Page 29 of Serpentine Valentine
Trust him?
I couldn’t believe my mother would. She was the one who’d set an example for so many women in academics. She was the first female president in the history of Acheron U, and before that, she’d been the Provost at Stanford. She’d raised me with only a little help from my grandparents. Started the Pallas Scholarship to reward high-achieving female scholars without the money to attend Ivy League schools. Written a book on female empowerment in the 21stcentury that was onThe New York TimesBest Seller list for forty-two weeks.
She wouldn’t trust this man.
How could she when every alarm she’d taught me to install in my body against the chauvinism and misogyny of men was ringing madly in my head?
“Okay,” she said finally, words soft but binding as a promise. “I’ll trust you.”
Those alarm bells clanged louder, not just for Morgan but also for Mom.
I felt betrayed by her easy confidence in a man who seemed somuch like a predator. The woman I knew would have championed Lex, conducted a thorough investigation, and suspended Morgan, not Lex, pending the results.
But then, work was the most important thing in Mom’s life. I was a close second, but growing up, I’d always known her entire identity was wrapped up in her academic crusade. She had never been the type of mother to play with me. Instead, she was the kind to assign me homework on top of my classwork, and take me to museums and art galleries. I was an extension of her, and as such, I had a responsibility to be just as accomplished as she was.
So maybe it made sense, in a sickening way, that she would give in to her need to smooth troubled waters and believe Professor Morgan. It made sense for her, but I knew in her heart she knew it was wrong because I did too.
I’d read once that one of life’s biggest upsets was when children discovered their parents weren’t the faultless heroes they’d grown up venerating, but human beings just as infallible as themselves. Until that moment, I hadn’t thought such a blow was possible for Mom and me, and it broke my heart more than anything else ever had before.
After a night of chaotic revelations, my knees gave out beneath me, and I fell bottom first to the cold, damp grass. I closed my eyes as the world tilted wildly around me, restructuring itself around Lex, around Mom, around the new knowledge I had after tonight that burned holes through the tapestry of life as I knew it. Nausea rose and receded, but I fought the urge to vomit. Instead, I sat there within the dark cold for a long time. Long enough for my skin to go numb, my hands frozen into claws dug into the earth as if they could anchor me in the chaos.
Long enough for the nausea to slowly ebb away, for the world to clumsily right itself in new colors and patterns my eyes didn’t seem ready to recognize.
There were only two things clear in the wreckage.
I’d kissed Lex Gorgon, and I liked…no, loved it.
And if my mom wasn’t going to do what was right and stop Professor Morgan from preying on female students, someone had to.
And I thought madly, that person should be me.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
––Maya Angelou
Luna
The next morning arrived,too bright and throbbing. I felt hungover from the emotional whiplash and exhausted after only a few hours of tossing, turning slumber. I showed up to early morning practice like a zombie, but thankfully, years of conditioning meant I could play center mid-field in my sleep, and no one commented on my grogginess.
Besides, they were distracted.
“They found him in the boat shed,” Courtney said as we all crowded into the locker room, taking off our shin pads and cleats, stretching, changing, and chatting before heading out for classes. “He was tied to the rafters, and someonestapleda sign to his chest.”
“What did it say?” Cornelia asked, leaning forward with the rest of the girls, pulled in by the gravity of the story.
“‘I rape women,’” she whispered. “Can you believe it?”
“Yes,” Taya murmured beside me, head bent as she peeled off sweat-damp socks.
No one else heard her.
“No!” Flora cried dramatically, curls flying in her face, sticking to wet skin as she let her hair down. “Jerrod isJerrod. He’s, like, one of the most popular guys on campus. Why would he have to rape someone?”
“Rape isn’t just for insecure men, Flo,” I said, quiet but firm. There was a new weight in my stomach, not a hindrance but a ballast. A rightness and conviction that hadn’t existed before last night. It came from knowing a bit of Lex Gorgon, now, and what type of human she seemed to be. Angry, yes, sad, definitely, but also, honest to the point of brutality. No one believed her story, and that seemed like a crime for which she unfairly bore the punishment. “It could be because someone rejected him, and a guy like him isn’t used to rejection. Or he grew up in a violent home. Or maybe he was just drunk, and things got out of control.”
She scoffed. “If he was drunk, the girl was probably drunk. That’s not rape.”
“Do you hear yourself when you speak?” I demanded, suddenly rearing up on my knees, looming over my friend with a glare I could feel like a funeral mask on my face. “How can you say something like that?”
