist against his forehead and follows her out of the room.
I eye Jenna. “Let’s go. Now.”
She obeys, tossing random stuff into a shopping bag, and then follows me down the stairs.
Chapter Forty-Six
Chloe
My mom engulfs me in a hug like I’ve been diagnosed with cancer, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I think I see my dad’s van,” Jenna says.
Her father steps out of his car and waves. The sound of a horn blasts throughout the covered pick up area at the airport terminal, and the security guard yells for cars to move forward.
Jenna hugs me. “Call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Okay,” I say, and Jenna runs off toward her dad.
“Come on, Karen. Let’s get going,” my father says—his first words since we boarded the plane in Panama City.
He takes the driver’s seat, and my mother sits in the back with me.
She runs her hand over the back of my head. “Would you like to go get something to eat before we go to the police station?”
Bile runs up my throat at the idea. “I’d really just like to get this over with.”
She nods, and a tear drops out of her eye as she turns to look away from me.
I walk out of the interrogation room—or at least that’s what it felt like—and hook up with my parents. I refused to speak with them in the room, so they finally agreed to let me give my statement without them present. I assumed they were watching through the mirrored glass, but at least I didn’t have to see their faces as I exposed the intimate details of the worst night of my life. It was a female cop, but she was hard and stern using words like breasts, vagina, and genitals. It was bad enough just me alone. I can’t even imagine having to look my dad in the eye after I answered yes to the question, “Did he expose his penis to you?”
My mom gives me a sympathetic, teary-eyed smile, and I keep my eyes leveled at the ground as we exit the police station. My parents stop on the sidewalk.
“Well, your dad and I were wondering if we could take you out to dinner…just the three of us.” My mom gives an awkward giggle. “Just like old times.”
My dad looks completely uncomfortable and irritated. His facial features battle for positioning between a scowl and a look of concern.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, “but I really just want to go home. Can we do that?”
He lightens his glare. “Of course.”
I let out a resigned sigh just as another family comes out of the police station. I peer at the girl who looks to be my age and recognize her as Kayla Goodall, a girl from my school. What is she doing here?
My mind flashes back to the party Jenna and I were at before I left with Trevor for the pontoon boat that night. Kayla stood there in that basement rec room with Trevor and her boyfriend, Vince. I basically used Kayla to get to Trevor. I’d only had maybe two conversations with her my whole life, so I had to make up something to have an excuse to talk to her. I asked her about her volunteer work with Big Buddies of East Tennessee when really I was just trying to get close to Trevor.
I can’t imagine why she’s here. Is she here to defend him? Her boyfriend is Trevor’s friend. She’s his friend. I fold my arms over my chest and take a step closer to my dad.
She sees me and blinks, her mouth open, her posture shifting from tense to relieved.
I step away. I don’t want to talk to her. Not if she’s sticking up for Trevor.
She approaches me like a giant trying to get a squirrel to come to him. “Chloe, can I speak with you?”
I look to my parents for help. They furrow their brows as they assess Kayla.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” she says. “I just want to thank you for coming forward. Your statement is going to help so much. I don’t know if we could win without it.”
Oh my god. It’s her. She’s the rape victim.
She closes her eyes, and then opens them with resolve. “We can’t let him do this again. If we just stick together we can send this asshole to jail, and he won’t be able to do this to any other girls,” she says.
I lean in close. “You’re the victim?”
Her expression tightens. “Yeah, I thought you knew. It’s sort of all over town.”
“I’ve been in Florida with my dad all summer.”
“Oh.” She relaxes her features. “I didn’t know that.”
God, I want to know what happened. How did he get her alone? Did she trust him? How did she go from Vince’s girlfriend to Trevor’s victim? But I know better than to ask her any of this right now.
“Does Vince know?” I ask.
“He’s so pissed. I can’t even tell you. He’s about to get himself arrested. He went over there and tried to beat him up. Trevor’s dad held him off.”
I imagine Landon doing the same thing. The arrest part is what scares me the most. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you,” she says.
My stomach sours as I realize she thinks I was raped, too. “Kayla, you know he didn’t rape me, right?”
She blinks, her expression morphing into confusion. “But the police said—”
“He tried, but I got away. I got lucky. I wish you had, too.”
She lets out what sounds like a defeated sigh and hangs her head. She bobs her head up and down and meets my gaze again, smiling through a tear falling from her eye.
“It’s okay. We can still do this. We can still win.” She brushes the tear away with the back of her hand. “You told the police your story…of how you got away?”
I touch her arm. “I did. I told them everything…every gory detail.” I realize I have forgotten completely about my parents standing there and look to them only to find they have walked over to her parents and are talking intently with them.
She closes her eyes and lets out another sigh. She opens them back up, and her big brown doe eyes bear into mine. “I can’t thank you enough.”
I want to walk back into that police station and tell them my entire story again just to be sure they got it. Hell, I want to lie and say I was raped if that helps. But I know if I start switching my story now it will be completely useless.
“I’ll do whatever you need, Kayla. I’ll testify if you need me to. Just tell me what you need.”
“This. I needed this. Thank you.” She gazes at me with a sweet smile. She and I share something…a horrible something, but we share it all the same.
“Can I give you a hug?” I ask.
She throws her arms around me, and we hold each other for a long while, which is weird and comforting all at the same time. Our parents surround us, and we split apart.
“We were just going to go out to dinner,” I say. “Would you all like to come?”
At home later in the evening, I realize how lucky I really am. All summer long I’ve been freaked out about what happened to me, but I don’t think I’ve truly appreciated how lucky I am to have escaped. I don’t have to live every day of my life thinking about the way some entitled asshole violated my body. I think of my night with Landon and how careful he was with me, how sure he wanted me to be before we did anything. I’m so grateful for him showing me what being with someone is supposed to be like, and for making it a good thing. I hope Vince can do the same for Kayla, but it doesn’t escape me that every girl who has been through something like this doesn’t have someone to help her like I did.
The Summer Before Forever Page 25