Page 84 of Lesson Learned

There must be another way, a better way, where James is forever banished but the rest of us remain intact. All I have to do is think of it and thinking used to be my specialty.

Finally, I drag myself upright and step into the shower, not bothering to wait until the water heats.

Removing the plug hurts. Blood washes from it when I rinse it under the spray.

If I’d just been polite and done what he wanted in the corridor, I could have come back here and discovered the disturbing gift on my own. Maybe he wouldn’t have hurt me.

The idea throbs in my head then I dismiss it.

Much as I chide myself over my sexual activity, that shame derives from choices I make. I refuse to feel anything over a choice somebody forced upon me.

I need to remove the tangle of emotions to work out what on earth I’m going to do.

Marnie. I can go to her. Tell her what her boyfriend’s doing.

I play it out in my head. The instant acceptance. Her leaping to assist me to bring the creepy psychopath down.

Then my eyes flick open again.

More likely, it’ll be another straw on her straining back. She’s losing weight, her temper is fraying. She must already know what he is. She knows, but he’s trapped her the same way he’s trapping me.

Floss.

The reason for the fight between her and Marnie never rang true to me. I could imagine making a similar, stammering admission. If James promised to keep Conner safe in return for me confessing something equally bogus, I’d happily voice whatever garbage he wanted.

Telling a story is so much better than what he has planned.

Before I can second guess the decision, I get out of the shower, dressing in jeans and a large jersey that I nicked from my youngest cousin, losing myself in its voluminous warmth. I tuck a pad into my knickers in case I’m still bleeding, then force myself out the door.

The moment I’m in the corridor, in public, I feel exposed. When a boy glances at me in passing, I shrink, seeing the ghost of James in his curious eyes.

In the cafeteria, the staff move behind the bolted doors, starting dinner prep. It seems like a year has passed since James bumped into me in the hallway, but it’s only been an hour. There’s no sign of Floss, so I walk to her room at the far end of the housing block.

No answer.

I send her a quick text, asking if I can talk to her. She replies a few minutes later, directing me towards the sports fields out the back of the school.

“Hey,” I call out as I see her, waving.

She nods back to me, waiting until I’m right beside her before she asks in a low voice, “What’s this about?”

I open my mouth and my stomach clenches into such a hard ball that I double over, clasping my arms in a self-hug because if I don’t, my insides will start spilling out of me.

“Pais? You okay?”

I nod, scrunching my eyes tight and tucking my chin in towards my chest. “Sorry.”

She stretches a cautious arm around my shoulders, and I gratefully lean into the embrace. When she tries to move away, I cling to her.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Sorry,” I repeat, trying to remember all the words I had cued up to say. When I open my eyes, they flinch from the light, watering. “There’s… I got…” I swallow hard and try again. “James…”

“That fuckwit,” she says. The words are harsh, but her voice is warm. “I hope he walks into traffic.”

“What have you got against traffic?”

She stares at me wide-eyed for a second, then bursts into laughter, hugging me closer. “Glad you’re not in his fan club.”

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