Smashed (29 page)

“It hurt,” she said suddenly. She looked at me then; her eyes flashed. “After Christmas, when you’d hardly talk to me, when you avoided me in school, and then didn’t want to see me in rehab . . .” Her hand gripped the arm of her chair, her knuckles white. “When I told you about Simon and you didn’t even care, the way you talked to me the day I visited you.” Her voice was trembling, the words tumbling out. “When you finally wrote me and told me you were driving Alec’s car and I realized how much I didn’t know. It hurt, Kay. It hurt a
lot
.

“I thought I had no right to be mad—after what happened to you and everything, after Alec . . . I mean, nothing’s worse than that, right? But . . .”

“I don’t blame you for being mad, Cassie.”

“I just want to be honest,” she went on. “When we were making lunch I just got so angry inside. Something exploded in me. I mean, I didn’t even know it was there, but all I could think was,
How could she lie to me? How could she just blow me off after all these years? How could she not care, not tell me things that were so
important
? She’s my
best friend.
Why did she treat me like that?
It all just kept spinning around in my head. I tried to stop it but I couldn’t. . . .

“But then I thought: If I don’t tell you what I’m thinking right now, it would be like doing the
same thing
that I was mad at you for doing. Because how I feel . . . This is important.” She looked at me and took a deep breath. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I do.”

“Good,” she said, and her face relaxed, her eyes shining. “Because you’re my best friend.” We were both crying now. “And I’m not letting go of that.”

“Ready?” Matt asked.

We picked up the canoe, flipped it right side up, and lowered it into the water next to the dock. My hands trembled as I strapped on my life jacket and stepped carefully into the boat. I was glad to be in the bow facing the lake rather than facing Matt. Maybe it was because, even though he knew me better than anyone did, he was still a guy. Or because he’d warned me away from Alec way back last summer. Or simply because he knew what had happened to me, knew what Alec had done, something so personal and so terrible that having
anyone
know—and everyone did—was almost as horrible as the rape itself.

Alec had spread it around, what he called my “bullshit allegations.” Said I was just trying to cover up that I was a lush, a drunk, a slut. He made the whole thing public, as if proving he had nothing to hide. Now it was as if everyone could see through me, to the most private part of myself. It was like a second invasion.

I didn’t have to go to school, and I chose not to. We’d arranged all that before I came home. Starting on Monday, Cassie and Matt would bring my work home; when I was done, they’d take it back. Gail agreed it wasn’t avoidance; it was self-preservation. Why slap a bull’s-eye on my back and walk into the woods?

Matt was my oldest friend, and I thought that would somehow make it easier to see him, but it didn’t. With people around town, I could shut down, stay aloof, pretend I didn’t care. But that didn’t fly with Matt and Cassie. If we were going to be friends, I’d have to show up and tell the truth. Otherwise it was a joke; there was nothing between us. Cassie and Gail had helped me see that.

Matt slung the strap of one of his cameras over his shoulder and climbed into the canoe.

“No pictures of me today, okay?” I didn’t look back at him.

“Okay.” In the past he would sneak pictures of me, and tease me when I got mad, but I could tell from his voice that today he meant it.

The water was a wide, smooth mirror. Puffy clouds and a fine blue sky stretched out over our heads. We paddled past Cassie’s house. In her yard, forsythia had blossomed: tiny, delicate, gold.

“I can’t believe how warm it is,” Matt said.

I pulled my paddle through the water, sending ripples through reflections of trees and sky. The lake was so still, so quiet in May. There were no motorboats buzzing in the distance, no kids’ voices echoing from the beach, just the sound of our
wooden paddles bumping against the canoe, the gentle splatter of water across the lake’s calm surface.

Our island, small and familiar, drew closer with every stroke. The grove of towering pine trees that grew there creaked and swayed when it was windy, but today they stood powerful and still. We stepped into the cold, shallow water and tied the boat firmly to a tree.

I slipped off my rubber sandals and walked barefoot on the warm, rust-colored pine needles that covered the earth like a soft carpet. The branches on the old trees were sparse and the pines well spaced out; there was plenty of sunshine between them. I took off my sweatshirt and made a pillow, then lay down on my back, eyes closed, face to the sun. Matt left his camera in the canoe and sat down beside me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Don’t cry,” he said gently.

“I can’t help it,” I whispered, and covered my eyes with one arm. “I’m sorry, Matt.”

“Why are you sorry?” he said.

“Just—for everything. For being such an idiot.”

Matt reached over and took my hand.

“Thanks for the letter you sent,” he said quietly.

I squeezed his hand, my eyes on the sky over our heads. For what seemed like forever, we lay there in silence, side by side in the sunshine.

*     *     *

Matt walked around the water’s edge taking pictures, then lay on the ground and focused the lens up into the tops of the trees.
Click, click, click.
The sound was so familiar it was comforting. I had missed this: the lake, my home, my friend.

He put his camera down and looked over at me. “Are you going to graduation?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and sat up, pushing my hands into the warm pine needles.

It had been on my mind every single day. It was only three weeks away now, and never in my life had I imagined that I wouldn’t be there, marching across the stage with the friends I’d known since kindergarten and the few who had moved here since. It seemed impossible to do it—and impossible not to.

“I don’t know, Matt. I’d like to say that I could walk in there and sit on the bleachers with him and not care, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

I picked up a pinecone and chucked it at the water.

I wanted more than anything to be tough. Every day I fantasized about walking into the school gymnasium in my cap and gown with my head up. I wanted to look Alec in the eye and not blink. But who was I kidding? Seeing him right now would feel like losing everything all over again.

“The way they line us up by height, I’d probably end up paired with Alec for the procession.” I was only half joking, but both of us knew it wasn’t funny.

“They’d never do that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? He’s walking around school, isn’t he? Nobody believes me.”

“That’s not true. A lot of people do.”

“And most of them don’t.”

Matt looked at me, his brown eyes soft but his lips pursed tight. He was angry at them, too. Whoever
they
were. Whoever believed Alec over me, or called me a slut or a lush or worse. The worst part was, they were half-right. I didn’t lie about the rape, but the drinking part—that was me. No one had poured it down my throat.

“I wish I didn’t care.” I took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head no. Feeling like this had become familiar. I just had to breathe slowly, wait until it passed. I fixed my eyes on the large twisted root of a pine tree. One, two, one, two. Finally, the nausea subsided.

“You don’t need to go,” Matt said.

“I know.”

“But if you do, Cassie and I will stick to you like glue. And I can ask to be paired with you. We’re both tall.”

“Coach Riley encouraged me to go, too. She came by the house, you know.” I looked at Matt and he nodded. “She believes me.” My eyes welled up thinking about her.

“Of course she does,” Matt said.

“She said,
You’re a tough girl, Katie. You’ve been through a lot, but you’ll get through this. You’re stronger than most. And there are a lot of people rooting for you.
I just sat there and cried.”

“She’s cool.”

“Yeah, she’s the best. But I just can’t decide right now about graduation.”

He nodded and looked at me carefully. “I don’t know if this will help. I mean, it’s not the biggest thing in the world, but . . .”

“What?”

“Well, Alec—”

“
What?
What about Alec?”

“He got suspended yesterday. For five days. I know it’s nothing compared to what he did, but . . .” Matt shook his head. “It just made me so damn happy to see
some
thing happen to him, you know?”

“What happened?”

“He was opening up his backpack in the hall between classes. It was stuffed full of books and junk, and when he unzipped it, these three unopened beers came tumbling out. Right there on the floor!” Matt’s face lit up. “The hall was packed. Everyone saw it: lots of kids, Mr. Tenney, another teacher. Alec was going,
What the hell is this bullshit?
but Mr. Tenney hustled him off to the office and that was it. The whole thing flew around school in about two seconds.” Matt’s eyes gleamed.

“Oh, and he’s going to miss three track meets during his suspension, so he can’t qualify for the States no matter what. For him, that’s the worst part. You know, he placed third in the state in shot put last year. “Matt looked at me now, gauging my response.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It only happened yesterday.”

“You know what I mean—today, earlier.”

“I guess I was saving it—for when you really needed it or something.”

“I need it now.”

“I know.”

Just picturing Alec, the guy who’d never paid for a single crappy thing he’d done his whole life—and I was sure there were plenty of things he’d done I didn’t know about—in trouble thrilled me, if only for a moment.

“Somebody must have set him up.” I turned and looked at Matt. “He’s a lot of things, but one thing he’s not is stupid.”

“That’s what he said all the way to the office:
Somebody set me up!
” Matt smiled.

My mind raced with the possibilities. There weren’t many. “I wonder if it was Stan. I bet it was Stan.”

“Maybe.” Matt pursed his lips and looked intently at an ant making its way over the pine needles.

I stared at him. “You know, don’t you?”

“No.” He didn’t look at me.

“You’re a horrible liar, Matt. Why won’t you tell me? Why shouldn’t I know?”

“I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Tell me!”

“It was Cassie.”

“Ha!
Cassie?
Right.”

“If you say a word, she’ll kill me. She is going to tell you after graduation. She can’t risk getting caught.”

“
Cassie
did this,” I said skeptically. “My best friend,
do-the-right-thing, play-by-the-book Cassie.” I laughed briefly, incredulous. “Wow.”

Matt nodded. “I know. When she told me she was thinking about it, I was pretty surprised. But you know, it
is
the right thing, if you think about it.”

“How did she even pull it off?”

“She’s pretty smart.”

“You’re right, it’s nothing compared to what he did. But it’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

*     *     *

We stayed there all day under the pine trees until hunger started to gnaw at our insides. It was way past lunchtime. Matt took an apple out of his pack and tossed it to me. We had sat for a long time without saying anything at all. I’d always liked that about us. We didn’t need to talk all the time. Even when we were younger, we’d sometimes walk all the way up Pitcher Mountain without saying a word.

A gentle wind had picked up, and water bumped against the shore in tiny waves. The sun was high in the sky now, its warm rays stronger. Beads of sweat had gathered on my forehead and dampened my shirt. We moved into the shade, under the wide boughs of an ancient evergreen.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said finally. “I called my grandma in New Hampshire the other day.”

“How is she?” His grandfather had died during the winter.

“She’s doing better. She’s used to being alone now—more used to it, anyway.”

I nodded.

“Anyway,” he said slowly, “I hope you don’t mind—I asked her if she’d mind if we both came and lived with her this summer.” Matt looked at me, once again trying to gauge my reaction. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s no problem, either. I was planning to stay here. I just wanted you to know. Just . . . if you need to get out of here.”

“Maybe I should get out of here,” I said, looking out across the water.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m done doing that.”

I smiled. “Yeah, right.”

“I just want to help.”

“I know.”

We were quiet again for a while.

“Thanks,” I said.

*     *     *

“It’s nice without the mosquitoes, isn’t it?” I sighed. “And look at the trees, the colors.” All around the lake, the trees were covered with light green: shoots, buds, and half leaves just beginning to grow.

“It’s amazing,” he replied.

“I love it here. I don’t want to leave—I just got back. Fuck Alec.”

Matt looked at me, surprised.

“What?” I said. “I think you’ve heard me swear before.”

“It’s not that.” He was smiling.

“We’re staying here this summer. Or I am, anyway.”

“
I’m
not going anywhere,” he said.

“Good.” I looked him in the eye.

“Good.” He looked back at me.

“I’ll probably change my mind tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Matt was still smiling, studying my face.

“What are you looking at?”

He shook his head. “You. You seem—I don’t know—different than I expected.”

“Whatever it is,” I said, “it’s all a bluff.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’re making me nervous, looking at me like that.”

“And I don’t even have my camera out. . . .”