Chapter Ten: Jordan
The rest of that Thursday back at school passed in a slow hell. Being treated like shit by the student body was one thing, but as the day wore on, I realized I had a new enemy—the teachers. Not that I’d ever been a teacher’s pet or a great admirer of them. No, I already had a top spot on their shit lists. But there was a different feeling in the air. I’d taken out one of their own, and hatred for me simmered underneath the surface.
When I asked to go to the bathroom during fifth period, Mr. Guyer, one of the freshman basketball coaches, refused to answer or even look at me. Finally, I simply snatched up my stuff and stalked out. Let him write me up for skipping. I wanted to shout as I slammed the door, “I dare you to do it, a*shole!”
The truth was I hadn’t wanted to go to the bathroom. Instead, I wanted to clean out my locker. I knew I’d never let the jerks have the satisfaction of seeing me go to it again. Not with ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ gracing the outside.
Never in my life was I more thankful than when the bell rang at the end of the day. I headed straight for the parking lot since there was no one to stop and talk to. People avoided me like a wadded up piece of bloody tissue—including my two ex best friends. Even to the extent that kids crossed the halls to get away from me. Like brushing up against me equaled social suicide.
Yeah, screw you. I quickened my pace when I got outside. I just wanted out of there, to be home, to be away from the looks of hatred.
I slowed to a crawl at the sight of my car. “What the hell?” I cried. From the back fender to the front tail light ran a silver scratch. It wasn’t just a quick slide either. Whoever did it took their time digging the key into the paint. I walked around to the other side where I found a matching scratch. Close to the back wheel was the world ‘liar’.
I raised my eyes to see several kids staring at me. With a steely determination, I shouted, “What the f*ck are you looking at?” They ducked their heads and continued walking. I threw my bags in the front seat and cranked my car.
When I left the parking lot, the tears flowed. It was all so unfair. The whole damn school acted like Coach T was some untouchable saint. And me, I was the villainous slut who ruined his good name. Because after all, no one knew the real truth. I’m sure they’d be singing another tune if they found out what the son of a bitch had done to Melanie. Yeah, it’d be a hell of a lot different then.
Even though I wanted to tell them to all kiss my ass, it wasn’t that easy. In less than a week, everything I held dear had been stripped from me. The man that I loved, my friends, acceptance at school—it was all gone.
At work, I went through the motions like a zombie. I’d almost made it through the night when a table of four basketball players from one of the other county high schools sent me over the edge. They plopped down at a table in my station, outfitted in their practice uniforms.
When I walked up to take their order, I caught them snickering and elbowing each other. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, it wasn’t rocket science to imagine that once a night some sober or inebriated guy was gonna hit on me. I usually ignored them, and I could always rely on Marcus or Anthony to have my back if anyone got too physical.
“Jordan,” one of the guys said—his voice low and husky. The way he said my name creeped me out. Like he was trying to be all seductive. Ugh. Not to mention he was stroking his upper-thigh when he said it. I fought the urge to slap him.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Damon by the way.”
I gave him a quick nod. “So what can I get you guys to drink?”
“We’re not really thirsty, are we boys?”
“Nah,” they agreed, snorting their laughter back.
My patience was wearing thin. Out of the corner of my eye, I searched for Marcus or Anthony. “Okay, then, what can I get you to eat?”
“We’re really hungry,” Damon drawled. “You know about being hungry, don’t you Jordan?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Look, just cut the shit and tell me what you want to eat!”
He grinned wickedly. “I bet I know what you’d like to eat.”
“Excuse me?”
“I like sausages, don’t you? I bet you can’t get enough of big, thick, manly sausages.” His buddies snickered.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shook my head. “Wow, I’m so impressed. Did you come up with that all on your own?”
“Tell me, Jordan. Do you just get your sausages from older men, or would one of us do?”
My breath hitched in my chest. “What did you say to me?”
Damon’s fingers brushed across my thigh. “God, you must be hot for it all the time if you gotta get it from coaches too!”
Liquid fire shot through my veins. Before I could think better of it, I whirled around and grabbed the pitcher of ice water off the table behind me. “Go f*ck yourself!” I screamed, as I dumped the pitcher of water on his crotch.
He bolted out of his seat, and I could only hope the stinging water pierced him like knives. “You bitch!”
Marcus appeared at my side, clenching his fists so his muscles bulged. “Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah, this bitch just poured water all over me!”
Marcus shook his head. “Nah, man. I think she was doing you a favor. I heard a little of what you were saying, and it seems to me that you’ve got a filthy mouth. I guess she was just trying to clean up your piece of shit ass!”
Damon stared at Marcus in shock. “Now you and your little bitches can get the hell out of here before I call the cops and file a sexual harassment claim on the four of you!”
The guys didn’t argue. They followed Damon out of the restaurant.
My fury melted and left me stung and hurt by their words. Now my reputation and what had happened with Coach T had managed to spread to the other schools.
“Thanks, Marcus,” I murmured.
“No problem, Jo.”
“Can you tell Manny I’m gonna cut out a little early? I’ll make it up tomorrow or this weekend.”
He nodded. “Yeah sure.” I started for the door, and he stopped me. “Listen Jo, I don’t know what all happened at school and stuff. But I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Marcus. That means a lot.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
When I pulled away, he grinned. “No, that means a lot!”
I laughed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
It wasn’t until I got into my car that I started crying. I cried all the way home. My mascara blinded me, and one time I almost hit a road sign.
After I pulled into the garage, I checked my appearance in the rear view mirror. I looked like a crazed raccoon with blackened cheeks. When I went inside, I found the house empty. A note on the counter told me Mom and her new boyfriend, Rob, had gone out for dinner. I sighed. Dinner could mean any number of things, and it usually meant she wouldn’t come home all night.
I started upstairs to my room. The answering machine on the end table flashed new messages. As I began taking off my shirt, I pushed the button to play them back.
“Everyone knows you’re a whore. You do anything that walks. You disgust me. I hope you rot in Hell for what you’ve done!”
The phone clicked off, and the machine played another message. “You’re a lying slut! I hope you go to jail instead of Coach T!”
There came a shrill beep followed by another message. “Listen bitch! You better stop lying about Coach T. If you don’t, you’re gonna find yourself in a world of hurt! It’s real hard to screw up people’s lives when you’re dead!”
With trembling hands, I turned the machine off. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Name calling was one thing, but now my life had been threatened.
Mom never came in that night, and I never went to sleep. I sat in the middle of my bed with her loaded .45 by my side until morning.