Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [59]
I turn back to Mr. Addison. I answer his questions in a clear, calm voice. I tell the truth. All of it.
Jason takes the stand right after me. He says he can’t apologize for something he hasn’t done, and he can’t understand why I’m doing this; at the time, he thought I’d taken his breaking up with me pretty well. Mr. Pérez goes at him hard, but Jason holds his ground, all earnest and sincere. When he’s finished, he slips me a wink.
But even Jason can’t keep his cool when he gets the verdict: Guilty on all counts.
Forty-Three
If I was making a movie, I’d have Jason sentenced to the pen for years, screaming for mercy as he’s hauled away to a prison crawling with rats. I’d put him in a cell with a maniac who tortures him day and night the way he tortured me and the others.
If I was a nicer person, I’d have him getting therapy and leaving prison a whole new guy, seeking forgiveness and never doing another awful thing in his life. To be super cheesy, I’d maybe have him devote the rest of his life to charity.
But this isn’t a story. It’s the truth. And the truth isn’t like that.
Jason’s father doesn’t show up for the sentencing, but his mother’s there, dressed in black and wearing shades. She’s like a zombie. So is Jason. I’d imagined he’d at least be shaking, but he’s so controlled it’s frightening. When the judge asks if he has a statement to make, he says, “Only one thing, Your Honor. I’m innocent.”
The judge adjusts his glasses, and rips into him for what he’s done and his failure to apologize. “I hope you’ll reflect on your actions while in jail, and learn to take responsibility for your life,” he says.
Jason gets two years. Plus, since he’s eighteen, his name goes on a sex offenders registry, and a sample of his DNA is put on file. Once released, he’ll have to let police know where he’s living. It’ll be easier to catch and convict him if he ever does anything again.
I watch as he’s hauled away.
Forty-Four
“I’m still not sure what controls events, destiny or choice. All I know is, ever since I stood up for myself, I’ve felt good.”
I’m talking to Ms. Graham. We bumped into each other by accident in the frozen foods section at the supermarket. I was hoping to pass by unrecognized, but her cart got stuck in the middle of the aisle. Next thing I knew she was staring at me with this funny look. “Leslie Phillips,” she exclaimed. “Three years ago. Middle row, fourth row back.”
It’s weird seeing her outside of school, like she actually has a life. We talk for I don’t know how long. About her early retirement. About Jason’s trial. My life since. And all the things I used to think about in her class.
I tell her how sorry I am for the way we misbehaved.
“Not you,” Ms. Graham says. “You never dropped your books. I remember.”
As she’s about to leave for the canned goods, I hear myself say, “Ms. Graham, I owe you so much. Without you, I wouldn’t have had a journal. That journal was the evidence that convicted him. I want you to know, you made a huge difference in my life.”
For a second, it’s like the sun comes out across her face. “Thank you,” she beams. She tugs at the end of her sweater, grips her cart handle and disappears.
My journal.
I still write in it. Dr. Seymour says it’s therapeutic. I’ve needed that help in the time since Jason’s been out. They tell me he’s gone west. Dr. Seymour says I’ve probably seen the last of him. I’ll never know for sure, but the fact he’s moved away is a good sign. With our history, the registry and his DNA, it’d be risky for him to come after me. In the end, Jason’s the world’s biggest coward. And he knows I fight back.
Still, I think of all the other girls out there with a Jason. Girls living in fear and shame. Every so often, I close my eyes and try to send them strength. Katie calls it praying. I call it mental telepathy. Either way, I figure it can’t hurt.
“You were so crazy back