Part of me wants to report the incident to the police. I do. （I couldn’t report Connor, not without him putting me or my mom in a ditch.） But Parker . . . I’d love to see him get what’s coming.
Then I think about the notoriety that will fly at me from all directions.
The school, the media.
People will have opinions about how I’m a stripper and that I don’t really matter. They might not say it to my face, but they’re thinking it, even the authorities. Plus, a part of me has been told to keep silent my entire life, starting all the way back to grade school when they teach you not to tattle.
Is Johnny pulling your hair? He’s just playing. Go back to your seat.
I recall a teacher who required us to stand in front of the class if we wanted to tattle. I made sure I was never one of the ones who went up to tell on another student. Because afterward? Everyone is mad at you.
The only person who can support my story is Eric. And how can I drag him into a tawdry police investigation when he’s who he is? And after everything he’s done for me. No. I just can’t do that to him.
I push those thoughts away as people call out to him as we make our way to the parking lot of the food trucks. He nods and smiles, soaking in the accolades from the game. You’d never believe he was livid earlier.
People in line to order food step aside to let him go first. He gets his sandwich and we find a table.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he murmurs around a huge bite.
“I went to prep school with you for a year, dork.”
“Yeah, about that . . .” He sets his sandwich down. “This isn’t an excuse for what I did, but I was dealing with my brother’s death. My mom had gone to a psych ward and my dad was on my ass to bring my grades up. I pushed people away.”
I knew he’d lost a brother but . . .
“What happened? Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
He looks away from me and swallows. “Kurt had a secret life with heroin. None of us knew because he was in Boston. He was home for the holidays and went to make a buy. I interrupted them and he got shot. Died at the scene.” He rubs his face. “I blame myself.”
His hands fist and I loosen them.
“I get it,” I say. “I want to tell you something. It’s big. And I don’t want you to think differently of me.”
His eyes lift to mine. “Okay.”
“The reason I started stripping was because . . .” I pause, digging deep for the nerve to tell him. “My mom’s the reason I owed Connor. She’s an addict. And homeless.” Stammering, I rush through the story of her car accident and her spiral into prescription pills. I explain how we lost our house. How she lives with friends or in her car.
His gaze is soft. “I’m sorry, Julia. If I can help out in any way, let me know. Wait. That ring you pawned? Was it hers?”
I nod. “I was afraid she’d sell it and took it. She pawned or sold everything after we lost our house. Silverware, candlesticks, jewelry.”
“Shit. You’ve been through hell, Julia.”
I grimace, wanting to move on. “I’m sorry about your brother. Addiction is vicious.”
His shoulders seem to cave in. “Back then, I handled everything in my life like it didn’t matter. At the time, nothing did. I went through the motions. Girls were a way to distract myself from what was going on.” He pauses. “You were one of them.”
“I guess your life isn’t as perfect as I thought.”
He laughs harshly, then sobers. “Uh, no.”
I retell him the story of the party freshman year, how I saw him staring at a wall.
His face reddens. “I don’t remember seeing you. I was probably trashed. They made us go days without sleep and I’d been kissing Kappa ass all week.” He smirks. “Not anymore.”
“What happened between you and Parker before? Why do you not like each other?”
“Well, he’s Parker. Our dads do business together, and we grew up around each other, even though we went to different schools. Honestly, I think our dads encouraged us to compete. Who was the better athlete, who made the best grades, who had the best car.”
I wince. “That doesn’t sound fun.”
“It wasn’t.” He ruffles my hair. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. I need to sober up and work off this sandwich.”
We walk through the park and down the street to my house. We aren’t holding hands anymore, but they brush against each other.