Page 32 of The Banned Books Club

Gia’s face had gone from red to slightly tinged with gray, as if it made her nauseous just to retell the story. To that point, she’d been putting on a stellar act. His sisters had been sitting on either side of him. He remembered Louisa leaning over to whisper that Gia deserved an Oscar for her performance.

But now he had to wonder if it’d been an act at all.

GIA ROSSI:He took off his shirt.

The embarrassment that’d hit Cormac when she made that statement had been excruciating. But he’d insisted his father would not have done something so humiliating—just like he wouldn’t have offered a student alcohol. This whole thing had been designed to punish a teacher for standing in the way of a volleyball scholarship.

MR. BRINDLEY:He did...what?

Cormac had squirmed in his seat as Mr. Brindley tried to make a bigger issue of her response—to be sure the judge heard it, no doubt.

GIA ROSSI:He took off his shirt.

MR. BRINDLEY:Did you leave at that point?

Cormac pictured her digging at her cuticles.

GIA ROSSI:No.

MR. BRINDLEY:Why not? Surely, you must’ve found it strange that he’d disrobe.

GIA ROSSI:I believed he took it off because he was too hot. He said he was. Also, he was drinking, so I thought he might not be thinking straight. I was still hoping to talk to him about my paper. I wanted him to tell me why he thought it was so terrible. And what I could do to improve it. And...and he seemed to be more friendly the longer I stayed, which made my hopes go up.

MR. BRINDLEY:That’s understandable. Doesn’t sound too out of line to me...

MR. JACOBS:Your Honor, Mr. Brindley is inserting his own opinion into the witness’s testimony!

There’d been so many objections. Some the judge had supported; others, he hadn’t. This objection had been sustained. But Mr. Brindley hadn’t seemed to care. He’d smiled at his assistant when his back was to the judge as if he’d already accomplished his goal just by making sure everyone had heard what he’d said.

MR. BRINDLEY:Did you ever get to talk to Mr. Hart about your grade?

GIA ROSSI:No.

MR. BRINDLEY:Can you speak up?

Gia’s answerhadbeen barely audible. Cormac had been hanging on every word and still had to lean forward to catch it. But at the prosecutor’s urging, a stubborn defiance had come over her face and she’d lifted her chin and spoken more loudly.

GIA ROSSI:I said no.

MR. BRINDLEY:Why not?

GIA ROSSI:Because that was when Mr. Hart pulled me up against him and...and...

Her words had faltered, and Cormac remembered hoping and praying she wouldn’t be able to finish that statement.

MR. BRINDLEY:I know this is difficult. It’s got to be almost as embarrassing and hurtful to recount as it was to live through it. But I need you to tell the judge exactly what happened.

By that point, Cormac had felt sick to his stomach. He’d told himself to get out of the courtroom before she could comply with the prosecutor’s instructions. He’d known that the images her response put in his mind would never leave him. But he’d been unable to believe she’d lie about something so monumental and had to stay and hear it for himself. It’d been like watching a car wreck; as horrified as it had been to witness the carnage, he couldn’t look away.

GIA ROSSI:He kissed me.

Given the number of times he’d dreamed of kissing her himself, Cormac had flinched.

MR. BRINDLEY:Did you try to resist?

She’d looked down for several seconds, kept digging at her cuticles while Cormac—and probably the rest of his family—held their breath.

MR. BRINDLEY:Miss Rossi?

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