Catch My Fall (10 page)

Darby announced that we needed to hang out tonight with people other than Tristan and Trace.  I had no desire to do so, but I’m not dumb and I know that it’s because she’s still really upset about knowing that Trace had sex with Tiffany.  To be honest, I can’t blame her for needing the distance at all.  I barely even know Tristan and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he had sex with Tiffany, twice, in one night.  It doesn’t make sense why someone as nice as Tristan is, and frankly Trace too, would have sex with a girl like Tiffany.  Why are so many guys allergic to normal relationships?  It’s so damn stupid!!!

My anxiety about going to a party in a place that was not familiar was really high.  I did well at Tristan’s and I was pretty good at the pool hall, but going to a party at the Gamma frat house had my hands shaking in fear.  I told myself over and over again that as long as I kept my wits about me, everything would be fine.  People go to frat parties every day and come out fine.  That didn’t keep me from dressing in a way that wouldn’t draw any attention to me.  It was hot as hell out but I wore jeans, an Evermore t-shirt and my white Chucks.

Darby
was dressed like she was about to work a runway, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about what her personal intentions were for tonight.  She wore a teeny-tiny jean skirt, cowboy boots and a low-cut crop top that ended just at her belly button.  The outfit in combination with her perfectly coiffed hair, smoky eye makeup and shiny lip-gloss would have guys all over her all night.  She was definitely hell-bent on getting attention, and I worried that she was going to make a stupid decision in an attempt to get back at Trace for having sex with Tiffany.  

I wasn’t happy that Darby was insisting that we walk to the frat house, but I lost the argument and agreed on leaving my car behind.  As we left our dorm room, we ran into Rosie in the hallway.

Smiling brightly at us, she asked, “Are you girls going to the Kappa party?”

We were both shaking our heads in the negative when the door to Rosie and Tiffany’s room swung open and Tiffany came gliding out.  When she glanced at Darby and me, she gave a fake laugh. 

“I see that Ginger’s all dressed up and raring to GO!  What about you, Blondie?  You going to the library or something?”

Clearly bitch-Tiffany was back in full effect. 

Darby was pissed and I could tell that she was hanging by a thread.  “Don’t. Call. Me. Ginger.”

“I didn’t realize that only Trace and Tristan were allowed to call you that,” Tiffany said with a bitchy giggle.  “Sorry if I offended you.”

She wasn’t sorry, and what’s more, she had just lobbed quite a grenade at Darby.

“They don’t call me Ginger,” Darby snapped.

Tiffany let out an inelegant snort before covering her mouth and laughing.  “Oh my goodness Darby, I am so sorry.  I thought you knew that they called you the Little Ginger. I figured since they say it so often it meant you must be okay with it.  Guess not.  Just between us girls, you should probably try to find some more loyal friends who don’t make fun of you when you aren’t around.  I for one was appalled by the way they talked about you.  I’d just die if the people I thought of as my friends were actually annoyed by my very presence.  They tell everyone that if it weren’t for your brother, they’d avoid you completely.  I am so sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

I had heard more than enough out of her
, and stepping in front of Darby, I got right in Tiffany’s face.  “Shut your lying mouth.  You’re full of crap and we both know it, and now you’ve made yourself look even stupider than you already did the other night.”

I’m not a fighter by nature, but Tiffany went too far when she crapped on
Darby. My palm was practically aching to smack some sense into her.  She stomped off in a huff and Rosie trailed along behind her after giving us an apologetic look over her shoulder.

Turning to Darby, I squeezed her on the shoulder.  “Darbs, everything she just said was bullshit.  You know that, right?”

She stared at the floor dejectedly for a minute in silence before answering.  “It doesn’t really matter though, does it?  I know damn well that they weren’t calling me Ginger, but this is just one more example of how their—no, HIS—shitty decisions impact my life.  It’s time for me to wake up and realize that I’ve been fooling myself for all of these years.  I’m so hung up on him that I’ve never even tried to have sex with another guy… but he’s out having sex with everyone that moves.  I’ve been such an idiot!”

My heart br
oke for her because I can’t imagine loving someone the way that she loves Trace only to have your pride battered by his inability to love in return. It seems obvious that Tristan has the same issue as Trace where girls are concerned, and it’s important for me to keep from falling for him in the way that Darby fell for Trace.  Some guys are just meant to be friends, and I think that’s true for the Chamberlain twins.

“Why don’t we go back into our room, throw on some sweatpants and watch movies on Netflix?”

She thought about it for a second before taking a deep breath and standing up straight.  “No.  We’re dressed and ready to go to this party, and I’m not giving Trace Chamberlain and his nonsense one more minute of my life.  I’ve spent years sitting in my room like a sad sack while I stared at the wall and wished that he would choose me.  He never did and he’s never going to.”

Taking my hand in hers
, she forced me to start walking.  I wanted to say more about Trace but she was having none of it and steered the conversation to all the possible ‘hot fratties’ that we would be seeing tonight.  It was less than a mile from our dorm to the frat house and we encountered a bunch of people that we knew from our classes and our dorm along the way.  Darby was super peppy—overly so—and I knew that I was going to have to stay on the alert with her for the rest of the night.

The second that we got to the frat, Darby headed for the kegs and got herself a cup.  I had thought ahead and was armed with a bottle of water, which I think
was probably a blessing considering how fast Darby was drinking her beer.  One of us should be sober, and I was more than happy for it to be me.

My nervous anxiety about being at the frat was dialed back due to my worry about Darby, and I felt myself relaxing more and more as I met people and decided that this frat seemed to be full of okay guys.  A few came off stuck-up but other than that, no alarm bells went off. Everyone that I met was personable and
nice. I didn’t get a bad feeling off any of them, and my radar is normally pretty good.  I’d known something was wrong with Brady and Chad—but I’d gone against my better judgment and I would pay the price for that one mistake for the rest of my life.  I definitely learned from that, though, and I’m never going to ignore another screaming warning from my brain about a guy, that’s for damn sure.

Darby
was well into beer number three but so far she seemed okay.  A guy named Brandon seemed to be flirting with her and she definitely gave off a vibe that said she was open to it.  I couldn’t really find a reason to intervene and tell her to knock it off because he actually seemed to be a nice guy and he wasn’t being pushy at all.  It seemed like a bad move to try and mend a broken heart by taking up with another guy, but what did I know? I’ve never been in a real relationship and I’ve never been in love, which means that I can’t fully understand what it is that Darby is going through.

I was surprised when I saw Austin’s girlfriend Allie walking toward me.  As I’ve come to find out, she’s very tactile and sweet.  After giving me a hug she said, “I’m shocked to see you girls here, especially Darby
, since the guys are very, very weird about frat parties.  If it weren’t for the fact that I’m in the sister chapter of this frat, and he knows all of the guys in it, Austin would be panicking that I’m here.  If he finds out that the two of you were here, be ready for a lecture.  Darby would get her ass handed to her for sure.”

“It seems like they take that overprotective thing a little too far.  Trust me, no one is more alert for trouble in situations like this than I am, and even I feel comfortable here.”

“It’s true, they are overprotective, but ,all things considered, it’s totally understandable.  Frat houses can be seriously messed up.  Hopefully the fact that this is a good frat will keep the guys from losing their marbles if they ever find out that you were here.  Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

I was relieved that she was going to keep it to herself, but I also felt a pang of envy as she spoke.  Darby might not realize it but
she was beyond lucky to have her brother and the Chamberlains in her life.  I couldn’t help but wish that there had been someone to protect Macy and me from what had happened. 

We were both upset after leaving the party, but Macy was in far worse shape than me.  She had been well on her way to being drunk and I think the alcohol in combination with seeing Brady made her so depressed that I’m worried. 

I told her I was taking her home with me and she didn’t argue
, which was a relief.  It would be easier to deal with all of this if I had my best friend back, and the fact that she isn’t trying to get away from me is a good start.  At least if we’re together I can take care of her.

By the time we got home she had stopped shaking, but she was still despondent. She’s almost got more clothes at my house than I do, so she was able to get out of her party clothes and put on pajamas.  After I got changed I set about pulling out the trundle bed that is in my room just for her and the two of us made it up.  We settled down onto our beds and turned to look at each other, and I asked the question that had been driving me crazy for weeks.

“You blame me, don’t you?”

Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head emphatically.  “No, I don’t blame you.  I blame myself.  None of this would have happened if I hadn’t thrown a tantrum and forced you to go.  I should have listened to you.  I don’t even know why you would want to be friends with me anymore.  If it weren’t for me, you’d be fine.  I was asking for it, going to that asshole
’s house like a lamb to the slaughter.  I took that cup from them, didn’t ask any questions as I laughed like an idiot and drank what they gave me without question.  I got what I deserved.  I just wish they had killed me instead of leaving me to live like this!”

Grabbing her hand, I squeezed tightly.  “Don’t you ever say that again Macy!  I would die without you and so would your parents.  You didn’t deserve to be raped; no one does, EVER.  What they did was evil and neither of us ‘got what we deserved’
—
far from it.  We deserved to get through that night without being drugged and used.  You’re scaring the shit out of me and I think you need help.”

Through her tears she whimpered, “How do you not hate me?  Those pictures…his texts…it’s all because of me!”

I crawled onto the trundle bed and wrapped my arms around her, holding on tightly as she cried.  “I would never blame you. They did this, not us. Don’t push me away anymore Macy, I need you.  Without you, this whole thing has been unbearable.”

We held each other and cried for a long, long time before we both passed out from exhaustion.

* * *

We had talked about it exhaustively and both knew to expect gossip at school today because of Brady yelling out at the party that I was a dyke.  Because we were expecting it, neither of us was surprised when people whispered and made faces as we made our way toward our shared locker.

I held my head high and whispered to Macy that she needed to do the same, but I could see that the whispers were putting her on edge.  When we got to our locker, I wanted to scream.  Someone had taken the time to tape
up a piece of paper that read: DYKE WHORES. Ripping it down, I smashed it into a ball and threw it over my shoulder before lifting my shaking hand and rolling out the combination. I popped the lock before swinging the door open.

Later I would wonder if it really happened the way I remembered.  Had there really been an awkward silence?  Had I really felt my heart constricting painfully as I realized that something horrible was about to happen?  Certainly that’s how I remember it.

When I opened the locker, a least a dozen photos fluttered out to my feet.  While some were face down, enough were facing up that I knew exactly what they were.  Someone had used the slots on our locker as a mailbox and had filled it with photos of Macy and me with Brady and Chad.

I heard Macy whimpering as I dropped to the floor and frantically gathered the photos to me.  When I was certain that I had every one, I grabbed Macy and pulled her into the girls
’ bathroom where I proceeded to tear them into tiny, tiny little pieces before I flushed them down the toilet.  I flushed and flushed and flushed that toilet, over and over again like a girl possessed.  There was nothing in the toilet except water, but still I kept going, needing those pictures to be gone.

I stopped only when Macy grabbed my shoulders and shook me out of my fugue-like flushing state.  The two of us sat side by side up against the bathroom stall wall, trying to decide what to do.  As we
sat there both of our phones went off, and we each checked our messages.  I was relieved to see that mine was a Facebook notification as opposed to being a text message from Brady, but my relief quickly turned to horror when I saw what the notification was for.

Facebook Group Invite:

Mia and Macy’s Pornographic Debut!

The picture at the top of the page was the one that Brady had sent where the two of us looked like we were making out.  Underneath it was a post that had a photo album of about twenty pictures from that night, each one worse than the other. The group already had more than three hundred members, which meant that everyone had seen this.

There were dozens and dozens of comments already, some of them from people that I had considered friends.  Each comment was worse than the last, many of them saying that they’d ‘pay our rate’ to fuck on film.

Macy’s breath
came faster and faster as she read the comments, and then she completely lost it.  One minute she was upset, the next she was screaming and ripping out hunks of her hair as her legs and arms flailed.  I struggled to get her under control but it wasn’t working and her screams only got louder.  Within minutes, school security, our principal and several counselors were in the bathroom with us, but no one could calm her down.  Her fingers were covered in blood from her ripping at her face and hair, and all of us were on top of her trying to hold her hands to keep her from doing more damage. Someone called 911 and I watched in horror as they tranquilized her before strapping her to the board for transport. 

I felt myself getting woozy but I couldn’t do anything but stare at her as they rolled the gurney out of the bathroom.  We’d been assaulted, violated, photographed and were now being tortured.  My best friend just had a nervous breakdown right in front of my eyes and there
would be questions…so many questions.  Everyone would know about this now because there was no way I could keep it a secret from our parents.  That it had come to this was all my fault
—
I should never, ever have shoved Brady.  What had I done?

Thinking of my mother seeing those photos turned me to stone and I welcomed the blackness as it rushed up to meet me.