After a lecture about letting things be my friends allowed me as well as themselves to roll out the sleeping bags and go to bed. I texted Jason before I fell asleep.
"Have friends over. Gonna get some sleep."
"Wish I was there with you. ;)"
"So you could get with all my friends? Gross."
"Depends. Are they hot?"
"Go away."
"Will do."
"Goodnight!"
"Sorry, I'm going away."
"Just say goodnight you asshole."
"Fine, goodnight. Love."
Now what the fuck does that mean.
After breakfast my friends all shuffled out so I could get ready to go to the police station. I was still confused about Jason's text message. He didn't exactly say "I love you." Or did he? I thought back to a few nights ago when I could've sworn I'd heard him murmur it, but I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not. Did I love Jason?
Yes.
The answer popped up quickly in my head. I'd never told a guy that I loved him before. My friends used to toss it around like it was nothing, the phrase that begins a relationship. They don't really now, but when they did I still didn't. I always thought of it as something that was important. But I did, truly. I truly loved Jason.
I was still awed by this revelation when I drove to the police station and sat down in front of Officer Keeler's desk. He was sitting there with a notepad and looked at me expectantly. Suddenly I got very nervous. I don't like to lie, but I was going to have to lie. I'm a bad liar. Bad bad bad.
"Alright Ms. Collins, I'm just going to ask you a few questions regarding your experience with McCann and his associates." It was like I'd stayed at McCann Suites and this was some sort of survey. "Did Mr. McCann or his associates ever force themselves on you, or did they try to make you perform illegal activities?"
I shook my head.
"Ms. Collins, this is a safe space. I know you may be ashamed of the events that took place, but I'd like to let you know that being assaulted is never your fault."
"I know." I'd heard it all in Health class.
"How did Mr. McCann treat you while you were there?"
"Fine," I answered. "One of the guys there was kind of sketchy but he made sure that he stayed away from me. There weren't any problems."
Officer Keeler looked kind of frustrated. "Did Mr. McCann show any psychopathic tendencies?"
"He seemed pretty normal to me."
"Look, we've already had several behavioral therapists examine his crimes and patterns, they've determined he is a psychopath. Are you lying to me, Ms. Collins?"
"No. He's not a psychopath, your therapists are wrong." I tried to keep my voice steady and for the most part it was working.
Officer Keeler closed his eyes for a minute, then scribbled a few things down on his notepad. "That will be all, Ms. Collins. Thank you for coming in."
"You're welcome," I replied, not really sure what to say. I left with a clouded head. A psychopath? I texted Jason.
"Are you a psychopath?"
"Hahahahahahahaha...probably."
"Seriously!"
"No. Did the police tell you that? They're funny, those guys."
"Where are you?"
"I'm back at the base. What, you miss me already?"
"Slightly."
"I'll see if I can arrange something."
The next day was Monday, and I returned to school. There were two groups of kids that day. One group were kids that tried to act like everything was so normal it seemed like the world was going to end. And another, mostly consisting of underclassmen, were flocking around me asking what it was like. My teachers actually fit into those groups pretty well, most of them the former, smiling too much and giving me my makeup work but insisting that I could take however much time I needed, no rush, none at all.
During lunch was the worst. My normal table of aforementioned girls plus a few other casual friends was invaded by well-wishers and question-askers alike. Luckily Julia, Caroline, Ellie, and Beth kept it quiet that it had anything to do with Jason McCann. I tried to eat my lunch but it was never ending, to the point that one of the teachers who monitors lunch had to shoo them away so I could finally stuff myself in relative peace.
"How was the police station?" Julia asked in a quieted voice so as not to attract attention.
"It was okay, they kept asking if Jason raped me," I said.
"Did he?" Julia's eyes went wide.
"No!" It's not rape if you like it.
"Okay, good." Julia relaxed and exhaled a deep breath, then we both contributed to a conversation about Ellie wanting to dye her hair black.
"I've decided," Julia said a day later, during Trig, "That I am going to stay over your house Friday."
"Why?" I asked, punching numbers into my calculator. Our teacher had already given me pages and pages of make-up work. Apparently she'd seen me being gone as the perfect chance to go deeply into entirely new material.
"Can't I stay over my best friend's house without it being subject to the third degree?" Julia said with a mock-hurt voice.
"Sure," I said.
"Okay then. See you at six on Friday, oh friend of mine."
The sleepover approached Normal. After a gross amount of nail-painting, talking, and Seventeen magazine (and Cosmopolitan), Julia and I fell asleep in my bed. At least, until my phone vibrated and I heard the faint sound of a car coming down my road.
The whole point of my suburb, I've realized from my years of living in it, is to retain the image of Ideal Family, by whatever means necessary. This typically means that lights are out by 11 and no one drives out past 12. I looked at my clock, and it told me 1:14am, which could only mean one thing.
Sure enough, the text confirmed it. Hello.
