Page 36 of Gone Tonight
The worst part was, I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even try to pull away. I just stood there and took it as he ground his pelvis against me, as his breath started coming faster.
It felt like I left my body, but unlike the other night when I’d fought with my mother and went to a place so dark it blinded me, this time I floated up to the ceiling, where I could see everything. I knew what was happening—Coach was getting his rocks off through the thin layers of our clothing–but it didn’t feel like it was happening to me.
It was over in what could’ve been sixty seconds, or ten minutes.
Coach quickly walked around behind his desk and sat down. His face was flushed.
Suddenly his tone was businesslike again. He told me that since I’d refused to give him a formal apology when he’d requested one, he had no choice but to kick me off the team.
I couldn’t process his words. It felt like they were coming at me from all directions, as if I was in an echo chamber.
Coach rustled a few papers on his desk, not looking at me, as he said he’d move up someone from JV to take my place, and that he’d email the principal and Mrs. Davis and the team to let them know.
Whatever Coach claimed, Mrs. Davis and Brittany and half of the other girls would back him up. The truth never had a chance.
Just like I never did.
I couldn’t say a word. Ice still encased me, but somehow I managed to walk out of his office. I went directly to my car, where Rosie was waiting for me, holding the backpack and water bottle I’d left on the bleachers.
She frowned as she peered at my face and asked if I was okay.
Sure, I replied. I may have even smiled.
I probably didn’t look any different than when I’d followed Coach into his office. I was still wearing my shorts and T-shirt and socks and sneakers. My hair was still up in blue-and-gold twisted scrunchies. I wasn’t even crying.
But I wasn’t the same girl. I wouldn’t ever be her again.
I told James everything that night. When he held me, it didn’t erase Coach’s touch, but it helped thaw me out.
It was hard to keep talking when I got to the part about Coach’s fingers sliding down inside my underpants, and what happened afterward. But James didn’t react. He kept looking at me gently and steadily, like he was entering into that awful space alongside me so I wouldn’t be alone.
When I finished talking, James told me Coach wasn’t going to get away with it. James didn’t seem angry, despite his words. His voice was calm. He wasn’t even frowning.
I was glad he wanted to stick up for me, but I shook my head. Who would believe me? By now Coach’s words had settled deep into my brain. Lots of people had seen James and I making out after school. It’s not like I had a stellar reputation, which shouldn’t matter, but double standards exist. They do.
James had a whole plan mapped out before I even realized where he was taking me in his car.
When we pulled up at my high school, my whole body recoiled. I couldn’t imagine ever setting foot inside the halls again. I’d always be scared Coach would call me into his office on a made-up excuse, like to return my uniform, and close the door behind us.
I whispered that I didn’t want to be here.
But James asked if I trusted him, and I nodded.
Then he asked if I wanted to make Coach pay.
I did, more than anything.
James opened his car door, then came around to my side and opened mine. He led me to the side door we’d used to enter the school before. He told me to wait and he’d let me in.
He disappeared and I knew he was pulling himself in through the upper-story window, the one that was always cracked open.
He took longer to appear than I’d expected. I began to shiver, even though it wasn’t cold out.
Finally, the door opened with a loud squeak. James had turned on the hall light and he was backlit, so he looked almost like a silhouette at first. I instinctively recoiled.
Then my eyes adjusted, and I saw James was holding the silver Louisville Slugger.
I expected him to take me to the wrestling room again, but he veered the other way. He took me to Coach’s office.
