Hmm, so he had no plans to call me “Brooke.” At least not yet. What was he playing at? Perhaps he didn’t want me to think that I had captured his attention. Maybe he didn’t want me thinking we would even be friends. He was, after all, one of those popular guys. I, on the other hand, had no social status and had no ambitions to be popular.
“Nice to meet you, too, uh . . . what was your name again?” I worked my hardest to suppress the grin. You don’t wanna give me “Brooke?” Okay then. I won’t even give you a name.
He chuckled. “Cal.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Cal. Is Cal short for anything?”
He smirked and looked over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Yeah. Calvin. But everyone calls me Cal.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Calvin,” I said. I cocked my head to the side and grinned.
“Hmm,” he replied, and I imagined he was thinking about the type of panties I wore.
Dad tapped my shoulder at the perfect moment. I had to get away from this guy. I wanted to throttle him, knowing what he did to my friend, and I was heady from the plan still unfolding in my brain. And frankly, I was scared of Cal’s physical size.
“Ready?” Dad asked.
I breathed deeply, then thought of the perfect response. “Yes, Daddy,” and he looked at me strangely. I watched Cal’s reaction to my words, certain of his arousal. “Bye, Calvin.” I lifted my hand in a tiny wave.
“Hey wait,” he said hurriedly. He reached for my registration card. “Can I see your class schedule?”
“Sure,” I said, handing him the card. “Any particular reason why?”
“Uh, well, I can tell you about the teachers,” he said.
Bullshit. He wanted to know what classes he could take with me. Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitch, and the image of a big, fat tuna wriggling on a tiny hook came to mind. A slow, tortuous death, and I smiled, imagining the last desperate flop.
“Like Ms. Walker. She’ll have you doing all sorts of presentations in class. Good if you like public speaking, but I think most of us freaking hate it,” he said.
I nodded.
“And Mr. Hatchet—”
“Yikes, that’s a scary name.”
“No kidding. He’s a jerk. Just so you know. Don’t try to win him over with your feminine charms. It doesn’t work on him. He won’t even take legitimate excuses for missing class. Not even doctors notes.”
“Sounds like a jerk,” I echoed.
“Um, the rest are okay. I see you’re doing Yearbook? I was planning on that, too,” Cal said.
Were you, Cal? Were you really planning on doing Yearbook? Give me a break.
“Well, if you do, maybe we can work together. You know, go take pictures together or whatever,” I offered. Sickly sweet. Good girl.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, and handed me the card. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. See you next week, Calvin,” I said as he walked away.
“Making friends already, huh?” Dad asked as we made our way out of the gym to Dad’s old pickup truck.
“Hardly,” I replied. “Though he seemed nice enough.”
The lie felt heavy in my mouth. He wasn’t nice enough. He wasn’t nice at all, and I knew it.
***
Make him pay.
That much was settled. I’d make him pay. I just didn’t know if I’d do it by taking a baseball bat to his balls, putting a 9 mm to his head and pulling the trigger, or something more subversive. The idea came to me in the gym, and I entertained it now. The idea of letting him have me. Seduce him without him knowing, give him the perfect opportunity to take advantage of me, then make him pay for it afterwards. Could I actually go through with it, though? Could I give up my body as a sacrifice to seek vengeance? Was I strong enough? Crazy enough?
I could never do it if I was a virgin, but I wasn’t a virgin. Not that it makes being raped any less painful or traumatic. Still, I thought that having my virginity out of the way made it less life-shattering. And would it really be rape, anyway, if I lured him into doing it?
I’d never been sexually assaulted, had absolutely no idea how that affected a woman, and felt a little ashamed for thinking that I could handle it. Like I had a clue about the reality. My arrogance knew no bounds, and I convinced myself that the emotional impact would be miniscule because I was strong enough to handle it. Honestly, though. Could I really testify in court, go through all of that, without the certainty of getting him behind bars? Could I risk being thrust into the public eye? Not every state protected the identities of rape victims once they came forward. Did North Carolina? I’d have to research it.