Easy

her notebook.
    “I heard her dad is sitting in the hall during all of her finals,” Maggie said.
    I’d heard the same rumor. “I can’t blame him, if that’s true.”
    We watched Erin, who knew the truth between fact and campus gossip. She nodded. “He is. And she’s not coming back, except to testify. She’s transferring to some small community college back home.” The regret in her eyes was bottomless. “Her mom said she’s still having nightmares every night. I can’t believe I just left her there.”
    Maggie sat up. “Hey. We left a lot of people there. It wasn’t our fault, Erin.”
    “I know, but—”
    “She’s right.” I made Erin look at me. “Put the fault where it goes. On him .”

    ***
    I finally told my parents about Buck. I hadn’t talked to them since before Thanksgiving. Due to something left out of order in the pantry, Mom figured out that I’d been home, and called me. I guess she wanted to make sure a stranger hadn’t broken into the house and un-alphabetized her grains and condiments, so I had to fess up.
    “But… you told me you were going to Erin’s?”
    Instead of telling her that she’d come to that conclusion by herself—that I’d only mentioned Erin once, that she’d never bothered to verify what I was actually doing over Thanksgiving break—I lied. It was easier for both of us that way.
    “Coming home was a last-minute decision. No big deal.”
    She started jabbering about the things we needed to do over the break—I was due for a dental appointment, and my truck’s registration would expire in January. “Do you need an appointment with Kevin, or have you found a stylist there?” she asked.
    Instead of answering her question, I blurted it all out—Buck’s assault in the parking lot, Lucas saving me, Buck raping another girl, the charges we were pressing, the upcoming criminal case. There was no stopping it, once it started.
    At first I thought she hadn’t heard me, and I gripped my phone, thinking I’m not repeating all of that, if she’s too damned busy decorating for her party to listen to me for ten seconds .
    And then she choked out, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    She knew why, I think. I didn’t need to say it. They hadn’t been the best parents; they hadn’t been the worst, either.
    I sighed. “I’m telling you now . ”
    She was silent for another strained moment, but I heard her moving through the house. They were hosting their annual catered holiday party on Saturday, and I knew how control-freak and anal Mom was about the house being perfect for that. Growing up, I’d learned to make myself scarce during the entire week leading up to that party.
    “I’m calling Marty right now to tell him I’m not coming in tomorrow.” Marty was Mom’s boss at her software consulting firm. “I can be there by eleven.” I recognized the sound of her dragging her wheeled suitcase out from the closet under the stairs.
    I gaped into the phone for a moment before sputtering to life. “No—no, Mom, I’m fine. I’ll be home in less than a week.”
    Her voice shook when she answered, shocking me further. “I’m so sorry, Jacqueline.” She said my name as though she was trying to find some way to touch me through the phone. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” My God , I thought, she’s crying? My mother wasn’t a crier. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you came home. You needed me and I wasn’t here.”
    Alone in my room, I sat on my bed, dazed. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s not like you knew.” She’d known about my breakup with Kennedy… but I was ready to let that go, too. “You raised me to be strong, right? I’m good.” I realized as I said it that it was true.
    “Can I—can I set up an appointment for you, with my therapist? Or one of her partners, if you’d rather?”
    I’d forgotten Mom’s occasional therapy sessions. She’d been diagnosed with an eating disorder when I was really young. I didn’t even know what it was—bulimia, anorexia? We’d never really talked about it.
    “Sure. That would be good.”
    She sighed, and I thought I heard relief. I’d given her something to do.

    ***
    After we finished several cartons of Chinese takeout and a conversation about how we chose our respective majors, Lucas fished his iPod from his front pocket and handed me the earbuds. “I want you to hear this band I just found. You might like them.” We were sitting on the floor with our backs to my bed. Once I