It takes everything I have, every last bit of willpower, to turn around and drive away. I don’t even look in the rearview mirror. But if I know Sean well enough, it doesn’t matter, because he’s not looking back.
34
ALI
Picking you up in 5 mins be ready
A blaring text from Blythe.
Get me at the corner not at my house
Why? Ashamed of me? Haha
I don’t respond. My dad and my aunt Marce are sitting outside by the firepit when I tell him I’m going out.
“It’s just time you start coming back to the living,” he says.
“I’m socializing with my friends, Dad. That’s living. Isn’t it?”
“Let her go. I’ll hang out with her another day,” Marce says. I haven’t spent time with her since that day at the gynecologist. She’s been trying to set up a lunch date, but I keep blowing her off. There are too many unread texts from her. Too many missed calls for her to think it’s just me being busy now.
I don’t mention Blythe. I don’t want my father to know that I’m going out with her. He has too many questions when I go out with Blythe. I’m lying so much lately that I don’t know where it begins or ends.
Blythe is smoking a cigarette when I get in the car; when she sees me, she tosses it out the window.
“I’m starting to become a chain-smoker. I just want one after the other. I went through a pack today. An entire pack. Can you believe that I had to leave my house to buy more cigarettes?”
“Think of all the old people in those commercials who have those voice boxes they have to talk through.”
“I just think of Winona Ryder with that cigarette hanging out of her mouth in Heathers, realizing that she just killed those two jocks. How stoic, yet how depressed she looks.”
She drives a little and we say nothing. Someone has to break the silence.
“You know why I wanted to see you, right? I’m sure you heard already.”
“I actually have no idea.”
“Sean. It’s because of Sean.”
Everything has to do with Sean Nessel. It’s always Sean Nessel.
“I’m sick of hearing about him. I don’t want to hear his name anymore, Blythe.”
Blythe rubs her eyes. Sticks her long blond hair behind her ears.
“I know what he did to you.”
I feel my body getting hot. Like this car is the smallest car in the world and the metal is creeping in on me.
“I know what he did to you because the night it happened, he told me everything. He told me about the blood. He told me how you were crying. He was really scared, and I was really wasted, and I just sat there and listened to him. I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know a thing about you. I’m sure you were scared too. I’m sure you were terrified. I remember your face. I saw you when I came out of the bathroom. How spooked you looked. I’ve been on the other side of a lot of these girls that Sean hooks up with. I’ve seen a lot of aftermaths.”
I don’t say anything. I just stare. A small speck on her dashboard. A little white smudge. Who knows how it got there. But I stare into it like it’s the universe and I’d like to disappear.
“Ali?”
She’s saying my name. And I have to respond. I have to.
“It wasn’t just a hookup, Blythe.”
I don’t know what Blythe wants from me in this moment. I don’t know what she wants me to say or do. If she wants me to back down. Or feel sorry for her. Understand her. But I don’t care anymore.
“Why did you become my friend in the first place? To protect Sean Nessel?”
“You have to understand, Ali. It’s more complicated than just saying I was protecting Sean. You don’t go into it thinking this is what you’re going to do. It wasn’t like I was part of some extravagant cover-up. But, Sean, he’s this magnetic creature. . . .”
“Oh, I’m aware, Blythe. I’m keenly aware.”
“Things changed, though. We became friends. You know that,” she says, on the defense. “And friendships aren’t perfect, Ali. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you after that shit you pulled at the dance if we weren’t really friends.”
“The shit I pulled? You were trying to drag me over to hook up with the person who . . . who raped me.”
I’ve said it now. There’s no pretending that it’s not there. Blythe has a look on her face like the world has stopped. That it’s all spinning around her and she can’t catch it.
But for me, it’s the first time in a while that things are falling into place. That I’m starting to understand myself again.
“I was trying to help you, Ali. I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she’s saying. “You have to believe me.”
I don’t let her see any reaction at all. Because it feels like she’ll never let me out of this car if I don’t reassure her. At least for now.
I call Sammi when I get back in the house. The first time we’re really talking since I texted her after the dance. I haven’t even told her that I admitted it all to Raj yet.
“I have so many apologies that I owe you; I don’t know where to start.”
I hear her breathing heavily. Not talking.
“Sammi? Will you talk to me? Like really talk to me?”
“Yes, Ali. Haven’t I through all this? Haven’t I?” She’s exasperated. I get it.
“I admitted everything to Raj. I told him everything. I told Blythe everything. It’s all out in the open now.”
She gasps loudly and then makes this loud curdling noise.
“Sammi? Are you okay?”
“I’m crying, you idiot. Can’t you hear that I’m crying?”
“I thought you were choking. I’m sorry. I’m so out of touch. I’m the worst friend.”
“You’ve been friends with the wrong people lately. That’s all. That’s what has to change.”
Even with everything that Blythe has done, Sammi will never understand our connection. I can’t defend her, I know this. The things she’s done. But Blythe’s experienced the kind of pain that I have. With her mother. With the Initiation. Sammi’s never experienced anything like that. Not with guys. Not with a parent.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about Blythe. She’s not a robot. She’s a real person. She’s got layers, you know? Sometimes those layers have to be stripped away.”
“I’m sure she has an awful home life. I’m sure she’s very complicated, and she probably sees an expensive therapist on a daily basis. I’m sure she needs a box of tissues on her at all times. I think it’s great how empathetic you are, really. It’s honorable or something like that. But trust me, Ali, if you strip away Blythe’s layers, you’ll find a sharp dagger. She will stab you in the back if she has to. If she hasn’t already.”
That’s not how I see it. If we’re talking in metaphors, then Blythe wraps her hands around the dagger so she can protect herself.
35
BLYTHE
I drive to Dev’s after I drop off Ali. I want to hide in the dark and slip inside his room. Turn the clock back. But I have to pass his parents first and I’m a terrible girlfriend. I remind myself that they’re not expecting anything. Just me on a school night with my eyes swollen from crying. Another normal night.
Perfectly normal.
His mother lets me in, and I walk up the stairs, remembering what Sean said. A Christmas present. A Hanukkah present. There are so many lies.
“Your face looks puffy. Like you’ve been crying,” Dev says. But he doesn’t seem to care much. He’s cold, removed. Just staring at me as I wipe tears away.
“You don’t even care that I’m crying?”
“I have other thoughts on my mind.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, near him, but he shifts away from me.
“Dev, what the hell is going on?”
&nbs
p; “Nessel told me you were canceling the Initiation. Good for you.”
“Canceling it?” I want to throw up. What else did Sean tell him? “Dev, I don’t get to so easily cancel it. I told him I was backing out of it. That I wasn’t going to be in charge of it.”
He gets up, pacing around his room, and I don’t know where to look. I don’t know how to follow him. Usually when Dev’s angry it’s because someone’s wronged me. My mother. My father. Now he’s directing that anger toward me. He knows something about me and Sean. That has to be it.
“I’m done being Sean’s bitch about Ali Greenleaf,” I say.
“What’s that even mean?”
“It means Sean isn’t my friend. He isn’t your friend. He’s using all of us.”
It feels so good to say this out loud. Even though it started just a few weeks ago, it was so different. Sean breathless, pulling me aside in the hallway, trying to convince me that I was the only one. Sean at my house, kissing me. That we were something. All of it lies. Just to get me to do what he wanted. To get Ali to shut up. To get me on his side.
“I have a question for you,” Dev says, stopping near the bed. Closer to me now. His chest rising. “Do you love Nessel?”
So there it is. Sean told him. He had to have.
“Dev—” I reach out to touch his hand, but he jolts away.
“Nessel told me you guys had a fight.”
“You could say that.”
“And that you might say something to me—something bad. That you might say something to me that I don’t wanna hear. And I’m thinking, Wow, what could B possibly say to me? And I start to get a little paranoid. Because you two have been so fucking secretive talking about Ali Greenleaf. Then I think, Wait, maybe they’re not just talking about Ali Greenleaf. Maybe there’s something else between them. And, damn, how fucking stupid am I? Maybe that’s why you’re here tonight. Not because of your mom. Not because of your dad. Maybe you’re here for another reason. To tell me something about you and Sean.”
“Dev, listen, that’s not why I’m here.”
But he hangs his head, stomps the floor.
“Just tell me the truth, Blythe!”
Dev’s mother calls up. Wants to know if everything’s okay.
“Stop yelling at me—your parents can hear us.”
“So what? I already told them. You don’t think I wouldn’t tell them, do you? I tell them everything. They’re not like your parents, B.”
It stings, as much as I know he’s right. This is how it works when you have people on your side. When adults look out for you. “The truth is that I love you, but I got so wrapped up feeling so sorry for him. That his life was spinning out of control. And he was so needy. Always asking me what to do. How to help him. He needed me, don’t you see? And I wanted that so badly, to help him.”
“Have you lost your mind? Nessel gets everything handed to him on a silver platter. He doesn’t need any fucking help. Because if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else,” he says, glaring at me. Of course it would have been someone else.
“Why didn’t you didn’t stop me that night when he was crying about her in the car, then? Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Oh, it’s my fault now? Jesus, Blythe. Listen to yourself.”
I don’t say anything. What can I say?
“Just tell me the truth. Is there something between the two of you?”
Yes. Yes. I nod. Yes. Because it doesn’t matter anymore. My head in my hands, tears down my cheeks, stinging. I’m going to roll out of here like a ball of weeds. That’s all I am.
“How, B? How could you?” His face. His eyes well up with tears.
“I promise you, Dev. Nothing happened.”
But it’s not the truth at all. He’s been in my mind for years. I’ve always had him on my mind. Long before what happened with Ali.
Dev’s mom knocks on the door. Dev sticks his head out. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I promise. She’s leaving in a minute anyway.”
Leaving in a minute. To go nowhere. To sink in my own filth.
* * *
* * *
Back in my car. Outside Dev’s house. My hands are trembling. I call Suki because Donnie doesn’t answer.
“It’s possible that I made a huge mistake.”
“Wait—Blythe Jensen makes mistakes?” She makes dramatic gurgling noises. “Sorry, that was me passing out from shock. I had, like, liver failure.”
“Shut up, Suki.”
“What did you make a mistake about, B?”
“Everything. Everything was a mistake.”
“You mean about Sean?”
“Yes. That. That and everything else,” I say, the streetlight cackling over my car. My throat collapsing into what I’m about to say. I can hardly get it out. “Me and Dev. It’s over.”
36
ALI
I’ve been writing in my journal for days. Random ideas. Nothing that makes sense, but I hold on to it tight, and I thud down into Ms. Tapestry’s big couch.
“Everything sucks.”
“Can you be more specific?”
I think about all the things in my life that suck.
“I started writing like you told me. In a journal. And my father is asking me, like, a question every five seconds.”
“It sounds like he’s interested in your life—”
“Too interested.”
“Writing in a journal is working for you, though?”
I shrug. I’m sick of lying. Sick of answering questions. Sick of telling the truth. I stare out the window at the soccer field, the guys practicing. I can’t see faces, just red and white shirts blending in the grass. Running back and forth.
“Something out there that’s interesting?”
“There’s nothing interesting out there. Just assholes.” Then I think of Raj. “Well, except for one person.”
“Why are they assholes?”
I look away again at the field. He’s number 22. The twos curve over his shoulder blades. Sean Nessel is just everywhere I turn. I can’t get away from him.
Ms. Tapestry’s face is blank.
“What are you thinking when people are talking to you?” I say.
“I’m not really thinking anything right now. I’m just listening.”
“How can you not judge people? We all judge each other.”
“That’s not what a therapist does. A therapist is really more of a listener than a judger.”
“So if I tell you something, you’re not going to think weird things about me?”
“What would you tell me that you deem weird? Because I have a very, very high ‘weird’ tolerance. I’m pretty weird myself.”
I think of the worst thing I could say. Something that would send a major red flag.
“Like, if I slept with every guy in the school.”
She takes a deep breath and rests her notepad on her lap. I think I’ve pissed her off. I don’t know why I’m doing this to her. She’s a nice person. She’s sweet, like my dad. She wants to help.
“I’d probably ask you why.”
“Because I like to have sex. A lot of sex. I’m really, really comfortable having tons of sex.”
I sit on my hands because I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve never lied to an adult like this—or anyone like this—for no reason whatsoever.
“Oh, if you’re so comfortable, then why are you sitting on your hands?” she asks. “That’s usually a body language sign for feeling uncomfortable.”
I pull my hands out from under my thighs.
“See over there.” I point to the soccer field.
She looks up at the window and squints.
“There’s a guy on the field who I hate. More than anyone else I can think of.”
Because he’s a bad person. Beca
use he did awful things to me. Because my mind can’t think straight now because of him.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I shake my head. Blackness. I’ve turned it into blackness.
“You’re having a pretty strong emotion,” she says. “Maybe you want to write about it in your journal? Or what about your collages that you told me about? Maybe you can make it into art?”
“I made a whole book of him.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I shredded it.”
* * *
* * *
That night, I write more in my journal. More words. Scribbles. Sentences. Even if I cross them out. Even if there are words I don’t want to see. No more pictures. Just words.
I have a voice. And I have a pen.
So I write. I write and write until the pen indents my thumb.
37
ALI
There are a million other places I can sit. Anywhere, really. But I’m a masochist, maybe, and I go to the field. Soccer practice. To wait for Raj. He’s giving me a ride home and why should I wait in a parking lot when I can sit under a tree on the bleachers? Just because of one person?
It had been one of my favorite places to sit. Now this field is a shit storm of post-traumatic stress because that asshole Sean Nessel is in plain view.
I sling my backpack over one shoulder and tighten my stomach, wishing I had listened to my father’s diatribe on meditation the other day. I’ve never been more nervous in my life, and the only thing that’s really getting me through it is knowing that my hair looks great because the air is dry as a bone. You cannot possibly sit on the sidelines flattening your ass on cold bleachers watching the guy who attacked you on a humid day. You need to be as confident as you can, and you cannot be confident if your hair is frizzy. I hold on to this. It keeps me strong. My hair.
All of a sudden, there he is.
Sean Nessel jogging over to me. Like it’s no big deal. Like we’re best friends.
“Hey,” he says, calling out to me. I’m up on the fourth row. Not close to him. He waves. “What’s going on?”
Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf Page 17