Page 27 of I Will Ruin You

He was reading my face. “Coming back to you now, isn’t it?”

“What is it you think you remember, Billy?”

“I was on the team,” he said. “When we went to another school, you liked to sit right in the back of the bus, like you were supervising, where you could watch everybody, but you really liked it back there because no one could see what you were up to. And you liked me to sit back there with you. When we were coming back from a match, when it was dark, that was when you’d really get going. All grabby hands and shit.”

“Listen to me, and listen real close,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and whatever it is you’re implying, it did not happen.”

“So I remember it all wrong,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, Billy, you do,” I said. I was rattled, but I held my anger in check. If Billy had been abused when he was at Lodge, I felt an obligation to get more information.

“Look, I’m not saying it didn’t happen to you. I’m saying it wasn’t me. But if it did happen, it was wrong. Very wrong. You’ve every right, even after all this time, to have whoever it was held accountable. If you want, I’ll look into whatever services are available for someone in your position. Legal, counseling, whatever. I’ll speak to my principal. I could set up a meeting between the two of you.”

He nodded slowly, but he had this sly grin on his face that wouldn’t go away.

If what he was alleging happened, it was most likely Anson Reynolds who did it. Maybe this was something Anson had done before or after his leave. Or maybe it was someone else who’d filled in for him. I hadn’t been the only one.

One thing I knew for certain was that Anson, if he was the offender, was never going to answer for this. He was dead. He’d died about four years ago.

But again, how did you get something like this wrong? Even if it was dark coming home on the bus at night. I mean, come on. Somebody puts their hand down your pants, you tend to remember who it was.

And on top of that, I always sat at the front of the bus.

“You make it sound like you really care,” he said.

“Believe it or not, Billy, I do. But at the same time, I don’t like being accused of something I haven’t done. I wish you nothing but the best in dealing with this.”

“You’re this big hero now, aren’t you? Saved everybody from the crazy bomber. What would they think if they knew the truth? Bet they’d forget all that hero shit in a minute if they knew you’re a fucking perv. Bet they’d forget real fast.”

“I don’t have any more to say about this, Billy.”

“Lots of people coming forward these days,” he said. “For a long time, they were too embarrassed, but now they’re encouraged to unburden themselves, you know? That it’s nothing to be ashamed about. That it’s not their fault. That’s kind of where I am now. I’m thinking of, you know, unburdening myself.”

“All that’s true. What you’re saying was done to you, it’s wrong. Unbelievably wrong. When people in authority abuse the power they hold over others, take advantage—listen, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no punishment too harsh for them. The damage they do is incalculable. So I’m prepared, right now, to find you help. A counseling service. I’ll call the police, if you want.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The police. They’d be good to talk to, but the thing is, I wanted to come to you before I went to them because I was thinking maybe we could work something out.”

Those last three words hung in the air for a moment. “Work something out,” I said.

“That’s right. That we could come to some kind of arrangement.”

“I see,” I said. “So what it comes down to, Billy, is you’re a blackmailer.”

“Better a blackmailer than a kid diddler,” he said. He dug a ratty tissue out of his pocket and wiped his nose. “Ten grand. Ten thousand dollars. You come up with that and it’s like I come down with a case of amnesia. I’ll forget it ever happened.”

“You’re crazy,” I said.

I was searching for an explanation. Maybe Anson had done it, and when this guy decided the time had come to blackmail him, he’d learned Anson was dead. He’d already spent the money in his head and decided to go after someone else.

“I’m cutting you some slack because I know teachers get paid real shitty. If it was anybody else, I’d ask twice that. I’ll give you, I don’t know, till Tuesday. Because it’s almost the weekend and the banks are closed and shit. So, you come up with the money by Tuesday. We can meet at the food court in the Post Mall. Five o’clock. Cash. I don’t want a check.”

“Billy, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Tuesday,” he said.

That grin still on his face, he gave me a thumbs-up, walked a short ways down the sidewalk, got behind the wheel of a white pickup truck cancered with rust, and drove off.

Jesus Christ, I thought. I can’t go through something like this again.