We Are Us

Chapter 21 Sackett, Co

Holiday Break, Sophomore Year

My phone rings on the morning of New Year’s Eve. I put it to my ear before I’m fully awake, my hello more of a yawn.

“Good morning.” Tucker’s deep voice jolts me awake, a surge of adrenaline rushing through me.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” My thoughts immediately turn to the TeenCharter program. Besides Christmas Day itself, I’ve been working practically nonstop since coming home for break, and I had to miss the holiday party we’d pla

I feel terrible about it. This time of year is rough for anyone going through family drama, and especially for kids who feel like the entire world has abandoned them.

“No. Everything’s fine.”

“The party? And the Secret Santa gifts?”

“Went off without a hitch.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, letting myself fall back against my pillow. “How is Je

“She’s doing okay. And I think she really liked her present.”

I smile. “Yeah?” I had bought Je

“Definitely.”

As I wait for Tucker to tell me why he’s calling, my mind starts flipping through my schedule. Maybe I can stop by to see Je

“I was just calling to say hi.”

“Oh.” I have no idea what to say back. For the most part, I’ve barricaded that night into a dark part of my past, pretending it’s a mistake I’ve moved beyond, a strange anomaly that doesn’t define who I am today. Most days, I even believe it. I have to. Anger and fear are heavy burdens that only weigh me down. “Hi.”

And I’ve forgiven Tucker. We don’t live in the same dorm anymore and our interactions are purposeful, focused solely on TeenCharter. We don’t hang out. We don’t share confidences. He’s not my friend.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve.”

Right. I’d forgotten. But I don’t need to think about my answer because I haven’t made any plans. “Nothing much. I’m staying in.”

“Can I pick you up, bring you into New York City? I was going to hit up a few parties.”

I must still be dreaming. Because the last time I went to a party with Tucker, I woke up in a nightmare.

“Um, I don’t think that would really be—”

“Please, Poppy. Just hear me out.”

I take a breath and push it out through my teeth. “Okay.”

“What happened last year, that’s not… that’s not who I am.”

“I know, Tucker. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not. Every time you look at me, I see myself through your eyes. And I hate who I see.”

I bristle. “That’s really not my problem.”

“I’m not— That’s not what I’m saying.” He sighs, and it occurs to me that, while I have forgiven Tucker, I haven’t truly moved on.

It’s been over a year, fourteen months, since I went to that fraternity party with Tucker, and yet in some ways, I’m still there. Still lying in a hospital bed, naked and confused. Still reeking of vomit and drowning in shame.

“Give me a chance to set things right, Poppy. It’s a new year, let’s start it off together, with a clean slate.”

A clean slate. Is that even possible?

If it is… if there’s even a chance, isn’t it what I want?

To finally disco

“Does it have to involve a party? Can’t we just—”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know. Go for a walk or ice skating or something?”

“You skate?”

“No.” A nervous laugh slips from my mouth.

“How about this—I come pick you up, we’ll drive into the city, and we’ll figure out what to do together?”

A red flag goes up, my nerve endings twanging in alarm. “And then what? I’m not—I won’t stay—”

“What? No. God, of course not. I’ll get you a hotel room and bring you back home in the morning.”

A few long beats of silence pass. “My own room?” I ask, my voice sounding ti

“Yes. I promise.”

“I-I don’t know, Tucker. We go back to school in a few days. How about we just get together for coffee then?”

“That’s not the same.” He exhales heavily. “And I don’t want to wait until we’re back at school. Come on, say yes. New year, new begi

I cave. “Okay.”

“Okay? Yes?”

I cave because I want that fresh start, too. I want to rewrite what happened last year, replace it with something different. Something better.

I want to be more than just a drunk girl who flirted with Tucker, kissed him, and then woke up in a hospital bed, told she’d been sexually assaulted.

And it’s clear Tucker doesn’t want to be the guy who brought that drunk girl back to his bedroom, gave her a beer she definitely didn’t need, and thought her inability to say no was the same as saying yes.

“Yes.” I say it now, immediately feeling lighter somehow. Like I’ve shed some of the weight I’ve been dragging around for the past fourteen months. Not all. Not even a lot. But some.

Later that afternoon, Tucker pulls up to our modest house in a sleek black Porsche. Sliding out of his sports car, he saunters up our icy walkway wearing a thick black overcoat, a cashmere scarf draped around his neck, and expensive looking leather gloves. “You didn’t tell me Tucker was picking you up,” Sadie hisses, turning away from the window to gape at me.

I’d forgotten that she met him last year, and I don’t have time to respond before my sister races to the front door and throws it open. “Hey,” she says, popping her hip and ru

“Hey. Sadie, right?”

Her eyes gleam with pleasure. “Right.”

My mother wanders in from the living room, stopping short when she sees Tucker stepping through the narrow opening.

“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Whitman. I’m Tucker.” He comes across like a young Manhattan mogul, all traces of the lacrosse-playing frat boy he is at Worthington erased.

“H-Hello,” my mother stutters out a greeting, then turns to Sadie. “Sadie, for God’s sake, close that door. No need to heat the front yard.”

My sister’s cheeks flush at the rebuke, but Tucker distracts her. “A house full of gorgeous women, why haven’t I been here before?”

Sadie swats me. “Because my sister kept you from us.”

Already dreading the firing squad of questions I’ll get when I come home, especially from Sadie, I grab my coat. My sister didn’t get into Worthington, and the financial aid packages she received from other schools were almost laughable. She decided to enroll at a community college for now and reapply next year. But I know it bothers her that I’m at Worthington and she’s not.

Growing up, if I got a cookie, I’d give her half. If I had a shirt she liked, it was hers before I’d even outgrown it. But I can’t give Sadie an acceptance letter and it’s an unspoken point of contention between us.

Tucker takes my coat from my hands, holding it by the collar for me to slip my arms into the sleeves. My hair gets caught beneath the heavy wool and he pulls it out, smoothing it down my back. “Ready to go?”