The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (3 page)

"Sorry about that," he said, extending one hand to help me up and using the other to tuck in his uniform shirt.

I accepted the offer and let him help me to my feet. Then he gently removed my hand from my forehead and took a look at it.

"No damage done," he said. "You're all good."

Before he turned away, I noticed something…compelling.

"You have sad eyes," I said.

"Sad eyes?" the redhead muttered with a laugh. "God you're such a freak. I can't believe you're Sasha's sister." Then she stormed off. I felt like I probably should've told her that her Bridgeton polo was on inside out, but I couldn't take my eyes off the cute, if not, lewd blond boy.

I could only imagine what he was doing with the redhead in the closet, so he should've been quite happy, but his eyes told a different story.

While staring at me, his lips parted as if to say something, but only a troubled sigh escaped. Then he blinked and shook his head as if coming to his senses. "Maybe you should watch where you're going." He gave me the distasteful glare so common among Bridgeton students. It was a look that said 'I'm better than you.'

I gasped. How could he possibly blame me for this run in?

"And maybe you should…should…" he stormed away before I could think of anything clever to say. Let's face
it,
it would have taken me all day to think of something anyway.

After retrieving my precious
pointe
shoes, I decided to take the far stairwell. I didn't want to risk running into Closet Boy again. As soon as I entered the stairwell, I heard crying. I wondered if it was the girl from the closet. Maybe she'd regretted her behavior and felt ashamed for having meaningless sex in a closet.
Hmph
.
Served
her right. I instantly felt bad for thinking this. I had no right to judge her. I didn't know the circumstances. Maybe she thought this boy really loved her and that's why she did it. No matter what the case, I hated seeing people in pain. I just had to see what I could do to help.

I went up to the next flight and found the source of the crying. A dark haired girl was crouched in the corner of the stairwell completely naked and sobbing.

"Oh my God what happened?" I dropped all my belongings then whipped off my coat and covered her with it. I knelt beside her and rubbed her back.

"Nothing.
Go away. Just leave me alone," she snapped through the tears. That was obviously a lie. Something had to be wrong. Under normal circumstances no one cowers in the corner of a public stairwell naked and crying. I wasn't about to leave the poor girl alone.

I glanced around and searched for her clothes. They were nowhere in sight.

"Where are your clothes?"

"They took them."

"
Who's
they? Was it a boy? Were you raped?" Instead of answering she shook her head frantically and started crying harder. I felt my eyes well up. Who would do such a thing? It was below zero outside. How was she supposed to get home naked and in the freezing cold? Where was she supposed to find clothing? I guessed that was part of the cruel, sick joke. How could anyone do this to another human being? I tried to blink away the hot tears welling in my eyes. I needed to focus and help this girl. "Come
on,
let's get you out of here." I helped her to her feet and let her put my coat on. She was quite a bit shorter than me so the coat covered what it needed to, but she would still freeze outside.

"Wait a minute," I said, reaching for my dance bag. Considering I only cleaned it out about once a year, I was bound to have some sort of clothing in there somewhere. I pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt from a dance camp I went to in Spain. They smelled kind of rank, but they were better than nothing.

The girl accepted the clothes silently, her well of tears slowly receding. She slipped on the pants,
then
turned around to take off the coat and put on the shirt.

"Thank you," she said in a hoarse whisper when she'd finished. Under different circumstances, I could tell she was a really pretty girl. With her pale skin and short jet black hair she resembled Snow White.

"No problem. Do you want me to go call the police?"

Her eyes expanded.
"No, God no!
I don't know what they'll do to me. No one can know about this.
Ever."
This mysterious 'they' wielded enough power over this girl to literally make her start shaking.

"You can't let them get away with this."

She fell to her knees and started crying again. "Please, you can't tell anyone about this. Please. I beg you."

I bent down beside her and hugged her. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone.
Promise!"
She was hysterical. I didn't want to make such a promise, but I had to do something to calm her down.

"Okay, I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Her tears subsided again. And after about ten minutes I was able to coax her into leaving the building.

"Do you live far? Can I help you get home?"

"I have my car. They took my purse, but I have an extra key under the license plate."

When we reached the only car in the parking lot, I thought surely she would succumb to another onslaught of tears. Instead, however, she just stared numbly at the vandalism that violated her red SUV. Someone had spray painted male genitalia all over her car, along with the word SLUT on the hood. I could only assume it was the same 'they' that left her naked and shivering in the stairwell. How could she not want to make them pay for all they'd done to her?

In a daze, she found her spare key and entered her car. Seconds later she sped away. I didn't even find out her name.

The sight of that poor girl weighed heavily on my mind. What if this 'they' wasn't finished with her? What if they came back to finish her off? Though I didn't even know the girl's name, I knew in my heart that nothing she could have done warranted such treatment. For two weeks, I searched the halls for her. She was nowhere to be found. It was like she'd dropped off the face of the planet. How could she just disappear without anyone taking notice? Was she another invisible person like me? Could I miss school for two weeks without causing alarm?

I couldn't hold out any longer. I had to tell someone. I had to find this girl and make sure she was alright. So in an effort to do the right thing, I found myself in one of the most dreaded places on campus.
Headmaster Collins' office.

"I'm glad you made an appointment to see me, Sonya. I've been meaning to commend you on how much you've brought up your grades."

"Thank you. Sasha has been helping me."

"You know, Sasha might not always be there for you.  You should try to do things on your own sometimes.  I bet you don't even know what you're capable of accomplishing."  

Why wouldn't she be there for me?  We'd always be there for each other.  I couldn't imagine my life without my sister.  Headmaster Collins cracked his knuckles, yanking me out of my thoughts. "So what brings you to my office today?" Considering I hadn't been in his office since the day of my application tour two years ago, that was a very valid question.

"Um.
I saw something that I thought needed your attention."

"Does it involve cheating?"

"No sir, but I think it's even more serious." Headmaster Collins leaned back in his chair and tapped a pen on the desk waiting for me to explain. "Um, two, almost three weeks ago there was a girl in the stairwell. She was naked and crying. Someone had stolen her clothes and then vandalized her car." He leaned forward and stared at me intensely, but didn't say anything. "I don't know her name. And I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone. But I haven't seen her since and I was, I mean, I
am
worried and…and…I thought you should know." I took a deep breath and let it out. It felt so good to finally get the secret off my chest.

Without saying a word, Headmaster Collins stood and walked to his bookcase. He pulled a yearbook off the shelf and handed it to me.
Yearbook.
Why the heck didn't I think of that?

"If you don't mind, would you take a few moments to flip through the pictures to see if you can find her?"

Considering the girl was pretty distraught when I saw her and the fact that a lot of these white girls looked exactly the same to me, I found three girls that it could have been.

Headmaster Collins studied the three names I picked out and settled on one. "
Emmaline
Graham transferred two weeks ago. I wonder if this coincides with the incident you describe." He closed the yearbook and pulled out the school directory. "I'm going to arrange an appointment with her parents." He reached for his phone and started dialing. "You may go," he said to me. I bolted out of my seat and headed for the door. But before I left he said, "Ms. Garrison, you did the right thing."

***

Though my sister Sasha and I came from the same parents, lived in the same house, and went to the same school we couldn't have been more different.

"Sonya, sweetie, did you start your English paper?" she asked me one night while I stretched on our bedroom floor.   I needed to work on my audition choreography for the
DiRisio
Academy of Dance in Rome. I was hoping to spend my senior year dancing in Europe and then hopefully get picked up by a dance company.

"The paper is under control," I assured her while rolling from a split to a straddle.  Sasha pursed her lips and folded her arms as she leaned on the door jamb.  She didn't believe me. She knew 'under control' was my code for 'at least I know what class the paper is for'.

"It's due Thursday."

"Yeah, I know. I found your Post It note reminder on my
pointe
shoes before ballet class today.
Very
stalkeresque
, way to go."

"You need a good grade on this paper," she said, ignoring my sarcasm.

"I know I need a good grade on this paper," I replied mockingly. "I also need a fantastic audition piece.  Do you know how world famous
DiRisio
is?  This is my future.  I plan on being a professional
dancer
,
ya
know, not a professional…
englisher
…or whatever."  Sasha rolled her eyes.

"You see, that's your problem.  Everything is dance, dance,
dance
, with you. You have to have an education too.  You have to have something to fall back on in case dancing doesn't work out.  What if you break your knee or something, huh?  Then where will you be? I'm not
gonna
be around to take care of you forever." Sasha wagged her index finger at me like I'd just pooped on the floor.  I'm surprised she didn't roll up a newspaper and smack me on the head with it.