Becoming Sarah

chapter NINETEEN


Ricky knocked me to the ground; the weight of his body pushed me down and I thought I would die again, right there. His flailing arm hit my face, my cheekbone. The pain shattered me. Not again, I thought. This can’t happen again.

But this time I wasn’t silent. I screamed and I screamed. This time I wasn’t alone, either. It was the middle of the day on a busy street.

It felt like Ricky was on me for an eternity, but really it was only seconds before two big guys – members of the football team – pulled him off. I was still dazed when the patrol car arrived. A student must have called 911 on a cell phone. It was two officers in uniform, a man and a woman, and the woman put her arm around me while the man handcuffed Ricky Jones.

The officer led him past me and I heard him muttering, “I didn’t mean it. She wouldn’t be quiet. I didn’t mean it.”

I looked at the woman officer and said, “Ask him who he means.”

Ricky heard me. He lifted his head and turned around. “Jamie Lumley,” he said, loud and clear as day. “Jamie Lumley, that fat bitch. I told her be quiet, but she kept on yelling. I had to make her stop yelling.”

After a bag of ice and a couple of Advil, my face was okay. I ended up with a bruise, but by the time it turned from red to black to brown and yellow, Detective Todd called me up at Sarah’s apartment.

“It’s over,” he said. “Ricky confessed and keeps right on confessing.”

“I know,” I said.

“We’re looking at his DNA just to make sure.”

“It was him.”

“How did you. . .never mind.” He let out a tired sigh. “I don’t want to know.”

“I told you, I’m – “

“I said, I don’t want to know.”

A silence. “What will happen to him?” I asked.

“It depends on whether he’s tried as an adult. It depends on what the court-appointed psychiatrist has to say. He. . .he’s not all that lucid right now.”

“You mean he’s crazy?”

“Guilt does funny things to people.”

“One more thing,” I said. “Will you tell my – will you tell Jamie’s mother about what happened at the school? How I was there?”

“I’ll tell her.” He paused. “It doesn’t mean -- ”

“I know. I’ll leave her alone. But maybe, maybe someday she’ll wonder how I knew, and want to talk. . . ”

And we let it go at that.

Knowing Ricky was caught didn’t solve all my problems. It didn’t even stop the nightmares. But it helped, knowing I’d done something. I’d confronted him. I’d screamed for help, even if it was a couple months too late.

By the time my Paris trip rolled around, I was glad to get away. I needed time to think, time to figure things out.

Matt drove me to the airport. I was excited, but also a bundle of nerves. “What if I can’t find my hotel?” I said. “What if I can’t figure out the Metro?”

Matt steered his way to the curb in front of the International Terminal. “You’ll be fine. You’ll do great. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, Sarah.” He leaned over and put his hand on my arm. His eyes met mine with warmth and laughter. “You worry too much, but then you always figure things out in the end.”

“You’re right, you’re right. But –“

“So quit thinking and get on that plane,” Matt said, with mock fierceness.

“Yes, sir.” I laughed and got out. He helped me get my bag from the trunk. I was roughing it with just one big backpack, lots of jeans and Tshirts and none of Sarah’s dressy stuff. I shrugged on the backpack and stood there staring at Matt.

“So. . .” he began.

“I guess. . .” I said, interrupting him.

We laughed. “So I guess this is it,” Matt said.

“Yeah.”

But neither of us moved. I missed Matt already, and the way he made me feel. Good. Happy. Secure. And suddenly, looking at him, I realized there was more to it than that. Something in my stomach clenched and released, and I realized I was very much attracted to him. I hadn’t let myself see that before.

“Matt,” I said, but he leaned forward and stopped my words with a kiss.

It was a tentative kiss, with none of the force of Nick’s, none of the pyrotechnics, but nice. Very nice. The second kiss was even nicer. And the third. Finally, breathless, we pulled away from each other.

“I’d better go,” he said. “I’m not supposed to park here.”

“I should get in line,” I said. “Security might take a while.”

But neither of us moved. We just stood there and looked at each other, big smiles on our faces.

Later, on the plane, I leaned back in my seat and sighed. I didn’t know where things would go with Matt. Maybe he was the one I was meant to be with. Maybe not. I did know he was good for me, and that I was looking forward to finding out what happened next with us.

There were all kinds of things I needed to do, eventually. I thought I might answer the phone the next time Sarah’s mother called. I shouldn’t let her worry. Besides, she sounded like a pretty nice woman.

I needed to finish my application for the teaching credential program. It would give me something to work towards, something to give me direction.

I needed to keep on dealing with the memory of Ricky Jones and what he’d done to me. The pain might fade, but I knew it would never really go away, not completely.

I needed to decide whether to keep trying to make contact with my mother, or whether to let Jamie and my old life go.

But all of this would come later, much later. Right now I was off to Paris.

The flight attendants made an announcement over the intercom, first in English, then in French. With a thrill, I realized I understood both. I’d never been on an international flight before. In about ten hours, I’d be standing on foreign soil. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered in anticipation.

The older woman sitting next to me leaned over and smiled. “Your first trip to France?”

I nodded.

“You’ll love it.”

“I know,” I said.

“I’m Nora.”

“I’m. . .” I hesitated. “I’m Sarah,” I said firmly. “Sarah Winslow.”