Before I could speak, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then he fled.
Was it possible? Could something good come out of this after all?
3
Days later, when I was well enough to return to school, I sensed what would surely be considered an ironic benefit resulting from what the girls had done to me. I knew they had done it, of course, and it wasn’t my fault, but Hamlet’s mother’s famous line in the play worked its way to the top of my thoughts the day I returned to school: The lady doth protest too much, methinks. I decided I would not spend any time denying accusations or defending myself. The more I did, the less I’d be believed. Actually, I enjoyed the way most of my teachers were looking at me now. Miss Perfect Absolute Genius was real after all. Despite her braininess, she was a normal teenager. She could make mistakes.
Anyway, Lily, Marsha, Aggie, and the others had enjoyed a solid day without me there trying to defend myself and blame them.
Jackson had warned me about them when he called on the first day of school after the party. “They’re swearing you took X, didn’t think it was that strong, and took two in the girls’ room. Marsha Bloom claims you told her one of my cousins got you the drugs to sell because your mother had to return to work and your family needed money.”
“I’m surpr
ised she concocted a fairly logical story about it,” I said. “If I wasn’t Corliss Simon, I might believe her.”
Jackson laughed. “Yeah. If they put half the energy into their schoolwork that they put into lying, they’d all be A students. It’s what they’re good at: lying.”
“It’s all right. Let them.”
“No, it’s not. I bawled them out in the cafeteria today, but they just laughed. Some of my so-called friends did, too. I have another warning for you. Don’t bother using me as a witness. They’re telling everyone we’re seeing each other and that I would say anything to defend you.”
“Would you? Say anything, I mean?”
He was silent so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he gave me a good Jackson Marshall answer. “If you were accused of something untrue, yes. If you did something wrong, I would persuade you to confess and take away the power girls like that would think they have over you.”
“Safe answer,” I said. I didn’t say it with any appreciation.
He heard some disappointment and began to dig himself out. “But you wouldn’t be guilty anyway, Corliss. I know your heart.”
“Okay.” I felt like giving him a pass for now. He had arranged for our dinner date the following weekend, and the moment I returned to school the next day, he was there at my side whenever he could be.
By now, I had become quite infamous. I learned that a number of other students had been called into the dean’s office and questioned about the incident. Many, afraid of Lily and Marsha, supported the other girls’ claims. Doubt about my innocence couldn’t be completely crushed, but the testimony of the other girls wasn’t sufficient to convict me, either. As Jackson would say, and as Dean Becker obviously thought, Consider the source.
Nevertheless, for a while that week, I really did enjoy the notoriety. I was something more than the school’s academic oddity, and my refusing to discuss it only kept it alive. It even made me seem a little dangerous.
At home, however, I didn’t enjoy that feeling. My father had seen enough in his life to challenge any claim of innocence, even mine.
“I hope you’re telling us the truth, Corliss,” he said the first chance he got. My mother bawled him out for having even the slightest doubt, but that glimmer of skepticism lingered in his eyes. The ironic joy I had felt in attracting suspicion in school died a quick death under my father’s look. Instead, the anger I had put aside came raging back one night. I realized that I shouldn’t be concerned only about my reputation. My father put a lot of value in the family name and his status. After all, what he did for a living required that he be respected and trusted. If he couldn’t control his own daughter, how could he be expected to watch over the welfare of others?
During the next few days, Jackson did all he could to help me forget what these girls had done to my reputation, but I couldn’t escape the heat of the satisfied smiles they directed at me. If I’m so much smarter than they are, I thought, I’ll work on my revenge. This driving passion grew stronger every day, despite Jackson’s efforts to get me to think of other things.
The truth was that his perception of me as this pure and perfect girl was beginning to annoy me. Many times that week, he repeated, “I don’t know how anyone could believe them and not you. Anyone just looking at you would see what was true and what was not.”
Tired of his praise, I reached above my head and felt the air.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Looking for the halo.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay. Let’s both stop talking about it.”
I wanted to, but my thoughts of revenge did not dwindle as time passed all week. The looks, the comments deliberately said loudly enough for me to hear, and the way even some of my teachers gazed at me and whispered among themselves drove me to think more and more about what had been done not only to me but to my whole family. Even my brother and sister were hearing things and being asked questions. My mother told them to ignore it. Time, the great healer of everything, would settle things down.
But it wouldn’t do that for me. It was truly as if the drug had done more than cause a traumatic physical reaction. It had opened my eyes to a part of myself that had longed for an opportunity to be active—an aggressive part. Logic would always tell me not to permit myself to be baited, to become like them. Yes, I knew the famous saying that once you became like your enemy, your enemy had won.
But I was tired of logic. I welcomed rage.
I kept it well hidden. As far as my parents were concerned, I was moving on, still doing exceptional work in school, and now expanding into a social life. For the time being, it did subdue my wrath. I was about to go on my first real date. No one knew, not even I, what doors of exploration it would open for the girl locked inside me. It was as if I were blossoming into a totally new person, a new identity.