Audre & Bash Are Just Friends(16)

They had some grandma pepperoni slices. Gossiped about people they knew in their schools’ Black student affairs clubs. He showed her shots of himself “crushing it” on St. Francis’s varsity basketball IG page. And just like that, Audre and Ellison were sort of… talking? Audre wasn’t sure she liked him, but being liked was nice. In quiet moments, though, she had to ask herself—was she so hungry for male attention that she’d force a crush on a guy who texted her weight lifting selfies every morning?

After two movie dates, one dinner date, and an awkward night cheering Ellison on at a basketball game (Audre didn’t know basketball rules and clapped at the wrong times), she asked him to prom.

And her life had been unraveling ever since.

“Prom sucked,” she said after a weighty sigh. “It was so bad, and… and I was too embarrassed to tell you. I mean, I’ve counseled tons of people on prom drama. I’m the person who has all the answers. And my first prom blows up in my face?

“Everything was normal, at first. I wore that teal halter minidress, remember? I actually felt pretty. We took pictures at the pre-party. Danced a little at the actual dance. But halfway through it, I noticed that he was getting drunk drunk. And I wasn’t drinking. He was just, like, overly touchy and kept pulling me up to dance, and I was trying to laugh it off, because I didn’t want to be lame. Like, maybe he’s being fun and I’m just boring?” Audre lowered her voice to a whisper. “The truth is, I’m sixteen years old and don’t know how to act at a dance with a boy. Like, are we supposed to be all over each other? Is it okay if I blow him off? I asked him, so I can’t be rude, right? Plus, he goes to a different school, so it’s my job to be a good host. Right?”

Reshma’s brow furrowed in split-second fury. “I’m gonna refrain from speaking till you’re done. Continue.”

“Afterward we went to Nu Hotel. Someone rented a duplex suite with a bunch of rooms.”

Reshma flinched with her entire body. “Oh my God, oh my God…”

“Stop, it’s not what you’re thinking,” said Audre. “Just listen. We go into a bedroom. I’m exhausted, but I know he wants to hook up. And a part of me wants to, too. Not because I’m attracted to him, but because I want the experience.”

“But you’ve hooked up before. Sort of. What about Kenji James at the Young Business Leaders of America retreat?”

“Does he count? It was a quick peck.”

“Well, you kissed my cousin Silas when he flew in for my birthday cruise.”

“But he’d eaten shellfish, remember? I’m allergic! My mouth blew up.”

“Oh riiight.” Reshma nodded. “Back to prom. What happened in the room?”

“Somehow, we ended up on the bed. And we start kissing. And it’s sloppy and not great, and my dress feels too tight, and he’s too grope-y. So, I pushed him off me. And I started hyperventilating! I couldn’t get enough air, and I was just crying. My chest got tight. I was pouring sweat. I thought I was dying.” Audre looked down at her feet, dangling in the air. “Since then, I’ve had a few more panic attacks. Please don’t tell anyone. My mom doesn’t even know.”

“Why not? You of all people know that it’s a side effect of anxiety. She could help you!”

“I don’t need help,” Audre said, fast. “I mean, I already know all the therapy techniques, deep breathing and everything. Honestly, I just need to… relax.”

“You don’t have to act perfect all the time, babe,” said Reshma in a whisper.

“Yes, I do.”

Mercy girls do what can’t be done.

“Anyway,” Audre continued, “I was scared. I kept getting more hysterical. Finally, I curled up in a ball and I remember begging him to get help. And he laughed at me.” She paused. “My eyes were squeezed shut, and I’m just rocking back and forth, wailing and shaking and freaking out. He’s still laughing. Then I heard the door open and close. And whispering. When I opened my eyes, there were three more boys standing over the bed. Not Cheshire guys. I didn’t recognize them. But… they were laughing, too. And one was recording me on his phone.”

Abruptly, Reshma untangled her legs from the fire escape bars and hopped up.

“Reshma! Where are you going?”

“To fucking chop his dick off,” she shouted. “He thinks he can get away with that?”

“Sit down,” whispered Audre, dragging her back down. “Don’t upset Barry.”

Barry glanced up from the grill, his brow cloudy with concern. As Madonna’s “Into the Groove” softly streamed from his phone, he pierced a hamburger with a fork and silently raised it up to the girls.

“I’m good.” Audre smiled.

“No, thank you, doll, I’m plant-based,” said Reshma. Gently, she took Audre’s hand in hers. “What happened after that?”

“Nothing. I jumped up, pushed the guys out of the way, and ran out. I got in an Uber. And I haven’t spoken to Ellison since then. He keeps texting me, telling me he deleted the video. But I won’t respond.”

She couldn’t. Every time she thought about it, her stomach went queasy. She got a sense memory flash of feeling so vulnerable, as naked as if she were actually nude, losing control and weeping in front of four assholes who were using her as entertainment. And then the desperate, raging fear she’d felt every day since that night—what if that video ended up online somewhere? What if Ellison was lying, and it had been shared all around St. Francis? Had it been passed on to Cheshire people? Was everyone secretly laughing at her? When she gave her speech at the awards ceremony, was the audience snickering at the girl who pretended to have it all together but was a mess?