Authors: Kimberly Marcus
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Themes, #Sexual Abuse, #Friendship, #Family, #General, #Social Issues
Exposed (11 page)
“Katherine Cecily Morgan”
Who will be her maid of honor?
Which friend will hold her baby first?
Who will sit beside her
on a summer porch swing,
when hairs gray and memories start to fade,
and remind her that she was once
The Mistress of Modern Dance,
Photogirl’s forever-best?
Not me.
It won’t be me.
Memorial Day
I’m sitting on the stone jetty at Bright Penny
holding my brand-new Canon,
a graduation gift from Mom and Dad.
It’s warmer than usual for this time of year
and the first hints of summer,
in bathing suits and stark white skin,
make their way onto the beach.
I’m panning the shoreline,
not really looking for a great shot,
just enjoying the feel of this new,
familiar object in my hands.
Through the lens someone catches my eye
and I worry, once I know I’ve been spotted,
that she’ll think I was aiming at her.
Kate holds a book in her right hand;
a light green towel hangs around her shoulders.
She doesn’t come over,
doesn’t put her towel down,
but clutches it to her chest with her free hand,
like she’s protecting herself from the wind
or maybe from me.
I want to tell her I’m sorry,
sorry she got hurt,
sorry for so many things.
I want to remind her that she once said,
“Everything lives on through history.”
And let her know that I think
that means the good stuff, too.
But she won’t be able to hear me.
She’s too far away.
So I stand
and walk
toward her.
This Girl
She doesn’t run off,
though her eyes tell me
she wonders if she should.
“Hi,” I say, once I reach her,
gripping on to my camera like a lifeboat.
Then, in a rush of words that tumble like waves,
I tell her I’m sorry about the trial,
sorry that she had to go through that.
She looks past me toward the water,
as if she’s searching for something.
“I’m sorry he wasn’t convicted,
but I’m not sorry I testified.”
She turns her eyes from the surf
to look straight into mine.
“As scary as it was,
I said what I needed to say.”
And she did.
This girl,
who I never thought would take a risk,
has done exactly that.
Not far from where we stand,
a mother in a straw hat pulls
a red plastic shovel from her beach bag
and gives it to her toddler.
A horn blows
as a ferry carries its heavy load
across the sound.
“Bye, Liz,” Kate says.
She releases her grip on the towel
and turns to go.
The toddler giggles, a gull cries,
water laps against the stones of the jetty.
Kate’s footprints form a path behind her.
She doesn’t look back.
And I raise my camera as she walks,
bathed in morning light,
across the sand we grew up on.
As sound fades away, I remember
the words of Annie Leibovitz:
When you trust your point of view
,
that’s when you start taking pictures
.
This girl
is starting now.
The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) is the nation’s largest anti-sexual-assault organization. RAINN operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673). The National Sexual Assault Online Hotline, as well as many helpful resources, can be found on their website at
rainn.org
.
acknowledgments
There are many people to whom I am indebted for their support and sage advice during the writing of this novel:
To my mother, my brother, my sister, and all of my extended family, for always believing in me.
To Julio Thompson, for his legal expertise.
To Judy Cronin, chair of the Unified Arts Department at Dartmouth High School, and Christine McFee, teacher extraordinaire, for allowing me to shadow the darkroom photography class over the course of a school year. And to the students in that class who put up with my learning curve and my endless questions.
To the world’s most fantabulous writers group: Carolyn DeCristofano, Deanna Garland, Leslie Guccione, Valerie Kerzner, Brian Lies, Wiesy MacMillan, Barbara O’Connor, Delia Weikert, and Mary Wisbach.
To Cindy Lord, Nancy Werlin, and Diane M. Davis, for much-needed early encouragement.
To Linda Urban, for being my “Go To” girl.
To Alma Fullerton, for all the late-night plotting (and plodding!) sessions.
To Tracie Vaughn Zimmer, my poetic muse, for your careful ear and your gentle soul.
To Sarah Aronson, for your friendship, for multiple reads, and most especially for suggesting I try writing a few scenes in poetry to see where that might lead.
To Stacy DeKeyser and Audrey Vernick, beautiful writers and equally beautiful friends, for all the thoughtful critiquing, hand-holding, and necessary butt-kicking and for always, always being there.
To Joy Peskin, for first encouraging me to try my hand at writing a novel and for your long-standing support and belief both in my writing and in me. This novel would not exist without you. Go, Daled!
To Tracey and Josh Adams, the “dynamic duo” of Adams Literary, for taking me under your wings and helping me soar. I am so lucky to have you both in my corner!
To Ellice Lee, rock-star art director, for designing a cover that so perfectly zooms in to the heart of this story. And to the Comma Queens of Copyediting, and the rest of the amazing Random House crew, for the wonderful work you do.
To Shana Corey, for totally “getting” this book from the get-go. Your keen eye and gently probing questions have taught me so much about how to push a story to the next level. And your enthusiasm and warm, bubbly personality make you a dream editor. A million thanks!
And lastly, to Jake and Abby, with all my love, for being wonderful children and for your willingness to eat too much take-out food while I wrote this book. And to Jon, for being the best friend and husband I could ever have hoped for. I love you.
about the author
K
IMBERLY
M
ARCUS
lives with her husband and two children near the beach in Massachusetts, not far from the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. She is a clinical social worker specializing in the treatment of child and adolescent trauma.
Exposed
is her first novel.
You can visit her on the Web at
kimberlymarcus.com
.
Table of Contents
Darkroom Photography, First Period
In the Hallway, After Last Bell
Left Out to Dry on Sunday Night
Monday Afternoon at the Dance Express