Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [37]
I was half working on my term paper on A Midsummer Night’s Dream and half watching a classic Knicks game on some random sports network—Christine had the deluxe cable package and had hundreds of channels. Ever since I’d met Brendan, I suddenly had an interest in basketball. I’m such a loser.
I was typing the quote, “The course of true love never did run smooth,” from Act 1, when there was a knock at the door.
I paused. Maybe they have the wrong door?
The knocking turned to pounding, and I heard a timid voice call my name.
“Emma? I hear the TV…are you there?” The voice sounded tearful.
I tossed my laptop on the floral couch next to me, flew to the door and saw my little cousin standing there, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, and I grabbed her into my arms.
“What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?” I pulled Ashley into the living room and plopped her on the couch. She just sat there, sobbing so hard she triggered a coughing fit. I ran to get her a glass of water, and quickly sat back down next to her on the floral couch.
“Drink this,” I commanded, shoving the cold glass into Ashley’s hands.
She gulped down half the glass, then put it on the coffee table.
“I feel like such an idiot,” she whimpered, her eyes shimmering with tears, which overflowed again. “What happened?”
She opened her mouth to speak, and instead started sobbing again—big, heartbreaking sobs.
“Ashley, you have to talk,” I said frantically. “I’m going crazy here! What happened?”
“Well, I showed up at Anthony’s apartment, right when he told me to,” she began, nervously biting her lip to keep the tears at bay. “And I thought I was early, because there was no loud music or talking or anything. It was supposed to be a party, right?
“When he opened the door, it was just him, and he looked me up and down and said, ‘Yeah, welcome to the party.’ And then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. I asked him where everyone else was and he just laughed and handed me a vodka and orange juice and it was like, all vodka, too.” Her words came tumbling out. She took a big, sobbing gulp of air, then continued.
“I waited for a second and asked him about the basketball team, like, when are they playing again and all the stuff we talked about on Facebook, and he was kind of giving me one-word answers and stuff, and then he sat down next to me and I asked him again, “Where is everyone?”
Ashley’s voice broke, and I handed her a tissue from the fuzzy pink box Christine always kept on the end table.
“His family’s place is huge and there was definitely no one else there. Anthony started rubbing my neck so I asked him again.”
I tried to keep my voice even. “And then what?” I asked.
“He says, ‘Don’t be stupid, you know you’re the party.’” She spit it out bitterly, wincing at the recollection. “I mean, what a lame line, right? And then, he starts laughing, and rubs my thigh. So I push him away and I tell him to leave me alone, and he keeps telling me, ‘Come on, you’re so hot, you know I could get any girl I want,’ blah, blah, blah, and that I should be so flattered. I didn’t even have my coat off.”
She looked down, her already-crimson cheeks turning even redder. When she looked back up at me, her tear-streaked face was contorted with anger.
“He kept trying to get me to open my legs,” she choked out hoarsely. “He kept wedging his hand between my knees, so I slapped him. Then I reached for the drink and poured it in his lap.”
I was torn between rage at Anthony and pride in my cousin. “Good for you,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Not really, because then he got mad.”
My eyes widened. “Did he…hurt you?”
“No, it was nothing like that,” Ashley hastily said, seeing where I thought this conversation was going. But then she started in on the tears again.
“But he started yelling at me, ‘You’re nothing