Page 90 of The Sound of Us

“I should have known that’s what would happen if I went for an old edition.”

I heard the first few notes of ZZ Top’s “Bad Girl” and a smile spread across my face. “Are you a bad girl, Skye?”

“Very bad.” Skye laughed and eased herself down between my legs. “I hope you can keep up.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN“Believer” by Imagine DragonsSKYE

Isla took the news better than I expected. She was more angry than shocked, and sickened that I had been Ethan’s real target.

“I am so sorry, Iz,” I said after I’d told her about Ethan and the meeting and the team’s ridiculous attempt to buy me off. “I never imagined he would do something like this. I wish—”

“Don’t even go there,” she said, holding up a hand. “It’s not your fault. Ethan is responsible. The university covered it up. All I want from you is a promise that they’ll pay for what they did.”

“It’s possible your name might come out even if it’s kept confidential,” I warned.

“If that’s what it takes to put him behind bars, then I don’t care who knows,” she said. “I’m tired of hiding in the shadows. I’m tired of being afraid. And I’m sick that the university let him walk around campus, putting other women at risk. Write the story, Skye. Give me justice. Do what you do best.”

I wrote the story.

Isla and Dante checked it over for me before I submitted it to Professor Stanton, who was also the editor in chief of theHavencrest Express. Two days later, he called me into his office.

“You did excellent work,” Professor Stanton said after I’d settled in the chair across from his desk. “This is an incredible articlewith far-reaching repercussions for the university. I think you’ve got a real talent for investigative journalism.” He hesitated, sighed. “I just wish we could publish it.”

My breath left me in a rush. “I don’t understand. You just said it was good.”

“It is good. This is the level of reporting I would expect to see from a journalist out in the field. But the university administration wants it buried.”

“But you’re a journalist,” I protested. “You can’t be complicit in the cover-up. This goes against everything you teach.”

“Iwasa journalist.” His shoulders sagged. “Now I’m a professor whose tenure is contingent on towing the party line. The administration suspected you were going to write the story and came to me in advance with a warning. They made it clear that if I sign off or help you get it published, my tenure will be at risk. I have a mortgage and children who are going to college. I can’t throw my career away, no matter how good the cause.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t just about the cover-up. It was about Isla and how she’d suffered. It was about justice for survivors. It was about all the women who’d been afraid to speak their truth. It was about me.

“A rapist is loose on campus,” I said. “Other women are at risk.”

“I am assured that the basketball player in question understands that one more slip and his career in basketball is over.”

Never in my life had I felt such rage. “It was a rape. Not a slip. Not an incident. Not a mistake. I used pseudonyms in my story to protect my sources, but I will tell you that I know the survivor. She’s my friend, and I have witnessed firsthand the devastating effect of his actions. You can’t do this.”

He opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “They have me over a barrel, Skye. I don’t have a choice. These are the kind of real-life issues you’re going to face if you pursue this career. Sometimes the best stories never see the light of day. Sometimes justice is never served.”

“Do the other members of the journalism department know what a hypocrite you are?” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my own mouth. I was the girl who had spent her life hiding her passion to make her father happy. I was the girl who was afraid to step out of line in case I was sent away. I was the girl who didn’t make waves.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I’d survived a car crash. I’d lost my dream and reinvented myself. I’d done things in the last few months I’d never have imagined doing—breaking into buildings, talking live on-air, holding my own in meeting full of suits, having sex in public spaces, falling in love. I was stronger, braver, bolder than I had ever been before.

Professor Stanton bristled. “They know how the world works. They know that idealism often buckles under the weight of survival. The men’s basketball team brings a huge amount of money to the university. Not only that, but the boy’s father is also a major donor and has considerable political influence in the city. Even if your friend goes to the police, I would be surprised if he got anything more than a slap on the wrist.”

“I believed in you.” I grabbed my bag and made my way to the door. “I thought you stood for something greater.”

“I believe in passing the torch,” Professor Stanton said. “I was on the board that had final approval of your internship. Noah gave us three names, but you were his top choice and after reading your application, and his notes from the interview, I fully agreed with his recommendation. You are a survivor, Skye. You’ve been through more in your short years on this earth than many people endure in a lifetime, and it has only made you stronger. There is more than one way of getting a story out, and if anyone can bring this injustice to light, it’s you.”

I called an impromptu meeting of my WJPK friends in the student lounge later that afternoon. Nick and Isla were on one of the worn red couches. Chad and Haley had pulled up two woodenchairs. Siobhan was sitting beside Derek on a bench. Dante was leaning against the wall, looking very Kurt Cobain in his ripped jeans, graphic tee, and black-and-white Chuck Taylors.

After Isla shared her story and everyone had time to process and hug her, and stop Nick from destroying the furniture, I told them about the investigation and the meeting at the athletic center. I also told them about the university’s interference and Professor Stanton’s remarks. And then I told them my plan.

“I want to record the story and break it on the air,” I said. “I thought about going to the press, but Dante pointed out that I would lose control of the narrative. They would focus on the NBA angle, which would sell more online subscriptions. But my concern is the university cover-up, which has wider implications for the student body. We’re telling you about it because it could have serious repercussions for the station, and we wanted to get your views.”

“Did you talk to Noah?” Siobhan asked. “This would be the station’s biggest story, at least since I’ve been around.”

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