CHAPTER 3
One guy was bald and wore jeans and a faded black jean jacket. The other was tall and broad with long, frizzy blond hair. He wore a blue tank top and gym shorts one size too small and he kept shifting his bare feet, bouncing his shoulders, twitching his arms. I thought about the crazy guy from earlier tonight who came through the window wearing only a bathing suit. Was this guy on acid, too?
I tried to listen to what they were saying. Donny. A deal. Fucking asshole.
Then the jittery man saw us. When he kept jerking his head back and forth between us and the other two, I felt my heartbeat quicken. I whispered, “Lee?”
“I know.” Her voice was soft again but firm.
“Hey, girls.” He turned to us, hands on hips. “Wanna party?”
“We’re pretty beat,” Lee said. “But thanks.”
They began whispering again. The guy in the jean jacket tipped his head back and guzzled his beer. Then they walked over and sat, Charlie in the chair, the other two on the couch. Jittery Man’s bare feet were inches from my face. Despite being wet from the rain, they were black with dirt and his toenails were long and chipped; thick, dark, curly hair covered the top of each toe. Never, not even at sleepaway camp, had I seen feet so worn and dirty. I had to keep swallowing so I wouldn’t gag.
“Not every day you have girls in your house, Charlie,” the bald guy said.
Charlie snickered. Jittery Man sneezed and ran the back of his hand across his nose. Rain dripped from his hair onto his bare shoulders but I didn’t think he felt it. His glassy eyes flitted around the room. Did he even know where he was?
Gums throbbing, heart racing, stomach roiling. I sucked in small breaths, trying to control myself. But my senses were wired and alert, screaming, as if a fire alarm raged through me. Danger! Danger! I knew Lee felt it, too. We stayed quiet and still as if this, somehow, would make them go away. As if this could help us.
“Come on, get up.” The bald guy nudged Lee with the tip of his black boot.
“Maybe they don’t want to,” Charlie said.
“You’re a fucking pussy.” The bald guy laughed although he wasn’t smiling. “You’re always a fucking pussy, Charlie.”
“Fuck you, Owen!”
“Come on, come on, come on, up, up, up!” Jittery Man took his fingers across his dripping nose, wiped them on the couch cushion and began bouncing.
“What the hell?” Charlie yelled. “That’s my new couch. You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Better to be a fucking idiot than a fucking pussy,” Owen said.
Jittery Man let loose a long, creepy laugh. “Hhhhhaaaaaaaa!”
Charlie glared at Owen and then leaned forward, elbows on knees, until he was directly over us. “Time to get up, girls.”
I just knew that those scars across his jaw were from terrible acne. His face must have been covered in swollen pimples and ugly blackheads and how difficult that was for him, growing up with such a challenge. We all have challenges. That was what I wanted to say. That was what I wanted him to know. Me, Lee. Everyone.
Lee and I scooted close to each other. When Charlie leaned back and told Owen to fuck himself again, Lee whispered, “Get your bag. We’ll go out the window.”
And then we were up, backpacks on our backs, pillows and sleeping bags swooped up in our arms. Lee slipped into her flip-flops.
“Whoa, they’re jumping beans!” Jittery Man cried.
“Well, thanks a lot, guys, but we should go see our friends,” Lee said.
“You have real pretty hair,” Jittery Man said to Lee. “It’s so black.”
When Lee pushed the window all the way open, cool air rushed into the room. I was shaking so much that I couldn’t get my foot into my flip-flop. Why. Won’t. It. Go. In? She glanced back at me and then Owen was at the window, blocking our way.
“Now hold on a minute,” he said. “Charlie was nice enough to let you stay here. I think there should be some kind of payment. Don’t you?”
“I can pay. How much? I don’t have a lot but I have some.” Forty dollars and my dad’s credit card. To be used for an emergency. Surely this was an emergency.
“What do you think, twenty dollars?” Owen asked. Charlie shrugged.
“I wanna party.” Jittery Man was bouncing his legs and fluttering his fingers back and forth, as if they’d been asleep and he was trying to get the feeling back. His eyes were so glassy that I couldn’t tell what color they were. “With the girls!”
“Let’s have some fun, college girls.” Owen rubbed his hands together.
“Look, we’ll pay you for the time we’ve been here,” Lee said. “But we’re not staying any longer. So get out of our way.”
“No.” Owen shook his head. “Can’t do that.”
My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would rip a hole through my chest. I couldn’t swallow because something was wrong with my throat. And now I couldn’t take deep breaths. Why? And why couldn’t I feel my feet?
“You came here for a reason.” Owen glanced at Charlie. “They want this.”
“No, we came here to sleep.” Lee’s voice was so steady that I thought I saw Owen flinch. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to rape us. Charlie and Jittery Man wouldn’t, either. We were okay. Because that terrible thing couldn’t happen to us. We were nice girls. And they were nice guys. They had girlfriends, mothers, and sisters.
“This doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Charlie said. “Let’s take this slow.”
“You’re still a fucking pussy, Charlie,” Owen said.
“Fuck you, Owen!” Charlie screamed as he launched out of the chair. Owen pushed him and I thought they were going to start swinging but then they turned to Lee at the same time and when she startled I felt a sob surge into my hot, dry throat.
“I’m done fucking around!” Owen cried. “Who’s going first?”
“No!” My knees buckled and I burst into hot tears. “No, no, please! I can give you my dad’s credit card!”
“Daddy’s credit card!” Jittery Man bounced in his seat. “Daddy’s credit card! Daddy’s credit card!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Charlie growled and then nodded at me. “Hey, Owen. She’s a virgin, I bet. The other one’s not a virgin, I can tell. Right, Pocahontas?”
Owen’s nostrils flared as he looked at me with little black eyes that didn’t seem to see me. Sharp stings, with every heartbeat, raced up and down my back.
“Please. Please!” I bawled. They didn’t have to do this. They could make something of their lives. Why have this on their consciences? This was worse than living an unexamined life. This was the worst thing they could do because they could never take it back. “Please. Please. Please! No!”
“Let her go,” Lee said. “I’ll stay.”
Everyone looked at her. What was she doing? What was she suggesting?
“Right. Then crybaby goes and calls the cops.” Charlie pointed at me.
“There’s no problem if I choose to stay.” She dropped her sleeping bag and pillow.
I felt that stinging sensation again, this time across the back of my neck. My thick, dry tongue was caught on my teeth. I wanted to argue. I wanted to say no.
The three of them looked at each other. And at that moment, while their attention was off of us, Lee motioned to the window with her eyes and mouthed, go now.
The window. Of course! Adrenaline surged through me. Lee could take care of herself. She’d been on her own for years. I know guys like this. Anyone could see the difference between us. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t a mess.
When she handed her backpack to Owen, who stepped away from the window to take it, I lunged and dove into the night. My backpack caught the window frame and twisted me around so that I landed with a thud on my side. My head banged against something hard and from somewhere else in my body I felt an explosion of pain. Mud covered my hands and elbows.
“Get her!” Owen said.
I turned just as Jittery Man looked out. Then I pushed off because I had to get far, far away. But after running for blocks (two? Five? Six?), I realized that they weren’t coming, they weren’t chasing me, and a sickness rushed into my throat. I bent over and threw up in the gutter.
Oh, my God, oh, my God. Lee. Let her go. I’ll stay. That was what she’d said. That was what she’d done. I had to get help. Where was Donny’s house?
Rain came down in fast, cold bullets that pelted my face and bounced in the puddles near me. Something was burning, stinging. My knee? My foot? I whipped around, searching for Donny’s house, but couldn’t remember from which way I’d just run. Why didn’t I pay attention?
Think!
Was it this house? Or that one? They all had big windows. And a single door and tiny yards and look at these giant potholes in the street and why did Lee do that and where was that pain coming from? And where was our car? The Travelodge, oh, God, The Travelodge with the tub of peanut butter and Fig Newtons and sand between my toes and under my fingernails. It was in the back by a shed. I had to go to the bathroom and maybe I already went in my shorts and I was having a heart attack and then I crossed the street and ran back the other way. But what if I went by Charlie’s house? What if they were looking for me? Let her go. Let her go! I started to sob and I was frustrated and every second mattered.
Get it together! I stopped and bent over, breathing deeply, then straightened. Cold rain stabbed my cheeks and shoulders. Lee. I had to save Lee.
The streetlights. Donny’s house had no streetlights in front of it. But neither did Charlie’s. Donny had a chain-link fence. So did most of the houses. Then I remembered the kiddie pool, propped against Donny’s house. I ran one way for blocks, then turned and ran the other way. Minutes were tick tock ticking. Fifteen minutes. Five minutes. Twenty? Back and forth. Up and down.
We’d turned a corner with Charlie. So, I ran back down the street, turned the corner and ran some more. And suddenly, finally, there was the kiddie pool. I threw open the gate and ran to the door but it was locked. I beat on it with my fists and screamed until finally Donny, dressed only in gym shorts, his eyes slit-like and dreamy, opened it. “What the hell?”
Sarah, our Greek sorority letters blazing across her long sleeve T-shirt, came up behind him, her eyes wide and her red hair springing wildly out of its ponytail. “Oh, my God, Clare, what happened?”
“It’s Lee!” I sputtered. “We’ve got to get her!”
Donny scratched his forehead. “What?”
“We were going to sleep and two guys came in and they made us get up and they were going to make us and said we had to and I got away. But they kept Lee!”
“Oh, shit!” Sarah wailed. “Are you kidding me?”
“For fuck’s sake.” Donny turned into the house and returned pulling a T-shirt over his head.
He’d save her. It wasn’t too late. I did the right thing, after all. Adrenaline surged through me again and something burned and stung on my leg, but I felt my head clear. Like the time I took Julie to Planned Parenthood. And when I talked my mom up off the marble bathroom floor at the North American Book Award ceremony. Yes, yes, now I knew what to do.
“Get Ducky and your stuff in the car and follow us,” I said.
“Take a left, go two blocks, take another left and we’ll be up on the right,” Donny said. Sarah nodded, and I turned and ran with him.
The rain had finally stopped but the air was still wet and cool. We were quiet as we ran the four blocks—for God’s sake, it was right there, all this time—to Charlie’s house. The lights were off and the window was closed. Donny banged on the door as he yelled, “Open the door, Charlie. Open up the goddam door!”
A dog began to bark. How much time had passed? Ten minutes? Thirty?
Bang! Bang! Bang! “Open the goddam door, Charlie!”
Nothing.
Donny jumped off the step and rushed to the window. He tried to lift it but it was locked. I ran past him to the side door but it was locked, too.
“Are you sure she’s in there?” Donny asked.
“Yes!” What if we couldn’t get her out? “Donny, do something!”
With his fists he beat on the front door again. Harder. “Open the door!”
Sarah pulled up to the curb, headlights blazing, ran toward us, and began beating on the door, too. The headlights lit up the yard and I saw puddles. Cigarette butts. Bottles. Pizza boxes. A sleeping bag, splattered with mud, which couldn’t be mine, could it? And a rock the size of a softball. A sharp pain stabbed me somewhere below my right knee. I felt an unbearable weight suddenly settle on my shoulders and I staggered and almost fell against the house.
Sarah and Donny were screaming at each other. About Charlie. About how to get Lee out. About what-kind-of-people-would-fucking-do-this?
And then Sarah was at my side. She reached down, picked up the rock, and threw it at the window. The glass shattering sounded like an explosion, a bomb, a cannon. When the lights flipped on in the house, I saw jagged edges of glass, still embedded in the window frame, staring back at me like sharp, angry teeth.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Donny yelled.
“Somebody had to do something!” Sarah screamed.
The door flew open and Charlie grabbed Donny by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the house like water being sucked through a drain. Donny struggled and then the two of them, pushing, hitting, yelling, stumbled back outside.
“You’re gonna pay for the fucking window!” Charlie yelled.
From somewhere in the house I heard Jittery Man scream, “I’m cut, I’m cut, I’m cut! My foot is bleeding!”
When Charlie and Donny staggered back into the house, I ran over to the door and saw Lee inside, standing against the wall, dressed, backpack at her feet, her head tilted down and her long black hair hanging over her face. One of the straps of her white tank top had slid off her shoulder and rested halfway down her upper arm. And then Sarah was behind me, and when Lee lifted her head, we gasped.
Swollen flesh bubbled out of Lee’s sliced open upper lip. She stared at me, her eyes open so wide that I saw tiny red blood vessels to the sides of her pupils.
“What did they do to you? Lee?” Sarah asked. “We’re calling the police!”
Donny, whose forearm was wedged under Charlie’s throat and pinning him to the wall, hissed, “You don’t call the police, not on these guys. Just get out of here.”
Chaos. Confusion. Jittery Man screaming and crying. My foot. My foot. Owen telling him to shut up. To sit still. Dog still barking. Siren in the distance. Throbbing pain in my shin. A neighbor yelling. And what was that on Lee’s cheek?
“They’re not going anywhere.” Owen, stepping out of the dark, grabbed Donny around the back of the neck. But Donny turned so quickly that he broke Owen’s grip and then punched him in the face. Owen staggered and fell into the wall.
I grabbed Lee’s backpack and Sarah took her arm and we ran with her out the door, across the yard, and into the car. Ducky, passed out in the back seat, didn’t move as we slammed the doors and Sarah sped down the street. Lee, curled into a ball on her right hip in the passenger seat, dropped her head into her folded arms that rested against the window. I turned in the back seat next to Ducky and watched the house grow smaller and smaller and then it was gone.
“Oh, my God, are we good?” Sarah asked. “Are they coming? Are we good? Are you sure? Are they coming? Are we good?”
“No one’s coming,” I said. “No one’s coming!”
A thick mist hung in the air in front of our headlights. The street was deserted and the houses were dark and quiet, shrouded in fog. Water arched high above the side windows every time Sarah crashed through a puddle. Every so often she took her hand across the windshield, clearing the glass.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “I don’t know where I’m going. What the fuck are we doing? What are we going to do? Lee?”
Lee didn’t move.
Sarah tossed the map back at me and turned onto a main road, also empty. Stores were closed, metal gates pulled down over the windows and doors. A car, its frame charred, sat abandoned in a parking lot next to the street. Sarah kept asking me over her shoulder, should I turn? Which way? I didn’t answer because I couldn’t remember. I began to shiver—the air-conditioning was running full blast in the car—and then shake so much that the map bounced on my lap.
And still Lee didn’t move. Didn’t talk. Barely seemed to be breathing.
“We have to come up with a plan,” Sarah said as she turned onto a side street. “We have to do something. Lee should go to the hospital. We should do that first.”
“If we go to the hospital, will they call the police?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Lee? Lee, what do you want to do?”
Lee began to weep softly.
Sarah slammed on the brakes—we’d come to a dead end— and began beating the steering wheel with her palms. “Fuck! Where in the fuck are we? Clare?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled. “Just turn around!”
“She’s hurt.” Sarah spun the car around and glanced at Lee. “Oh, God, Clare, I don’t know what to do!”
“I don’t either!” I cried.
There were three of them. Three grown men. Three dirty, mean grown men. With needs. And experience. I imagined them on top of her. Behind her. In her mouth. I gripped Sarah’s headrest so hard that my fingers burned. I didn’t want these thoughts. I couldn’t have these thoughts.
Sarah turned the corner and we saw a stop sign ahead. As she sped toward it, she asked, “What happened? I don’t understand. What happened?”
Lee didn’t respond. I sat back in my seat. My stomach was sour and so in knots that I had to talk myself out of throwing up again. And still I shook.
Sarah turned at the stop sign and suddenly we were in a better neighborhood. Single-family houses. Lawns. No trash or burned-out cars on the street. The stores didn’t have bars on the windows, either. Up ahead I saw a gas station, lights blazing. Sarah pulled in and Lee buried herself into her arms.
“I’m going to get some ice for your lip,” Sarah said.
“Find out how to get to the highway,” I said.
When Sarah opened her door, cool, tropic air, mixed with overpowering wafts of gasoline, rushed into the car. I watched Sarah run up to the store, hurry inside, and talk to the attendant behind the counter. Above him on the wall was a portrait of President Reagan next to a sign that read WE’RE FLORIDA AND PROUD OF IT. I glanced at Ducky, asleep next to me.
“I got turned around.” My voice felt weak and shaky. “I couldn’t find Donny’s house. And then it took forever for Charlie to come to the door. I’m so, so sorry.”
She didn’t say anything.
“What happened, Lee? What did they do?” It hurt to ask this. It hurt my tongue, my teeth, and my cheeks. My shin was throbbing again. Did I hurt it jumping out the window? Then I started to cry because I knew what they did to her, didn’t I? I was scared and had a searing headache behind my eyes, like a knife, embedded, that twisted deeper with every blink, every turn of my head.
Still she didn’t say anything. She was mad at me. I could feel it. Oh, God, she was mad at me because I left her. How could I do that?
Then Sarah was back in the car. “Okay. We’re close to both the hospital and the highway. What do you want to do, Lee? Lee!”
Lee sat up, wincing as she brought her hand to shade her eyes from the gas station lights, and turned her head to look at Sarah. “What?”
Sarah handed her a cup filled with ice. Lee stared at it for a moment before slowly reaching out to take it. Then she just held it, arm outstretched. Sarah said, her voice steady and didactic, “Take out a piece of ice and put it on your lip.”
But Lee just stared at the cup. I scooted forward, took out a piece of ice and put it up to Lee’s face. With her free hand she took it and held it to her cheek.
“No, Lee, put it on your lip,” I said. Lee didn’t move.
Sarah glanced back at me and I knew we were thinking the same thing: Lee was completely out of it. Sarah shook her head and said, “We should go to the hospital. Lee, you need help. And you need to tell somebody about what happened.”
Lee shook her head. “No.”
Sarah turned to me, her eyes begging for help.
“Let’s find a motel off the highway,” I said. “I’ll use my dad’s credit card. And we can rest and think about what to do. Lee?”
Lee stared at something through the windshield. I wasn’t sure she heard me.
Sarah frowned and sighed. Then she pulled onto the road.
We stopped at a motel ten miles outside of Daytona. It was worn out with nicks in the bedside tables, brown carpet worn to the cement below, and curtains so thin they barely kept out the flashing neon lights in the parking lot. But the bathrooms were clean, no sludge in the corners, and it was cheap. I left our backpacks in the room. Then I went back to the car, slung Ducky’s arm around my shoulder and walked her up the stairs. Sarah and Lee followed.
Once inside, I dropped Ducky—who was mumbling, eyes open—into a bed where she fell back asleep. Now, lights on, we saw each other more clearly.
“Where’s your other flip-flop?” Sarah pointed to my feet.
I looked down. Both feet were covered with dried mud and grass clippings. But I wore only one flip-flop, on my right foot. A bruise, the size of a golf ball, bulged from my shin. Why didn’t this hurt? Or did it hurt? Where was my flip-flop?
“Oh, Lee, your lip,” Sarah said.
Lee brought her hand to her mouth and winced. She turned, walked into the bathroom, and flipped on the dim light above the sink. Sarah and I stood in the doorway, watching, as Lee leaned across the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Dried blood crusted in the corners of her mouth. Her upper lip was swollen and bloody. Hands shaking, Lee winced again as she touched a red welt, the size of a strawberry, on her cheek. I glanced at Sarah. What the hell was on Lee’s cheek?
Sarah reached inside the room and flicked the switch. Bright white lights flooded the bathroom.
“No!” Lee cried as she slammed her palm on the wall and turned off the light. Sarah and I jumped backward.
“Okay, sorry.” Sarah frowned. “But, Lee. Your cheek looks so sore. And your lip looks worse. I think you need stitches. We should go to the emergency room.”
“My lip.” Lee fingered the swollen mess. “It’s my fault.”
“Your fault?” Sarah and I said at the same time. We looked at each other.
Sarah shook her head. “How can this be your fault? What the hell, Lee? You should see a doctor. And you should keep ice on your lip. Where’s the cup?”
“The cup?” Lee asked.
She was so out of it. My heart pounded and my hands were cold and clammy. The hot and stuffy room smelled nasty, like cigarette smoke and disinfectant. Lee looked at herself in the mirror again. Her face was pale, the muscles in her jaw and neck knotted as if she were doing everything possible to not cry.
“I don’t understand what happened. How did Clare get out and you were still inside?” Sarah looked at Lee and then me.
Lee stared into the mirror but I didn’t think she really saw herself or us. I reached over her, picked up the plastic ice bucket from the counter near the sink, and handed it to Sarah. She took it, turned, and walked away. Over her shoulder she mouthed to me, talk to her! I nodded.
I turned back to Lee. My voice felt pained in my throat. “Lee?”
She touched her lip and winced again. Then she began to cry, not sobs but tiny tears that rushed down her cheeks, one after another, as if relieved to finally escape. She brought her hands to shield her eyes and turned away. In all of our talking and confiding, I’d only seen her cry a few times; two years ago when we found the dying goose on the road. The night we saw Patricia Graceson’s movie. And last January, when we sat in the stairwell at the house and she told me that her aunt, the one who’d introduced her to movies and who’d driven her all the way to Boston three summers ago, had been arrested.
“Oh, Lee.” I started to cry hot tears that stung my eyes. Lee and I often talked about what Patricia Graceson had said about crying, that it was good, a release and not a weakness, but nothing felt good now.
She began to sob, her body trembling, her face twisted. I felt so repulsed that vomit shot up my throat and into my mouth. When I swallowed, it made me gag. Inside my head I yelled, Stop crying! Get ahold of yourself, Lee! Don’t make me pick you up off the bathroom floor! I wanted to run, far, far away.
But how could I be like this? Lee sacrificed herself and I repay her by being repulsed? What kind of a person was I? I needed to be patient. Sophomore year I had to ask five or six times, over the course of several weeks, before she told me what her track coach had done. He touched me. He tried to kiss me. He put my hand on his dick. He fucked with my head.
Now, I lifted my arms to hug her but she stiffened and backed away. Then she leaned over and turned on the water in the tub.
“I want to do something,” I said. “I don’t know what to do!”
She adjusted the water. And then she straightened, lightly pushed me away, shut the door, and locked it. I changed out of my wet clothes and into shorts and a sweatshirt. The moment I sat on the bed, I felt my body release, my muscles relax, and I fell onto my back.
When Sarah returned, ice bucket in her hands, she gasped and said, “What? She’s in the shower? She’s getting rid of evidence!”
Rape evidence. Sperm. Fingerprints. Ugly, black, curly pubic hairs.
I sat up, my stomach churning. The bed cover, faded blue, cheap polyester, scratched the bottom of my thighs. “I couldn’t stop her.”
In the other bed Ducky groaned and rolled over. Sarah dropped next to me and handed me the bucket. “Here. Take some. Put it on your leg.”
I took the ice bucket but I didn’t deserve it. I deserved a bruise. A broken leg. A busted lip.
“She’s in shock,” Sarah said. “Could she tell you about it? What happened?”
I started to cry again and shook my head. I was so tired that it hurt to breathe. I could only take shallow breaths.
“This must have been awful for you, too.” Sarah’s voice was calmer, stronger. I imagined her in an emergency room treating gunshot and car crash victims. Rapes, too. She took off the bandana around her neck, filled it with ice from the bucket, then squatted in front of me as she held the ice to my shin. Ah, instant relief. This was how you took care of someone, by tending to her physical ailments. My mother never quite got the hang of this. Cleaning a cut. Taking a temperature. Icing a wound.
And yes, it was awful for me, too.
I told her about how Charlie, Owen, and Jittery Man prodded us and how Lee had a weird vibe and opened the window. They weren’t going to let us go without payment so I offered money and my dad’s credit card. “But they wanted something else. God, I’ve never been more scared in my life.”
“They raped her,” she said.
I nodded.
“Fuck! How did you get away?”
“I dove through the window.” I started to cry harder, my heart racing again. “And then I got so turned around. I couldn’t find Donny’s house.”
This was my crime, wasn’t it? How my seemingly good sense of direction had let me down? Sarah said today—or was it yesterday? —who would’ve guessed that you were so bad with directions?
“It was pouring and the middle of the night,” she said. “It could’ve happened to anyone. You should feel proud. You saved her from being hurt worse.”
Maybe if I’d stayed we could have fought them off or talked them out of it. Maybe, together, we could have gone out the window. But I panicked and left her to fend for herself. I abandoned her. How could I be proud of that?
And what would Sarah and Ducky think if they ever heard this?
I’d done something else to Lee, too, although my mind was bouncing around so much—I was so, so wired—that I couldn’t remember. They’re like jumping beans. I cringed and fell back on the bed again.
Sarah went to the bathroom door and knocked. “Lee, are you okay? Lee?”
“Yeah.”
She stood at the door for a moment and then came back and sat. “I don’t know, Clare. When I was getting ice I thought that we should call her parents. I’ve never met them. They never come to Mom’s or Dad’s Weekends, do they?”
“No.” I met them last year when Lee and I drove up to her farm. Her dad was quiet, her mom anxious. They were simple, unsophisticated people and right now her family was a mess over her aunt’s legal troubles. Even if her parents had money to fly here, which they didn’t, I couldn’t imagine Lee would want them. They have no idea who I am, Lee often told me. I didn’t think that we could call her aunt, either. She and Lee hadn’t spoken in months. “We can’t call without asking her.”
Sarah nodded. “I just feel so bad. This would never have happened if we hadn’t gone to see Donny. That was stupid. What was I thinking?”
“This isn’t your fault,” I said.
“God, it could’ve been you. Or me. Or Ducky. What if she and I had gone over there instead of you two? And how did you think to jump out the window?”
Let her go. I’ll stay.
I should tell Sarah that Lee offered herself if they let me go. And that she distracted them by handing Owen her backpack. And that it was easy to dive out the window. It was easy to leave her. But she’d think I was a terrible person and right now I felt bad enough. I’d tell her after we slept. And ate. And figured out what to do. Relief washed over me for the first time in hours. Oh, God, I needed to feel better.
It was still dark outside although I had a sense, by looking at the sky through a hole in the curtain, that the sun would be up soon. I glanced at the clock next to the bed. 5:15. The only other time I’d stayed up all night was sophomore year when Lee and I sat in the stairwell, talking until the breakfast cooks arrived.
I closed my eyes but couldn’t sleep. The scene at Charlie’s kept replaying in my mind and every time I felt myself relaxing, something would jerk me awake. But I guess I dozed off because suddenly Lee, dressed in sweatpants and T-shirt, was standing at the side of the bed next to me. I started to say something but she shook her head, climbed into the bed next to Ducky, and whispered, “Let’s try to sleep.”
I must have been out for a longer time because when I woke sunshine was pouring through the windows and Ducky and Sarah were dressed in T-shirts and shorts. The shower was on again, and Lee was missing from the bed. I bolted upright. Sarah was pacing in front of the window. Ducky sat cross-legged on the bed, weeping as she fiddled with her pearls.
“Clare, oh, my God, Clare, you’re finally awake, oh, God, I feel so awful!” Huge tears rolled down Ducky’s cheeks. “Sarah told me what happened. I’m so upset. I’m so upset! Those bastards!”
“Have you talked to her this morning?” I looked at the clock. 9:05.
“I fell asleep for a few minutes and when I woke up she was in the shower again,” Sarah said.
“What are we going to do?” Ducky asked. “What are we going to say to her?”
They looked at me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“This is Donny’s fault,” Ducky cried. “Those guys were total creeps. He should never have suggested that you go over there.”
“Why’s it his fault?” Sarah asked. “We partied all night at his house. He didn’t make Clare and Lee go.”
The shower turned off. We jerked our heads toward the bathroom door but it stayed closed.
“I’m just saying that he had an obligation to us,” Ducky whispered.
“Shut up, Ducky,” Sarah hissed. “You were so drunk that you don’t even remember what happened.”
“That’s not true. I remember most of it. Except at the end.” Her face reddened and then her eyebrows, so blond I could barely see them, dipped into a frown. “If we’re assigning blame, then what about you, Sarah? We should’ve never gone there in the first place. They were all low-life, white trash drug addicts!”
“Oh, God, they were not all drug addicts,” Sarah said.
“Yes, they were. And Donny’s a drug dealer!”
“So this is my fault?” Sarah yelled. Ducky and I shushed her. “I didn’t see anyone forcing you to drink all of those beers, Ducky.”
“Stop it, both of you.” I’d never heard them argue. Ducky sniffled and with her palm, wiped tears off her face. She began fingering her pearls again and moaning.
Sarah turned to me. “You have to tell us what to do. You know her best.”
I was the sounding board. The counselor. The lifeline in the middle of the night. The only one I’ve ever talked to. Now there was so much pressure behind my eyes, thundering in my ears. I gulped for breaths, a crushing sensation in my chest.
Lee opened the bathroom door. She was dressed in the same sweatpants and T-shirt. A towel wrapped around her hair and rested on top of her head. The swelling had gone down slightly on her lip but the red welt on her cheek was darker, angrier. Was it a rug burn? She walked, gingerly, to a chair but didn’t sit.
“This isn’t anyone’s fault,” she said.
“Those fucking bastards!” Ducky cried.
Lee tilted her head and stared at something out the window.
“I still think we should go to the police,” Sarah said.
“And say what? Clare and I went there. I stayed. But look, the swelling has already gone down on my lip. See?” Lee’s voice was suddenly high-pitched, teary. “And it doesn’t hurt as much. It doesn’t look so bad? Right? It’s okay now, right?”
I stayed. The words stung in my ears. I squeezed my hands into fists, waiting for their questions and condemnations.
“Lee!” Ducky said. “You are not okay!”
Sarah shook her head. “Your lip is still swollen. What do you want to do, Lee? Just tell us.”
I glanced at her and then Ducky. Had they not heard what Lee said?
Lee tilted her head and stared at Sarah as if she suddenly didn’t recognize her. Then she said, “What?”
“Oh, Lee.” Ducky started to weep loudly again. “I’m so, so sorry!”
“We should go to the hospital,” Sarah said.
“No,” Lee squeaked.
“If we go to the hospital, will the doctors call the police?” Ducky asked. “Because I seriously hope so. I seriously hope those bastards get arrested.”
Sarah and Ducky looked at me. They wanted me to weigh in, maybe convince Lee to go to the hospital, but I was too afraid to speak. What if I didn’t sound sincere? What if they saw through me? Because truth was, I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I didn’t want some doctor questioning us. I didn’t want to talk to the police.
“Let’s go back to school,” I said. “We’ll drive north a bit and stay another night in a hotel. I can pay with my dad’s credit card again. Then we’ll get up tomorrow and finish the drive. The house doesn’t open until Sunday but I bet we can get in.”
“How will you explain this to your dad?” Ducky asked.
“I’ll think of something,” I said.
“But what about the hospital?” Sarah asked, her voice less sure now.
“Lee, what do you want to do?” Ducky asked. “Lee?”
Lee was staring out the window again.
“I think she’s in shock.” Sarah glanced at me and then at Lee.
“Clare said that we should go back to school. What do you want to do, Lee?”
Finally, she nodded, unwound the towel, and let her long black hair fall behind her. Then she crawled into the bed and pulled the sheet and blanket up to her neck. But she didn’t close her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, barely blinking.
I could do this. Make a decision. A plan. Get people moving. Pay for it. I said, “I’ll go get gas in the car and maybe some food. Is anyone hungry?”
“I am,” Ducky said. “I’ll go with you.”
I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face. I’d get something good for us to eat, something healthy. Bananas, apples, maybe pancakes and eggs. And coffee, lots of coffee. Sandwiches for later and cans of Lee’s favorite, Diet Dr Pepper. When we filled up the car I’d check the oil, too, and ask about a good town, with a good motel, to stop in tonight.
A warm, gentle breeze floated into the room when I opened the door. Seagulls gathered in the scrubby grass under the palm trees next to the parking lot. Giant puddles speckled the cement. A dumpster, overflowing with garbage, stood next to a small pool enclosed in a chain-link fence. White lounge chairs were scattered along the pool’s edges. The sun, climbing in the bright blue sky, danced across the water’s surface, making the pool seem as if it were filled with hundreds of small silver flying fish.
Ducky rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, exposing her arms. She said, “Maybe we can eat by the pool.”
Her eyes were still bloodshot but she’d stopped crying. She was thinking of her tan. Maybe she wanted to grab a few moments of sun before we left for school.
School. The house. Ben’s face flashed before me and I felt something catch in my throat. A lump. A knot. A rock. I imagined telling him about all of this and what I’d done and watching the corners of his mouth fall in disappointment. But I shook my head because there were other things to think about. Ducky and I got into The Travelodge and drove across the service road to the gas station.