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I shake my head slowly, realizing in hindsight what a mistake that was. I was happy to decline campus ho
using in favor of the sorority when I made my application. Now, the decision seems like a bad one.
“Do your foster parents live close by? Could you perhaps commute?”
I clear my throat. I'm not even sure I’m ready to talk about this, and I don't really have a plan for the future to discuss with him. My big plan for my life until an hour ago was to pledge Chi Rho Pi and make the Dean’s list, then program apps the rest of my life.
After finding out about the video, my revised plan consisted of marching my feet in the direction of this house. I don't know what happens after this.
But he doesn't seem like the sort of person who does anything without a plan, so I scramble in my mind, trying to put something together.
“Because I'm over eighteen,” I begin, placing the words together like beads on a string as they come to me, “I don't have a home to go back to. Once you're a legal adult, the foster system needs that vacancy, so…”
My voice trails off. He says nothing, just exhales slowly through his nose. But I feel as though he's working it out, puzzling a solution with a flurry of activity behind his calm exterior.
“I'm honored that you trusted me enough to return,” he says quietly. His eyes search mine as though calculating the risk he's taking me by telling me that. “What would you like to do next?”
My mouth opens and closes.
“I'll just…” I take a deep breath. I count to three, then to five. As I squint into my imaginary future, nothing materializes. It’s all just fog. “I just need a little time to think. I just… oh, this is stupid, isn't it? I should probably just go back —”
“Don't go!” he barks sharply, startling me. I push myself back further into the corner of the sofa and he advances, but only an inch or two.
He raises his hands, palms out, in a gesture of innocence. “I'm sorry, that came out wrong,” he admits. “What I meant to say is, I think you're doing the right thing. I think you should distance yourself from them. Going back there would be a mistake.”
“But I really don't have anywhere else to go,” I stammer, afraid that my voice will crack again, that I'll start crying again. “There’s school… all my friends… all my things are there…”
“Not a problem,” he shrugs.
I shake my head. It does not make any sense.
“What's not a problem?” I ask. Did not just tell him all my problems, literally?
He smirks as though he's figured out the answer to a riddle before I did. “I can have all your things here in two hours, would you like that?”
“I… really don't know what you're talking about,” I say cautiously.
“Do you remember my driver? Freddie? I’ll have him retrieve your things. It's not a problem.”
He nods, obviously pleased with himself. But I feel a little irritated, if I'm telling the truth. He looks just the tiniest bit smug about the situation.
“Okay, I don't know if I really need somebody to, you know… take over or whatever,” I start.
His expression darkens. “That's not what I'm trying to do,” he mutters.
I just let him think about it for a few seconds. His eyes focus on the back of his knuckles as his brow furrows for a few moments. Just by looking at him, I start to really wonder what's going on inside his head. There must be a whole room full of people talking in there. He seems to think quite a bit before he speaks.
Actually, I sort of like that. That's very different from most people I know.
“Tell me,” he begins again. “What changed your mind?”
I feel my cheeks get hot as I remember the video Serena showed me. Lizzie's face, twisted into a sneer. Those boys staring at me like I was some kind of a piece of meat. The one who slid his hand up my thigh…
I clear my throat. “There was, um, a video.”
He raises a hand, indicating that I can stop. He knows. I can see it on his face.
“Kita, I don't want you to be afraid. Not of me, especially,” he says earnestly, his eyes serious and intense. “And I know you don't know me at all, but I want to offer you something, and I hope you'll take it. May I do that?”
