Heart Of Marley (30 page)

“Miss Bowen,” a voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up to see Mr. Monroe standing in front of me. “What brings you down here? Shouldn’t you be in homeroom?” He raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.

“I called her down here,” Mr. Grayson said, walking up to me and smiling in the affectionate manner I had grown accustomed to. “It’s rather important.”

The two men glared at each other and I could have sworn I saw both of them stick their chests out in an attempt to appear more muscular and fearsome than the other.

“Well,” Mr. Monroe finally said, “I also need to speak with her about her senior project. I’m sure it’s more important than anything to do with your little pageant that isn’t for two more months.” He grabbed my arm and quickly ushered me into his office, locking the door behind him.

“Honestly, what’s the deal with you two? Is it a competition all the time?”

“It’s not a competition, Miss Bowen,” he replied, sitting behind his desk. “I disagree with his methods of doing things, that’s all. He shouldn’t be calling you out of homeroom to discuss anything that isn’t school related.”

“Maybe he wanted to speak to me about college or recommendation letters or something like that.”

He eyed me. “That’s highly doubtful, Miss Bowen, but I appreciate your innocence. Now, I’ve been meaning to discuss this with you. What kind of work have you done on your project?”

I slumped into the chair. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. I know the history of the pageant, how it started as a way to empower women. But now they have all these other parts of the competition that weren’t there when the pageant was founded. They now put an emphasis on beauty instead of a woman’s intelligence and strength.
That
should be the focus.”

“
Make
that be the focus, Marley.” His gaze bore into me. “Use your past.”

My eyes grew wide, my heart thumping in my chest as disbelief covered my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Monroe.” My voice was cautious.

“I
know
, Marley. I know all about what you went through. If you want them to re-evaluate things, make a point.”

I fidgeted with my fingers in my lap, looking down. “I can’t,” I said softly. “No one is supposed to know.”

“Is that
your
decision or has that decision been made
for
you?”

My head shot up at his ability to see something I thought no one could.

“Do you really want to stay silent? Don’t you want to be a voice of survival? The whole point of this project is for all of you to realize how difficult change can be. But what you also need to realize is that if you disagree with something, change happens at the grassroots level. The local level. Start small. Making people see that their ways are wrong or harmful, even to one person, is never an easy thing, Marley. It’s the hardest thing in the world. But if you can get one person to re-evaluate their position, and that person convinces another,
that
is how change happens. That is how this country earned its independence. Could you imagine if our forefathers said ‘It’s too hard to fight against tyranny’? We’d still be subjects of the crown. Stand up for what you believe in.”

I was completely speechless at his passionate plea. This side of him was completely at odds with the stern professor that lectured our class every day during second period, although he did come out on occasion.

“How do I do that?”

“Bring attention to imperfection and flaws, Marley. You are in an ideal position to do something. You’re a finalist. Not one person chosen as a finalist has ever stood up for change, except for last year. The seed was planted back when Gabriella Knox tried to get the swimsuit portion discontinued.”

“Another one of your students?”

A sly grin crossed his face. “My lips are sealed.”

“Okay, so I have a platform to make a change. How do I do it? No one is just going to listen to me bitch and moan about the swimsuit portion or any of that. They’ve heard it all before.”

“Here’s how.” He opened a file and threw a photo at me. “How will they react if they see this, knowing that you’ve been forced to cover it up for years?”

Shocked, I looked down at a recent photo of my uncovered back, the scars of my past visible for all to see.

“How did you…?” My mind raced as I tried to determine when and where that photo could have been taken.

“Does it really matter? I have it. Your aunt covers it all up. You’re about to turn eighteen. Make them see their beauty pageant for what it has, unfortunately, become. Make them really think about what all of this has done to you, Marley. What it could be doing to other girls in this town who are forced to remain quiet about their past and then are paraded around as if everything’s okay. Force them to celebrate the achievements of women, not just their bodies.”

“I think can do that,” I said quietly, not believing the words that were escaping my mouth. I wondered if I could follow through.

“Good. Now, you’re late for first period.” He broke his gaze from mine and began to scribble on a hall pass. “You’re off to French with Madame Pearl, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here,” he said, handing me the pass. “I’ll walk with you.”

“But I have to go see Mr. Grayson.”

“You’re not going to see him.”

“You’re very strange sometimes.” I stood up and went to open the door, unable to because it was locked. I felt him approach behind me, his proximity making my entire body grow rigid. Reaching past me, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Shall we?”

I turned my eyes forward and simply nodded, wondering why Mr. Monroe always seemed to make me think that something was off about him. I wanted to know the real story behind him, and I knew exactly who would have answers.
 

French class seemed to last forever while I waited impatiently for the bell to ring. Finally, it did, and I bolted out of the room, dashing toward Carla’s and Kristen’s first period class just a few doors down.

“Hey,” I said when I saw them saunter out. “Let’s skip. I need to talk to you guys.”

“About what?” Carla asked cheerily.

I lowered my voice. “Mr. Monroe. Come on. Let’s go.” I spun on my heels and knew their curiosity got the better of them when I sensed them on either side of me as we strode down the hallway and into the warm March air.

Plopping down on a picnic bench with a few other students who were either skipping or had study hall, I faced my two good friends. “What’s the story with him?”

“Who? Hottie Monroe?” Carla asked.

“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes at her boldness and impropriety. “I’ve heard the rumors. I’m sure y’all have, as well. But the two of you have a knack for wading through the bullshit and getting to the bottom of it. So… What do you know?”

They shared a look before they both turned to me. “So, remember Gabriella Knox?” Kristen asked excitedly.

I swallowed hard at the name. “Yes.”

“Well, she took his Governments class last year, too. And he was ‘helping’ her with her senior project,” Carla continued, using air quotes. “Something to do with the swimsuit portion of the pageant, which…God, what a prude. That’s the part of the competition I’m looking forward to.”

“Carla, focus. Before someone realizes we’re skipping and we have to go back to class.”

“Right. Okay. So, apparently, Mr. Hottie had it out for her. Kind of like he has it out for you, Marley.” She winked. “Anyway, she had to go to his office a few times, and there are definitely rumors floating around that certain things happened in his office. Some say consensual, some say not. Other rumors say that he waited until the night of the pageant and made his play then. Some say it was in the green room, like he locked her in there after everyone else had left. Others say that it was after the ball and he slipped something in her drink. She never said anything. Come to think of it, she denied it pretty fiercely, but Mr. Hottie and Mr. Grayson got into a heated argument at graduation and she just kind of disappeared.” She raised her eyebrow.

“I think it was all part of the deal,” Kristen interjected. “My brother, Chris, goes to U.S.C. with her and he said that she has this amazing apartment off campus and a gorgeous new Mitsubishi…a hot little red sports car. Her family didn’t exactly have a lot of money. I think she was here on a scholarship. Mr. Monroe comes from quite a wealthy family. And don’t forget, Brianna was the result of him sleeping with one of his students when he was a teaching assistant in grad. school. So… What does that tell you?”

“You think Mr. Monroe paid off Gabriella in exchange for her keeping her mouth shut?”

“No. I
know
that’s what happened.”

B
Y
EARLY
M
ARCH
,
THINGS
had gotten so busy with school that nearly a month had passed since I had been able to check in on Buck. Finally, on the Monday after spring break, I was able to sneak away for the night. At this point, I had been to his house so many times that I could drive there blindfolded.

I parked in my usual spot just up the street from his house and waited for his car to drive down the street. Around the time he always got home from work, I saw what appeared to be a new mini-van drive past me and pull into the driveway.

“Wow. He must have gotten a new car,” I said to myself. “I would have opted for something a little bit more sporty and a little less soccer mom…” I trailed off, fear rushing over me. “Please, no.”

I watched as he ran into the house, my mind trying to come up with some other plausible explanation for his recent car purchase. “Stop thinking the worst, Cam. There’s no way.” Suddenly, I noticed movement from his house, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach when I saw him escort a pregnant version of the woman with whom he had been living to the mini-van. They drove past me and I debated whether I should follow them or go home. This had become a rather unhealthy obsession, and the anger only grew more intense now that I saw she was pregnant.

“Fuck it,” I said, cranking the engine and tailing them through town, surprised when they drove toward Myrtle Beach and pulled into the parking lot of the mall where Marley worked. I prayed that she wasn’t working tonight.

I kept my distance as I followed them into a baby store. Peering around the aisle, I noticed they were picking out clothes for a girl. I seethed with hatred and kicked a wall, several store associates turning to glare at me.

“Sorry. I didn’t see where I was going.”

They simply nodded and went on with organizing the store as I contemplated what to do and whether to finally come clean with Marley.

“Cam,” a voice I had hoped to never hear again said. I looked up to see Buck standing a few feet away from me.

“Buck…” I furrowed my eyebrows in an attempt to feign surprise, not wanting him to know that I had become somewhat preoccupied with following his every move.

He sighed. “You’ve been keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?”

“I…”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted me. “I don’t blame you. If I were in your shoes, I’d do the same thing. I know you hate me, and you should. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. I could get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out, but I needed to let you know how truly sorry I am for everything. If I end up going to prison again, it’ll be worth it just so I could finally apologize to you.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” I spat viciously. “Do you have
any
idea how severely fucked up Marley is because of everything you did to her?” The pitch of my voice rose as I tried to subdue the lump forming in my throat.

He lowered his head, the formerly confident man that inundated himself in our lives nowhere to be seen. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t believe that the man standing in front of me was the same person that ruined my sister.

“I can only imagine,” he said solemnly. “I’m not going to stand here and make excuses for my behavior, but I finally know how horrible it was. I see that now.” He gestured over to where the woman I had seen him with these past few months was sorting though a display of pink onesies. “It’s a girl. I’m going to be a daddy. I get it now. I could never imagine anyone hurting my daughter the way…”

“The way you destroyed Marley?” My face flamed with anger and I felt the burn of pure disgust wash over me. “Well she
was
someone’s daughter! Someone’s niece! Someone’s sister!” I hissed, my chin quivering with the memories of Marley’s nightly screams and cries. “How do you know you won’t relapse and do the same thing? To your own daughter? How…?”

“I would never be able to live with myself. I know it probably sounds like I’m just blowing smoke up your ass. That’s not my intention. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I have enough trouble trying to forgive myself. I’m just trying to move on with my life. To learn from this dark time in my life and prevent it from happening again.”