We Are Us

I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s because it’s late and Wren, who isn’t my friend, is in my face. Maybe it’s because I’ve barely slept, barely eaten, and have no idea what to do with my body and my brain and the fear and the shame.

“I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to because the nurse, the doctor—they already knew. They told me!” Words I’ve been pushing down and pushing down and pushing down come up in a violent heave.

Wren recoils from me as if I’ve slapped her. “That’s bullshit. You’re disgusting. Tucker saved you.”

Some volcanos explode in a massive torrent of steam and fire and lava. Others release intermittent eruptions of exhaust, just enough to alleviate whatever pressure is no longer tolerable. Some never explode at all, keeping their churning, virulent chaos completely hidden.

I must be the middle. Because my three heated sentences are enough. I shrink back against the wall, clutching my sheet and comforter to my chest. Wishing I’d said nothing at all.

“Just forget it,” I say, my body already shutting down.

“Tucker can have anyone he wants. He doesn’t need to force himself on an unconscious girl, practically a warm corpse.”

“I said, forget it.”

“Not until you promise to forget about this crazy idea of yours. Think about it, Poppy. If you’re pissed at Tucker because he hasn’t come back for seconds—”

I gasp but Wren ignores me.

“—and you turn this into something it isn’t, Tucker will be embarrassed, his parents furious. But do you think the school will kick him out, or do anything really? I mean, come on. He’s a Stockton, for God’s sake.”

I let her words pummel me, reminding me of everything I already know.

“And you… who the hell are you? You’ll be just another slut looking for a payout from a rich jock.”

The tremble starts in my bones, shaking me like a twig in a windstorm. “Thanks for the perspective. I get the picture.”

I’m quivering so hard even my teeth are chattering.

Wren slides off my bed, sighs, then turns back to face me. “Listen, I know I come off like a bitch. I am a bitch, I guess. But I know Tucker, better than anyone. You’re wrong about him. He would never…”

Her voice chokes up, and I can see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. The idea of Wren Knowles crying is just as shocking to me as our having this talk at all. “If you really think he did… something, you should talk to him about it.”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to talk to him, or to anyone. I just want to forget about it, all right.”

Her features harden into a resolute expression that practically screams, If you won’t, then I will.

“Don’t,” I warn. “I’m serious, if you breathe a word about this conversation to him, or to anyone else, then so will I. I’ll tell everyone, and even if nothing comes of it officially, it will be a black mark against Tucker.”

Wren is still glaring at me, nothing about her posture indicating that she’ll back down. I pull another threat out of thin air. “You know an accusation like that would follow him forever. So if you really mean it about wanting to marry him one day, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

It works. Her eyes blaze with indignation but after a minute she straightens her spine and walks back to me, hand extended. “I won’t say anything. But you better keep your word, Whitman.”

It feels strange to mark this mutual code of silence with a handshake, of all things. But it makes our promise feel more official than it would have otherwise, more than just a pre-dawn secret between two college freshman.

She slaps at the wall switch, crawls back into bed, and turns off her own night light.

But not me. I leave mine on until the whisper of a new day is written in the streaks of milky light coming through our closed shades.