Their bags, stuffed full with every variety of apple, are propped behind her. She stares out into the distance, the full length of field visible from the slight rise where they sit. She speaks without looking at him.
“So the other night, when we were at the Grille? You probably wondered why I sort of . . . left.”
“Yeah, now that you mention it,” he says. I thought you were a complete snot, he doesn’t say. “What was up with that?”
“Your housemate,” she says. “Jordan.”
Something dark gathers in Richard’s chest. His heart drums just a little harder, a little faster. What? What now?
“I figured he said something obnoxious to you,” he says. “Haley, the guy’s a jerk. Don’t pay attention to anything that comes out of his mouth.”
She pivots and faces him now as she speaks. “Actually, it’s not anything he said to me. It’s something he did. Something I know about, and if you and I are going to hang out, you need to know, too.”
Hang out. He wants to stop her there and further explore what she means by that. He definitely has some ideas that extend beyond apple picking.
“A couple weeks ago,” she continues, “my roommate was attacked. Raped. It happened the night of my concussion, a Saturday, at that house near yours. Conundrum. She hasn’t told me any of the details, and I only know the name of the guy by accident. She was waving some papers around and I saw it. And it’s him. Jordan Bockus. That’s why I asked you his last name the other night. It sort of freaked me out when I realized who it was.”
Richard blinks. A minute ago he was dozing off. Now he is definitely awake.
“Jenny,” he says reflexively. “Your roommate is Jenny?”
Haley’s eyes widen. “You know about this,” she breathes.
“You know about this.”
“Shit,” she says. She stands. Arms crossed tightly, she stares down at him.
“Jenny the freshman,” he says. “The girl who is charging Jordan with rape. That’s your roommate?”
“She’s not ‘Jenny the freshman.’ She’s Jenny James. And yes. My roommate. The woman I live with.”
“Shit,” he echoes. He rubs his hands over his eyes. “This is unbelievable.”
“You think?” She’s standing with her back to the sun, and it hurts to twist his neck and look up at her.
“Would you sit? I can’t talk like this,” he says.
She returns to the grass beside him. “How long have you known?”
He squints, thinking. “Known about them hooking up or about her charging him?”
The instant the words are out of his mouth, he realizes his mistake. It’s like getting smacked in the back of the head with a snowball: a thud, followed by glass--sharp prickles of dread melting down your neck.
He has just told the woman who lives with Jenny that he knows Jordan hooked up with her. He said the one thing Jordan asked him not to say to possibly the worst person he could have said it to.
This is bad.
“Oh, is that what he told you?” Haley says. “That it was a hookup? That’s rich. Trust me: if you knew my roommate, you’d know that isn’t even remotely possible. She does homework and hangs out in the lab. Before the other night, I doubt she’d ever even held a guy’s hand, much less had sex.”
“So what was she doing at a Conundrum party?” Richard responds. “Everyone knows you go there to throw down.”
“Wow.” She stares at him. “Are you hearing yourself?”
“What?”
“That’s like . . . she was looking for it. Or she should’ve known better? Throw down or get raped, ladies, take your pick.” The stare has morphed into a glare.
It occurs to him that he has an uncanny talent for pissing off women he likes. And for being misunderstood.
“No! That’s not it. I’m just saying maybe your roommate isn’t as naive as you think. And even if she was? Take two steps into one of those parties and it’s pretty apparent what everyone came for. And it’s not mocktails and swing dancing, okay?”
“Were you at that party?” Haley says. A crack in her voice. Like she doesn’t really want to ask.
“That’s not my scene. I was somewhere else that night.” He can tell by her expression that she knows precisely where he was and who he was with.
Which is when it hits him. Ton of bricks. Hello, dumbass.
“That’s how your roommate knows Carrie,” he says. “How you know her.”
Haley doesn’t register surprise. “Carrie was the first person Jenny spoke to about it,” she admits. “She was actually the one who told me what happened. Jenny could barely say it.”
“So Carrie said it for her,” he says. “Why am I not surprised? Haley, the woman is a militant feminist. She sees a stalker behind every tree. Men are amusements at best, enemies at worst. Don’t believe everything she tells you.”
“So? You think Carrie is making up Jenny’s rape?”