“Stop it. That hurts.” I said, truly mortified at that point and starting to get a little angry. My voice rose but I spoke in a clear tone so that there would be no mistaking my seriousness. “I said that hurts, now let go.”
Many thoughts raced through my head at once, a barrage of possibilities. I briefly thought of screaming, but then was mortified at the thought of everyone racing in, having to break down the door, and then seeing us that way. What would they think? Would they think that I was a tease or a slut? Or what if someone called the police? No, I definitely couldn’t deal with that kind of drama. Plus, my mom and grandma would find out that I had snuck out. They would be beyond anger. I couldn’t face disappointing them like that. No. I had to deal with this myself. I could figure it out.
When he didn’t respond to my demand, I tried to jerk my wrist from his grasp. He gripped harder and reached out for the other wrist with a quickness that startled me. I felt that same clench of panic in my gut from earlier in that evening and in a second of clarity that I would later look back on, I realized that in that moment I knew what was about to happen and how it would change me forever.
SABRINA: The moment Roshell stepped into the kitchen where Ethan and I were staring googley eyed over chips and salsa, I recognized the tension in her instantly. How could I not, it was literally oozing off of her. Something was wrong. She had her shoes and socks in hands and marched down the hallway. Her movements were jerky and she was staring at the floor. And when I asked her what was the matter, I didn’t believe her answer. She couldn’t even look me in the face. Something was HORRIBLY wrong.
I barely heard Sabrina ask me what was the matter. Distracted, I answered in a brisk, unfriendly tone: “Nothing, it’s just real late and I want to get home before we’re caught.”
Sabrina gave a worried look then scooted down the hall to get dressed. I leaned against the wall, trying to control my breathing. I stiffened when, from around the corner, I heard Sabrina snap: “You better not have upset my friend, or I will personally kick your ass.”
The sick sound of Erin snickering floated down the hall reaching my ears. It made me want to throw up. I put my hand to my stomach when I heard his icy voice: “What’s the matter? You wanna piece of me too?”
SABRINA: My stomach was doing flip-flops. What had this creep done to my friend? He had this eerie grin and an intolerable air of indifference, like whatever he’d done was okay, but I knew it wasn’t. I just wanted to get Roshell out of there and talk with her privately.
The walk home was silent and oppressive. By the time we finally neared the other side of the dam, Sabrina broke the silence. “Look, I know that something is wrong. You are clearly upset about what happened back there. What is it?”
She glanced my direction, watching the way I furrowed my brows and clenched my jaw before answering. “Nothing worth talking about.”
Sabrina stopped, grasped my arm and spun me around until we faced each other. “I’m not going any further until you tell me exactly what is going on with you. Did you guys have a fight or something?” The question hung in the air.
I shook free from Sabrina’s hold and gave a sickening laugh, slowly walking forward again, “No, we just had sex.” My tone was flat and lifeless, a reflection of my inner state.
Sabrina balked for a second before hurrying to catch up. That was the last thing that she would have expected to come out of my mouth.
After a few awkward moments, Sabrina said, “I know it can be disappointing the first time… and it hurts…” She paused, looking uncomfortable. A new thought passed over her features “Uh, did you guys use protection?”
I gave another smirking laugh and snapped, “Protection was probably the last thing on that asshole’s mind, now just drop it okay?”
I knew that my behavior was probably alarming my friend and that Sabrina was smart enough to figure out what had occurred on her own, but I truly didn’t care.
“Roshell? What are you talking about? Did he force himself? Did he ra…”
At that, I spun on my heel, stuck my finger in Sabrina’s face, and raised my voice through clenched teeth, “Don’t you say that! Don’t you dare say that word to me! I didn’t say no. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even struggle that much. It is what it is. Now just drop it!” I demanded vehemently, my insides quaking with emotion.
Sabrina stared at me in the pale moonlight, recognition and then sadness registering.
SABRINA: That’s when I knew. I could see so much raw emotion on her face reflecting the violation of her innocence, the ripping away of part of her youth that my throat closed up and I had to fight back tears. My voice sounded meek as I heard myself whisper into the night, “Okay.”
I just wanted to reach out and hug her but I was afraid of how she would react. She looked enraged and fierce yet somehow simultaneously fragile to the point that she might crumble and break if touched wrongly.
I stepped back. I sighed, “Thank you. I just want to go home. All right?” I was counting on Sabrina to be the friend that I needed her to be, whatever that required.
We stuffed away the hurt, the secret of the night and walked on in the early morning hours, our friendship cemented in that moment of bonded silence.
Chapter 7
SABRINA: I was consumed with worry for Roshell the rest of the weekend but decided to give her space and feel things out on Monday morning.
I found myself lost in a never ending cycle of guilt ridden thoughts as I envisioned multiple scenes of her nightmarish experience and wondered how I might have prevented it. Where had things gone wrong?
I’m berating myself for not following my instincts. I had recognized that there was something wrong with the way Erin behaved, the way he peered at you with his black troublesome gaze.
I am absolutely beside myself and fear for how Roshell will hold up.
As I headed out to the bus stop early Monday I hoped that Roshell would be out there early too, being that it was the first day of the school year. This would allow us some alone time in case she needed to talk. But as I neared the stop I noticed that a few other students were already there. But not Roshell.
I started to feel panicky and looked towards her trailer just as the front door swung open. Roshell bounded down the steps practically skipping down the dirt lane and instead of feeling relieved the sight only made me feel worse.
A part of me hoped I had mistaken the events of Saturday night. But I knew that I hadn’t.
Roshell was obviously putting on a very convincing act of “all is normal.”
I’m not comfortable with this at all but have decided to follow along in this charade for as long as she needs me to.
I cannot describe to you how odd it felt to listen to her ramble on about how much of a pain her cousins had been on Sunday while she was babysitting and all the while I knew that she was aching and screaming on the inside.
Over the next few weeks, she was truly convincing and if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew the truth, even I wouldn’t have noticed the slight changes in her.
To most, all seems well. She is still sociable with our group, she is still dedicated to her dancing, and her humor is just as sharp as ever. The changes are subtle, her acting ability is Oscar worthy in my opinion.
But I’m not fooled. I’ve noticed that Roshell’s appetite is suffering and she picks her way through lunch, stirring things around so that it looks as if she’s eating. Oftentimes I will catch her staring off into the distance with a disenchanted look on her face until she catches herself and immediately re-engages, forcing a smile
It bothers me. I want to fix it. I’m so used to being able to divert people from their pain by making a snide remark or going off about some pointless subject, making everyone laugh. But this time, none of my antics are appropriate. I’m at a loss.
The only time she ever mentioned anything that even referred to that night was one morning when she came out of the girls’ bathroom and stated in a frank tone, “I got my p
eriod. Thank God, for that!” and then she stomped off to her keyboarding class.
It sure confused Amber. She said something like “I personally don’t enjoy that aspect of being female, but each to their own.” Then she just went back to digging through her locker.
But I knew exactly what Roshell had meant and had to press my lips together to avoid saying anything in response. That at least was a relief and Roshell must have been secretly terrified this past three weeks just waiting, but she had never once indicated it.
I’m plagued with wondering if I’m doing the right thing by maintaining this vigilant silence but somehow I can’t form the right words to bring it up.
Now I just hope that maybe some of my friend’s inner anxiety might ease up and maybe she will begin the process of healing. All I can do is be there to help her.
Chapter 8
GABRIEL: Roshell’s ramrod posture and obvious nervous response to my presence makes me realize that I still can’t quite figure her out.
I assume that she might like me but I can’t say for sure because she hasn’t really flirted or even talked to me much for that matter. She appears outgoing and fearless when interacting with the others but clams up anytime I interject myself into the situation.
I keep trying to decide if that is a negative or positive reaction, but obviously I’ll have to take a more direct approach so that I can find out once and for all. No more of this cat and mouse game.
It was a Thursday afternoon. All three of us, Sabrina, Amber and I remained after school to watch the wrestling meet. Sabrina’s best guy friend, Wyatt, had a tough match that day and she wanted to offer support.
Wyatt and Sabrina had been friends since she moved to the area and everyone, except her of course, seemed to know that he had a painful crush on her. She insisted that it wasn’t that way between them and Wyatt quietly accepted that response, wanting to maintain their tight friendship.
Amber of course wanted to sit with Darren so naturally we joined them and his bawdy crowd of upperclassmen. Amber seemed to blend right in with the older students just fine, while Sabrina and I still felt awkward, ridiculous and silly around them. We put on our best game faces and tried to hold our own.
I sat to the right of Amber, who leaned back against Darren in the vee of his legs. Gabriel was on the other side of Darren.
Shortly after the meet started, Gabriel hopped up and headed out of the gym. I frowned and hoped that he wasn’t leaving for good. He didn’t speak to me directly very often but I still couldn’t help the way my heart fluttered anytime we were in the same room together. Sometimes I would catch him looking my direction in the hallway and would find myself wondering and hoping that maybe, just maybe… then I would snap back to reality, silently chiding my habit of senseless dreaming. If anyone knew better than to give in to delusions of romance and love, it was me. I knew that my biggest and most fatal fault had always been the fact that I was a closet hopeless romantic. It was not abnormal to find me with my nose tucked into a novel filled with faraway places and where every ending consisted of the handsome hero whisking the heroine off of her feet. I was notorious for staring off into space during class, or while my friends and family were speaking to me. Everyone was used to me taking these dreamy vacations, in fact they expected it, but no one ever really knew exactly where I went during them. I never let on, even to my closest friends, that I was always imagining the wonderful journey of falling in love.
But reality had slapped me in the face and shown me how the real world truly operated. Dreaming of fanciful love scenes and unrealistic happily-ever-after endings had left me naïve and vulnerable to the seamier sides of lust and I vowed that I would never allow myself to forget it.
Still, I was disappointed when Gabriel sauntered off and I slumped in the bleachers. Sabrina sprang up, heading towards the soda machine.
I leaned back against the bleacher behind me and turned at an angle, with my back to the exit. When I felt something brush against my back I figured that Sabrina had returned.
“Who won that last weight class?” asked a familiar, masculine voice. I recognized Gabriel’s softly spoken words and straightened my back briskly. He was sitting right next to me. I sat up and faced forward, trying to keep my cool as Darren relayed the last match, imitating a sports newscaster’s delivery.
I glanced sideways toward Gabriel and noticed that he was chuckling with everyone else at Darren’s interpretation, but was looking directly at me. I averted my eyes and tried to sit up even straighter making a deliberate effort to concentrate on the current match.
He addressed me casually, “I’m surprised that you’re here at the meet. Don’t you have dance class or something?”
I was taken back, surprised he knew that I was a dancer. Before I could answer, he replied, “I saw the article that the Yearbook did. I thought it was good, but the picture was better! Ouch! That looked like it hurt.”
That’s right. I recalled the article he was referring to. Last year’s Yearbook had run a feature on students with atypical extra-curricular activities. They covered a senior who helped his dad restore classic muscle cars, and one covering my ballet achievements. Right next to the small article was a picture of me standing with my right leg in my right hand pulled straight up over my head.
I blushed. “Oh, yeah, well I’ve been doing it long enough that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just that I’m pretty flexible now.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”
I put both hands to my cheeks self-consciously. “I’m not blushing!” But I knew that I absolutely was burning a nice hot pink.
It was a relief when Gabriel chose not to tease me any further, but rather continued to ask about why I wasn’t in class and about how I got into dancing in the first place. I answered his questions and with each answer he had more questions. He seemed truly interested and before I knew it, I was relaxing and blathering on about training and my upcoming auditions for the winter program.
Twirling my hair, I spoke fervently about my passion and gradually I began to look at him more often during our conversation. Then I realized that I had been carrying on and paused, suddenly self-conscious again. He must desperately wish that I would shut up, I thought with a pang of insecurity. I stopped twirling my hair, clasped my hands together in my lap and looked directly at his face. He was not only acutely paying attention but his gaze locked with mine.
For a moment, there wasn’t a gym full of people. There weren’t people cheering at the two meaty wrestlers tangled up on the blue mat. There was just me and Gabriel silently acknowledging one another. Neither one knew exactly what was going on or what to make of it. But neither could we deny the vibration of energy flowing between us. It was electric.
Sabrina broke into our quiet space, offering me a drink of her coke. “Did I miss Wyatt’s match?”
We focused on the last three matches, the excitement in the gym growing as they were the higher weight classes.
Wyatt defeated his opponent after many sweaty rounds and Sabrina wanted to hang around after the meet to congratulate him. She, Amber and I hung out with Darren and Gabriel at the bottom of the bleachers, close to the boys’ dressing room and discussed the heinous fashion crime that the wrestlers’ singlet uniforms were.
Wyatt and a few of his teammates sauntered out freshly showered, strongly scented of Drakkar cologne. They joined us, eager to receive accolades for their wrestling skills. The conversation segued from the meet that they just wrapped up to the meet that they had the previous Saturday at the school on the other side of the lake.
During the conversation Wyatt spoke up suddenly and looked toward me. “Hey, I didn’t know that you and Erin Jamison had a thing going?”
My smile faded and I felt the blood drain from face. “What are you talking about? I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Neither Sabrina nor I had known Erin’s last name, but we both knew immediately who Wyatt was talking abo
ut.
Wyatt stammered a little, suddenly wary of the instant change in our mood, except for Amber, who had no idea what was going on. There was no way that he could have known the dangerous territory that he was about to embark upon.
“Oh, well I’m pretty sure that he was talking about you.” He said slowly. “At least, I thought he was.”
I narrowed my eyes. My voice was stone cold. “What did this Erin have to say about me? If it even is me.”
It was obvious to everyone in the room that Wyatt was wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up. His face grew pensive.
“Oh, nothing to worry about, you know, just guy stuff.” He hesitated. “You know. Locker-room talk.”
I said through gritted teeth, “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Please elaborate, Wyatt.”
“Look, he said that you two hooked up sometime this last summer. He was bragging about how hot you are and how much fun you two had! I didn’t even know that you knew each other so I was kind of surprised. It sounded like you must have really hit it off by the way he was going on about it. Anyway, it’s no big deal! Just forget that I said anything.”
Everything inside of me was thrumming and flexing to the rhythm of my anger. Gabriel must have recognized my distress and came to the rescue. He wrapped his large bicep around Wyatt’s neck, placed him in a classic headlock, and gave him a hard time about going so many rounds in his last match. Darren jumped in and before you knew it they had their own wrestling matches going on.