22 Quinn
Quinn
Two weeks before the fall
I am walking back from another amazing night with him, though I’m lost in swirling thoughts about Elena.
It’s been less than twelve hours, but my anger has already doubled, like a bowl of dough sweating on the windowsill.
Collingswood is taking advantage of my friend.
I know Elena acts grown up, but she’s not. He could ruin her life.
I almost miss Otto Stringer watering the lupines by his mailbox as I walk by Sophie’s house on the way to mine. When I see him, I think about doubling back and taking a path through the woods instead, but he catches my eye and rights his watering can.
“If it isn’t Quinn Winter,” he says brightly. “So good to see your face.”
“Hi, Mr. Stringer.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a while. Everything okay between you and Soph?”
Warm fingers of embarrassment wrap around my neck and cheeks.
He looks back at the house, then at me again. “Hey, can I bother you for a few minutes? She’s upset about something, but I can’t get her to talk to me. Will you…? I know it’s a lot to ask…”
My senses perk up instinctively. “What’s wrong?”
He just shakes his head, and I realize then that the crease between his eyebrows is deep with worry. He watches me walk all the way to the front door before splashing more water into the dirt.
Inside, Sophie is curled in the fetal position on her bed, facing her closet. The blinds are closed, and the darkness is a contrast to the expansive morning sunlight, closing out the promise of summer.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” My voice startles her, I can tell. But she doesn’t turn around, just tightens her hug around a yellow throw pillow with tasseled edges. I hear a sniffle.
“I’m going to open the blinds now,” I say.
“No.” She turns toward me. “Don’t. It’s… I don’t want it.”
I take a few steps toward her and climb up onto the bed. I rest my chin on her upper arm. Her eyes are puffy, and her face is splotched red. She’s been crying for a while. “Let’s see,” I say. “Is it because the Nuggets are out of the playoffs?”
She wipes her face with the back of her hand. “You know I’m a Lakers fan.”
“I guess they do have Kobe.”
She shakes her head. “It’s their colors. Purple and yellow.” She turns to me, and even though she doesn’t smile, she swallows and prepares to tell me something. “Last night,” she says, then pauses.
“Last night,” I echo, waiting for more.
“I don’t remember all of it…just snippets, like flashes. I must have been really drunk. I don’t know.”
Her hand curls around mine, and she squeezes, like she needs the reinforcement of human contact.
“He took pictures… He undressed me, and he took pictures of me. Or I don’t know, he told me to undress. It’s… I don’t remember everything, but he—oh god, this is mortifying.” She buries her face in the pillow.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest. “Are you saying someone forced you to pose for naked pictures?”
She nods, barely.
“Did he…?” I start, and then I wait, my jaw starting to hurt because I can’t finish the thought.
She shakes her head. “He is going to send them to everyone. He said…he said he was going to send them to my dad.” Fresh tears flood her eyes now, and she shudders in what looks like a herculean effort to keep from sobbing.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“I don’t know what I did to him. I honestly don’t.”
I’d ask who it was, but I know. I’ve always known he would do something like this. “He’s been after you since we were kids, Soph. It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m humiliated. What if he sends those pictures around? I know he’s going to if he hasn’t already. I can’t go to school on Monday. What if my dad sees them?”
“We won’t let that happen.” It’s all I can think of to say because I am flush with the injustice of it.
Tanner and his infuriating assholeness crashing head-on into wonderful, tender, loving Sophie, who’s never hurt anyone in her life.
Was this happening to Sophie last night while I was in the next room with River?
It must have been. I realize now that I hadn’t seen Sophie for hours.
At the time, I’d just assumed she was somewhere, playing a game or adding songs to the playlist like she usually did.
But I was so anxious to leave, I didn’t even check to see if she was okay.
I think of what Sophie’s dad said to me outside.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” I know I’ve been distant, but now I’m wondering if my absence has actually shifted things for my friends.
Joey’s mom attempted suicide—which Joey had to thwart all on her own—Elena is sleeping with a man in his late thirties, and now Sophie has been sexually assaulted.
I can’t help but feel a little responsible for all of it.
We’re supposed to be here for each other. I’ve lost sight of that.
She searches my face, then sits up and sweeps her fingertips back and forth beneath her eyes.
I hurry to the kitchen and fill a glass to the top with ice and pink lemonade from a plastic pitcher in the fridge.
It’s something my mom has kept in her fridge for years, and I wonder, fleetingly, if she’s been swapping notes with Otto.
When I come back in the room, Sophie’s slowly opening the blinds.
“I feel like it’s been so long since you’ve been here,” she says quietly.
She wipes at her nose with the back of her hand.
“I think we should go to the spell circle. We could do a summoning spell to try to get those pictures off his phone. There’s still a chance he hasn’t shared them yet, so it’s worth a try. ”
I nod absently, but I can’t seem to speak.
A thrill slams into me, as if it has just run, panicked, out of the dark closet.
The magic. It can reach inside the brain of someone like Tanner and rewire it.
I know it can. And Collingswood for that matter.
And Joey’s mom. The magic can do more for Sophie than just a simple summoning spell.
It can fix bad people—and save the good ones.
Before, I thought maybe it was possible, but now I can feel it, as if it’s a solid, powerful truth.
I know it’s possible. But I still don’t know how.
I’ve never heard of any spells that can do it, but I am suddenly struck by the certainty that the answer is hidden in the blank pages of the book.
My hand almost slips from the condensation as I hurry over to her and hold out the glass.
“No,” I say as she takes a long steadying drink.
“You stay here. Eat something, watch some reality TV. Take your mind off it. You shouldn’t have to see those pictures, Soph.
I don’t want it to trigger you. I’ll take care of it. ”
“But are you going to use magic? You can’t go by yourself,” she says.
“No, no magic,” I lie. “Just good old-fashioned convincing. Or maybe I’ll just distract him and steal his phone. That could work too.”
Sophie looks skeptical.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll come back and we can go to the spell circle together. With everyone. Okay?” I am quickly formulating a different plan. I try not to let my face betray me.
Sophie looks at me and then at the door. She’s torn. I can see it. She seems to be weighing it up, trusting that I will protect her but also believing this situation is irreparable without magic.
Eventually, she breaks the silence. “Okay.”
I kiss her forehead, and before she can take another sip, I’m out the door.