...[CHAPTER 14].................

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” Ms. Flores tells me as I enter the art room. “I was hoping you wouldn’t forget. I wanted to show you around the pottery room before I go to a staff meeting.” Then she gives me a fast tour and I assure her that it’s not much different than my old school, and she heads off to her meeting.

I’ve just sliced off a slab of clay and am vigorously wedging it, slamming it down again and again, far more than necessary since I know any air bubbles are long gone by now, but it feels good to whack it down on the block.

“Sounds like someone’s getting her aggressions out in here.”

I look up to see Zach watching me from the doorway. Without saying anything I pick up the lump of clay and begin slapping it into a large ball.

“Not that I blame you. I’d be mad too.”

“Mad about what?” I push a strand of hair from my eyes as I study him.

With his woodblock and a carving tool in hand, he comes over to a workbench, pulls out a stool, and sits down. “Mad about the way Harris treated you.”

I just shrug and continue smoothing out the ball of clay.

“I’m curious about how much you know about Harris …”

This sounds like a leading question and, although I hate giving him the satisfaction of my curiosity, I can’t help myself. “What do you mean?” I slam the ball of clay onto the wheel — bull’s-eye.

“Well, you obviously know about Harris and Emery.”

I roll my eyes at him as I turn on the wheel, then dip my hands into water and hold them over the clay.

“I mean their history, Haley. Do you know anything about the history between those two?”

I shrug, keeping my eyes on the clay as I pull it taller.

“They’ve been a couple on and off for several years. They go together happily for a fairly long period of time — then bam, they break up. And shortly after they break up, Harris takes out another girl.”

I glance up at him as I dip my hands in water again.

“Harris stays with the new girl a couple of days or maybe even a couple of weeks, but eventually, he and Emery get back together again.”

I frown as I push my thumbs into the cylinder of clay, gently pulling the side out, widening it into a bowl.

“It’s a pattern. And from what I hear, it’s a twisted, sick pattern.”

I remove my hands from the clay and study him. “What do you hear?”

“Just that Harris gets what he wants from the other girl and when he’s done with her, he goes back to Emery.”

I look back down at the clay and wish I’d never asked. I put my hands back onto the clay now, but they’re trembling and I go off center and, just like that, what was becoming a nice bowl turns into a deformed, ugly mess.

Kind of like my life.

To my relief, Zach says nothing as I grab the wire and cut the mess off of the wheel, then wad it into a ball, which I feel like hurling at Zach.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Haley. Most of the girls in school know not to get involved with Harris during these mini-breakups; it never turns out well for them.”

“Oh …” I try not to allow any emotion into my voice as I scrape the wheel clean of clay. “So I must look like the Mitchell High village idiot now.”

I give the wheel a quick scrub with a damp sponge, toss the tools back in the toolbox, then walk out. Maybe Zach means well, but his words feel like salt in my wound. If I wanted more pain, I’d go bang my head against the wall.

On my way home, I think about what Zach was telling me. I also think about the warning letter I received and about Emery’s words, telling me she would eventually get Harris back. Obviously, she knew what she was talking about. A few questions rumble through my mind. If Harris really likes Emery, like he seems to, why does he break up with her like that? And why was he so attracted to me? And was nothing he said to me true?

Mostly I wonder, does he feel any guilt or responsibility over what happened to me? And if not, why not?

……….

The following day, I do better in the art room after school. I manage to throw a decent pot and two fairly nice bowls, and Ms. Flores seems pleased.

“These are very good, Haley. Thanks for hanging in there and getting it done.”

“Yeah … I just couldn’t get it together yesterday.”

“Zach told me why you left.”

I blink, then turn away.

“Like I said, I’m a good listener. If you feel the need to talk, I’m always around after school.”

I just nod as I wash my hands, carefully scrubbing them clean.

“I hate to be pushy, but sometimes it helps to get things out into the open. Sometimes in the light of day, problems don’t seem so bad.”

“Thanks.” I turn and force a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then I grab my sweatshirt and hurry out of there.

For some reason, I think this woman could break me. Her sincere blue eyes and easy smile are tempting. But at the same time I’m worried that if I actually open my mouth to talk about what happened, it will come spewing out of me in the worst sort of way — and it will be repugnant and sickening and poison to anyone who’s forced to hear it.

Before I leave the building, I rush into the women’s restroom for a quick stop, and as I’m coming out of the stall, I’m shocked to see Emery entering the bathroom. She looks almost as shocked to see me as I am to see her. But she quickly recovers.

“Hello, Haley,” she says politely.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

She’s standing in front of the door and, short of plowing her down, there’s no easy way out. “How are you doing?”

I shrug, looking down at my shoes, which are splattered with clay mud. “I’m okay.”

“You probably won’t believe me, but I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of things with Harris and me. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Something in me snaps. “I got hurt? Do you have any idea how I got hurt?”

She gives me a blank look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re right, I did get hurt. Harris hurt me deeply. I don’t even know how he can live with himself after what he did to me. For that matter, I don’t know how you can live with him.”

“I warned you, Haley. I told you he’d eventually come back to me. I wish you would’ve listened.”

Now I’m angry. I step closer, looking directly into her pretty face. “Do you understand who Harris is? Do you know what he did to me?”

She sighs. “I know he used you. I don’t like it when he does that. But I do understand.”

“You know what Harris did to me? And you understand?” What sort of horrible person is she? The same kind of monster as Harris?

“You may not have heard this before, Haley, since you’re new, but I made a purity pledge.” She holds up her left hand and shows me a pretty gold ring with a diamond set in a heart. “You see, I am saving myself for marriage.”

I feel slightly faint now. What is she saying? What does this mean?

“Harris doesn’t always get this — he questions the seriousness of my commitment.” She sighs dramatically. “Oh, he’ll be patient for a long time, but then he’ll think we should have sex, and if he pushes hard enough, it will cause a fight … and sometimes we even break up.”

I feel like a lightbulb just went on. “So you tell Harris no, and you guys break up so he can go looking elsewhere to get what he wants?”

She nods with a little smile. “Most of the kids know about it by now. It’s kind of a joke. An old joke.”

“A joke?” I shriek. “You think that’s a joke?”

She shrugs. “Well, I suppose it’s not that funny to you. But, remember, you were warned.”

I take in a deep breath. “Oh yes, I was warned; that makes me feel so much better.” I hold up my left hand. “And, for your information, I don’t have an expensive diamond ring to show off, but I made a pledge too.”

She looks surprised.

“And Harris broke that pledge when he raped me.”

Her blue eyes open wide and her hand flies to her mouth.

“That’s right,” I seethe at her. “Harris got me drunk and then he raped me. What do you think about that? Do you understand that?”

“I don’t believe you.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re just trying to get back at him — at us.” She steps away from me, almost like she’s afraid I might touch and infect her. “You’re messed up, Haley. Seriously messed up. Stay away from me.”

“You’re right about one thing: I am messed up. And your boyfriend is the one who messed me up!” I storm past her and out of there. My hands are trembling and my knees are shaking and I feel like I could vomit all over the locker bay. But instead of giving in to this, I jog down the hallway and out the nearest exit and run all the way home.

I get into bed, pull the covers over my head again, and tightly close my eyes, willing all of this to go away. Leave me alone! And yet all I see is Emery’s smug face as she holds up her left hand to taunt me with her purity pledge ring. I feel like I was the sacrifice for her purity. Like it’s her fault that my life will never be the same. She remains untouched, a perfect, pristine princess virgin. Meanwhile I am used and soiled and broken … damaged goods.

……….

Even with a few answers to my mountain of questions, like why Harris used me the way he did, I do not feel one bit better about my situation. I do feel like I need to do something — but what? What can I do to get some resolution? Some peace? What will bring an end to this pain? Or will I wear my cloak of sadness for the rest of my life? I know I should take an active role in making things better, but I don’t know what to do.

So instead of doing anything, I continue my zombie-girl routine, going through my days like a walking dead girl, avoiding all conversation, any confrontation, simply going through the paces and wishing I could turn back the clock or sleep for a few years.

On Friday, I feel like an outsider watching a circus. Everyone, it seems, is hyped up over homecoming. Football players are wearing their jerseys, cheerleaders are in their uniforms doing routines in the cafeteria, and there’s a pep assembly that I sleep through. Rah-rah-rah — school spirit blah! I’m so not into it.

After school I head to the art room to work on my pottery. I want to trim and clean up my pieces and sign them so they can be fired next week. I’m just finishing up when Ms. Flores comes into the pottery room. “I thought I heard someone in here.”

I make a weary smile. “Just getting them ready for their bisque firing.”

“Great. I plan to run the kiln on Tuesday or Wednesday.”

I set down the last bowl and look at Ms. Flores. “I, uh, I wonder if you’d want to do some listening today?” I ask nervously.

“Of course. Come on into my office.”

With my heart pounding wildly, I follow her to her office. I hadn’t really planned to do this — it just popped out of my mouth. But maybe it’s for the best.

“Have a seat.”

I sit down, then nod to her door. “Would you mind closing that?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks.” I take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“So, I know this has to do with a boy, Haley. A certain boy who has a bit of a reputation with the girls, correct?”

I nod. “Harris Stephens.”

“You were going with him?”

Again I nod. “Just barely. But I thought it was more … more than it was.”

“And now you’re brokenhearted?”

A lump grows in my throat and I will myself not to cry. “Yes,” I say in a gruff voice. “But there’s actually more to it than that.”

She nods. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So I tell her about how I was teaching him guitar and how it seemed we had something really special. “It’s the first time I had that with a guy. I mean, I’ve kissed a guy before. But this was different. I felt like I loved him … and I trusted him.”

“First love.”

“I guess.” Now I bite my lip, wondering if I can really say this out loud. “You see, I’d never really been with a guy, you know. I’d barely even kissed a guy before Harris. And on our second date, which was so perfectly wonderful … magical … I didn’t see how anything about that night could go wrong.”

“But something did go wrong?”

I nod.

“What happened, Haley?”

Tears are coming now; it’s useless to hold them back. “Harris wanted to come up to the condo after our date, to play guitar, so I said yes. My dad was on a date, so we were alone.” I swallow hard.

“I see.” She reaches over and puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t worry, Haley, there’s not much I haven’t heard.”

“Harris brought some kind of alcohol with him and he wanted to make us drinks. I’ve never had alcohol before and I really didn’t want any, but he insisted … and I gave in.”

“Did you get drunk?”

“Yes. I think I actually kind of passed out. And then we were in my bedroom … and well, he forced me to, you know…. I told him no over and over, and I told him not to do that. But he wouldn’t listen.”

Ms. Flores leans forward in her chair. “He raped you?”

I nod, looking down at my lap.

“Oh, Haley.” Her voice is laced with sadness. “I’m so sorry.”

Now I’m crying hard and she hands me some tissues. “I … I haven’t told anyone. I … I didn’t know what to do or who to talk to.”

“So you didn’t report it?”

I shake my head no.

“When did it happen?”

“Last Saturday.” I can’t believe it’s been only a week. It feels like a lifetime.

“And you didn’t even tell your parents?”

Without going into all the details, I explain about my parents.

“How do you feel about reporting this, Haley?”

“No! I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It would be so humiliating. And he’d deny it. Then it would be my word against his. I just couldn’t go through all that.”

“How do you feel about him going around like he’s done nothing wrong? I mean, he’s put you through so much and he’s not being held accountable for any of it.”

“I know.” I look at her. “I hate that.”

“But if you don’t speak out —”

“I just can’t. It would be too hard.”

“But what if Harris does this to someone else? How would you feel about that?”

I sigh. “Horrible.”

“And what if you’re not the only one he’s hurt?”

I tell her what Zach told me about how there’s a pattern, how Harris and Emery go together and then break up. I even tell her what Emery told me in the restroom.

“Oh, Haley, that’s terrible. Don’t you want to try to do something to stop that boy?”

“I wish there was a way to stop him, or punish him, or whatever … but without me being involved.”

“I don’t know how. But I do think you should talk to the counselor. Mrs. Evanston is very easy to talk to. And she’ll know how to help you with this.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” I say nervously. “It was hard enough to tell you.”

“Mrs. Evanston is very understanding, Haley. I really think you should speak to her.”

I blow my nose and just shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Well, I’m glad you at least told me. And now I can understand why you’ve seemed so different. This is much more than just a broken heart.”

I nod and throw the used tissue in the trash can. “I just want it to go away. The pain, I mean. I just want to be who I was before, you know?”

“Before Harris stole from you.” She frowns. “I want you to understand that what he did was a crime. Just the same as if he stole your car, only far worse. Tell me, Haley, if Harris had stolen your car, you’d report him, wouldn’t you?”

I stand, ready for this to end and wondering if I was wrong to tell her. “I guess. But this is different.”

“Please, think about talking to Mrs. Evanston.”

“Okay….” I force a wobbly smile. “And maybe you’re right. I do feel a tiny bit better getting it out into the open….” I want to plead with her not to repeat this to anyone, but that might sound like I don’t trust her.

She stands with a sad expression. “I hear so many sad stories from my students. Kids can be so hard on each other. I wish I could do more than just listen.”

“I appreciate your time.” I glance at the clock and am surprised to see it’s already past five. “I should probably get home now.”

Of course, even as I say this, I know it won’t matter when I get home since Dad’s going out with Estelle tonight. But I’m guessing Ms. Flores, unlike me, has a life.