Sarah

The holidays always give me a kind of sickness in my stomach. Everyone's so happy and cheerful, yet a good lot of them are just rude enough to sour your stomach. It's disgusting. I suppose the reason I mostly hate this time of year is I experience it first hand in the mall. I work at the food court's McDonald's for a lovely minimum wage price--  which I thought was great when I first started. Then you find out that they don’t pay you enough for this job. Not nearly enough.1

November is when Santa starts asking little boys and girls what they want for Christmas. But no matter what they ask for, they give the kid a crappy snap shot and a balloon animal. Kids don't look at that and say it's better than nothing. They say, "That's not Santa!" I'm watching this on my lunch break. The company thinks they're being nice by giving you free lunches from McDonald's. However, once you watch them actually create the grease slathered, deep fried, grizzly thing on a bun, you don't find it very appetizing. You learn quickly to bring your own lunch.2

I sat alone at my usual table. Alone. It's not as lonely as it seems. "Alone" is a word meant for people who are used to having company. "Life" is the word used for those whom never had anyone to begin with-- save for family. I mostly enjoyed the quiet for myself. There's something about the solitude that really sets you free. You don't have to worry about pleasing people around you. It's you and only you. The only thing I needed in life was singing. Music was my everything. My reason for existence. It seems that the things that matter most to you in life at any given moment seem to fade away due to one reason or another... 3

As I sit and watch the kids sit on Santa's lap, I try my best to ignore the sounds coming from a few tables over in the food court. It's Bobby and his friends. They love to make my life absolutely miserable. It's not enough for them that my life has been spilled out before everyone in the township and made into a sob story. They want to make sure that every part of myself is exposed... and then ripped to shreds by evil, un-- empathetic, vindictive teenagers. 4

"Cally! How's your mom?" Bobby shouts at me across the way. I try my best to suppress my anger. I don't want to get fired over him. If I act out in front of where I work, I'm sure to get busted. 5

"I rocked her so hard last night! She was shouting my name at the top of her voice! Can you hear her, Cal? Can you?" I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white and my nails carve little crescent moons into my palms. I try not to turn my head towards them and concentrate hard on lessening the heat I can feel building behind my cheeks, and in my eyes as tears threaten to leak from my eyes. 6

"Look at her all glassy-- eyed! How pathetic! Do you want your mommy, Cally? Huh? Are you gonna cry about it? COME ON YOU PUSSY! CRY!" As if in answer to his persistent tormenting, a small girl cries as she sits on The Big Guy's lap. I take a deep breath and try not to do the same. You would think that I would learn to just ignore this by now. It's been three years. Christ, has it really been that long? 7

All of a sudden, I can hear the squeal of metal chairs scraping against linoleum right next to me. Bobby's breath smells like vinegar and tomatoes. He must've eaten at Subway. As he breaths down my neck, my skin crawls with hatred. All I want to do is skin him alive. Beat him to death. Every ounce of me wants to fight back. 8

But I can't. I never have. I never will. 9

"Leave her alone." I don't want to look up and see who it is that has potentially saved me. Partially because I'm afraid of the embarrassment I'll suffer from if it's my manager or another authority figure. It's the worst thing in the world to be "saved" by an adult because they think they're helping you-- and for the time being, maybe they are-- but they're really not once you're alone again and you're vulnerable. It's like giving the harassers reason to make fun of you. 10

Bobby's breath was still on me. Uncomfortably close. His hand was on my thigh suddenly, inching closer and close towards my crotch. I tried not to make any movements, and I tried even harder to not let the tears slide down my face. 11

"You look like your mom, you dirty girl. Can you play like your mommy, too?" His voice is so low and in my ear that it aches. I wish that whoever was trying to get him to stop could hear him, and maybe hit him. 12

"Did you fucking hear me you little shit? I said leave. Her. Alone!" This time I had to look up and see who it was. An adult definitely wouldn't talk like that to a sixteen-- year-- old. 13

My eyes took in ripped jeans accompanied by blood and grass stains; too short of a shirt hidden beneath a leather jacket; long blond hair, brittle with too much bleach and streaked pink hair dye. All this wrapped up in a pair of striking blue eyes. 14

"Who the fuck are you?" Bobby straightened up, relieving his grip from my thigh and his breath from my neck. 15

"Sarah," she outstretched a hand for a shake. Bobby laughed towards his buddies and played along, taking Sarah's hand mockingly. Sarah pulled tight on his arm so that he lost balance and slammed his head on the greasy, yellow table. She bent her head down to where his lay bruised against the furnishing. 16

"What's the matter, Bobby?! Do you wanna cry?! DO YOU?!" Her voice was biting. My blood ran cold with fear even though she was protecting me. I tried to look away, but the sight was too sweet to pass up. Bobby said nothing as she yelled into his ear the last things he said to me across the room. He wouldn't give any hints, but I'm almost certain he was scared. He had to be. Who wouldn't be? 17

"If I ever see you fucking with her again, I swear on God's green earth I'll slit your throat." She didn't yell this time, but her words were so unbelievably threatening and unfeeling that it sent a chill down my spine. I could only imagine what it was doing to Bobby. Sarah turned her eyes towards me and gave a quick wink before walking away. Bobby sat up and looked threateningly over to me. Then, he stood up from his chair. 18

"Slut!" he yelled to Sarah's back as she continued to make her way out of the food court. Bobby started to walk back to where his friends were sitting, but like a bullet, Sarah turned around and darted across the court, pouncing on Bobby's back. She screeched like a wild woman and dug into him with every packed punch. I could hear his face making unnatural sounds as she beat him senseless. He didn't even fight back, but I wasn't sure if this was because she was a girl or because he was too pulverized to do so. At one point, he tried to get her off of him; but she grabbed his hands and jammed them into the ground. I could have sworn I heard a crack from the impact. 19

I watched her with astonishment as she beat my tormenter to a bloody pulp. I couldn't believe how strong she was. It was maniacal. She laughed with each struggle he made towards her and called out more biting remarks. I almost couldn't stand to watch, but as I stated before, I just couldn't bare to look away. 20

"Hey! Break it up! Miss! Get off of him!" a security guard was running towards the fight, yelling to the gaurd behind him to call for back-- up. Sarah look up towards her pursuers. She immediately leaped off Bobby with awesome grace and started to take off in my direction. She half-- stopped before me and said, "Come with me." She started to run off, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I followed. We zig-- zagged through every holiday shopper passing the little kids in line to see Santa. They watched us run passed them and smiled with that knowing look like you're in deep shit. It took me a little while to realize that with every step I took following Sarah, it was another step towards potentially losing my job. Something inside me told me that this was so much more important than that. So much more satisfying than anything minimum wage could buy you. Something told me to keep running after her. And so I did. 21

Isn't it funny how the most insignificant things to you can be the most significant things to happen in your life? Like a part of you knows how important this moment is, but the other part just wants to live it without recognizing the consequences. This is how I feel as I trail behind Sarah through this congested mall. My McDonald's visor falls to the ground and I don't stop to pick it up. My pony-- tail billows out behind me, and I'm laughing along with the sound of Sarah's laughter ahead of me. I know what she did to Bobby was horrible, but this adrenaline rush was addicting. Besides, weren't her actions justifiable? I mean, what he did to me was just as terrible. I decide that he deserved what he got, and I keep running. 22

We didn't stop running until we were well within the confines of JC Penny and the mall cops were lost out of site. Though if I knew how these rent-- a-- cops functioned-- and I did-- they would have the word about Sarah around to every guard in the mall right now. 23

"You didn't lose them yet," I tell Sarah. I think she already knows this, but I have to tell her anyway. It only seems right to save her after she saved me from Bobby... She smiles back at me. Her teeth look horrible. She must smoke. 24

"I know," she states, and keeps walking. "Do you think I'd look good in this?" She holds up an article of clothing. It's a black mini skirt with fringe at the ends of it. I'm confused by her random question, as it pertains to nothing I've just told her. I'm beginning to feel like I'm the only one concerned about what just happened. Like I'm the only one who remembers. 25

"Ummm... sure. Look, I really appreciate what you did back there. But, you didn't have to do that. You really hurt him bad. You could've-- "26

"Shut up," her words are cutting, and her eyes are even more stern. I do what she tells me to do and I wait. "I've seen you around here. Always working, doing what you're told. And he does this shit to you all the fucking time. Always talking about your poor, dead mother. And then he fucks you up against the wall outside and you don't do anything! You're pathetic. And I'm the only one who's done anything about it because no one else knows except me." 27

A cold sweat trickles down from my brow. How does she know all that? Bobby's molesting me was the biggest secret I've ever had to keep. The only reason I kept it secret is because I knew that he'd hurt me-- maybe even kill me-- if I said anything. And it didn't help that his dad was a well respected lawyer. My mom, on the other hand, wasn't that big of a secret. Especially not if you were in ear-- shot of Bobby. He made it known to everyone. As if the newspapers weren't enough to keep the knowledge circulating. The headlines flashed through my mind: 28

Carol Stewarts Dies In Car Crash29

With how small this town was, if you didn't know about that, you were seriously sheltered. I felt naked in front of Sarah. Her eyes shaved through every secret I had to my name. I didn't have any friends at school. Just my dad at home and my dog Fluffy. Not even they knew everything about me. But with Sarah... it was like she knew everything already and she was just waiting for me to say it all aloud. 30

Before I could speak, I heard footsteps charging forth on the floor behind us. I turned to face the sound. 31

"THERE SHE IS!" a burly man in uniform bellowed. He lumbered forward, red-- faced and already fatigued. He must've been running for a while now. I turned back to Sarah. 32

"Come on," she said, as she ran towards the entrance, the skirt still in her hands. People we didn't know looked on at us, trying to figure out what was going on. A few of them moved out of the way as if to help us out with our escape. 33

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET HER!" the officer yelled at one woman who moved out of our way. I could hear Sarah start laughing at this-- or perhaps nothing at all-- ahead of me, and I couldn't help but give a smile even though I was still shaken up and a bit pissed off at her for her impossible knowledge about Bobby and me. I don't know why I was mad. I guess I was mostly angry at the fact that I let this happen to me and someone else had to save me. I didn't like being saved. I didn't like fighting for what was right for me either, I guess. I'm really quiet. No one at school likes me. Well, they might. I think most of them are afraid of me, though. I think they're all afraid to talk around me because they all know about what happened to my mom. It's silly really. Don't they realize you can have a conversation with someone and not have to mention their dead mother? Maybe it's something else. Maybe all of them know about Bobby too and they just don't want anything to do with it. I will never understand the way the human mind works, so I guess I'll ignore that along with them. 34

Sarah and I are now bursting through the entrance doors to JC Penny. We don't stop there, though because we aren't safe yet. 35

"My car is parked over there. Come on," she says to me. I'm beginning to realize that I'm going to follow Sarah every time she says "come on". She has that fearsome leadership quality that makes you want to follow her. Also, I don't feel like getting in trouble with the law today, and I think that following Sarah is the only chance I have at escaping that little run-- in. My job is another story. I don't think I'll be able to save that... Oh well. It wasn't that great of a job anyway. Still, I wonder how I'm going to fill my pockets now that I'm unemployed. No one's going to hire a girl who got fired from her last job for following a juvenile delinquent out of the mall. 36

I get into Sarah's beat up, sea green Toyota Corolla. The floor of the car is littered with various fast food wrappers (including McDonald's), beer cans, cigarette butts, a lighter for said cigarettes. She put the key in the ignition and started the car, and we were on our way. She blasted the stereo with the sounds of punk rock and for a moment, I feel like I'm in one of those movies about the misunderstood teenagers who get away with everything. I feel like a real bad ass. 37

We turn onto the highway and head back to where my neighborhood is located. I wonder if Sarah already knows this. If she's been watching me as closely as she says she has been... 38

"Do you live around this way?" she asks, answering my thoughts. I nod because I know she's watching me, and also because I don't feel like talking to her presently. 39

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know what I said was really fucked up. But it's like... God, man! He was fucking you. He was raping you, man. Do you get that? Shit!" She slaps the wheel and pulls over suddenly, cutting off a woman in a silver mini-- van who proceeded to give her the finger. Sarah turns the car off and faces me. 40

"Don't you fucking let him touch you. Don't you ever let him touch you again. Promise me that! PROMISE ME!" She's so close to my face that spit flies from her mouth and hits my cheeks as she screams at me. She has tears in her eyes, and it makes me so sad to look at them. They're so empty. Blue eyes are the saddest eyes to see, I think. 41

"I promise," I choke out after what seems like an eternity. Sarah leans back in her seat and breathes in deep. Then, she starts the car and we're off again in the same direction. She doesn't say anything, so I don't say anything. We're getting off an exit that leads to the town I'm guessing we both live in. I mean, if she doesn't know where I live but she still began going in this direction, why else would she have come this way? 42

"Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?" Sarah says as she puts a cigarette in her mouth. 43

"How do you know I'm thinking so much, as you say?" my tone sounds rude. I guess I'm still angry towards her for whatever reason. 44

"Well, you're not fucking talking now are you?" she lights up and rolls down the window. "What's your name anyway?" How could she not know my name? She watches me and knows all these things about me and Bobby, yet she doesn't know enough to know my name? 45

"It's Cally," I tell her. She nods, as if she's approving my name. I wonder what she does if she doesn't approve of someone's name. With as much as I've seen of her character, I assume she'd change it to something she finds more appropriate. She seems a bit bossy. 46

"Well, Cally"-- I wonder why she puts the emphasis on my name like that-- "where do you live?" For some reason, I think about giving her the address. I mean, I'm beginning to have doubts as to whether or not she's really been watching what I've been doing or not. But just in case she has been, I don't want to give her the right address. I decide to tell her the wrong house number on the same street. At least then I won't have to walk too far to get home. 47

"44 Kenwood Terrace," I tell her. "Do you know where it is?" 48

"Of course I know where it is," she snaps. Her mood swings are really beginning to piss me off. I wonder what her problem is. I mean, yeah I'm grateful for what she did, but that doesn't necessarily mean I have to like her, does it? Of course not. Man, maybe she's right. I do think too much.49

We drove in silence for a few moments. Well, silence between us, but the music was still blaring loud as ever. I love music, but more along the lines of classical stuff. I'm always singing Bach or Mozart—especially Mozart. I get lost inside every note. Music is my only escape from reality anymore. As I think of this, I think about what my homeward arrival will bring. I look at my watch. 4:30. No doubt Dad will be home. He's a teacher at the elementary school and gets out around 3:30. Someone from the mall probably called him about what happened. I am in for a world of trouble. 50

"What are you thinking about?" Sarah asks. I straighten up and shake my head. 51

"Nothing," I reply. 52

"You know, I risked a lot by saving your ass back there. The least you could do is fucking talk to me." She tosses an angry glance in my direction and for a second I worry about her watching the road; but her eyes are back on it as soon as the thought enters my mind. 53

"Well I didn't ask you to do it!" I say back to her with a lot more attitude than I expected I could conjure. 54

"Fine. The next time you're being felt up by some rapist creep, I won't be there to save your ass. You can just let him fuck you. How does that even make you feel, Cally?"-- there's that emphasis again-- "Do you even realize what he's doing to you? Or are you in denial like those dumb bitches on Oprah and shit like that? 'Cause you know, that's great and all that. Tell yourself what you want. But the reality of it is that he's raping you and you don't do a goddamn thing about it. But, by all means, be cold to me. After all, I'm the one person who could get him to stop! Christ, man! I don't even know you and I saved your sorry ass, and you're mad at me because I know about your dirty fucking secret? Man, fuck you. Next time, just get up against the wall and make it easier for him. Just unzip your-- "55

"Shut up," I say. I can't listen to her rant like this. I don't want to hear what she's saying because I don't want to know that it's true. She's right. I'm in denial. And I'm alright with that.56

"Don't take out your anger towards him on me. I'm not the one who's hurting you. I'm... I'm trying to help you, Cally." I look up at her and she's looking back at me with her sad, blue eyes. It looks like she's going to cry. I realize she's been looking at me for a long time, and I start to panic about her watching the road until I see that we're stopped outside of 44 Kenwood Terrace. 57

"I guess this is me then," I say, opening the car door. I look back at her, but she's not looking at me anymore. 58

"Do you live around here?" I ask. 59

"I moved in with my cousin a few neighborhoods over. My parents died, so I have to live with my aunt." She looks over at me, tears obviously forming in her eyes. 60

"Oh..." is all I can say. How do you respond to something like that? Honestly. 61

"Do you want to... hang out sometime or something?" I offer. I feel it's only fair after what she last said to me. After all, she is right. She didn't have to save me, and she seems like she's only trying to help. She seems nice enough, I guess. 62

"I don't know. I'll have to see. If I decide I want to, I'll swing by McDonald's," she says. I get out of the car. She winks at me and rides off. I watch her disappear down the block, and all I can think is what a strange day this has been so far. 63

I know as soon as I shut the door behind me and I hear the stillness in the air of the house that my dad has been waiting from me to come home. I decide to find him and get it over with as soon as possible. I can’t believe what a horrible day this has turned out to be. Normally, it wouldn’t have been quite as bad as this. I could go to work, take the bus home, and have a quiet Friday evening. But today? I have an encounter with Bobby-- which is pretty normal, but never pleasant-- I meet a crazy person who then decides to save me, I run away from mall security guards with this crazy person, I’m going to get yelled at by my father, and I’m going to possibly lose my job over this. I don’t understand life sometimes and I don’t think I ever will. Its unfairness is completely cruel and unusual.64

I walk into the living room and sure enough my father is in the easy chair, reading and drumming his fingers on the arm rest as if in anticipation. Not a good sign. I force a cough so he knows I’ve entered the room. 65

“Oh… hi, Dad. Didn’t see you there. What’s up?” I say, trying to be nonchalant. I don’t think it’s worked, but even if it has it doesn’t mean that it’ll save me from whatever scolding I’m in for. 66

“Oh nothing, Cal. Just nothing. I came home from work, had some lunch, and had my usual phone call about my daughter gallivanting through the mall with some wild woman who’s just beaten up the star quarter back of your high school. Nothing out of the norm about that, now, is there?” He looks up after he’s done saying this to me. I look at my shoes and start counting in my head to ten, but once I get there, there hasn’t been any yelling. I look up again and see my father still looking up at me. 67

“I’m sorry, Dad… I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. This girl… she just-- “ he puts up a hand to stop me. 68

“Don’t say another word. I’m not mad at you. The guards say they were going to come over before she got there because they noticed that Bobby was picking on you again. They even say he… he um…” He takes a big sigh and starts again, “They say he may have tried to touch you inappropriately.” I blush at the mention of it and stare at the ground. How could they tell him that? Don’t they know he has enough shit to deal with, like grieving? People can be so oblivious. 69

“No. That’s a lie,” I say, sounding flat and unconvincing. My mother could never lie either. 70

“Cally…” my dad probed. I don’t know how to respond without letting him find out about everything else. I decide to change the subject before this gets too personal. 71

“What are we having for dinner?” My dad knows that he’s not going to get anywhere on the matter, but I know this isn’t over yet. I feel bad that I don’t confide in him, but I can’t risk telling him—or anybody… 72

“Raviolis,” my dad responds, then leaves the room in a silence so thick I can feel it suffocate me.73

Do you ever have that feeling when it’s around four o’ clock in the afternoon and the sun is hazy with a kind of melancholy you can’t describe? I always think about my mom around that time. Like there’s something missing in my life, and I’ll never be able to fill it back up. In a sick way, I think this is why I let Bobby do what he does to me. It’s almost as if I think that the sex will fill that gap… 74

Bobby didn’t start molesting me until about a month after she died. We were really good friends before high school, and then things started to change. He got his braces off and he started to fill out and he looked—admittedly—a lot more handsome than he used to. I could never feel “that way” towards him, though, and I think that’s what made him so angry with me, because after a while he started to pick on me with his new friends. 75

His teasing got to the point where I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I asked my mom if she would call a therapist so I could go sort things out. It wasn’t that serious that I was thinking about killing myself, but I wanted to get everything to a point where I could be stronger about it. Seeing someone helped more than I thought it would, and I began going more and more frequently.76

One night it was raining on our way home from my therapist’s office, and my mom swerved off the road, hitting a tree on the driver side. That was the first time I ever thought about death other than something that happens to everyone. 77

Why couldn’t it have been me? 78

At the funeral, Bobby approached me—his dad and my mom remained close friends despite our personal disputes. He held my hand and whispered, “I’m here for you.” I thought it was the reviving of our friendship, so I asked him if he wanted to hang out somewhere after the funeral. I look back now, and I realize how stupid I was. I could feel it in the ferocity of the grasp of his hand—though I tried to ignore it—that he had something evil on his mind… 79

That night, he took me out in his car and we went somewhere far away into the more wooded parts of the town. Once he stopped the car, I began to tell him everything that I was feeling. I told him about going to therapy and how responsible I felt for my mother’s death. I even told him the way I felt about him being cruel to me. By the end of my confessions, I was crying hysterically, and he held my hands. Then he held me. Then he started kissing my cheeks and telling me it was going to be okay. 80

“Shhhhh… it’s okay… shhhhh…”81

Then he was kissing my lips and I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t push him away. I thought he was just being nice. Then he held me tighter, harder. He buried his face in my neck and started kissing more feverishly until it wasn’t kissing, it was biting, and it wasn’t biting, it was sucking. Everything hurt and I screamed, and when I screamed he clasped his hand over my mouth and told me that if I didn’t shut the fuck up he’d kill me. I tried to push him off me, but he was too strong, too quick. Before I knew it, he was pushing on top of me, and my muffled screams turned into pathetic whimpers and all I could hear was the gentle breeze swooshing through the surrounding trees through the crack left open in the car window.82

“If you tell anyone what happened tonight, I’ll kill your dad and your fucking dog. Do you hear me? You’ll be all alone you stupid bitch.” I nodded. 83

I didn’t even cry on the way home, and the next time it happened, I didn’t fight it. I felt like—I still feel like—I deserved it.