Chapter Six: Jordan
I didn’t make it to bed until close to midnight. We talked everything through a million times. No detail was spared as Mom and I fabricated the story of how Coach T had raped me. In the end, it wasn’t hard since he had taken advantage of me along with taking what little trust I had left in men. Every time I started to falter on my feelings about crying rape, I thought of the way he had acted in his office—how he was probably doing Melanie behind my back. That caused the anger to pulse in my veins, and I wanted him punished.
The next morning I barely touched my breakfast. My stomach churned so tightly in knots I felt like I would throw up. Get a grip, Jordan! You’re acting like some p-ssy about this. Get your head on straight and your act together.
Mom drove me to school. From time to time, she would turn to look at me. Each time, she flashed me a winning smile. “It’s gonna be okay, JoJo. You’ll see,” she reassured.
To keep my focus, I once again kept my mind on how he had treated me the night before—the things he’d said, the look of hatred he’d given me. That was the Coach T I wanted to pay. I locked the other one—the one I truly loved—out of my mind.
I strode confidently through the office door with Mom close on my heels. I stopped at the secretary’s desk. “Yes, I need to see Dr. Micheltree.”
The secretary, who was a floater and sometimes substitute teacher, eyed me disdainfully before staring down at an appointment book in front of her. I guess she remembered subbing for some of my classes. I fought the urge to laugh in her face about how ridiculous she was to hold a grudge over stupid shit like that. But I refrained.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t.”
A shit eaten grin spread across her face. “Oh, I’m sorry then, but Dr. Micheltree won’t see you unless you have an appointment. You’ll have to come back.”
I opened my mouth to make a smartass remark, but Mom pushed me aside. She leaned in on the counter—her face inches from the secretary’s. “Now you listen to me. I didn’t haul ass all the way down here to be told to come back some other time. I should be at work right now, and I don’t intend to come back. So, we’ll just have a seat until she can see us!”
Without another word, Mom turned on her heels and clicked over to the couch. She shot the secretary one last angry look before she flounced down. I stood rooted to the floor, almost as astonished at the secretary, whose mouth still hung open wide. But then, I went to sit down beside her.
Barely five minutes had passed when the secretary cleared her throat. “Dr. Micheltree can see you now.”
Mom threw a triumphant glance at me before rising from the sofa. “Thank you so much for all your help,” she drawled in a sugary, sweet voice as we passed the desk. We wound around through a circle of offices before arriving at Dr. Micheltree’s door. Mom knocked.
“Come in,” a voice called.
We walked in the office. Mrs. Tillery, Dr. Micheltree’s secretary, smiled at us. “She just stepped out. Please have a seat, and she’ll be right with you.”
We eased down in the leather bound chairs in front of the desk. “Have you ever been in here?” Mom asked, in a whisper once Mrs. Tillery left the room.
“Nope. Just Mr. Sands office.”
“I see.”
Dr. Micheltree didn’t keep us long. She breezed into the office, her usual dark bob bouncing. “Good morning,” she said, with a smile. I couldn’t help but wonder how fake she seemed. I guess she was used to putting on a front for irate parents. “And what is it you’ve come to see me about?”
Mom cleared her throat. “I’m Ms. Bradford, and my daughter, Jordan, has something she needs to tell you.”
I stared at Mom in disbelief. I never imagined her throwing me under the bus in the first two seconds, but she had. Maybe even a small part of me hoped she would say the words—that she would utter the lie that had to be spoken. But she didn’t.
Dr. Micheltree looked expectantly at me. “Yes, Jordan?”
This was it—the big moment. The invisible line drawn in the sand that I had to cross. I swallowed nervously before I finally found my voice. “I was raped.”
Dr. Micheltree’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared into her forehead. “Here on campus?”
I nodded.
She stared at me in shock. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. When did it happen?”
“Last night.”
“And where was it?”
“The gym.”
I held my breath, waiting for her to ask the one question she seemed to have forgotten. She knew when and where, but she seemed unconcerned with who it was. I mean, wouldn’t you think it would be the most important question? It sure as hell would be to me. But the truth was, she was more concerned with her precious school’s appearance—like who could get their ass in a sling because they weren’t properly supervising students.
Her brows furrowed together, and she finally asked, “Do you know who it was?”
“Yes.”
“Who?” she prompted.
I glanced over at Mom. She bobbed her head in encouragement. I looked back at Dr. Micheltree. “It was Coach Thompson.”
I expected a range of reactions from her—shock, disbelief, horror, outrage…anything but what she said was certainly not one of them. “You must be mistaken.”
The wind left my body in one long whoosh. “Excuse me?” I croaked.
She avoided my gaze by staring down at her lap. “I said, you must be mistaken. Mark Thompson is one of the finest teachers we have here at Newton. His reputation is impeccable.”
Before I could argue with her, Mom leaned forward in her chair. “Just what are you trying to say?”
Dr. Micheltree clasped her hands together. “I feel that perhaps your daughter is mistaken.”
Mom’s face reddened. “You think she’s mistaken about being raped? And just how does one go about being mistaken about something like that?”
“I just feel she needs to be careful who she is accusing.”
Anger washed over me. I heard Coach T’s voice in my ear. “Go ahead and go to the office. They won’t believe you….”
“You think I’m lying, don’t you?” I demanded.
Dr. Micheltree refused to answer. “One second please. I want to call Mr. Sands in here. He’s an Assistant Principal as well as our athletic director.”
“I’m not lying!” I shouted.
She held her hand up to silence me. “Just a moment, Jordan.”
Within a few seconds, I heard Mr. Sands name being paged over the intercom. He must’ve been close by because he appeared in the doorway just a few minutes later.
He didn’t seem too surprised to see me. After all, wasn’t I the badass with a reputation and record? “Hello Jordan,” he said, pleasantly.
“Hi,” I grumbled. I’d gotten to know Mr. Sands fairly well in the four years I’d been at Newton. He was my administrator so whenever I got written up for doing something, I had to go to him for my punishment. In all those years and through all the shit I’d done, we’d had plenty of opportunities to strengthen our relationship.
He walked over to have a seat next to Dr. Micheltree’s desk. “Just what seems to be the problem?”
“Jordan wants to make a rape claim against Mark Thompson.”
The color drained from Mr. Sands’ face. “Excuse me?”
I nodded. “He raped me Monday night in his office.”
Mr. Sands gave me a sad look. “Jordan, do you know what you’re saying?”
“Yes, I do!” I snapped. Their doubt in my credibility was seriously pissing me off. Regardless of what Coach T had threatened, I never imagined I would be questioned. I thought it would all be him. “Why would I lie about something like this?”
Mr. Sands glanced over at Dr. Micheltree, and she gave a short nod of her head. “Jordan,” he began, “you do understand the seriousness of the accusation you are making. Whether guilty or not, educators never recover their reputations after something like this happens.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “I know that teachers can sometimes be unfair and make students angry. Sometimes they can get so angry over an F on a paper or a snide remark they decide they want to make a teacher pay. This isn’t what this is about, is it?”
I smirked at him and fought the urge to shout, “This isn’t about some stupid F or a smart ass remark! It’s about him screwing me for three months and then dumping me for no apparent reason!”
But I didn’t. I merely shook my head from side to side. “No, Mr. Sands, this isn’t about revenge. I was raped.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Jordan, I’ve known you for the last four years. In that time period, you’ve managed to stay in trouble fairly consistently.”
I snorted. “So?”
“Just try to hear me out, okay? I mean, here we’ve got you, a student who has been known to cheat on tests and lie about her whereabouts when skipping class. Then we’ve got a coach like Mark Thompson. He’s been teaching for fifteen years without blemish or complaint. Never has a girl come forward in all those years with such an accusation.” He shook his head. “Who would you believe?”
Once again Coach T’s words echoed through my mind. I clenched my teeth and growled, “I was raped!”
Mom sighed in exasperation. “JoJo, give the doubters your evidence. Maybe then they’ll eat their words.”
Dr. Micheltree and Mr. Sands both stared expectantly at me. I suppose they were waiting for me to whip out a soiled pair of panties or something with conclusive DNA evidence.
“Coach T has a scar on his right hip. It runs from his pelvis down to his inner groin.”
The room grew eerily silent. It felt like all the air had been sucked out. Dr. Micheltree leaned back in her chair, unable to speak. Mr. Sands stared down at the floor. Neither one of them would look at me. They both acted like I was some diseased element on their picture- perfect campus.
It pissed me off.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Jordan. We heard you,” Dr. Micheltree said softly. When she looked up at me, hurt pooled in her eyes. But it wasn’t hurt for me. I could read it so easily I almost bolted from my seat to slap her.
It was all for Coach T.
Since they didn’t have any sympathy for me, I decided to give them something I’d even held back from Mom—something that would really make them hate Coach T. “He did it to Melanie Reeves too! I found her panties in his office futon!”
Everyone’s heads swiveled to stare at me. Even Mom’s expression changed to horror, but I think it was because she was afraid I had just overplayed my hand. When she recovered, she cleared her throat. “So, now that you see the truth, what are you going to do about it?”
Dr. Micheltree exchanged a glance with Mr. Sands. “We’ve never had an accusation of this kind here at Newton. It’s unprecedented.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “That’s all well and good, but I want to know what you’re going to do to the son of a bitch?”
“There’s protocol already in order, Ms. Bradford, of what we are to do. We must call the Sheriff’s department. Jordan will have to be interviewed and then—”
I sat up in my chair. “What happens to Coach T while all this is going on?”
“Until formal charges are brought against him, he’ll continue working at the school.”
I gasped, and Mom grabbed my hand. “You mean to tell me he can commit rape and walk the halls a free man?” she asked.
Dr. Micheletree nodded. “Only until formal charges are filed. I’m sure the Sheriff’s Department will expedite the situation.”
“Well then, I suppose we need to get to the Sheriff’s Department right now then?” Mom asked, picking up her purse.
“I suppose so.”
Mom motioned for me to stand up. Dr. Micheltree and Mr. Sands didn’t look pleased we were leaving. I figured the sooner we went to the authorities, the sooner their perfect school was wrecked.
We’d almost reached the door when Dr. Micheltree cleared her throat. “Ms. Bradford,” she began. Mom and I turned back to look at her. “I do hope we can keep this as quiet and as uncomplicated as possible.”
I cringed as Mom shuddered by my side. I braced myself for what she was about to say. She flashed Dr. Micheltree a winning smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to keep it as uncomplicated as coaches who can’t keep their dicks in their pants!”
And with that, she slammed the office door behind us.