Black Creek Crossing

his lips, but now he was staring at her, thrusting his hips toward her as if—

The kind of movement Jared was making shoved against her from behind, slamming her up against her locker. Before she could react, she heard Chad Jackson’s mocking voice, “This what you want? Huh?” and the awful memory of yesterday and last night rose up in Angel’s mind.

Once again she heard her father’s accusing voice: Whore!

Once again she felt the touch of the unseen hand pressing against her breast in the darkness of the night. Now she recalled her mother saying: Filth! You will not speak it… you will go to church and confess your sins to Father Mike!

Confess… confess her sins… confess her guilt. Maybe it was true; maybe all of it was her fault. Maybe—

No! It wasn’t her fault! She hadn’t done anything!

Bracing herself against the bank of lockers, Angel shoved hard, but Chad anticipated her move and suddenly stepped away. Losing her balance, Angel tumbled to the floor, her left elbow striking the hardwood, her backpack skidding down the hall. As a sharp stab of pain shot from her elbow down into her hand, she sat up.

There were more kids in the hallway now, and they were staring at her.

Jared Woods was still making the horrible noises.

Then Heather Dunne rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned away.

A few seconds later the hallway was empty, and even the ugly sounds died away as Jared Woods headed down the same stairs Angel had come up only a couple of minutes before. The sound of laughter exploded up the stairwell, and tears of humiliation streamed down Angel’s cheeks as she struggled to her feet, finally managed to open her locker, and found her history book.

The bell had already rung by the time she got to her classroom, and a ripple of not quite muted laughter ran through the room as she slunk into her seat.

The afternoon dragged on, and as Angel moved from one classroom to another, she did her best to ignore what was going on around her. But what Chad Jackson and Jared Woods had begun in the cafeteria seemed to have spread through the school like a virus, and each break between classes was worse than the one before. Wherever she went, the kissing sounds followed her, and even though no one else shoved up against her the way Chad Jackson had, more and more of the boys began thrusting their hips toward her as she approached and bursting into laughter as she passed.

Laughter, and more of the increasingly obscene-sounding noises.

Maybe it was her fault — maybe she was doing something. But what?

The day wore on and grew steadily worse, until by the end of the last period, which it seemed to Angel would never come, all she wanted was for the ground to open beneath her feet and swallow her up. Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, she simply sat in her chair when the final bell rang, letting all her classmates drain out of the classroom ahead of her. At least half the boys made the sucky-kissy sound as they passed her, and three of them thrust their crotches into her face, but only after making sure Mrs. Holt wasn’t looking. Don’t cry, she told herself. Just act like nothing’s the matter. The seconds turned into minutes as the sounds of laughter and chatter and slamming lockers rose then slowly began to die away. Only when the corridor had fallen completely silent did Angel finally reach under her desk, pull out her backpack, and begin stowing her books away.

“Angel? Is something the matter?”

She froze, then shook her head.

“You’re sure?” Mrs. Holt pressed. “It seemed like some of the boys were acting — well, a little strange.”

“I–I didn’t notice anything,” Angel stammered, and heard the quaver in her own voice as she stood by her desk, ready to leave.

“I don’t know,” the teacher went on. “It certainly seemed as though—”

“They were just teasing me,” Angel broke in, searching for a way to escape before she had to tell the teacher about what had happened to her since lunchtime. “Because I’m new.” Finally she turned and hurried to the door, risking a glance at the teacher. Mrs. Holt’s brow was furrowed, and Angel could see the pity in her eyes. “Can I go now?” she asked.

Mrs. Holt seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then nodded, and Angel darted out before the teacher had a chance to change her mind.

She headed toward the stairs leading to her locker on the second floor, but then changed her mind — if any of the boys were still waiting to torment her, they’d be upstairs where her locker was. Veering away from the stairs, she headed instead for the front door, pushed her way through the inner set, then paused in the vestibule to peer out into the afternoon sunlight. Seeing no one except Seth Baker, who was on the other side of the street, looking like he might be waiting for her, she pushed the outer door open and stepped out onto the landing at the top of the steps.

She was about to wave to Seth when she heard the awful kissing sound.

Whirling, she saw her cousin standing a few feet away, just far enough to the side so he’d been invisible from inside the doors. As she glared at him, Zack Fletcher thrust his crotch forward, pursed his lips, and made the disgusting sound one more time.

“I’m gonna—” Angel began, then stopped herself, but could see by the malicious sparkle in Zack’s eyes that it was too late.

“You gonna tell?” he taunted. “What are you — still a baby?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Angel asked, and once more heard the quiver in her own voice.

Zack heard it, too. “Ooh, is the baby going to cry now?”

Her eyes welling with tears, Angel turned away from Zack, hurried down the stairs and started toward Seth. But as she crossed the lawn, a car pulled up in front of Seth, he got in, and the car drove away. Wanting to run now, but having no place to run, Angel dropped her head down so no one would see the tears in her eyes. She crossed the street and headed for the corner, but instead of turning toward home, she kept going straight for another block until she came to the corner where the Catholic and Congregational churches stood across the street from each other. The sun had moved far enough across the sky so that the shadow of the larger church no longer fell over the smaller one, but even without the shadow, the little Church of the Holy Mother looked oddly defensive, as if it were afraid that at any moment its far larger and grander neighbor across the street might simply devour it.

Angel made her way into the church, dipped her fingers in the font and crossed herself. No lights were on in the church, and only a few candles were lit for the Holy Mother and the saints, but just enough light made its way through the darkly stained glass of the windows that Angel was able to find the confessional.

It was empty.

Nor was there a sign telling her what time the priest would be available to hear her confession. But if there was no priest, how was she supposed to confess her sins?

Maybe she should just leave — after all, she’d tried, hadn’t she? She turned toward the door, but before she’d taken even a single step she heard a voice.

“May I help you, my child?”

Turning back toward the altar, Angel saw the figure of Father Mike emerging from the shadows.

“I–I need to make my confession,” Angel stammered.

Father Mike nodded toward the confessional, and a few moments later she was sitting in one side of it, with the priest hidden in the other.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” she heard the priest ask.

“A — A month,” Angel said, though she wasn’t really sure.

The familiar ritual began, and though she still wasn’t certain exactly what she was supposed to confess, she did her best. But fifteen minutes later, when it was over and she had left the church and started home, she felt no better.

Indeed, she felt even worse.

Seth had felt one faint ray of hope as he saw Angel come out the front door of the school. After the last bell rang, he’d gotten out to the sidewalk as quickly as he could, knowing better than to keep his father waiting for