Page 91 of Bewitch

I’ve almost driven back to campus when my phone rings. Since I’ve just pulled up to a stop sign, I risk taking a peek. Hmm. That number belongs to one of Eliza’s friends. If she’s calling, maybe something happened with the janitor.

As quickly as I can, I turn the corner even though I need to go straight and park. Somehow, I’m able to answer before she hangs up.

“Hey, Cindy. It’s Dawn.”

“Hi, Dawn. Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she blabs.

My heart sinks. She’d going to clam up. I can tell. I recognize that tone all too well. I’ve used it a bunch of times when my mom used to grill me about all of the food I ate that day when she figured I ate more than my fair share. In her defense, she could always read my emotions to tell the days when I binged. If she could’ve helped me to better react to those emotions instead…

The thought makes me grimace. I’m not sure that I actually have a better handle on my emotions, which means the possibility remains that I might binge again. My mom used to mention that she would get me both a fitness trainer and a therapist, but I told her I wasn’t crazy, that I didn’t need a therapist. The threat on her part was enough to get me to stop bingeing for a week or two.

Do I need a therapist now? Maybe. Doesn’t everyone?

Probably not.

I shake my thoughts away. “Cindy, are you still there?”

“Yes,” she says, “but I should let you go.”

“Nah, I have nowhere to be, nothing to do. We might as well talk some. Do you want me to go to your room or… We can talk anywhere you like.”

“Does it have to be… in person?”

She’s trying to make an excuse so we won’t talk at all. I know the games.

“I hate phones,” I say passionately.

It’s the truth.

“I… don’t like talking on phones either,” she admits.

“And I kind of have been having a hell of a day,” I continue. “I know this great little bakery.”

Shit. Why did I say that? Temptation will be all around me, and today has been almost more than I can handle. My willpower is not going to be strong at all.

So… I won’t use my card. My mom’s card, I should say. She doesn’t want me to take a card out in my name until I have a job, but she also doesn’t want me to have a job my freshman year because I need to get settled in and adjust to college life first.

But I do have a little bit of cash on hand. Maybe a five? That’s the most I will spend there. Good. That problem’s solved.

I glance over at the glove box. I’ll take the five out and lock my wallet in the card because I don’t trust my willpower. If I walk into that place with my mom’s card… I might do some serious damage to all of the hard work I’ve been doing.

But even more important than my body and bingeing and all of that is the serious damage that this janitor is causing. There are too many girls who have been coming forward, and I will not stand for this. Together, we can do something. Together, we can make a stand.

All I need to do is convince them that they aren’t imagining things.

Because I believe them, and now, I just need to make certain that anyone and everyone will believe them too.

“What’s the name of the bakery?” Cindy asks.

“The Cup and Saucer.”

“Oh, I think I heard about that place. On Fifth and Spruce.”

“That’s the one!”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. I, ah…”

“We’ll talk there about this or that,” I say nonchalantly, giving her every reason to think that we won’t talk about Carl Fetto.

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