Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 25.1

So here I am.

I'm just a young girl with red hair and freckles, standing on the front lawn of the Queen Elizabeth High School at 8:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, looking at the hundreds of other students, waiting for the bell to ring. So what's the problem?

The problem is that the hundreds of other students are looking back.

It didn't take long for word of what happened to spread around the school. Annie, one of the girls from the jazz band, a judge of "the worst day of my life" up in Whistler, told people that I was drunk, that I left, that Jesse followed me. A few comments by Megan to some of her friends and I'm a household name.

Mom wants me to attend school as if nothing has happened. Like my life will ever be the same again.

The crowd parts as Alex makes her way over. This isn't going to be good.

Alex slaps me right across the face. Hard. My skin tingles where her palm struck me and I feel water form behind my eyes. The blow knocks me to my knees in the dew-covered grass, dampening my jeans.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" she screeches, standing over me. "J.J. go to jail! Mr. McKinnon could lose his job!"

A guy in a football jacket embroidered with the school logo hooks her around the waist and pulls her from me as she swipes again for my head. "Easy, Alex," he says.  

"I wish you had never come here, Rebecca," she yells. For a minute I think she's going to spit at me but she's led away before she has the chance.

As I stagger to my feet, I agree with her. I should never have come here. I should never have left Toronto.

I spot a familiar face among the hundreds. Kyle comes out of the throng and walks up to me. He's still holding a bottle of Diet Coke. A guitar case is slung over his shoulder, and it's not the one that houses Isabelle. As he approaches me, a guy holding a basketball and wearing a leather jacket walks towards us. "You're a fucking liar, Rebecca," growls the guy. He doesn't even break stride, he just keeps walking across the lawn to meet his friends.

"Fuck you," says Kyle, and shoves him from behind, his guitar case askew. He spins around and they glare at each other, fists clenched. I run between them.

"Stop it. Kyle, let's get out of here." I could hide the tears which threaten to spill down my face among the fresh drops of rain them but blink them away. I pull on Kyle's arm and lead him towards the edge of the lawn. The other guy grabs him, but Kyle shakes free.

"Fucking lying bitch, that's what you are, Rebecca," shouts the guy in the denim jacket.

We stand there, looking at each other. The clouds open and our faces are splattered by rain, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. If only Kyle had learned to mind his own business.

Damn it, Rebecca. Kyle is probably the best friend a girl could have. He's rough around the edges but he's never had anything less than your best interest in mind. Of course, your life wouldn't be this mess if it weren't for him, but he was just looking out for you.

"I haven't seen you in two weeks. How have you been?" says Kyle. What a question. It's completely inappropriate.

Inappropriate. There's that word again.

"It was fabulous," I say. "I went to the hospital for a rape kit. The police interviewed me on camera for three hours. I had to sign a statement. My stepfather sent us a threatening letter. Mom wants to move, and he's the reason we came here in the first place. I don't know how he found us. Mom always used to say Bill had influence. I guess she was right."

"What did the letter say?" asks Kyle, staring at his feet.

"'One is never finished with the family." It's amazing how I memorized that in a single glance. I really need to stop reading letters.

"Why did you move here?"

God. You'd think Kyle would have learned something by now.

"Bill punched my mom in the face." In January I would never have admitted it. But now it's just one more misfortune in my life.

"That's terrible," says Kyle. He looks at me like he's looking at me for the first time. Maybe he's right about talking to people and not holding everything in. If Mom and I had discussed what had happened with Bill, this might never have happened.

"What did the police ask you?" he says.

I think I might be done holding everything in.

"Everything," I rant. "How I met Jesse. What bar we went to. What room we stayed in. How long it lasted. What we did afterwards." I want to add, "Thanks a lot, Kyle, this is all your fault," but instead I just smile thinly and say, "Thanks for looking out for me. Everyone should have a friend like you."

"Two detectives have been here," he says. "They interviewed everyone. Me, Alex, Mac, Annie and Megan, everyone. It's all over school. They even went to Whistler and talked to the bouncer who let us in. He's already been fired, apparently."

"Jesse?" I ask, nervously.

"He denies it. They talked to his parents. They even searched his bedroom and his locker."

"Why would they search his locker?"

"I don't know. Standard procedure, I guess." Kyle shifts back and forth on his Doc Martens. Fucking Doc Martens. "Jesse's been released on bail," he says.

Holy shit, that was fast. "He was arrested?" My stomach clenches and my pulse spikes. It barely registers that this is the first time Kyle's referred to him as Jesse instead of J.J. I guess Mom was right about full names making people seem more grown up. We all seem grown up now.

 "A pair of police officers went to his house. They put him in a paddy wagon right in front of his parents and took his photograph and fingerprints. His parents have already hired some expensive lawyer. He's going to need that Bible he carries, that's for sure."

I want to cry. To say "this is all my fault" would be an understatement of epic proportions.

"Did he spend time in jail?" I ask. Now is not the time to discuss Jesse's spirituality.

"I don't think so. He's not a threat to the public or anything." Then he adds, "Alex broke up with him."

Christ. Like that matters now.

Kyle adjusts his guitar case uncomfortably. "He's been suspended, too."

"I know, Kyle," I say. "My mom was the one who suspended him." She wanted to expel him outright, but Principal Morgan told her to wait until all the facts were in.

Rain collects in my hair and runs down my curls. Drops form on Kyle's forehead. They slide down his nose, hang for a moment, then fall.

 "What about the Yellow Jackets?" I say.

"They've been disbanded pending a hearing," say Kyle.

I blink. "What? Why?"

"The school board wants to investigate what happened at Whistler, how we ended up spending the night there, how Jesse got his own room, how everyone was out after curfew, how we ended up in the bar, that we were drinking. Mac might lose his job."

"But he didn't do anything."

"I know, but the trip was his responsibility. He has to appear before some panel."

I want to cry. "I don't know how this could be any worse."