Page 86 of Haunt Me

The book:Jane EyrebyCharlotte Bronte

I am a caged bird. My dad is so strict. I love him more than anything in the world–we only have each other. But sometimes he can be a bit much. Too overprotective, too… too much… too something.

But something happened last October. I found something. Someone.

And since then, I have been living an actual, real life.

I am happy.

P.S. I found this note today, a year and a half later. I am throwing the whole book into the trash. Both Jane and the Eden who wrote these things (me) are morons.

twenty-three

The next part does not happen fast.

It all takes place within the space of a few weeks—and it is alotto happen within a few weeks, so everyone afterwards will say that everything happened so fast. So fast. But for me, it goes agonizingly slow. Every single minute of it is torture. And the whole world is the audience.

A lot of people witness what happens next; especially the last part of it. The whole world witnesses it, clutching the armrests of their seats in front of their TVs. But no one knows the truth, except for me and Eden.

Well, even that’s not true: I don’t know Eden’s part.

And she doesn’t know mine.

…

The principal calls me to his office early the next morning, before breakfast. I was running a fever during the night, but I was in so much pain I couldn’t even get out of bed to go to the nurse for medication.

I drag my bones down to that huge, dark office, and the principal coughs and clears his throat for ten minutes straight, before finally coming out with it. He says that the school received complaints for harassment of a minor. The person or persons mentioned me by name.

I nearly jump up from my chair.

“Excuse me?” I feel light-headed. Maybe this is a different nightmare. Or maybe I’m still inside yesterday’s nightmare. I know nightmares; this feels like one, for sure.

“This is quite a serious accusation against you as a student, and against this school, Isaiah,” he says.

“What exactly is the accusation, sir? Who made it?”

He looks at me and sighs, deeply. His color is a little off too. I lean my head down, placing my elbows on my knees, so that I won’t faint. I think he is sweating.

He fumbles for the right words, but eventually the whole sordid tale comes out. Apparently, a ‘very important patron of this establishment’ (he means the school) has filed what they call ‘severe accusations’ of a sexual nature. They are taking legal action against me personally, and against the school. And the principal himself.

“They are taking us to court, Isaiah,” he says.

What the hell? What does that even mean?

“What…” I clear my throat. “What exactly did they say I did.”

He can’t meet my eyes. He knows it’s not true, but he has to say it.

Finally, it comes out: I supposedly attacked or harassed someone. A girl. A very young girl, sixteen years old. The principal is so embarrassed and scared, he keeps talking, but I can’t make out what he’s saying, because he is hiding behind obscure legal jargon and endless beating around the bush.

“Who says I did that? And towhom?”

He can’t name them.

I keep asking questions, and keep getting no answers.

The principal apologizes profusely, but, apparently, there is already a lawsuit filed. It’s all very ugly and very public. And there are millions involved, which is why everyone is keeping their mouths shut and not explaining anything to me.

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