“Something real,” I said. “If you want my trust, I need yours.”
I figured my challenge would go unanswered—that Sayegh would wait out the clock and I’d move onto Dr. Turcotte—but after a pause she said, “I took Adderall throughout college. It was a new drug back then, and expensive, but I had money and friends who supplied me. I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with my course load otherwise. I could stay up all night studying. It nearly ruined my life.”
I knew a couple of kids at school who took Adderall, but they all had prescriptions. “Seriously?”
Dr. Sayegh nodded. “I might not have graduated without those little pills, but the price I paid wasn’t worth it.”
It wasn’t the kind of secret that could ruin Dr. Sayegh, but I doubted it was something she would have wanted her patients to learn. I didn’t trust her yet, but she was the first therapist who’d trusted me, and that counted for something.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“Of course.”
“And it stays between us? You’re not going to run and tell my parents or anything?”
Dr. Sayegh rested her hands in her lap. “Unless you pose a danger to yourself or someone else, anything you tell me is confidential.”
“It’s not about me; it’s about this guy I’m dating. Sort of dating. I don’t know what we are. His name’s Calvin Frye.” Sayegh didn’t say anything, so I went on. “He was in a relationship with a teacher at our school. I think the guy molested him, and it’s really messing him up, and I want him to tell someone, but he won’t, and I’m scared for him.”
Dr. Sayegh pursed her lips. “That is a serious accusation, Oswald.”
“It’s not an accusation. It’s the truth. Calvin wouldn’t lie.”
“Oswald, I’m obligated under the law to report the suspected sexual abuse of a minor.”
“But you said it was confidential.”
Dr. Sayegh dry-washed her hands, over and over. She looked sympathetic, but her voice was stern. “If you had admitted to robbing a bank or accidentally running a man over with your car, I would be bound by confidentiality. However, the law requires me to report crimes committed against children and the elderly. I’m sorry, Oswald. I have no choice.”
I stood, my body vibrating. Calvin would never speak to me again if he learned I’d ratted him out. “I made it all up,” I said.
Sayegh shook her head. “Do you know who the teacher is?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Sit down, Oswald.”
I couldn’t resist her command, and I sank back onto the love seat. I doubted my knees could have supported me much longer anyway.
“I promised Calvin I wouldn’t tell.”
Dr. Sayegh leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. “Do you care about this young man?”
“Yes.”
“Then reporting this crime and getting him help is the right thing to do, Oswald.” She stared hard at me. “If you know the identity of the teacher who is abusing Calvin, you must tell me. I can keep your identity confidential. No one ever need know you were involved.”
I thought about the cuts on Calvin’s arms. About how he said he’d never seen the stars. No one should have to go their whole lives believing the universe is empty. But it wouldn’t matter if Sayegh kept my name out of it—Calvin would know I’d told, and he’d hate me.
I didn’t want to lose Cal, but he was drowning, and no matter what he said, I didn’t believe he could breathe underwater. I’d kept my promise to Tommy and hadn’t called the cops on his father for beating him, and I’d lost him and couldn’t help wondering if things would have turned out differently if I’d broken that promise. Maybe this was my chance to make up for not keeping Tommy safe. I made up my mind. Even if it meant losing Calvin to keep him from hurting himself again, I had to take the risk.
“His name is Reevey,” I said. “Calvin’s wrestling coach. He’s the one.”
207,832 KM
I SUPPOSE IT WAS TECHNICALLY breaking and entering, even though I still had my key, but it wasn’t really a crime unless we got caught. Right?
I held Calvin’s hand and led him into my house, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder to keep it from slipping.
“Don’t peek,” I said.
“I’m not peeking.”
I hadn’t been home since the movers had packed up our belongings and carted them away. They’d taken some of the boxes and furniture to my father’s new condo and had put the rest in storage. The house didn’t belong to us anymore, but the new owners hadn’t begun remodeling yet, so it had been sitting empty since the day we found out about Renny’s accident.
“Just so you know,” Calvin said. “I don’t actually like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one. Now hush.”
It had been a couple of days since I’d told Dr. Sayegh about Calvin and Coach Reevey, and the cops hadn’t dragged Reevey away in handcuffs, though I figured it was only a matter of time. Despite part of me hoping Sayegh had changed her mind about reporting what I’d told her to the police, I knew she hadn’t, and I was determined to make the most of what little time I had with Calvin before he learned I’d betrayed him and he never spoke to me again.
I let go of Calvin’s hand. “Don’t move, and don’t open your eyes.” I watched him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t trying to spy through his eyelids. When I was satisfied, I unzipped my backpack and arranged my supplies. It took about five minutes to set everything up, and I’d done a pretty brilliant job if I do say so myself.
“Careful,” I said, taking Calvin’s hand again and pulling him to the floor. “Lie back, but watch your head.”
We both lay on the cool tiles, and my stomach fluttered, wondering how Calvin was going to react.
“Can I open my eyes now or what?” Calvin said. “This is starting to get not-in-a-good-way freaky.”
“Go ahead.”
I watched Calvin’s reaction as he first opened his eyes, took in what he saw, and opened them wider.
“Are those . . . ?”
“Stars,” I said.
The wide vaulted ceiling glittered with twinkling pinpoints of light. When I was ten, I’d had one of those domes with the constellations that beamed onto the ceiling in my bedroom. Since stars no longer existed, those little planetariums didn’t either, so I’d had to build my own. I’d bought a pair of blue and white LEDs that dimmed alternately and a sheet of heavy black paper, into which I’d punched a thousand tiny holes, trying to recreate the constellations from memory. I’d put the lights into a cookie tin and arranged the paper over the top in a dome. When the lights blinked, they gave my stars the illusion of twinkling.
I pointed to a series of stars in the shape of a U. “That’s the constellation Corona Borealis. And over there is the Big Dipper.”
“Ozzie. They’re amazing.”
“Eh,” I said. “They’re a poor approximation of the real thing, but this was the best I could do.” I tried to imagine what they looked like to Calvin. He’d never seen stars and only knew the word because I’d explained it to him. They must’ve looked so alien to someone who was used to a dark and empty night.