“It’s not exactly Fun City here on weekends, and you can get better things to eat, not to mention drink.”
“No one said anything to me about that,” Claudia claimed.
“It’s on the contract your parents signed with the school. They had to agree that the school wasn’t responsible for what you did off campus, but you have to obey the curfew. No later than midnight back in your bunk and no leaving the campus on school days except Fridays and holidays . . . or . . .” She traced a line over her neck. “Twelve is not hard and fast. The bed check is random, meaning if Mrs. Rosewell is still awake or not, and most of the time, she’s drifted off. We also occupy her attention if we know someone is going to be late, so don’t worry.”
“How do we get to town?” I asked.
“There is a bus at the corner, but seniors have driving privileges. Most of the boys have their own cars. Rob does,” she added, nudging me. She leaned in to whisper. “Double dates are possible. Interested?”
I didn’t answer.
The concept of dating, starting a relationship, was truly at the tail end of my immediate concerns right now. Survival was number one. Survival meant somehow burying the immediate past so deeply that it wouldn’t come up even in nightmares. Every time I saw a
cat or heard a sound that resembled the rattling of a chain, I cringed. The sight of any man whose head and body from behind vaguely suggested Anthony Cabot, my abductor, still sent ice water flowing along my spine and seized my breath. My utmost fear was that someone, someone like Marcy or Terri, would notice my reactions and begin to ask questions.
I saw how everyone had responded to Claudia’s reference to a girl at her last school being gang-raped. How would they react to having a girl who had been abducted and kept chained in a farmhouse basement, a girl whose hair had been chopped away and who was often naked and exposed? When and if that story spread, what boy would want to date me anyway, and what girl would want to become close friends with me? I would avoid all this as best I could.
However, soon the inevitable questions would come: Why did your parents want you to attend Littlefield? Why did they want you out of the public school? If you’re an only child, why would they want you out of the house so soon? The whys would come raining down around me and make my head spin, but my reaction had to be credible.
I had my stock answers prepared. My classes weren’t challenging enough. Even my teachers admitted it, citing their burden of having to teach so many of the basics that the other students never learned or mastered. They tried to give me individual attention, but the public-school class sizes were just too big. Cutbacks, you see. Who wouldn’t believe all that? Some or most of it was why they were sent here, too.
But a bigger question haunted me. I didn’t think it would come up so quickly. That was naive on my part, I guess, a symptom of the overly protected life I had lived under Mother’s rule. I knew that if our roles were reversed, Haylee would have landed a date by now or certainly wouldn’t have shied away from any and every opportunity to date someone.
The question was, could I ever commit to or feel safe in any sort of relationship? I didn’t have to have a daily psychological evaluation to know that my feelings and emotions were still quite fragile. Just the thought of someone touching me made me shiver. It disturbed me deeply to think I could be this withdrawn for the rest of my life as a result of what terrible things had been done to me. I could be emotionally handicapped, psychologically crippled forever. I certainly was feeling that way right now, and there was no one here I could go to for advice or help with these feelings. I’d have to go home and see my therapist, Dr. Sacks, whom I was scheduled to see again in six months.
“I think it would be best for me to get comfortable with my work and my teachers and my new dorm life first,” I told Marcy.
“Dulllllllll,” Marcy sang. “That’s all easier than you think. Leave it to me. I’ll fix you up with the right guy or guys. It will be easy, considering what you look like, and it will make things easier for me, too. Now, Claudia,” she said, stepping closer and whispering, “that will be my biggest challenge.”
“Then maybe you should begin with her,” I suggested.
She stopped walking, but I continued moving forward. “What?” She hurried back to my side. “Find her a date? No way, José.”
“She’s my roommate. It would be terrible to leave her alone, especially on the first few weekends,” I added.
Marcy’s excitement dwindled quickly. I smiled to myself. Amazing how clever I could be when I was looking for ways to avoid a crisis, I thought.
Marcy looked back at Claudia and then shook her head. “And here I was thinking my social life was about to skyrocket,” she moaned.
“Maybe it will,” I said. “Think of how impressed everyone will be if you play Cupid successfully for her.”
“Sounds too much like a homework assignment,” she complained.
We walked on. When we got to the dorm, Marcy went quickly to her room and returned with some energy bars.
Claudia reluctantly accepted one. “I probably won’t eat it,” she said.
“If you change your mind, at least you’ll have it,” Marcy said.
Claudia put it in her night-table drawer. Almost immediately, Marcy began asking Claudia what she thought were key questions related to dating while I organized my desk. It took all my self-control to keep from laughing. But then I thought, What if she’s really good at this and finds Claudia a boyfriend?
What excuse would I have then?
“So did you have any boyfriends at your two other private schools?” Marcy asked her.
“Not exactly,” Claudia replied. “Not how you mean,” she quickly added.
Marcy looked to me with an amused expression. She had planted herself on the floor between Claudia and me and sat in the lotus position.