Clair de Lune

6. Disaster

The sun crept upon the evening, painting the navy sky with oranges and pinks and hues of fire. I loved the colors, the urge to reach out and dip my hand into the clouds almost overwhelming. My hand would've hit glass though, and I wouldn't have been able to reach anything anyway. It made me a little sad, but I don't think anything could've really dampened my mood.

Mrs. Walker called for dinner, and I got up from my place in the window to walk over to kitchen, the smell of spaghetti wafting towards me and making my mouth water. I sat down at my usual place, the rest of the household filing in moments later. Nolan took his place next to me and I reached out to say grace, holding hy head down respectfully while Mrs. Walker spoke. My stomach grumbled gently as she finished to signal the beginning of the meal. I reached out and filled up my plate, grabbing a piece of garlic bread to eat as well. I skipped on the steamed broccoli tonight, only because I knew I'd fill up fast on the noodles and bread. I was so caught up in the food I'd tuned out of the family conversation, but once again it was a sharp voice that interjected into my thoughts and distracted me.

"She killed herself because she was a whore, everyone knows this."

I was suddenly and alarmingly intrigued, remembering the news story from yesterday. A girl in the area threw herself off of the school and died because she'd been called a whore. I wasn't aware of the full story, but I knew she'd been sexually assaulted, and that's what had prompted the bullying.

"She wasn't really though," I piped up, feeling uncomfortable, "she got attacked. They called her names for something that wasn't her fault, you should be a little more sensitive to this."

For once Hailey and I seemed to be in the same boat. It was Patrick and Mrs. Walker talking, but I exchanged an uneasy glance with the girl before he continued talking.

"That girl dressed like a slut, walked like a slut, talked like a slut, and you're telling me she wasn't just driving the boys insane? I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

"If she didn't want to get raped, she shouldn't have slept with boys," Mrs. Walker tsked, "this is why I keep telling you kids you have to wait until marriage, especially you girls. It could save your life."

Out of instinct I pushed my chair back, feeling the need to stand up and assert myself. This was a topic that had never really come up before and I was highly angered by the fact that Mrs. Walker was defending the rapist. The girl that jumped was younger than I was and had her whole life ahead of her.

"So you're telling me, if Hailey or I got raped, you'd blame it on our clothes and our promiscuity?" I asked her. "How dare you. That man was a monster and she was an innocent girl, promiscuous or not."

"Agnes, sit down and be respectful." Mrs. Walker scowled, and I shook my head.

"No, I'm done. That's absolutely horrifying that you'd really think that way." I told her off. "Sin or not it wasn't her fault."

"If you don't sit down right now you're going to your room for the rest of the night and you are not allowed to come back out, young lady!" Mrs. walker seemed to put her foot down. "I will not tolerate this disrespectful behavior."

"Fine." I snarled, striding out of the room and out into the hall. I heard some more squabbling coming from the dining room before I slammed my door, but I wasn't having what she was selling.

For a while I sat there, unsure of what I was going to do for the rest of the night. I scribbled down pieces of a dream from the night before in my journal for a little while and even tried to copy down notes from a music sheet I'd lost long ago. Eventually I wandered over to my closet and pulled out a canvas backpack, hoping that our plans to leave tonight were still on. I filled it with things I thought I'd need more than others; I left my church dresses on their hooks and took my tank tops and sweaters, packing jeans and shorts I'd made myself, but never had the guts to wear in front of Mrs. Walker. My hand brushed against something elastic and I pulled it out from the depths of my wardrobe, finding pieces to a halloween costume I'd made myself a couple years back. It was a black harness and a matching garter belt, something for a TV show character I'd loved. Mrs. Walker about died the moment she saw me and made me change into something more conservative. I didn't hesitate to slip them in my bag.