26. Speak the Truth
26
Speak the Truth
What felt like hours—but was probably only fifteen minutes—later, the door to the front office blew open, and Aunt June stormed inside, Uncle Henry hot on her heels.
I slumped lower in my chair, curling into a ball and hiding my face in my knees.
“Benjamin, what’s happened?” Aunt June asked at the same time Uncle Henry demanded, “What’s going on?”
Principal Moore saved us from having to answer, his voice tight. “Please, if you’d join me in my office. There’s a situation we must discuss.”
A situation. How cold and clinical. I wished I could view it with such detachment.
They left us in our seats, Acker and Mr. Rodriguez following behind Ben’s aunt and uncle into the principal’s office. Barely two minutes passed before Aunt June and Uncle Henry’s outraged voices echoed through the front office.
I couldn’t stop the full-body flinch, and Ben’s hand landed on the back of my neck and rubbed gently.
“She’s not angry with us, Silas,” he said. “It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see.”
A hot tear leaked out, tracking down my cheek. “It’s not okay.” My voice broke on a sob, and Ben’s chest hitched.
“No, Si, please. Not yet,” he pleaded in my ear, the hand on the back of my neck squeezing just shy of too tight. “We can break later, but not now. Come on, baby, stay with me.”
Unable to form words around the tears clogging in my throat, I turned and pressed my forehead to his. I held his gaze as the loss crashed over us. His blue eyes flooded with fresh moisture, and a fissure the size of the Grand Canyon tore through the center of my chest.
This was my fault. I’d done this.
“Ben, I—”
The lobby door swung open, cutting me off. My dad stood in the doorway, eyes wide with worry as he ran his dark gaze over me and Ben. Like a child, I scrambled out of my seat and launched myself into my dad’s arms, sobbing harshly. He caught me, cradling me to him.
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” I whimpered into his shirt, praying he wouldn’t hate me. “I’m sorry.”
Someone shuffled behind me, but I refused to leave the safety of my father’s arms.
He scrubbed my back roughly, his confused concern palpable in the air. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Instinctively, I knew he wasn’t addressing me. Principal Moore answered a moment later. “Mr. Brigs. If you’d come into my office—”
“What in God’s name happened to my son?” he growled, his normally placid tone twisting into something dangerous.
“Please, we need everyone to remain calm—”
“Remain calm?” he interrupted again, and I peeked over my shoulder in time to catch the bob of Principal Moore’s Adam’s apple as he faced down my irate father. “I can count on two hands the number of times my son has allowed me to see him cry. Remaining calm is the last thing on my mind. So I’ll ask one more time. What happened to my child?”
Aunt June and Uncle Henry flanked Ben. Ms. Acker and Mr. Rodriguez stood farther back, behind Principal Moore and Vice Principal Fields. Any stragglers in the front office were ushered into different counselors’ offices as Vice Principal Fields stepped forward.
“Let’s move this into the conference room where we can speak more privately,” he suggested, his tone soothing. Dad guided me after the others, an arm around my shoulders.
I was directed to a chair at a long, rectangular table in the conference room. Dad took the chair on my right as Ben lowered himself into the seat to my left. He clasped my hand in his as I stared at the glossy table, counting the individual grains of wood. Dad barked requests for information, and Principal Moore reluctantly offered him Ben’s phone.
One glance was all it took. Dad paled, shoving the phone away like it was radioactive. My gut clenched and contorted. I wished I could forever erase that look from his face.
“What is that?” Dad slumped in his chair, running his hand through his salty, chestnut hair. “Why—what is that?”
“A student received and promptly reported this picture to our theater teacher. It appears this photograph has been circulating around the school,” Principal Moore said. “As to its origin, I suggest you ask your son.”
I flinched, withering under the principal’s glare.
Mr. Rodriguez scowled as Ms. Acker murmured a sound of dismay, but it was the vice principal who spoke. “Phil, I believe there’s more to the story. In fact, we need to alert the police immediately.”
“The police?” Mr. Moore balked. “Over a stunt like—”
“A stunt?” Aunt June was on her feet, her chocolate eyes blazing. “You think my boys had anything to do with this?”
My heart warmed momentarily at the title she granted me, but I sunk lower in my chair to escape Mr. Moore’s glower. He’d never liked me much. “Well, ask them! They’re the ones in that filthy photo.”
“Fuck you!” Ben’s chair flew backward as he stood, his expression murderous. “We didn’t take that damn photo. And we certainly didn’t send it around the school.”
Principal Moore swelled in outrage as Ben shouted more profanities. Aunt June tried to quell Ben’s anger, but he refused to back down. I couldn’t follow the argument. I was too distracted watching my father stare down at Ben’s phone, still lying on the table.
To stop the screaming, I took Ben’s hand, squeezing his fingers. He fell silent. Flushed and angry, he retrieved his chair and sank into it with a strangled sound. His fingers crushed mine until I feared he’d break my hand. Neither of us let go.
“Silas.” My dad’s voice cut through the room, silencing the conversations abruptly. I tentatively met his tortured gaze. “Do you know who took that picture?”
I clenched my jaw, unwilling to say his name. If I did, I would have to explain my accusation. They would force me to reveal everything, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t.
“Son?”
Turning away, I squeezed my eyes shut, pressed my lips together, and bit my tongue until I tasted blood. Pressure on my fingers pulled my gaze to Ben, and he furrowed his brow, staring at me expectantly.
Of course, he wanted me to divulge the truth. To him, it was the only course of action. But it hadn’t happened to him. He hadn’t faced the violation of being held against his will, greedy hands grabbing and touching. He didn’t know the helplessness or the humiliation of begging for mercy when he knew he’d receive none. How could he possibly understand?
“Silas,” Ben croaked my name, begging me. “Tell them.”
Minutely, I shook my head, pleading with him to understand. But there was no acceptance in his expression.
“Tell them!” He set his jaw as determination solidified in his eyes. “Tell them or I will.”
And I hated him. In this moment, I hated him more than I ever thought possible.
When I didn’t speak, bitter betrayal colored his face, and he released my hand coldly. He faced the table, throat working as he prepared to speak.
But fuck that. He had no right. If anyone was going to finally speak the truth, it would be me, goddammit!
Unwillingly, spitefully, I wet my lips and swallowed the hate, pushing it down, down, down, as I said, “Eric Boyt.”
My voice caught as Ben’s head snapped my way, eyes widening.
Glaring at him, I refused to look away as I said, louder this time, “It was Eric Boyt.”
Everyone’s focus landed on me as the room fell into an eerie stillness.
Ben’s eyes watered, and he reached out to take my hand again. I was the one to pull away this time, resting my hands in my lap. He grimaced at the clear rejection, but he didn’t say anything, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles whitened.
Dad shifted his attention between me and the principal. “Who’s that?”
“Another student—”
“A problem student,” Mr. Rodriguez added, unrepentant in the face of Principal Moore’s fierce expression. “Glare at me all you want, Phil, but we all know what that boy is. We’ve never caught him since no one comes forward, but—”
Mr. Fields stepped in, his young face looking years older as the displeased lines around his mouth and eyes deepened. “We can’t go accusing kids blindly.” He turned to me, sincerity bleeding from every pore. “Not that I don’t believe you, Silas, but you must understand.”
“This situation is delicate,” Mr. Moore finished with a pointed grimace at the phone.
“If my son said this boy did it, then he did it!” My dad stood, readying himself to battle my principal, and my heart swelled. “My son doesn’t lie.”
“We are not insinuating that at all, Mr. Brigs,” Mr. Fields intervened, ever the voice of reason. “Silas, can you tell us why you believe Mr. Boyt is the offender?”
No. Please, no. Please, don’t make me.
“Silas?” Ben whispered so quietly I almost missed it, and I fisted my hands in my lap to keep from smacking my name from his mouth.
Releasing a shuddered breath, I blinked through the tears blurring my vision. “I’m sorry, Dad.” I studied his anguished features as he lowered himself into his chair, as if in preparation. “I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. I was scared and embarrassed, and I—I just wanted to forget.”
“Forget what?”
He looked at me like a man burning alive, and I was the one who set him alight. I dropped my eyes in shame, wishing I could melt into the floor and die.
“Boyt attacked me back in October. He assaulted me in the boy’s bathroom down by the gym.” The confession was barely above a whisper as I silently pleaded for forgiveness for something that wasn’t my fault. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”
Devastation crashed over his face, and it was too much to bear. I curled into a ball in my chair, thighs to my chest, and buried my face in my knees. In my own makeshift safe place, I hid.
“When you say assaulted—”
“What the fuck do you think he means?” Ben answered the principal’s callous question on my behalf. “Are you really going to make him spell it out for you?”
Someone, maybe Aunt June or Ms. Acker, was crying softly. Ben’s fingers ghosted over the back of my neck, but I flinched away, forcing him to release me. I didn’t want him touching me. It left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue.
“We can no longer postpone notifying the authorities,” Mr. Fields said, and I bit my lip until I tasted blood as Principal Moore agreed.
“Indeed, you’re correct. Ryan, please make the call.”
Hugging my knees to my chest, I pretended I wasn’t here. I was in the back of my truck, parked at the drive-in. As I gazed into the night sky, I counted the constellations. Maybe I’d paint them one day. Or maybe I’d simply stay here forever, where no one could find me. Where no one could hurt me.
“Silas, sweetheart?” I remained in the dark haven I’d created for myself, ignoring Aunt June as I pressed my forehead to my knees until my skull protested and a headache bloomed behind my eye. “Silas, did you go to the hospital? After, I mean.”
Jolting from my unfeeling stupor, I blanched in horror at the misunderstanding. “No, he never…” I met Aunt June’s teary eyes. “I got away. He didn’t—I got away.”
Nodding in relief, she turned to Uncle Henry as Mr. Rodriguez muttered under his breath.
“Would we have camera footage? Not inside the bathroom, of course, but the hallway?” He addressed the principal.
Mr. Moore nodded slowly. “We’ll check.”
“Even then, is that enough?” Ms. Acker asked, and no one answered.
Ben cleared his throat. “I’m a witness. I was there. I saw it happen. It’s how we met.” Aunt June and Ben had a silent conversation ending with Ben’s eyes watering as he hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Aunt June.”
I had no idea what they’d communicated, but Aunt June wiped at the thick tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Benjamin.”
Her disappointment was heavy, and Ben cringed under the weight.
Somewhere, I mustered enough energy to care and jumped to his defense. “It’s not his fault. I begged him not to tell. I made him promise. Aunt June, he saved me.”
“Silence is never the answer.” She didn’t mean it as a rebuke, but I flinched just the same.
“So we have two instances which may or may not be related?” Principal Moore asked, and my stomach dropped to my toes.
“Three,” I said, and everyone looked at me again. Ben’s gaze was the heaviest of all, but I refused to look at him. “Boyt cornered me backstage in November. When I was breaking down the set after the play. He... he tried to force me to give him a blowjob.”
Dad’s hand cupped the back of my head as I stared at my knees. Disgruntled noises sounded from several of the adults, but it was Acker’s horrified gasp that made me look up. Her hand covered her mouth as a fat tear trickled down her cheek.
“I remember,” she said, her voice catching.
“What? You saw a student get attacked and didn’t report it?” Principal Moore barked, and she set her shoulders, fire erupting in her eyes.
“Of course not, Phil! I didn’t see anyone else, but Silas was agitated. His mouth was bleeding, and he told me he’d tripped backstage.” She turned to me, expression heart-broken. “He looked so scared, but I... oh, Silas, I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head. “You saved me, Ms. Acker. If you hadn’t come looking for me…” The words choked off, and she pressed her fingertips to her mouth as a sob shook her shoulders.
Mr. Fields returned to the conference room with one of the school officers, telling us the police were on their way. Acker buried her face in her hands and cried openly as Mr. Rodriguez patted her shoulder in comfort.
Chancing a glance at Ben, I was met with cold eyes and a tight jaw. His ocean eyes were stormy and furious. At Boyt? Maybe. At me? Definitely. Because I’d lied to him, and now he knew it.
I returned to the safety of my knees, closing my eyes and breathing. The echo of a leaky faucet reverberated through my head. I smelled spring soap and spearmint, anxious sweat and my dad’s Old Spice deodorant. But underneath it all was an insidious layer of cucumber melon.
“I need to call my lawyer.” Dad’s chair brushed against the carpet, and he patted the back of my head before withdrawing.
“We have a number for a good criminal lawyer, in case yours only does civil cases,” Uncle Henry offered, but Dad didn’t respond.
Things moved quickly after that. They separated me and Ben, sending Ben to the vice principal’s office as they directed me to Mr. Moore’s. To ensure we didn’t collaborate our stories or feed off each other, I assumed.
Dad was on his phone in the lobby, flushed and flustered as he spoke to his lawyer. I was eighteen, a legal adult, so his presence wasn’t compulsory. But I didn’t want to face the detective alone. I hoped he could forgive me enough to sit with me in the office.
“Dad,” I interrupted his phone call, feeling two inches tall.
“Hold on, Carl.” He lowered his phone. “Yes, Silas?”
Unable to meet his eyes, I stared at his chin as I stammered out my request. “I was wondering, like, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I thought maybe you could sit with me. Like in the room when the cop comes. It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought, if you don’t mind…”
“Carl, I need to call you back.” He hung up his phone and tucked it into his pocket. “Of course I’ll be there with you, if that’s what you want.”
I shrugged, staring at my dirty sneakers. “It’s not gonna be a nice story to hear.”
Dad’s finger under my chin lifted my eyes to his, and the lines of despair around his eyes and mouth deepened. “You’re a legal adult, so it’s your call, but if you want me to be there, then I’m there.”
Nodding, I smoothed out a wrinkle in Dad’s dress shirt. “I don’t really wanna be alone.”
“Okay.” He patted my shoulder as his eyebrows furrowed, threatening to merge into one thick line. “I wish you had told me sooner, Silas. I… I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me—”
“Dad, no. It’s not—”
“I should’ve been there for you, should’ve protected you. You’re my son, Silas, and I failed you.” To my horror, his dark eyes glistened as he pressed his lips together, his voice choking on emotion.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my dad cry.
“This isn’t your fault,” I insisted. “You’re the best dad in the whole world. I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me or mad at me.”
For the millionth time in this cursed day, tears trailed down my cheeks, and Dad hauled me against his chest, his embrace tight. “Oh, my boy, I’m not mad at you. I’m not ashamed or disappointed. I’m so proud of you, Silas.”
The dam barricading my emotions burst, and I wept into his shirt. I clung to his broad shoulders and let him hold me, rocking us back and forth.
“My son. My strong boy.” He pecked my head, and I melted into a blubbering mess. He cupped my face, his thick thumbs wiping at my tears. “You just keep your chin up, and you tell them everything that happened.”
I nodded as his support bolstered my pathetic courage. “I will.”
“I mean it.” His sudden severity jarred me from my misery, and I swallowed my next bout of weeping. “You tell them everything, every detail, because we’re going after that boy, and I’m not stopping until we get that son of a bitch.”
My dad wasn’t one to curse, but his intensity comforted me. “Okay.”
“You know I love you, right?”
Sniffling, I almost missed the vulnerable question. I tightened my arms around his waist as I nodded. “Of course I do, Dad. I love you too.”
Dad accompanied me to the principal’s office, and a detective joined us soon after.
Detective Arthur Rogers asked if he could record our conversation. I agreed, hoping it meant I only had to repeat this story once. I grasped Dad’s hand and told the cop everything.
Rehashing every detail, I explained what happened the night in October when Boyt had cornered me in the bathroom while he was high. I told him about Boyt jumping me backstage and forcing me to my knees.
As I handed over my phone, I shared my suspicion about Unknown and the text messages sent to me over the past few weeks. With a perfunctory apology, he confiscated my phone, slipping it into an evidence bag.
Per Dad’s request, I spared no detail, including Boyt’s subtle threat to Ben and the fight in the gym corridor in December. Hopefully, I wasn’t incriminating my boyfriend, but Detective Rogers never gave anything away. He listened, straight-faced, asking for clarification every once in a while.
By the time I finished, it was like a plug had been pulled inside me, and everything that made me Silas had slowly spiraled down into the gutter. The numbness was a welcome relief, and I dried my tears and straightened my shoulders, wrapping the unfeeling blanket around myself like a shroud.
The detective asked more questions and gave instructions I tried to remember but immediately forgot. After half a lifetime, we were told we could go.
Prepared to take me home, Dad blustered when I refused. I couldn’t go back there, not right now. The picture had been taken there. Returning to the scene of the crime was unthinkable.
He fought me but eventually surrendered, allowing me to climb into the back of Aunt June’s SUV. We left Mabel in the school parking lot as Uncle Henry drove Ben’s car, my dad following behind in his own vehicle.
Ben and I shared the backseat, sitting on opposite sides of the car. Halfway to his house, Ben’s hand crept across the seats separating us. When he couldn’t reach any farther without scooting closer, his hand stopped and waited.
I stared down at it, fighting with myself. But eventually, I swallowed the anger and bitterness and laid my hand over his. He flipped his hand over and twined our fingers tightly, releasing a heavy sigh of relief.
Our hands lay linked in the middle of the backseat, the only parts of our bodies to touch. Mere inches separated us, but we might as well have been miles apart. A tentative truce connected us, but it was fragile at best.
As I stared out the window, watching the trees and snow banks blur together, I gripped Ben’s hand tighter, terrified of what would happen when I had to let go.