Page 119 of The Hitchhikers

“She does.”

He made a snorting sound. A scoff.

“I need to do my homework.” She got to her feet.

“Sit with me, please. Just for a little while.” He tugged her back down onto the couch. She sat stiffly. Elbows pressed against her sides. Knees together. He rolled his head toward her, staring at her with glossy eyes. “I don’t have anyone I can talk to. Not really.”

Was he crying? Jenny had never seen a grown man cry. She awkwardly patted his shoulder. She had only meant to comfort him, but he grabbed onto her hand, kissing her knuckles, and up her arm.

“Jenny, Jenny. My beautiful girl.”

“Stop!”

She tried to pull free, but he was so much stronger. He pushed her down and trapped her on the couch.No, no, not again.He covered her mouth with his hand. He begged her to understand that he couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault, he’d tried to stay away from her.

Afterward, he sobbed, then threatened. Her mother could never know. Her mother, who finally had her nice house and rich husband and ballet studio. Everything she wanted.

Jenny had gone back to her room and tried to forget. When that didn’t work, she made plans. She would practice harder. She’d get into ballet school. She’d never return.

A year and a half went by. She failed her audition. Her mother wanted her to try again the next summer, but this time for the teaching program. Then she would work at the studio. Jenny told herself that she could still leave White Cliff after that. She could get a job teaching ballet in a different city. She didn’t think about falling in love or getting married one day. She couldn’t see a boy without thinking about what Robert had done. What if they were all like that?

Valentine’s Day, he took her mother out for dinner and brought her back staggering drunk. He half lifted, half carried her upstairs. Jenny, trapped in the living room with her book, hoped Robert hadn’t seen her on the sofa. She tried to make herself small.

“Can you help your mother into bed?” he said over his shoulder.

Jenny reluctantly followed them and was relieved when Robert left the room. She washed the makeup off her mother’s face, took the pins out of her hair, and pulled the blanket over her. She wasn’t going to undress her. Her mother wouldn’t have cared about modesty, but Jenny didn’t want to see whatever lingerie set her mother had picked out for Valentine’s Day.

She left her mother’s room, walked directly into hers, and closed the door. She needed her chair to put under the handle. She walked over to her bed in the dark and switched on her night table lamp. She turned, and nearly screamed when she saw Robert sitting at her desk.

He held a small, heart-shaped box in his hand.

“Chocolates.” He winked. “One of our little secrets.”

Oneof them. Her skin crawled. He said it like they shared some private joke.

She stayed standing by her bed. How could she make him leave?

The corners of his lips turned down. It made him look like he was pouting. “You aren’t going to thank me?”

“Thank you.”

He set the chocolates on her desk and got to his feet. She backed up, but he wasn’t coming toward her. He stood in front of her full-length mirror and stared at her in the reflection.

“I see you watching me in the mirror at the studio. Dancing for me.”

“I don’t. I don’t do that.”

He spun abruptly back to her desk, grabbed the chair, andwalked it toward the door. He jammed it under the handle. “This is what you do, isn’t it?”

She ran for her balcony. She’d climb down. She didn’t care if she fell.

Steps behind her. His arm looped around her waist, lifting her. His cheek against hers. His aftershave, the booze on his breath. She twisted, tried to slide under his arm. He was moving backward, over to her bed, but he tripped and tumbled to the floor with her.

She scrambled away on her hands and knees. He grabbed her, flipped her over, and lunged over her body. He pinned her leg with his, his knee into her thigh.

Her breath was trapped in her throat, her eyes tearing.

“Mom! Mom!”