I press my nails into my palm when there’s another knock. “Abigail is distracting Mrs. Elliott. Hurry up!”
Chester and Hunter exchange a look. “Zach!” Chester nods to his henchman, who immediately understands what he has to do. With a jerk, he yanks my bag out of the overflowing sink and empties the contents. Soggy workbooks, my notebook, and books plop onto the floor.
Instinctively, I lunge for the photo of Mom when Chester grabs me by the back of the neck, drags me to the washbasin, and holds my head over the overflowing sink.
“You asked for it,” he says so quietly only I can hear it.
Moist air reaches my nose, and my heart is pounding in my chest.Please don’t!
The next moment, he plunges me underwater.
I thrash around, trying to get free, but it’s in vain. My forehead hits the porcelain sink, and the edge of the sink presses against my throat. Water enters my nose. For seconds, I don’t know whether I’m breathing, choking, or screaming. I swallow water and try to step backward in a panic. Bubbles gush around me.
It’s not the first time he’s done this—only, it’s never been a sink in a restroom, always a bucket in a closet. I would like to forget or erase the many times from my memory, but the feeling of panic, the fear of not being able to breathe, is etched in my mind. Of all the things that have happened to me at school, that was always the worst—until today.
When Chester grabs me by the neck and pulls me up, it’s dead quiet.
Nobody laughs anymore.
“You tell no one, understand, toad? No one. Ever.”
Water runs down from my hair, and my body shakes.
I nod because I’m afraid he’ll dunk me under again. The next second, there’s another knock.
Hunter and Zach immediately head toward the exit as Chester continues to hold me, leaning close as I gasp for breath almost silently. “Don’t think it can’t get any worse,” he whispers. “I can let them loose on you or protect you from them. Kids these days will do anything for a little coke, pills, and hot parties. It’s your choice.”
Apparently, Abigail was successful in distracting Mrs. Elliott because she didn’t show up at all.
I don’t know how many times I’ve washed my mouth out now, even with soap, but the disgusting, sour taste of Chester just won’t wash away.
Now I sit in a daze on the cold, wet floor between my sodden school supplies, unable to control my shaking body. This is all a horrible nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I want to melt, just stop being.
I know I should get help; I should tell Arizona, James, or Dad, but I can’t. They would say it was my fault. Maybe they’d tell me that all I had to do was say no and speak up. Maybe—but that would be even worse. They wouldn’t believe me at all, claiming I was making up tales again or just trying to get attention. Chester made sure no one believed me, no matter what I said.
I grab the completely soggy photo of Mom and smooth it out. The edges are wavy and puffy.Mom. I would definitely have told Mom if she were still here. At least, that’s what I think. There’s something strange about the situation with Mom. Even though I know she left us, in my imagination, she’s always the only one who understands me, comforts me, and hugs me.
Discouraged, I shake my head. The bad thing is that no one will ever believe anything I say. Chester’s grandfather is a well-known politician from Minneapolis, and his father is a renowneddoctor. In the microcosm of our city, everything revolves around a few important families who have connections to the judicial system and senators. They would have no problem finding witnesses to say I was lying and destroy me.
It would also be a disaster for the school’s reputation. Principal Thompson is friends with Chester’s and Hunter’s fathers. They golf together and are members of the Rotary Club, organizing charity events. Principal Thompson would never do anything that could harm Chester or Hunter. Plus, their parents are the main contributors to Kensington. They basically own the school, and all the teachers dance to their tune. Chester’s father is not only the Chief at Rose Garden, but as Medical Director, he’s also responsible for my dad’s career and future. Dad’s merely a junior cardiologist on thecardiology team, so I could never tell Dad what’s happening at this school. And even if I did, he wouldn’t believe me. He was on Arizona’s side back then, too.
As if on autopilot, I collect my school supplies and my notebook with the beautiful words, stuff everything into my dripping bag, and unsteadily stand up.
We’ll get you. All of us. I’m ice cold. My hair is soaking my shirt, and my jeans are damp from the floor.
I glare angrily at the mirror over the sink. I hate myself—for everything I am, but above all, for being incapable of defending myself.
I can never go to Kensington again, not after what happened today. I would rather die.
My eyes start to burn, but they stay dry. I won’t cry. I don’t deserve to cry. I’m pathetic—no, worse—I’m embarrassing. My life is embarrassing.
NIRVANA means freedom from pain, suffering, and the outside world.
But I am as free as the wind.
As if from a great distance, I realize I’m walking through the high brick hall. The others are gone, and silence hangs in the air—a silence that crushes me and suddenly seems impenetrable. As if there was an invisible barrier between me and the world that I could never break through.
With my wet bag, I leave the school building through the old English courtyard. I walk blindly through the streets of Cottage Grove, passing the corner of Cottage and Lincoln, the signs for Rose Garden Clinic, and Dan Applebee’s Burger & Grill.
