“Why were you with Eli?” she asked, feeling her pulse rate elevate slightly as she went there, to that curious, some might say nosy, place. But why not ask? Casey had come to her, asked her for help, used her house as a place to hide from her mother. Casey had sought Violet out, not the other way around, and now it seemed like she wanted to talk about it with someone. Why not be the someone? If nothing else, it would be satisfying to know something about Nicole’s very own sister that Nicole herself had no hope of knowing. It would be nice to know a secret.
Drunk, Casey’s inhibitions were gone. They had learned about that in psych, how alcohol affected your brain, removing your “gatekeepers.” Casey didn’t seem to care that she was spilling a secret. Of course, Violet didn’t have anyone to tell, so she could do very little damage to Casey. She was, actually, a safe space.
Casey leaned forward and lowered her voice. She tried to focus on Violet but was unable to. Instead she set down the now-empty coffee cup on Violet’s nightstand and looked down at Violet’s comforter, tracing the floral design with her finger. “We ran into each other,” she said to the comforter. “At the pizza place. It wasn’t planned.” She glanced up at Violet to make sure she was listening, or to make sure she believed her, Violet couldn’t tell. So she just nodded.
Casey dropped her eyes back to the comforter and went back to running her finger along the flowers. There were a lot of flowers on Violet’s comforter; it would keep Casey busy for a while. Maybe as long as it took for her to tell her story.
“So he said we should maybe get together while I’m home. Have lunch. It was very . . . safe. No big deal, you know?” She glanced up a second time, and for a second time Violet nodded. “But it kinda went wrong,” Casey said. Her voice went small. She sounded younger than her years.
“So you got drunk because it went wrong?” Violet guessed.
Casey smiled. “No, the getting drunk went right. He has a fake ID. I asked him to get us some beer. I thought it would be . . . fun. You know, we could relax a bit. At lunch we were like two people who’d just met. I . . . felt bad. I didn’t want it to be like that.” She stopped talking, her finger stopped moving. But she didn’t look up this time. “He was so sad when we broke up. I feel responsible. I thought if we had a nice time, things would be . . . better.”
Violet cast about for something to say, but she couldn’t think of anything, so she kept quiet. She did not know about being in love, or breaking up, or what it felt like to be drunk. Except for last Christmas Eve when her mom had let her have a whole glass of champagne and she’d gotten what her mom called “tipsy.” It had been a not-unpleasant feeling, but it hadn’t lasted long.
“So we went back to his house, and his mom wasn’t home, and we were drinking too fast, and too much. And the next thing I knew, we were . . .” Violet watched as Casey pulled her knees to her chest and threw her arms over her head, hiding her face between her knees. From underneath the covering of her arms, she let out a frustrated, embarrassed groan. “I’m so stupid!”
Violet tried to make her feel better. “Well, you weren’t stupid alone. He was stupid, too.”
There was silence for a while, and Violet thought that perhaps she’d made a good point and Casey was taking in the wisdom she had offered, maybe even deciding Violet had been the exactly right, if not unlikely, person to talk to. Finally, she raised her head, eyeing Violet. Violet waited for the thank-you that was surely coming. She waited to hear, You’re so good to talk to. Really wise beyond your years. No wonder my sister liked you so much. She’s an idiot for letting you go. Maybe you could be my best friend now.
Instead Casey just looked at her. This time her eyes were able to focus. The coffee had begun to work. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m not stupid because I had sex with him. I’m stupid because it was a stupid thing to do. I thought I could handle it, and . . . I kind of freaked out.”
“Did he . . . force you?” Violet felt righteous indignation rise up in her. No means no. You can stop at any time, and your partner should respect your needs. The truth was, if any boy ever wanted to be with her, she didn’t think she would stop it, because she would be so amazed, so flattered. This was not something she was proud of. It was not the kind of thing an empowered woman would do. A voice inside her—a mean, condemning one—said, But it is the kind of thing the daughter of a whore would do. The word whore pinballed through her whole body, and she recognized the voice inside her: it was Nicole’s. She spoke up, if for no other reason than to drown out Nicole’s uninvited opinions. “If he forced you, you had a right to freak out. No matter what.”
Casey just shook her head sadly. “It’s not like that,” she said. “It’s . . . a long story. One I shouldn’t be telling you. You’re just a kid.”
Offended and hurt, Violet sat up straighter. “I’m not a kid. I’m a sophomore.”
Casey gave her a sympathetic smile. “I thought the same thing when I was your age. Thought I knew so much, was so grown up. I had no idea. And you don’t, either.”
Angered by the dismissal, Violet spread out her arms to indicate the room they were in. “Excuse me, but am I not sitting here in a house that was recently searched by the police, living with a grandmother I’ve never met, while my mom’s in jail? I think I know a few things about life being hard or whatever.” She could feel her breath escaping from her mouth in quick, angry puffs. Casey had some nerve. She thought of all the times Nicole had railed on her sister, calling her entitled and spoiled and clueless. In that moment, she agreed with her ex–best friend.
Casey stood up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She picked up her coffee cup from the nightstand. “I’ll just go.” She lifted the mug like a concession. “I’ll put this in the kitchen sink.”
Too angry to respond, Violet just nodded but wouldn’t look at her.
In the doorway, Casey paused, listing slightly to the side even as she attempted to stand still. “Thank you for being there for me tonight.” She held the mug up like someone toasting. “For the coffee.”
“You’re welcome,” Violet mumbled.
“Can I come by tomorrow maybe? Go for a walk again or something? You’re right, you do know way more at fifteen than I did. You’ve been through a lot. I’m sorry if I made it sound otherwise.”
Violet lifted her head, grateful for the acknowledgment. She looked over at Casey framed in the doorway. “I guess,” she said, like she didn’t care. But the truth was, she cared a lot. Casey felt like a friend, which was perhaps why her callous comment had hurt so much.
“I think we’re both dealing with a lot right now?” Casey said it like it was a question, but of course it wasn’t. Perhaps, Violet thought, if they hung out some, Casey would tell Violet why she had freaked out, why it was her fault and not Eli’s that whatever had happened between them went wrong. And maybe, if Violet got the chance, she could tell Casey what she knew about the night of Micah’s party that no one else did, get Casey’s advice on what to do about it. And maybe she could actually talk to her about her mom’s arrest, try to uncover if what people were saying about her mother was true. She could tell Casey how it felt to hear kids in the hall whisper terrible things when she passed by. They whispered and pointed, whispered and pointed. But not one of them ever spoke directly to her.