“Yeah.”
“Whoa.” Dustin shook his head. “So was it some Jerry Sandusky rape shit or what?”
“I don’t know. Calvin never gave me the details.”
“Sick.” We entered the cafeteria, and I felt even more eyes. “It totally explains why he quit wrestling. And it happened to Trent, too? That’s messed up.”
I wanted to emergency eject from the conversation. Talking about what Reevey did to Calvin and possibly Trent made my skin crawl, but I hadn’t brought my lunch, so I followed Dustin to the line. As we stood there, Dustin spinning wild hypotheses about what Reevey might or might not have done to Cal and Trent, I spotted a table set up near the far wall. It was draped with a blue cloth and bore a glittery sign that read: PROM TICKETS $32.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Dustin, cutting him off midtheory. I made my way to the table and waited in line. Our prom’s theme was “A Night to Remember,” which was stupid. It would probably wind up a night most people tried to forget. I didn’t know if I’d even go, but I wanted to see Calvin, I wanted to apologize, and I thought arming myself with prom tickets might get me through his door.
D’Arcy Gaudet and Thea Castro sat behind the table, a gray lockbox between them. I couldn’t stand D’Arcy, but Thea wasn’t so bad. We’d been in the same geometry class, and I’d let her copy my English homework in exchange for the answers to our geometry worksheets.
I pulled cash out of my wallet. I’d been saving my pay from the bookstore to fund another trip to find Tommy, but I think Tommy would have understood and approved of me using it for this. “Two tickets,” I said.
D’Arcy’s lips rested in a self-satisfied sneer. “Who’s your date, Ozzie? Your she-male freak friend?”
I had to grit my teeth to keep from telling D’Arcy exactly what I thought of her. I was pretty certain the only reason she hated Lua was because Trent had a crush on her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
Thea tapped a clipboard with her pen. “We’re supposed to keep a list.” She had the decency to look embarrassed to be sharing breathing space with D’Arcy. We hadn’t been friends in geometry, but we’d laughed together over Mrs. Musser’s military buzz cut and persistent elbow warts.
I held the cash in my hands. The bills hung limply between us, and I just wanted them to take my money and give me the tickets so I could slink back to my table. “Calvin Frye,” I said.
D’Arcy’s eyes grew wide, and she feigned shock. “Oh! I thought he was taking Coach Reevey.”
Thea flashed D’Arcy a scowl. “Rude.”
“What?” D’Arcy said. “I’m only repeating what I heard.”
Buying the tickets had been a terrible idea. I should’ve waited, or asked Lua or Dustin to buy them for me, but now I was stuck standing there, waiting for D’Arcy or Thea to take my goddamn money.
To my surprise—and for which I was deeply grateful—Thea said to D’Arcy, “Are you still, like, taking that college guy you’ve been dating to prom? Or did he finally realize you’re a shady bitch and rethink his life choices?”
D’Arcy’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. While she was trying to reply, Thea took my money and handed me my change and two prom tickets.
“Hey,” Thea said as I turned to leave. “Tell Calvin I hope he’s doing okay.”
“You know Cal?”
“We had world history together last year. I would have flunked without his help.”
“I’ll tell him. Thanks.”
? ? ?
I wanted to throw up. By purchasing the tickets, I’d committed to seeing Calvin, whether Lua or anyone else thought it a good idea.
After Latin I sat in my car in the parking lot until most of the other seniors had cut out, rehearsing what I would to say to Cal, trying to find the right words. Tommy once told me a person doesn’t have to be good with words to tell the truth, because the truth is beautiful all on its own. The truth in this situation was that I hadn’t known when I told Dr. Sayegh that she’d go to the cops, that everything I’d said to her wasn’t going to remain confidential. But those were excuses, ways to shift the blame, and I doubted they’d win me points with Calvin. I’d upended his life, spilled his secrets to the school and everyone in Cloud Lake. No excuse could change that.
When I finally worked up the nerve to drive to Calvin’s house, Mr. Frye met me at the front door. I hadn’t considered what I’d say to him if he answered; I was used to him rarely being around, but of course he probably hadn’t left Calvin alone since the day it all came out.
“Hey, Pete.”
“Ozzie.” He stood in the doorway. I didn’t know what I’d do if he refused to let me in.
“Is Cal around?”
“He’s not up for visitors today.”
“I get that,” I said. “But it’ll only take a minute. I just want to give him something.”
Mr. Frye seemed to think about it for a moment before he stood aside. I rushed toward the stairs before he changed his mind, but when I started up, he said, “Did you know?”
“Some.” When I turned around to look him in the eyes, all I saw was disappointment. He’d trusted me to look after Cal, and I’d let him down. No. I hadn’t let Mr. Frye down; I’d let Calvin down, and that was the worst part.
“Don’t stay long,” he said.
I nodded and ran up the stairs. Calvin’s door, usually closed, stood wide open. Calvin was sitting at his desk in front of his laptop, wearing plaid pajama bottoms with a hole in the knee and no shirt. He looked terrible. His skin was pasty and his eyes sunken and bruised. His hair had begun to grow back unevenly.
“Cal?” I said, and waited for him to look up.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” His normally spartan room was trashed—papers and books and clothes everywhere.
“Will you at least let me explain?”
“Did you tell someone?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then there’s nothing to explain.” Calvin’s voice was liquid nitrogen. His words froze and boiled and burned. “They made me go to a doctor and found the cuts. Now Dad won’t let me wear a shirt in the house or shut my door. When he’s at work, he pays a nurse to watch me so I can’t hurt myself.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and then stopped. “No. I’m not sorry.” I stayed in the hallway because I didn’t feel welcome in Calvin’s room. I figured Mr. Frye was probably at the bottom of the stairs listening, but I didn’t care. “Listen, Cal, I was worried. When I told my therapist what happened to you, I didn’t know she was going to call the police, but I’m glad she did. Coach Reevey hurt you, and you’ve been hurting yourself. You need help. If you hate me for telling, I can live with that so long as you’re alive.”
Calvin kept staring at his laptop, moving his mouse around, though it didn’t look like he was actually doing anything. “You know what Will used to tell me?”