Girls Like Me

by Kristin Butcher

  Chapter Eight

  Friday morning I arrive at school early to speak to Jen, but she doesn’t show up until just before the bell, so there’s no time. At noon my biology lab goes long, so I’m late getting to my locker. Luckily, Jen is just closing hers up, and I cut her off before she can leave.

  “I need to talk to you,” I say.

  She frowns and attempts to go around me. I move back into her path.

  She heaves an enormous sigh and rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Emma? My friends are waiting for me.”

  That stings. I used to be one of those friends.

  “It’s important,” I say.

  Another roll of the eyes. “Is this going to take long, because—”

  I shake my head and grab her hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need to talk to you in private,” I say, pulling her into the first open classroom we come to. I shut the door and stand with my back against it.

  “So now I’m a prisoner?” she says.

  “I don’t want anyone walking in on us.”

  “Fine. Get on with it then. What’s the big hush-hush secret?”

  “It’s not a joke, Jen. Everybody in school knows I was pregnant and that I miscarried. But what only one other person besides me knows is what really happened.”

  “Oh, please, Emma,” says Jen. “Don’t be so dramatic. We all know how babies are made. I haven’t got time for this.” She tries to push me out of the way.

  If I don’t tell her about Ross right now, I may not get another chance. “I was raped,” I blurt out. “It was Ross,” I add.

  She stops.

  At first I think she’s stunned and lost for words. But then she calmly shakes her head and says, “Nice try, Emma, but I already know what happened. Ross told me.”

  “He told you?” I’m the one who’s stunned. “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.” She smirks. She’s obviously enjoying my confusion.

  “When?” I say again. “You weren’t even at school yesterday afternoon.”

  “That’s because I was with Ross.”

  “You skipped school?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, we did. We went downtown to pick up tickets to the Ed Sheeran concert next month. Ross is taking me.”

  “You can’t go out with him,” I say. “I mean it, Jen. He’s dangerous. He raped me. He could rape you too.”

  “Oh, Emma, stop it. Didn’t you hear what I said? Ross told me what happened between you. And if there was any raping going on, you were the one doing it. When he gave you a ride that night, he detoured onto a quiet road. He admits that. But it was because he was hoping to talk to you before taking you home. He had no intention of having sex with you. He just wanted to get to know you better. But the second he turned the car off, you climbed all over him.”

  I’m incredulous. “He told you that?”

  She nods.

  “And you believe him?”

  “I admit I didn’t want to at first. I mean, I’ve known you a long time, and I never took you for a sex maniac, but why would he lie? He didn’t have to tell me anything.”

  “Why would I lie?” I say.

  “To try to save your reputation. And maybe to punish Ross for getting you pregnant. But it was you who came on to him. He says he was shocked, but he’s only human. So he did what any guy in that situation would do.” She shrugs. “I hate to say it, Emma, but you got what you asked for. I guess you didn’t count on everyone finding out. But it’s too late to cry wolf now.”

  “That’s not what happened at all,” I protest. “Ross is lying, Jen. I swear. You have to believe me. I’m telling you, he raped me! And I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. Please, listen to me. Hear what I’m saying. You have to stop seeing him before it’s too late.”

  Jen grabs the door handle. The patronizing smile on her face makes me want to slap her. “I feel sorry for you, Emma. I really do. Ross Schroeder is one of the sweetest guys out there. If he was the kind of person you say he is, he would have made a move on me by now. But all he’s ever done is kiss me. So if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go.”

  I move through my afternoon classes like a robot. Good thing there’s no test. I wouldn’t even get my name right.

  I can’t stop thinking about Jen. According to her, Ross can do no wrong. I don’t get it. How can she possibly take his word over mine? We’ve been friends forever. She has to know I wouldn’t lie about something like this.

  Deep down I’m sure she does know. But Ross has her under his spell, and because of that she’s not thinking straight. I have to jolt her back to her senses before it’s too late. But how? I’m still trying to come up with an answer when the bell rings to end the day.

  My last class is in the south hall. My locker is in the north hall, so before I can go home I have to get to the other end of the school. But everyone else seems to be headed the other way, to the student parking lot. After fighting the traffic for a minute or so, I’ve barely moved. So I duck into a doorway and wait for the crowd to clear.

  I don’t see Ross until he’s past me. And then—I don’t know why—I take off after him. I don’t stop him or try to get his attention. I just follow him—right out of the building and through the parking lot to his car.

  That’s when he sees me. For a split second he looks surprised, but his expression changes so quickly, I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it. Now he’s smiling, and it looks so genuine, anyone watching would think he was actually happy to see me.

  “Hey, Emma. How’s it going?” he asks as he unlocks the car door. “I heard you were sick. Nothing catchy, I hope.”

  Insert knife and twist. I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. I’m just going to say what I have to say and then get as far away from him as I can. From the corner of my eye I see kids looking at us as they head to their cars. I can only imagine the rumors that will be flying around school on Monday.

  But I can’t worry about that now.

  “Stay away from Jen,” I tell him.

  He laughs. Why am I not surprised?

  “Why?” he asks. “Are you jealous?”

  Wham! The memory of that horrible night slams into my mind with such fury, I have to fight the urge to run at him and claw his eyes out.

  “Stay away from her,” I repeat through gritted teeth.

  He opens the car door and prepares to get in. “Jen’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

  “I’m warning you, Ross. Leave her alone, or I swear I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” He pauses with one foot in the car and the other on the ground.

  I spit back the only thing I can think of. “I’ll go to the police and tell them what you did.”

  “And what was that?” he sneers. “Are you gonna tell them I fucked you? So what if I did? You were begging for it.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

  “It’s your word against mine.” He shrugs. “You do what you gotta do, Emma, but everybody—including your former best friend—already thinks you sleep around. I’m not too worried.”

  What can I say? He’s right. No one would believe me. I’d be more of a laughingstock than I already am.

  I watch in mortified silence as he slides behind the wheel and starts up the engine. As the car crawls past me, he rolls down the window. “It was nice talking to you, Emma. Are you sure I can’t give you a lift somewhere?”

  Then he steps on the gas and burns out of the parking lot, his laughter ringing in my ears.

  Chapter Nine

  It’s Friday night. I should be out somewhere having a good time with my friends—if I still had friends. Instead I’m sitting at the desk in my room, doing homework. Homework. On a Friday night. My mother probably thinks I’ve taken her advice and am throwing myself into my studies, so I can get into a wonderful, faraway university.

  I’m not. At least, not on purpose. And to be honest, I’m not even really doing homewo
rk. I’m just staring at my history book. My eyes have been hovering over the events leading up to World War I for a half hour, but so far nothing has made it into my brain.

  How can it? Murderous thoughts of Ross Schroeder are taking up all the space there. Confronting him in the school parking lot was like reopening a festering wound, and now hate is oozing out of me like pus.

  He raped me. I’ve spent every minute of every day since then trying to scrub the memory of that nightmare from my mind, to rewind time and reclaim my life. I’d give anything for the guilt and shame to disappear and to feel whole again.

  Today was the first time I’ve spoken to Ross since it happened. I don’t know what I was expecting. Remorse maybe? An apology? Even an excuse. There should have been something. Anything to show he knows he did a horrible thing. That he abused my rights as a person. That he physically hurt and violated me. That he shattered my self-esteem. That he stomped all over my soul.

  But there was nothing—less than nothing. Ross Schroeder expressed absolutely no remorse for what he did because he feels no remorse. After he zipped up his pants, he probably never gave me another thought.

  Realizing that is like being raped all over again. Except this time, I’m not ashamed. I’m angry. And more than anything, I want Ross to feel what I feel, hurt like I hurt. If only I knew how to make that happen.

  The phone rings, startling me from my vengeful thoughts. As I move to pick it up, I notice red dents in my palm where my fingernails have dug into my flesh. I didn’t even realize my fists were clenched.

  I glance at the screen to see who’s calling, and I’m startled a second time. It’s Jen. I blink at her name to be sure I’m seeing it right. My heart speeds up. Maybe our lunchtime talk had a positive effect after all. I lift the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “How dare you!” she screeches.

  I wince and pull away from the phone. “Jen?”

  “I can’t believe you went to Ross behind my back!” She races on. “What gives you the right to butt into my business? Who do you think you are? You’ve screwed up your own life as much as you can, so now you’re going to start on mine? I don’t think so, Emma. Unless you want—”

  “Jen!” I shout into the phone, when it’s clear she has no intention of stopping her rant. “Could you listen for a second?”

  There’s a pause. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s doing what I asked or if she’s merely catching her breath. No matter. It might be my only chance to speak, so I plunge ahead.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to butt in,” I say. I have to calm her down. “I wasn’t trying to run your life. I really wasn’t, and I am sorry. Okay?”

  She’s clearly in no mood to be pacified. “Okay? Are you kidding me? No, it’s not okay. It’s totally not okay. You tail my boyfriend and tell him to stop seeing me. You have no right! None. Zip. Zero. Did you think he wouldn’t tell me? What’s gotten into you? You can’t go around poking your nose where it doesn’t belong and expect life to carry on as usual because you say you’re sorry. Get real, Emma.”

  When she puts it that way, even I wonder how I could have done what I did. I try to explain. “I had no intention of talking to Ross. Really. It just sort of happened.”

  “You are such a liar!” she yells. “You followed him to his car!”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. He passed me in the hall, and the memory of how he attacked me came flooding back. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the parking lot. I just wanted him to admit he’d raped me and that he lied to you about it.”

  Jen comes back at me so fast, I know she can’t have thought about what I said. “You’re the one who’s lying,” she shoots back. “Why can’t you just face the fact that you’re jealous? Ross likes me, not you, and you can’t stand it. You’ll resort to anything—no matter how low—to get him back.”

  “That’s not true,” I protest. “I wouldn’t go near him even if he was the last guy on earth. Why won’t you listen to me?”

  “Because you’re talking like a crazy person. You’re turning into a stalker. Can’t you see that? You’re really starting to scare me, Emma. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up in a rubber room.”

  I try one more time to make her see reason. “I’m not lying. And I’m not delusional. I know what Ross Schroeder did. And so does he. The thing is, he has no conscience, and he’ll probably do it again—to some other girl. I just don’t want it to be you.”

  Then I drop the phone on the desk and stare at it in amazement. I can’t believe I just hung up on Jen. Not that there was any point in continuing the conversation. She was never going to believe me, no matter what I said.

  Maybe that was it. If I hadn’t ended the call, I would have been the one listening to dead air. At least this way, I salvage a scrap of self-respect.

  Small comfort. For the millionth time I wonder how my life has become such a train wreck. The kids at school—as well as my doctor—think I’m a slut. Jen believes I’m not only a liar but have also lost my grip on reality. My mother’s convinced that ignoring what happened will make it go away. And Ross Schroeder thinks the whole thing’s a joke.

  My life is a living hell, and all because I accepted a ride. I can’t believe I was so gullible. I’m certainly not anymore—for all the good that does. I can’t even keep my friend from falling into the same trap.

  If only…if only...if only. I cling to those words, even though they drip acid into my gut. I feel like Prometheus from the mythology unit we’re studying at school. As punishment for giving fire to mortals, he was tied to a rock and had his liver pecked out by an eagle. During the night it grew back, so he had to go through the same hell again the next day—and every day after that. His torment never ended.

  Will mine?

  Chapter Ten

  On Tuesday the volleyball game is at our school—the last league match before playoffs—and the bleachers are filled. So, of course, the first time I touch the ball, I shank it. Then I serve it into the net—twice. When I miss a block, my coach has seen enough. He pulls me, and I ride the pine for the rest of the match. That’s fine with me. Let somebody else be in the spotlight. In the last two weeks I’ve been stared at enough to last me a lifetime.

  It’s hard to believe it’s only been two weeks since I was rushed to the hospital and the rumors started to fly. It feels like forever. This is shaping up to be the longest year of my life.

  Somehow I make it through the week, though, and finally it’s Friday again. Not that weekends are any better than school days. With only my parents and the television for company, it’s not exactly a laugh a minute.

  Tonight one of the guys on the boys’ team is hosting a pre-playoff party. The girls’ team is invited, but I don’t even consider going. I still haven’t recovered from my run-in with Ross, and Jen and I haven’t spoken since she yelled at me over the phone. Neither one of them would want me at the party, and everyone else would treat me like I had the plague. Not a tough decision. I stay home.

  There’s not much on television, but I plant myself in front of it anyway. By ten o’clock I’ve had enough and go to bed. But I can’t sleep. I spend the night flipping my pillow and fighting with my covers. When morning arrives I’m as restless as ever. I’m in a rotten mood, too, and have a terrible headache. At breakfast I force down my eggs and toast in sullen silence.

  “Where are you going?” my mother asks when I show up at the front door in my sweats.

  “For a run.”

  “It’s cold out there.”

  I shrug. “I’m dressed in layers, and I’ll be running. If anything, I’ll probably end up too warm.”

  She eyeballs the sky through the living-room window. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

  I glance at her as I reach for the doorknob. “I’m pretty sure I won’t shrink, Mother.” Then I head outside before she can come up with any more reasons for me to stay home. She’s right. It is cold, but I don’t care. I’l
l go crazy if I stay in the house one more minute.

  At the end of the driveway, I stop and breathe in the morning while I decide on a route. The air smells of burning leaves. I spy a wisp of smoke curling upward from the neighbors’ yard. They must be doing a fall cleanup. I wonder if their kids bury potatoes in the fire’s embers like Jen and I used to do. Those were the best baked potatoes—crusty, charred skins and crunchy, half-cooked insides that we’d slather with butter. My mouth waters, and I almost smile.

  Then I feel my muscles tighten. That was then, and this is now. I push the memory aside and start to run. I don’t want to think, so I concentrate on how the pounding in my head is keeping time with my feet thumping the pavement.

  My plan is to go to the sports center, run a few laps around the outdoor track and then jog home again. Hopefully the exercise and fresh air will clear my head.

  I have to pass Jen’s place to get to the sports center, but I keep my eyes focused on the sidewalk until her house is behind me. I’m just about to turn the corner when I hear someone calling me.

  “Emma!”

  I glance over my shoulder. It’s Jen, standing on the sidewalk in front of her house. I keep running.

  “Emma, wait.”

  I slow down slightly, but I don’t stop.

  “Please, Emma! Wait!”

  The desperation in her voice makes me put on the brakes and spin around. When she catches up, I can see that she’s crying, and from the look of her, she has been for quite a while. Suddenly I don’t care that the last time we talked she screamed at me and called me a liar.

  “What’s the matter?” I say. “What’s happened?”

  Her answer is to break down completely, and though she’s trying to speak, I can’t make out a single word through her sobs. I don’t know what’s upset her, but it must be something pretty awful. Jen doesn’t cry easily.

  “Come on,” I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”