Trafficked: a novel
Page 2
I really began to fall for him.
But then Carol Myers came along. Carol was pretty and talented, played the flute, and, unlike me, she knew what she wanted right away. She wanted Jesse and she didn’t care that he and I were an item.
Things started innocently enough. She invited Jesse and me to a party at her house. There were a bunch of kids there…about 20 or so to celebrate her birthday. The usual music being loaded from her cell phone and tons of junk food to eat. Her parents were home so it was pretty tame – no drinking or weed, but there was plenty of pizza and Chinese food.
Rather quickly, couples began going off together to a have “private conversations”. Jesse, Carol, and I were in her front room together, talking about the game and why the Prairie Dogs lost. “It’s that Mike Schofield,” Carol said. “He missed three field goals. That’s why we lost the game.”
“No. It was the defense,” I countered. “They were lousy.”
Carol began fanning herself. “Are you guys hot? Feels like it’s boiling in here.” She proceeded to take off her jacket, revealing a long–sleeved shirt, unbuttoned down the front, and a shirt bra.
Hmmm, I thought. Not trying to impress anybody here, are we? Her pants were so tight that it didn’t matter what parts of here were showing. You could see the exact frame of her thighs and hips.
The conversation stopped. Jesse looked at her, then at me, then back at her again. He didn’t know what to say. He was so turned on. I almost felt sorry for him. He was dating me and was attracted to me , but here was this hot girl, hardly wearing anything and practically begging him to make a pass at her. He just sat there, quiet.
I didn’t know what to do. I almost felt as if I should leave, and at the same time I was mad at Carol. She knew Jesse and I were dating, she knew what guys liked, and she was in the perfect place to make her move. She didn’t dress this provocatively in school or anywhere else I’d seen her. Her mother, stepfather, and little sister had announced at the party that they’d stay upstairs and “let the kids have fun”, so there was no “danger” of them coming down unannounced and saving me. And everyone else had disappeared, doing who–knows–what in other parts of the house.
Carol began her move again. “Do you want more pizza? I can order more.”
“N…no,” Jesse stammered.
“I don’t want any,” I managed to get out.
“Well, let’s watch a movie or play on the Wii.” She began to move the couch to face their super large television.
We decided to watch a movie. There was a big couch and a recliner to sit in. Carol pressed play on the DVD player and sat near one side of the couch. Eli Marshall walked into the room.
“I have a great idea! Let’s sit boy, girl, boy, girl.” Her voice was a mix of sweet and commanding, like she was some kind of teacher. She quickly arranged everyone so she could position herself between the two boys, me sitting on one end of the couch…and Jesse on the other.
The DVD kept freezing and Carol had to “get up and fix it” quite a few times. Each time she got up to look at the DVD, pulling it out from the player on a shelf under the TV, she made a production of bending over and sticking her butt up in the air. When she came back she would “adjust” her shirt so that more and more of her peaked out. She was acting like she'd had a few too many, like she was out of it, even though there was no alcohol at the party.
As the movie went on she moved closer and closer to Jesse. She acted like she didn’t realize how close she was. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know how tight this couch would be for four people. Em, would you mind getting us some drinks from the kitchen? I’m about to die of thirst.”
When I returned with the drinks, Carol was sitting so close to Jesse she was almost on his lap. She was asking for his number when she saw me. “I hope you don’t mind, Em.” She pretended to giggle. “I know you two are an item, but Jesse just told me he’s been writing A papers in AP History and I want to know how he does it.” She turned to Jesse. “That Mrs. Vogal doesn’t give A’s unless you’re a genius.” I could see her face pull into a pout, lips out and everything. “I have to pull in a couple of A’s or I won’t get into any good schools. I was hoping Jesse could help me out.” She finished her show with the batting of the helpless eyelashes.
I rolled my eyes. What can I say? If I say I don’t like where this is going I’ll look stupid. If I don’t they’ll probably get together anyway and “work on papers”.
I decided to try a subtle approach. “That’s a great idea. Maybe we could all get together and have a little study group. I could use some help with my writing, too, and Jesse is really good.”
Though I may have thought I was putting one over on Carol, she put me in my place with her next move. “That’s a great idea! Can you two meet on Saturday? It’s my only free day.” Color guard practice was on Saturday, and she knew it.
“I have color guard practice Saturday morning, but I’m sure I can find time in the afternoon.” Let her trump that one, I thought.
“Hmm…” I could almost hear the wheels in her head turning. “That sounds good.” Dramatic pause. “Oh, wait. I totally forgot. My parents are insisting we go boating that afternoon. We’re leaving right after lunch. I know you,” she looked at me, “can’t make it, Em,” she turned to Jesse, “but are you free Saturday morning?”
Of course Jesse was free. Well played, Carol. Checkmate.
Jesse didn’t want to make me feel like he was trying to avoid me, so he added, “Maybe we could meet another day next week, too. Are you free Tuesday, Em?”
“Yes I’m free on Tuesday,” I was tired of playing this game. Carol had one. I’d put money on her inviting Jesse to go boating, too. I couldn’t babysit Jesse to make sure he would be faithful. He was either my boyfriend or he wasn’t. Let Jesse decide what he wanted to do. I wasn’t in the mood to fight for him; not after the way he hadn’t rejected any of her advances that night.
I predicted that whether or not Carol was free on Tuesday, she’d find time for interrupting my time with Jesse. I was right; she practically sang out, “I’m free as a little birdie on Tuesday,” in a put–on southern accent she used a lot.
“We’re all set then,” I grabbed by bag. “Let’s meet at my house.” Better to have your enemy on your own turf…and safer, I thought. “Jesse, we’d probably better get going. I need to finish some homework before bed.”
Jesse drove me home, but it sure didn’t feel like his heart was in it. I could tell he’d rather still be at Carol’s house. Carol might win this game in the end, but tonight, at least, I had won. Jesse left with me.
CHAPTER 3
MY SHORT–TERM VICTORY was just that: short–term. Jesse did meet with Carol that Saturday and, as I predicted, was invited to go boating. I tried texting and calling him, but I didn’t hear from him again. I saw him the next Monday, following Carol around like a lost puppy while she gloried in her conquest. I tried to ignore it and create a new routine. After all, I had known Jesse wouldn’t stick around long; people rarely did because of my quirks. But I didn’t like watching them together. He was so love–sick, and she acted like a princess. Junie tried to comfort me when I talked with her, but she was so busy that I rarely saw her. I really felt alone as I went through school that month.
After a few weeks, though, Carol seemed to tire of her new pet. She was one of those girls who likes the chase. Get a guy you can’t have. But once he paid too much attention to her, she’d quickly tire of him and dump him like a rock.
Dropping Jesse took her all of four weeks. After that, it was Jesse looking hopefully, longingly, at Carol, just to receive a cold look . . . If she acknowledged him at all, that is.
I was standing at my locker, switching out books, when Carol came up to me one day. She heaved a great sigh and leaned in like I was her confidante. “Em, I am so over Jesse.”
“Really? What happened?” I was curious to get her take on things.
“He’s just so whiny.”
T
hat’s rich, I thought. But I asked, “Whadayou mean?”
“He’s so clingy. He just wants to be with me ALL the time. Before school. After school. At the games. After the games. I can’t be that attached at the hip. I have a life!”
Gee, what a problem, having someone that devoted to you. I wish I had problems like hers!
Carol turned so her back was against the locker next to mine. She got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, there’s someone else.”
Now, this was an interesting development. And I knew what she expected me to ask. “Who?”
“You don’t know him; he’s in college.” A college boyfriend was considered the ultimate thing at Mesquite. Everyone wanted to be seen with an older guy, and talk about it in the locker room. And having one meant your status went from whatever it was to HOT. Carol was obviously enjoying this ability to elevate herself. She turned to look at me. “His name is Keith. Isn’t that such a mature and distinguished name?”
“Cool!” There was really nothing else to do but tell her what she wanted to hear.
Carol put her hand on my shoulder. I wondered what new pronouncement might be coming. “Keith has a friend I’d like you to meet. I told him about you.”
“You told him about me? Why?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Of course I told him about you! About how cute you are and how you’re in the color guard.”
This totally confused me. First she stole a guy from me. Then she basically threw their relationship in my face for four weeks. And now she was telling some college guy about me? Maybe she feels bad about what she did to me. Or maybe she’s playing another game. Sometime I wish I understood people better. I was suspicious.
“Really,” I said, skeptically.
“Yeah. We were talking about people we know and Keith said he has this friend that wants to date a mature high school girl. I told him you’re cool, but I don’t know that much about you, except that you’re cute and you’re in color guard. He’s into athletes.”
“I’m not that athletic.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She seemed really intent on making this work. “Anyway, he doesn’t mean super athletic. He just meant he wants to be with someone who’s in decent shape. You know how some girls get.” She puffed out her cheeks, indicating “fat chicks”.
I couldn’t decide if I was more curious or hesitant. “I don’t know if I’m ready to date college guys.” I pictured this very mature looking guy, about six–foot five with a mustache, wearing business clothes and holding a brief case as if he just got done preparing for a jury trial.
As if reading my mind, Carol offered her next argument. “Keith’s friend is in law school. Well, he’s planning to go to law school if he passes the LSATs, anyway. But he’s just an undergrad. He told Keith he’s tired of dating snooty Harvard girls. Says they can hardly find classes with their noses so high in the air.”
“Harvard!” I laughed. “That would be quite the long–distance relationship.”
“Yeah, but he’s transferring schools. Harvard costs a fortune and he doesn’t like the Ivy League attitude.“
“Is he moving someplace around here?”
“Sonora Ranch, he says.”
I knew about Sonora Ranch. Affordable houses in a decent neighborhood. Showed he had good taste. “I’ll think about it. Sounds like it could be fun, I guess.”
Carol winked at me. “Six o’clock on Friday. Oh, this is going to be such fun!” As she walked away, I wondered if she were right, or if I’d just made a big mistake.
************
I couldn’t believe it, but Friday was fun. I didn’t think I’d have a lot of fun with Carol, or with a couple of college guys, but they were nice. Now that Carol wasn’t trying to steal my boyfriend, she was friendly to be around, even if she did still flaunt her body a lot. And Mason, the friend they were setting me up with, treated me like a princess. I wasn’t used to that. I felt awkward at first. Having grown up with autism, I wasn’t always on top of things socially. I always felt like I was a little behind; like I’d missed something. But Mason put me at ease really quick with his easy manner and constant attentions. And he always seemed to overlook it if I made social blunders. We went on several double dates with Carol and Keith, but after we’d gone out about six times, I was ready to stop double dating, and just spend time with Mason. I had to admit he was on my mind constantly.
Being with Mason made such a nice contrast to being with my family that fall. I was so frustrated. We’d moved to Mesquite less than a year ago, from the other side of the valley. I’d made a few friends – Amy for one, and some of them were in biking distance, important because we couldn’t afford a second car. Being down to one car didn’t matter too much when most places were in walking distance – the grocery store, the mall, a big park, and my high school…they were all close by. I felt like things were going pretty well…or I would have if Dad hadn’t been trying to run my life. It seemed to make him a little happier if he had complete control of me.
Things had been on a downward spiral ever since Dad had lost his job, and were worse since moving. It seemed to really affect him to be falsely accused and treated like a criminal. Dad had been so fun before, someone I could talk to. But now every little thing set him off. I didn’t want to be home.
Eventually, Dad found a job. Not as a counselor, but as a Behavioral Health Technician. At least he was still working “in the field”, he told us, while he was “in transition” and looking for another job. For a while, we had the old Dad back, but that didn’t last very long. Before long, he pulled his hours back to just a few hours a week because he “couldn’t stand the place.”
That “place” was The Gardens Behavioral Health Center, a rehab center for teens with addictions or mental illness, or who had trouble with the law. When he applied, they told him he would be helping the kids. But that was a lie – his job was NOT helping them – it was policing them, but with no authority. It was basically just keeping track of the kids and making sure they followed the rules of “Gardens”, as he called it. He was very unhappy, and that unhappiness spilled over into our family again. Things were even worse than when he didn’t have a job. He frequently lost his temper. And when Dad lost it, he usually took it out on me…like I was one of the kids from Gardens. If I didn’t get my homework done right away, or if I got home five minutes late, or if I didn’t get every speck off the floor when it was my turn to vacuum, he had a fit. He’d make me clean the floor all over again if it wasn’t perfect – his perfect. It was as though I became the one kid he could control, so he was going to, no matter what.
My parents’ room was right next to mine, and sometimes at night I would lie in bed and listen to my parents talking through the wall. I heard a lot of conversations about Gardens, and I learned why Dad didn’t like it there.
One night I heard him telling Mom, “I tell them to get away from the nurses' station because management doesn’t want them hanging around there and I have to hear, ’F.U. Mr. Bob. I have some rights you know. You can’t tell me what to do.’
“Then Larry, the lead BHT, comes by and this kid complains to him about how unfair I am. Larry says to the kid, ‘You need to follow staff prompts,’ which is good, but after he leaves the kid causes problems all night. And Larry, who isn’t even on the unit, lets the kid make a phone call and gets him some new clothes to wear, after he’s been disrespectful all night.” They get rewarded for their bad behavior. If I complain that the kids are getting away with too much and that we need to put them to bed early, then I’m told that we’re not there to punish them and that Gardens is a “therapeutic program” and that “we aren’t here to punish them.” The other BHTs know each other and they back each other up. But they don’t care if they walk all over me because I’m new.”
Mom’s voice entered the conversation. “I’m sorry, Greg, but you know how it is. My salary just won’t cover our rent for this apartment and all of the other expenses we have.”
A few nights later, another conversation came through the wall. Dad began sharing his frustration. “You won't believe how those kids lived before coming to Gardens, Donna. One of the girls, Chimone, is only 12 years younger than her mom. Can you imagine? Her mother must have been having sex when she was 11. Who lets their kids have sex at 11?
“Her father's in jail, her mom’s in and out, and she was caring for three younger siblings at the age of 15 before she came into state care.”
“How did the state find out about them?” I heard Mom ask.
“Chimone tried to provide a home for her sisters and brother, she couldn’t hide her situation from the school authorities. Teachers noticed that the kids kept coming to school in the same clothing, and didn’t exactly smell like roses. Their lunch was a bag of peanuts and a yogurt…every day.
“What really put a stop to it was when the nurse had to call to get extra clothes for Diedra, the youngest, because she wet herself in school a few times. Chimone would never call back because she was in school herself, there was no work number listed for either parent, and the nurse got concerned about who was caring for the little girl. As you can imagine, a 15 year–old isn’t going to be able to come up with a huge list of emergency contacts, and after the nurse called a few times she wanted to know what was going on. So, she finally called DCS and they went to check it out. The apartment was filthy. Chimone simply didn’t have the energy or know–how to really clean up after herself and three younger kids.”
Mom tried to make a joke. “I can barely clean up after two.”
Dad acted like he didn’t even hear her. “Well you can imagine what it looked like: dishes everywhere, filthy floors…and the bugs! I heard there were three varieties of cockroaches running around. There was laundry in the machine so they could see that Chimone was trying to take care if things. But it was just too much for her.”