Page 22 of Devils' Day Party
“When did you talk to Luke?” I ask, feeling my trepidation fade a little. The anger comes clawing back, raging through me like a monster on a rampage, like the mask on my face is a real thing, sweeping over and consuming me.
“We called you a few hours ago, but you didn’t answer,” Jane says, and I wonder how many times they called, and I didn’t notice, too intent on revenge against the Knight Crew. Because obviously they had to have talked to Luke before we dropped our phones at the gate. “So, we called Luke and talked to her about it. Apparently, she already knew.”
“Knew what?” I ask, looking to Cathy. Tears prick the edges of her eyes as she stands up from the couch.
“We’re not mad, honey,” she says, but Jane looks it. She looks furious. “But someone posted a video of you and that boy online …” My heart plummets to the floor and shatters, spattering the walls with metaphorical blood; my body begins to shake.
“Where? When?” I choke out, wishing I had my phone so I could look it up.
“We’ve been working to get the videos removed for hours,” Jane continues, “but it could be some time before they come down. Karma, is there something you want to tell us? Did that boy coerce you into sex? Did you give your consent?”
My head is spinning, and I have to put a hand up against the wall to steady myself.
“If he hurt you, baby …” Cathy starts, but I can’t breathe. Did Calix coerce me? Well, he lied to me, but that’s not a crime is it? It’s not against the law to be an asshole. And I wanted him. I wanted him so badly I couldn’t breathe. The way he cupped my face, put his fingers beneath my chin, looked into my eyes. The words he spoke were so raw and real, so impossible to fake, and yet …
“He didn’t hurt me,” I choke out, “not physically.” But into my heart, he stabbed a knife, twisted it, laughed as I bled. “It was consensual.”
Jane doesn’t look convinced. No, she looks about ready to storm over to the fancy dormitories that house every Crescent Prep student but me, and make some blood rain down from the sky. I should love her for that, for wanting to protect me. Instead, I just feel sick to my stomach.
“You don’t have to be afraid to talk to us,” Cathy says, moving around the coffee table to come toward me. But I don’t want to be touched right now. All I want is a hot a shower and to be left the fuck alone. Part of me wants to go online and search for the video; the rest of me knows what a terrible idea that’d be. How many people have seen it? Has it gone viral? Will this shit haunt me for the rest of my life?
“Can I go to my room, please?” I ask, but Jane frowns, not quite finished with our conversation.
“What happened, Karma? Why didn’t you come to us?” I give her a dark look that she returns. There’s a struggle in her face as she tries to figure out why I’d hop into bed with a bully. Whatever possessed you to do it? That’s what her face says. The answer though … I’m not sure I have that. I don’t know. I consider myself a strong person; I was raised to demand respect and give it when earned. Calix has never earned it.
“I don’t have to tell you every little thing I do,” I say, moving over to the table and snatching up the destroyed canvas. The words are an echo of what I told the Knight Crew earlier.
“What happened with your art, Karma?” Cathy asks, studying me as I clutch the painting to my chest. “You’ve been working on it for months.”
“Sometimes things just don’t fit anymore,” I snap, feeling frustrated, overwhelmed, trapped. And I’m going to kill Luke. She talked to my parents and didn’t bother to tell me? Betrayal sits like lead in my stomach, making me queasy. “It’s my art; I can do whatever I want with it.”
“Karma?” It’s Emma, standing in the hallway in colorful Pusheen pajamas, decorated with plump little gray cats. “Do you want to see our mural?” she asks, rubbing at her eyes, obviously missing the entire point of this conversation. Katie stands just behind her in Star Wars pj’s.
“No.” I bite the word out, too harsh, too violent. “I don’t.”
I storm past them, ignoring Jane’s shouts for me to stop, and lock myself in my room. My phone is gone, but I stick my headphones in anyway and use Bluetooth to connect them to my laptop, blasting my music and hating my life.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I Google the video. It comes right up when I type in Crescent Prep, Calix Knight, and Karma Sartain. It’s everywhere, under my real name, plastered on every social media site there is and then some.
