“No. Me and him, we’re over.” There has to be someone out there who thinks I’m special. Who won’t use my past against me. There has to be. Otherwise, what is the point? “Thanks, Dr. Lisa.”
“Are we done?” She sounds genuinely surprised.
“I need a shower,” I confide. “And a nap.” And Krys, but I don’t say that. I don’t want to admit to needing anyone.
“Okay. We can talk more when I see you.” My regular weekly appointment, right.
“Sure. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Alexa.”
She makes a point of calling me by my name when we speak. I think it’s to remind me I’m not Poppy anymore. I need the reminder. “Goodbye,” I say, and hang up. I lie there for a minute, trying to get the energy to go to the shower. Finally, I get up and grab my pajamas.
In the bathroom, I take off my clothes and look at myself in the mirror. I try to look at myself like I’m not me. How would I react if I saw a naked girl with scars on her pale back from being beaten with a belt? I’d feel bad for her. And if I saw a brand burned into her hip—a simple letter M—I’d wonder who had been cruel enough to treat her like an animal. I trace the satiny flesh with my finger. Mike had said the M stood for his name. That I was his. I’d thought he’d meant it as something sweet, now I know better.
I know inside me that it was a good thing I believed him because it means I’m not completely broken, but God … I feel so stupid.
I look at myself some more. My hair is like rust against my shoulders. There’s a scar from a bite on my left boob. I don’t remember the guy who did it. I remember the antibiotics gave me the shits. The scars on my side and ass are from cigarettes. I don’t remember who made them either, but I know they thought they had the right to burn me. I touch my throat, remember the guy who used to like to strangle me. Mitch banned him after he almost went too far one night.
If only he’d finished the job.
I look at my face. Can you tell by looking at me that I’ve been used up? Do people see me and know what I am? I’ve been told I’m lucky I got out, lucky I’ve stayed out. Lucky I didn’t get killed.
Lucky. Lucky I wasn’t pregnant. Lucky they used a condom. Lucky to be alive. Lucky we had Mitch. Lucky to have a place to live. Lucky to have a motel manager who’d hide our stuff if the cops came. Yeah. We were real lucky to have him. He held our things ransom until we fucked him.
I turn on the shower and step inside. Fuck lucky. I wasn’t lucky then and I’m not lucky now. I’m tired, used, and dirty, and there is no way I’m ever going to get clean again. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t get the stink to wash off. I scrub and I scrub and all I get is raw.
When I first got out, I was numb and that was good. I thought I was doing okay, but now that I’m not so numb, I feel worse. Like I’m sliding back rather than going forward. So what if I don’t talk street so much? I might sound different, look different, but I’m not different. I’m the same sad mess I’ve always been. Lucky, yeah, right.
If I were lucky, I’d be dead.
* * *
Zack doesn’t tutor me anymore, but sometimes we do homework together. I’ve gotten used to seeing him a couple of nights a week. I’m on my bed snuggling with Isis when he knocks on the frame of my door.
“Krys said you left school because you weren’t feeling well.”
I nod.
He comes in and sets some papers on my desk. “I got your English and history homework. You missed a good discussion in Bent’s class.”
“Yeah?” I rub my face against my dog’s ear.
He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Are you okay?” he asks. He seems to ask me that a lot.
I sit up. Isis yawns and stretches. I look at him—as a guy, not as a friend. “If I shut the door and get naked, will you have sex with me?”
His mouth drops open. “Are you high? Why would you ask me that?”
I stand. Poppy’s creepin’ around the edges of my mind, and she wants to play. I guess what happened in the guys’ bathroom wasn’t enough for her. “Because you’re a guy.”
He looks confused. “I’m not that kind of guy. You’re my friend.”
“What if no one ever had to know?” I stand right in front of him and stare up into the darkness of his eyes. “What if I went down on you first?”
He swallows. I want to lick his Adam’s apple. Oh, Poppy. “Lex…”
This acting all nice is pissing me off. I walk over to the bedroom door and shut it. I lock it too. Zack looks at me like I’m a tiger and he’s a gazelle. I like it. I pull my T-shirt over my head and stand before him in my bra and sweats. “Come on,” I say. “I won’t tell.”
Zack stares at me. For a second, his gaze flickers to my chest, but it locks with mine again. “Oh, Lex,” he says, his voice a pained whisper.
I glance down. The bite on my breast is almost completely visible outside the edge of my bra. He’s already seen the marks on my forearms, but now, he can also see some of those burns.
He sees me. Isn’t this what I wanted? No, I realize. No, it’s not.
I pull my shirt back on. “Look, you wanna fuck or not?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Not.”
My lips twist into a sneer. Am I more surprised that he rejected me, or that it kinda hurts? “Why? I’m not perfect enough for you? Too slutty?”
Too damaged?
His hands cup my shoulders. God, his fingers are so warm. “Because you deserve better than a hookup.”
I look up at him. “How do you know what I deserve?”
He looks so sad. I could hit him. Or kiss him. Both. “Because I know.” And then, “I’m going to hug you, if that’s okay.”
I nod. He comes closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I put mine around his ribs. My head is at his shoulder—perfect to lean into. I melt. Our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. I hold him as tight as I can. He squeezes back. His chin rests on my head.
“You’re a good person,” he tells me. “I wish you could see that.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you better than you think.”
I don’t have it in me to argue. Besides, he’s been nothing but nice to me, even when I’ve been a dick to him. Even when he found out the truth that day in the park. He’s never made me feel like less of a person. “Okay.”
Zack’s arms tighten around my shoulders. “Someday you’ll believe it too. You wanna go over the English assignment? It’ll be easy for you.”
I sigh and pull back. I’m cold where his body touched mine. And I can’t quite look him in the eye. It’s not because he’s seen me, but because I’m starting to see him.
And I like it.
* * *
When I arrive at school the next day, Elsa’s waiting for me at my locker.
The edge of a tattoo peeks out of the neckline of her shirt—it’s the crow she has on her upper right shoulder. Sometimes, I see people—teachers too—looking at her like they’re trying to figure out what other secrets she has on her body, and it makes me feel sick.
“What happened with Mike yesterday?” she asks.
Stupid me. I thought Mike wouldn’t say anything because I wasn’t going to. Should have known he’d blab. “He and his friends cornered me in the boys’ bathroom.” I manage to look her in the eye as I confide the truth. “They wanted blowjobs.”
Her cheeks turn red. “Assholes.”
I shrug, opening the locker door. “Dr. Lisa wants me to tell Mr. Case about it.”
She nods—a sharp dip of her head. She looks so angry that I want to hug her. “You should. What they’re saying…”
“Is probably true.” I’m not trying to defend them, but I want to prepare her. “I did it, El.”
She glances at me, scowling. “Do you think you blowing some guy—guys—would matter to me if I thought you wanted to do it?”
I smirk. “I think you’d want details.” Seriously.
I can’t remember the last time I wanted to have sex.
Zack in my bedroom doesn’t count. I wanted the power, not the act. I wanted to feel valued, but I didn’t offer myself to him because I wanted him.
“Well, yeah.” She’s still frowning. “I almost kicked Mike in the balls when I saw him.”
“He might like it.”
Elsa shakes her head. “How come you aren’t mad?”
“I was, but this doesn’t change anything. People will think whatever they want of me. I have no control over it.” And really? Part of me doesn’t care.
She doesn’t like this answer, and I don’t know what else I can say to make her understand. “You shouldn’t be punished for some guys being assholes. I’m coming to the office with you.” She closes my locker.
I look at her. “I’m not going to the office.”
“I thought you were going to talk to Mr. Case?”
“I said Dr. Lisa thinks I should report it.” I make a face. “Not that I’m going to. It’s not like he’ll do anything about it. What if he kicks me out?” I might not like all the people at my school, but I like school itself. I like a lot of my teachers. I don’t want to disappoint Krys and Jamal.
Fists on her hips, my friend glares up at me. “Oh, you’re going to report it.”
“No. I’m not.”
She closes my locker door, putting herself between me and it. “Yeah, you are. If you don’t, I will.”
I shrug. “Go for it.”
Frustration rolls off her like a perfume. “He’s going to hear their lies. He needs to hear your truth.”
I’m pretty sure she’s going to be a lawyer someday. “I’m not doing it, and you’re going to drop it.”
Her nostrils flare when she looks at me. I try to smile. “Please,” I say.
Elsa nods, but she doesn’t speak. She’s too pissed—at the boys, maybe at me, I don’t know. What I do know is she won’t betray me and run to Mr. Case. Ivy and Sarah might have been my friends, but Elsa reminds me what it’s like to have a best friend. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.
We walk together toward homeroom. We have to walk past the boys’ bathroom, and I try not to look at the group of people standing around in front of the door. They’re looking at something on their phones and making those noises guys make when they see tits. It’s a sound that makes my stomach roll.
“Hey, Lex!” Mike calls out. “I got a stall with your name on it.”
So he wants to be my pimp after all, huh? I don’t look at him.
“I have mouthwash,” he adds. His friends laugh.
This, I realize as I keep walking, is what happens when you break up with a guy. He gets mean. Or maybe I have a habit of picking rotten guys.
Elsa glares at him. “Fuck off, asshole.”
Mike smirks at her. “There’s room for you, Shopkin. Come on, Poppy. It’s not a motel, but it’s better than nothing. I’ll give you half the profit. All we have to do is tweak your ad.” He shakes his phone at me.
I should never have confided in him about the name Mitch gave me, or the ad he placed on Stall313.com. Somehow, Mike’s found it—maybe it was never taken down—and he’s shown it to all his friends. They look at me like I’m something for them to jerk off to—or on. How many of them have copies of the photos from the ad on their phones now? Those pics don’t exactly leave much to the imagination.
I have no control over anything. Nothing except how I let them see me react. And I’ve gotten really good at being completely blank.
Elsa marches up to him as though she is six-foot-four and not four-foot-eleven. “You’re a real douche, you know that?”
Suddenly, I’m afraid for her. I know it’s irrational—Elsa is one of the bravest people I’ve ever met—but I’m afraid of what he’ll do to her. It’s stronger than my desire to stay out of his way. I walk up to her and lightly grab her arm. “He’s not worth it.”
“You liked it,” he says with a sneer.
Liked what? Him? The blowjobs? Being Poppy? How stupid is he?
I tug on Elsa. “Let’s go.”
Mike bends down. “You should try her out. You know she’s done girls too, right?”
She spits on him. I can’t believe it, just hocks up a huge loogie and lobs it right into his face. His hand comes up to block it and pushes her out of the way. He strikes me in the shoulder, shoving me back against the wall. If he’d hit her, it would have gotten her in the face.
“Hey!”
Oh, shit. It’s Zack. His eyes look almost black as he approaches Mike. He looks tough and mad, nothing at all like the guy who hugged me yesterday.
Mike takes a step back, despite the cocky look on his face. “This isn’t your business, man.”
“I’m making it my business,” Zack says. He glances at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, looking away. Physically I’m fine, but inside … I’m going to have to change schools. I can’t stay there. I need to run.
But … I like my school. I like my classes. I like seeing Elsa every day. Fuck that noise; I’m not going anywhere unless I have to. I don’t want to run and hide.
I’ve done nothing wrong.
“She’s fine,” Mike tells him. “She’s had worse. Haven’t you, Poppy?”
His friends aren’t laughing, though. They look uncomfortable. I guess they’re fine with looking at pictures of me, fine with knowing what Mike made me do, but they draw the line at him hitting me. Whatever.
I look Mike right in the eye. “Sure, I’ve had worse—I’ve had you.” That gets a few laughs.
“You slut,” Mike sneers, taking a step toward me. He’s so full of hate, and only yesterday I thought he liked me.
Zack stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “You touch her, talk about her, fuck, man, if you even look at her, you and I are going to have a problem you don’t want. Understand?”
Mike shrugs him off. “You think I’m afraid of you, jefe?”
Zack’s scowl deepens. “I’m half Hawaiian, not Spanish, asshole. And I don’t care if you’re afraid of me or not; I will fuck you up.”
The bell rings for class, but that’s not why Mike backs off, and we all know it. I watch him slink away.
“Come on,” Zack says. He puts me between him and Elsa as we walk down the hall. My bodyguards.
My friends.
chapter eleven
I’m in my second to last class of the day when Ms. Schneider, my teacher, tells me Principal Case wants to see me. It’s almost a relief after being stared at and talked about all day. Maybe he’ll expel me and save me from the stares and smirks and not-so-subtle remarks. The ad has been shared all over the school by now—at least I think it has. They all know what I am.
What I was. I’m not Poppy anymore, even though sometimes she shows up.
Tyler texted me at lunch. It was an umbrella emoji followed by a question mark. On Stall 313 ads, that emoji is used as a synonym for condom. I didn’t respond, though I was tempted to write back, “Only if you’re still fucking your mom” because attitude is armor. All the girls knew that.
Mr. Case’s office is on the first floor. When I check in at the desk, the secretary tells me to sit in the waiting area. I’m only there for a few minutes before she calls me to go in.
“Are you comfortable being alone with me in the office?” Mr. Case asks after he says hello. He’s probably in his fifties. Not bad looking. He reminds me of a cross between Will Smith and Denzel Washington, but his voice sounds like it comes from his toes, it’s so deep.
I sit in a chair in front of his desk and look up. “Are you asking me that because I’m a girl, or because I’m me?”
His eyebrows raise—impressive because they are already fairly arched. “I promised your aunt and uncle I would do everything I could to make you comfortable for the duration of your time at our school. If you’re not comfortable, I can have Mrs. Johnson join us.”
Mrs. Johnson is a guidance counselor. She might be the guidance
counselor—I don’t know since I haven’t spoken to her. I haven’t given much thought to my future. There wasn’t a point when I was with Mitch, and now, I’m just trying to deal with the present. I’m too exhausted from trying to figure out who I am to even think about what, or who, I want to be.
“No,” I say. “I trust you.”
He looks so surprised and honored that I don’t clarify how I trust him as far as I’d trust any man in a room with people on the other side of the wall and furniture between us.
Mr. Case folds his hands on top of his desk and clears his throat. “I received a visit this morning from Detective Willis of the state police. She told me you were assaulted on school property yesterday. Is that true?”
I stare at him. He found out from Detective Willis? Not gossip? “How did she know?” That’s as good as admitting it, isn’t it?
His frown deepens. “I assumed you told her.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t seen her.” Dr. Lisa. Shit. In Connecticut, it’s law that if a minor tells a teacher or therapist—someone in a professional position of authority—they’ve been assaulted, that person is obligated to report it to the authorities as well as DCF. DCF has to alert the school board.
Well, fuck.
“Alexa, we take this sort of allegation very seriously here. I understand you may not want to discuss it with me, but I do need to know if you were assaulted.”
My first instinct is silence. Defiance. Put on that tough-girl face and tell him to fuck off. That’s what Poppy would do. But I’m done defending guys who want to use me.
“On Tuesday, Mike Fischer and four of his friends got me to give them bl—oral sex—in the boys’ bathroom near Mr. Wilson’s classroom.”
Mr. Case closes his eyes for a second. “Do you know the names of these other boys?”
“Tyler, Ethan, Kyle, and Trent. I don’t know their last names.”
He reaches behind him and pulls a yearbook off the shelf. “Point them out to me.”
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