Page 94 of Every Hidden Truth

Somewhere, I mustered enough energy to care and jumped to his defense. “It’s not his fault. I begged him not to tell. I made him promise. Aunt June, he saved me.”

“Silence is never the answer.” She didn’t mean it as a rebuke, but I flinched just the same.

“So we have two instances which may or may not be related?” Principal Moore asked, and my stomach dropped to my toes.

“Three,” I said, and everyone looked at me again. Ben’s gaze was the heaviest of all, but I refused to look at him. “Boyt cornered me backstage in November. When I was breaking down the set after the play. He... he tried to force me to give him a blowjob.”

Dad’s hand cupped the back of my head as I stared at my knees. Disgruntled noises sounded from several of the adults, but it was Acker’s horrified gasp that made me look up. Her hand covered her mouth as a fat tear trickled down her cheek.

“I remember,” she said, her voice catching.

“What? You saw a student get attacked and didn’t report it?” Principal Moore barked, and she set her shoulders, fire erupting in her eyes.

“Of course not, Phil! I didn’t see anyone else, but Silas was agitated. His mouth was bleeding, and he told me he’d tripped backstage.” She turned to me, expression heart-broken. “He looked so scared, but I... oh, Silas, I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “You saved me, Ms. Acker. If you hadn’t come looking for me…” The words choked off, and she pressed her fingertips to her mouth as a sob shook her shoulders.

Mr. Fields returned to the conference room with one of the school officers, telling us the police were on their way. Acker buried her face in her hands and cried openly as Mr. Rodriguez patted her shoulder in comfort.

Chancing a glance at Ben, I was met with cold eyes and a tight jaw. His ocean eyes were stormy and furious. At Boyt? Maybe. At me? Definitely. Because I’d lied to him, and now he knew it.

I returned to the safety of my knees, closing my eyes and breathing. The echo of a leaky faucet reverberated through my head. I smelled spring soap and spearmint, anxious sweat and my dad’s Old Spice deodorant. But underneath it all was an insidious layer of cucumber melon.

“I need to call my lawyer.” Dad’s chair brushed against the carpet, and he patted the back of my head before withdrawing.

“We have a number for a good criminal lawyer, in case yours only does civil cases,” Uncle Henry offered, but Dad didn’t respond.

Things moved quickly after that. They separated me and Ben, sending Ben to the vice principal’s office as they directed me to Mr. Moore’s. To ensure we didn’t collaborate our stories or feed off each other, I assumed.

Dad was on his phone in the lobby, flushed and flustered as he spoke to his lawyer. I was eighteen, a legal adult, so his presence wasn’t compulsory. But I didn’t want to face the detective alone. I hoped he could forgive me enough to sit with me in the office.

“Dad,” I interrupted his phone call, feeling two inches tall.

“Hold on, Carl.” He lowered his phone. “Yes, Silas?”

Unable to meet his eyes, I stared at his chin as I stammered out my request. “I was wondering, like, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I thought maybe you could sit with me. Like in the room when the cop comes. It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought, if you don’t mind…”

“Carl, I need to call you back.” He hung up his phone and tucked it into his pocket. “Of course I’ll be there with you, if that’s what you want.”

I shrugged, staring at my dirty sneakers. “It’s not gonna be a nice story to hear.”

Dad’s finger under my chin lifted my eyes to his, and the lines of despair around his eyes and mouth deepened. “You’re a legal adult, so it’s your call, but if you want me to be there, then I’m there.”

Nodding, I smoothed out a wrinkle in Dad’s dress shirt. “I don’t really wanna be alone.”

“Okay.” He patted my shoulder as his eyebrows furrowed, threatening to merge into one thick line. “I wish you had told me sooner, Silas. I… I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me—”

“Dad, no. It’s not—”

“I should’ve been there for you, should’ve protected you. You’re my son, Silas, and I failed you.” To my horror, his dark eyes glistened as he pressed his lips together, his voice choking on emotion.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my dad cry.

“This isn’t your fault,” I insisted. “You’re the best dad in the whole world. I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me or mad at me.”

For the millionth time in this cursed day, tears trailed down my cheeks, and Dad hauled me against his chest, his embracetight. “Oh, my boy, I’m not mad at you. I’m not ashamed or disappointed. I’m so proud of you, Silas.”

The dam barricading my emotions burst, and I wept into his shirt. I clung to his broad shoulders and let him hold me, rocking us back and forth.

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