The Mockingbirds (27 page)

Because I’m not
that girl
anymore. I’m just
any girl
now kissing her guy how she wants, where she wants, when she wants.

I am ready.

I look at myself in the mirror and pull at my skirt. “This looks stupid,” I say to Maia.

I’m wearing a cream-colored blouse and a long blue skirt. It’s hideous. Maia selected it.

“It says
class,
” Maia says.

“It says
no taste
,” I say, picking at the dark blue cotton. “I mean, look at me, Maia!”

I stand in the middle of the room, planting myself in front of her, forcing her to eye my grotesque getup.

“It looks tasteful,” Maia says.

“Tasteful?” I scoff.

“Alex,” Maia snaps, “this isn’t a bloody fashion show. Everyone has invested in this.”

“Like I’m just a pet project,” I say, finally revealing the tiny bit of doubt I’ve had about her.

Maia shakes her head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Seems that way,” I say, knowing that I’m being a tad ungrateful.

Maia purses her lips, lets out an exhale, and pauses. “Alex, I know this is hard on you and I’m sorry. You’re the one who went through this, not me. I’m sorry for jumping on you.”

“I just think this outfit is stupid. I would never wear this. It’s like you’re trying to dress me up as some sort of virginal girl who would never even spread her legs for a guy. That’s how this outfit feels. As if it’s part of the show.”

“Then change,” Maia says softly. “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be yourself.” Then, even softer. “I’m doing this for you, Alex. Not for any other reason.”

“I know,” I say calmly, and my doubt leaves. I take off the skirt, toss it onto T.S.’s bed. “And I’m glad you’re the one doing this.”

I grab a pair of black slacks from my closet. I pull them on, model them. Maia smiles widely. She opens the door. “Ready?”

“Let’s go,” I say.

We leave, laundry-less this time. I guess we’ve graduated or something. But when we reach the basement it’s clear someone brought laundry. Someone brought a lot of laundry. The machines rattle from all the way down the hallway,
making background music. Martin and Ilana are stationed like sentries outside the laundry room doors. We walk past them and once we’re inside, the doors close, as if by magic, but I’m sure Martin and Ilana pulled them shut. The dryers are running at full blast, the washers too. Loads and loads of sheets and towels fly around in them.

The couch and chair have been pushed aside and in their place are two long brown tables, one parked against the back wall, the other about ten feet in front. Next to the far table is a single chair, positioned at an angle.

Seated at the back table are the three students who form the council for this case. They’re all dressed in button-down shirts and classic sweaters. Amy introduces them, and some I know, like Callie Regis from biology last year, and Parker Hume, whose dad is a senator. Then there’s Lila Wong, a sophomore who’s on the student council too, Amy says. That means she started early, a runner her freshman year. They each nod as they’re introduced and smile quickly. Their smiles fade equally quickly. They look like judges. They are judges. They will judge me; they will judge Carter.

Amy motions for us to sit down, so I do at the far end of the unoccupied table. Maia sits next to me. There are three more empty chairs. Maia and I wait a few wordless minutes; only the noise of the washers and the dryers breaks the silence. Then Amy announces, “The defendant is entering now.”

My heart catches in my chest. I decide to pretend this is just another performance, just another recital, a concert,
like the one I’ll give tonight, and Carter is just an audience member, just an average Joe here to see me perform. The ruse calms my skipping heart as Carter sits at the end of my table, the farthest seat away from me. Kevin Ward sits next to him. Kevin’s his student advocate. The middle chair remains empty, a buffer between the sides.

Amy looks to the door, confirming it’s shut. Martin and Ilana remain on the other side to stand guard for the rest of the morning. Amy introduces the council members to Carter this time. They do the same thing they did with me—nod, smile, stop smiling.

“Hello,” Carter says.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kevin says with a slight bow.

Amy reaches for her notebook and clears her throat. “The function of the council is to listen to the evidence presented in the case against Carter Hutchinson for alleged violation of the students’ code of conduct as it relates to sexual assault of another student. The council will listen to the evidence and determine the verdict. The punishment if Carter Hutchinson is found guilty will be voluntary withdrawal from the water polo team. He’s signed the papers agreeing to these terms. If he’s found not guilty, we will remove his name from the book and invite him to serve on the Mockingbirds.”

Then Amy looks to Callie. “Callie Regis, I turn the proceedings over to you,” she says, and moves toward the door, where she stands.

Callie peers through her thick black glasses and reads
the charges; her longish blond hair falls against her face as she starts reading, so she tucks it behind her ears. “Alexandra Nicole Patrick charges Carter Drake Hutchinson with sexual assault,” she says, then reads from the recently revised code of conduct.

Sexual assault is against the standards to which Themis students hold themselves. Sexual assault is sexual contact (not just intercourse) where one of the parties has not given or cannot give active verbal consent, i.e., uttered a clear “yes” to the action. If a person does not say “no,” that does not mean he or she said “yes.” Silence does not equal consent. Silence could mean fear, confusion, inebriation. The only thing that means yes is yes. A lack of yes is a no.

She looks to Carter and Kevin, then Maia and me, and explains. “As I’m sure you are aware, what we will do here today is hear your case. You each will tell us what happened, in your own words. You each can call witnesses. After each side is done presenting, we will deliberate and issue a verdict. The plaintiff may begin opening arguments.”

Maia stands up and take a few steps closer to the council. “This is a simple case,” she begins. She wears khaki pants, navy flats, and a navy blue sweater set. Her sleek black hair is clipped back in a brown tortoiseshell comb. “We intend to show that Carter Hutchinson had sex with Alexandra Patrick twice while she was sleeping. She had
been drinking, and based on the number of drinks consumed—as witnessed by fellow Themis students—her blood alcohol content was point zero eight. Above the legal limit, as a matter of fact. The sex was not consensual. Alex was sleeping and therefore was not able to give consent. Just as there is no gray area in the revised code of conduct, there was no gray area in the events that transpired. A lack of a yes is a no, plain and simple. Thank you for your time.”

Maia sits down and Kevin stands.

“I will agree with one thing my good friend Maia said—this is a simple case. This is a very simple case indeed,” Kevin says in his slight New Hampshire accent. “And here’s what’s so simple about it,” he adds, holding his arms wide open, his palms out, as if he’s some genial Southern lawyer on a TV show. “Alex and Carter had sex. It’s that simple. That’s what high school students do, right?” He lets out a knowing laugh; I think he even winks at the council. “They were a couple of teenagers having a good time, having good old-fashioned consensual sex. And Alex is a girl who’s been known to engage in consensual sexual conduct with the opposite sex, as we will learn here this morning.”

Daniel. He’s going to bring up Daniel. I dig my nails deep into my palms because Daniel has nothing to do with Carter. The two of them could not have less in common. I learned that way back at the lost-and-found bin the morning after. I stare hard at the brown brick wall in front of me, pretending it’s a landscape painting of some serene mountain
brook. Maia squeezes my wrist hard and I say nothing, do nothing, just like
that night
.

Sandeep is the first witness. He sits down on the lone chair, the one angled out near the council table. He’s here to testify about how much I drank, to establish my state of mind. He talks about Circle of Death, about how many red cups of vodka and orange juice I consumed, how I stumbled when I walked, how I left with Carter.

I sound disgusting. I sound like a disgusting, dirty whore. I look at my hands most of the time while he talks.

Kevin asks him questions, tries to rattle him, but Sandeep holds his ground.

Next is Julie. She corroborates Sandeep’s testimony, backs up what he’s said. I make a mental note to follow through next time she asks me to help on a project.

Then she’s dismissed. Amy announces Dana as the next witness. I turn around and watch as Amy opens the door for her. Dana walks in wearing jeans and a crisp button-down shirt. Her short hair looks freshly blow-dried. She walks toward us, all broad shoulders and wide hips and big muscles evident under her clothes. She’s a big girl, but not fat. Just strong and sturdy and powerful. She parks herself in the chair Julie just occupied and Sandeep before her. Maia stands, smoothes an unseen wrinkle on her pant leg, and asks Dana how she knows Carter.

“I’m on the girls’ water polo team. Sometimes we play scrimmages against the boys’ team. And, you know, we just all know each other.”

“And did you have a specific relationship with Carter beyond that last year?” Maia asks.

Dana nods. “We went on a couple dates. We went to pizza on Harris Street one night and then we went to a swim meet together another time.”

“And was there anything unusual about those dates?”

“Besides the fact he’s a total pig?”

Kevin bolts up from his seat. “Objection. Character defamation.”

Maia interjects. “This is about character. This is about
his
character.”

It’s Callie’s turn and she looks at Maia. “Perhaps you could ask the question another way.”

“Can you tell us what happened on those dates besides the pizza and the swimming?” Maia asks.

“Sure,” Dana says. “We had pizza together one night after practice. We went down to Ambrosia Pizza on Harris Street and he kept putting his hands on my legs while we were eating.”

“What did you do when he did that?”

She shrugs. “I kind of just brushed him off. So we left and walked back to school and he walked me to my dorm and asked to come in. I said no. Then he leaned in to kiss me and I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then he tried to push his tongue in my mouth. I shook my head and pulled away. I said, ‘Not yet.’ ”

“And did anything happen after that?”

“Yeah, he put his hand on my ass,” Dana says matter-of-
factly. There are sniggers; some of the council members laugh briefly, then stop.

“And how did you respond?”

“I moved it.” Dana demonstrates, putting her right hand on her own butt cheek and then quickly removing it with her left hand. “I’ve got pretty strong hands.”

“Was that the end of the date?”

Dana nods.

“Did you go out with him again?”

“Unfortunately, yes, one more time.”

“And that was to the swim meet?” Maia asks.

“Against Andover last spring. We were going to be playing them this year in water polo and some of the players are on both teams, so we thought it would be kind of a scouting opportunity. So went to the pool together and sat up in the bleachers, kind of the back row. And he did the same stuff. He kept putting his hands on me the whole time. Slipping them between my legs. At one point he tried to grab my boob.”

“What did you do?” Maia asks.

Dana acts it out again, pantomiming removing Carter’s hand from her breast. “And what happened next?” Maia asks.

“We left the meet and he walked me back to my dorm again and he tried to kiss me again. He kind of pushed himself against me, against the wall right next to the door of my dorm, and then he pressed his crotch against me. And then I slapped him,” Dana says proudly. “I’d had enough of
his routine at that point. Then I told him to keep his nasty paws to himself and never put them on me again.”

“And did you go into your dorm at that point?”

Dana nods. “Yep, and a few days later he tried to start rumors about me, like he did to Alex at the start of the semester.”

“What sort of rumors?” Maia asks.

“He told his friends I had put out for him. As soon as I heard what he was doing, I walked right up to him after practice, right in front of his friends—Kevin was there too, he knows what I said”—Dana points at Kevin with her right index finger—“and I asked them if he had told them too how I slapped him after what he did.”

“How did they respond?”

“They laughed at him and he stopped talking smack about me.”

“Thank you, Dana,” Maia says, and sits back down next to me.

Then it’s Kevin’s turn. He ambles across the room, enjoys a pregnant pause, and asks slowly in a New Hampshire drawl, “So he put his hand on your, as you said in such a ladylike fashion, ass?”