Touch by Francine Prose Page B

touch them that day. That day the seniors were away on their trip and we were all sitting in the back of the bus.”
    “Which one of the boys asked first?” asked Joan. “You’re probably going to have to remember.”
    A chill went through me when she said that. Maybe I’d seen too many cop shows. Once more, I imagined my friends being held in separate interrogation rooms, only now they were really scared, and some sex crimes detective was tricking them into incriminating themselves. Give it up , the cops said. Your buddies have alreadysquealed. For a moment, I came really close to telling Joan the truth. Then a voice in my head said, Hey, have you heard about Maisie? She let three guys on her bus touch her boobs. And she’ll do it again for money.
    “Joan,” I said. “Can I have some time? I have to think about it more.”
    “Okay,” said Joan. “Take as long as you need.”
    The voice in my head spoke up again: Maisie asked her friends to find guys—like, customers!—who would pay to grope her!
    I said, “They all three asked me at once. They all three asked to touch me.”
    “All three at once?” Joan sounded a little dubious, and I couldn’t blame her.
    “Well, not at once at once,” I said. “But they were all asking.”
    “What did you tell them?” said Joan.
    “I looked at Shakes, but he wouldn’t look at me. I just wanted them all to calm down. When they asked if they could touch me, I said, ‘That’s an interesting question. Can I think about it for a minute?’ I thought they were joking. I couldn’t believe they were serious.”
    “And then?”
    “And then they asked again and kept asking. They begged and pleaded for a while, and I started getting nervous, because I could tell they meant it. I remember looking around…”
    “And then?” said Joan. I wished that she would stop saying that. I felt like I was the one being interrogated.
    “I said no. Definitely no.”
    “And then?”
    “I don’t know. That part went on for a long time. I decided to ignore them. I looked out the window, but every time I’d look away, one of them would say something like, ‘Come on, what about it, Maisie?’”
    “What happened next?” asked Joan.
    “Well, it was sort of strange, because right after it happened, I had the feeling they’d planned it. Because it went so smoothly. One of them glanced at the other, then they all exchanged these looks.”
    “And then?”
    “And then suddenly, Shakes pinned down my hands. He kind of leaned into me and held me so I couldn’t move. I struggled a little, but I couldn’t do anything. Icouldn’t defend myself or fight back. And the other two kind of pawed and mashed my breasts all the way to school. It hurt .”
    “Oh, you poor thing.” For once, Joan sounded genuinely sympathetic. “And what did you do, Maisie?”
    “I told you,” I said. “I said no.”
    “I mean, while it was happening.”
    “I zoned out.” Well, this part was true, at least.
    “Why didn’t you scream or cry for help?”
    “Because it was all so embarrassing. I didn’t want the embarrassment to get any worse. I thought if I just kept quiet and let it happen, it would be over, and that would be that.”
    Joan nodded. This seemed to be in keeping with what she’d heard and read, maybe even what she’d come across in her practice. Typical victim reaction. Part of the story had been easy to tell, because it was the truth. They did touch my boobs, and I did zone out. The hard part was the lie about Shakes holding down my hands.
    Joan said, “And then they made up that awful lie about you wanting to charge others money. Honestly, I think those boys should be expelled. I think we shouldreceive an apology from them and from the school. I think we really might have a case here. I’ll have to talk to Cynthia and see.”
    “Cynthia?”
    “My friend. She’s a lawyer.”
    Suddenly, I was filled with dread. Pure dread. It felt like icy water trickling down my back.
    Joan