Tell someone

Please note: this story contains themes that illudes to sexual harassment and/or sexual violence.

"According to him, I'm beautiful, incredible! Everything he ever wanted..."

I had my headphones in when Joanne came over. Doing homework, skimming an article about some movie that was going to film scenes in Brighton, then back to homework. Trying to sludge my way through questions about the Cornish Rebellion that could only be answered through reading the first, two chapters of our textbooks. Thank God we had EBook versions or I would've gone cross-eyed! Still, no matter how hard I tried to focus, it wouldn't get my mind off of Orland and his issues. Why hadn't he told me that his dad was having back problems again? If I'd known, I wouldn't have been pestering him about whether or not he liked me. Why had I done it? Why couldn't I have been patient like he'd asked me to? They were useless questions really, as I didn't know how to answer them yet. So I tried to focus on the ones I could. But the words were turning blurry as my attention from the tablet-screen wavered. Oh well. Joanne was here so I might as well focus on her instead.

"Hey!" I greeted her as she came into my room, plonking down on the bean-bag. "You having about as much trouble as I am with this? I keep going over the same sentence about four or five times in a row."

"No, it's not that." She muttered, avoiding my eyes as she tucked her knees close to her chest. Curling in on herself. "Betti, can I tell you something?"

"Jo, you know you can. Ignore what Nick says; I have an excellent track-record for keeping secrets. So, what's going on? Is Ollie being weird again."

"Amongst other things," she huffed, "but it's not Ollie. I wish I could talk to him but he's being so stupid over this, I want to strangle him!"

"He is quite strangle-able." I tried to joke, to bring a smile to her face, but it wasn't working. "So, what is the issue then, if it isn't Ollie?"

"It's...Betti, you know those assemblies we had about sex education? The ones that talked about consent and harassment?"

"Yeah, I remember them. They took nearly two hours but they were very detailed. Why?"

"You remember that part when they taught us how to recognise if someone is harassing you?"

I felt something heavy in the pit of my stomach. Where was this leading?

"Jo, you're not being harassed, are you? Has Ollie-"

"-No! It wasn't Ollie. He might get on my nerves sometimes but he'd never do that. It was...I don't know where to begin!"

Neither did I. But thanks to mum and her lessons, I had somewhere to start. I offered Joanne the blanket on the end of my bed as I went to put the kettle on. Getting out the milk, the cocoa, the sugar and, of course, the marshmallows, I made some hot chocolate and, with what was left of my chocolate hobnob, I took it back to the room I shared with my sister and set up a make-shift picnic on my side. After half a mug of pure sweetness and melted mallows of waiting for her to speak, she finally found some words. Words that worked for her.

"It's Mr. Kriegman." Her voice was fragile as she worked around that name. Our geography teacher?! What did he have to do...oh. Oh God. No, no, please no! "I was always good at geography and maths-you know I am. But sometimes, I'm not so sure about it. Not if he's acting the way he is."

"Is he bullying you?"

"Not exactly. Do you remember that day he went mental at you and Orland? He accused you two of flirting in class and he called you a..." a tart? How could I forget? "...I didn't think it was right, so when I told you I would catch up later, I went to confront him. Tell him he had the wrong idea and that you did nothing wrong. He actually seemed sorry at first! He agreed that he was inappropriate and that I was a good person for sticking up for a mate. Then he started telling me he noticed what a good student I was and, with GCSE's later this year, he suggested I go to him for some private lessons after school.

"Before you ask, they weren't just me and him! Not at the beginning. Billy Reed, Chantel Travers and Louise from History class were there too. But after the first, two weeks, they weren't going anymore. I found it weird that they just dropped out but Mr. Kriegman said they were choosing to focus on other subjects and didn't have the time anymore. I don't know now, whether or not that was true, but it's been me and him for this last month. He was normal when the others were there but after they left he was...I don't know. Weird. Touchy."

That feeling grew more bitter and heavy, the more I heard from her. I swallowed that down though, and motioned for her to keep going. It had me feeling worse and worse about this, but I needed to hear more. Or at least, however much more she was willing to tell me.

"This week has been worse. More worse than it's ever been. Every time I'd answer a question right, he would congratulate me but he would also look at me in a way that makes my skin crawl. Like he was trying to see through my clothes. Whenever he'd walk past me he would touch me somehow. Touch my back, my hair, sometimes even my neck. Betti, I hated it! It wasn't like when Ollie touches me. When he does, it feels nice. Gentle. When Mr. Kriegman does it, it's like something slimy is crawling over my skin."

I felt that instinct that my sister called 'mum-mode', kicking in. I wanted to wrap her up, tuck her away and shield her from all the slimy, touchy men who tried to get their hands on her. How dare he?! To be such an unapologetic creep to a sixteen-year-old? And one of his students too. Wasn't their laws against that? The big, scary ones that usually resulted in those late-night TV specials? Didn't he care that this kind of thing could cost him his job?

"Jo, you know you can tell me and I won't judge you. Did he do anything more than that? Did he hurt you physically?"

"Not hurt but...would it count as hurting? I didn't like it but he didn't leave a mark or anything like that."

"He doesn't have to hit you to hurt you, you know. Charlotte says that a person doesn't always have to hit another person so that they can have control. Why do you think I still go quiet every time somebody calls me fat? I know it shouldn't affect me anymore but a small part of me still wants to run away and cry."

"There's a difference between being called fat and what he did to me!" She cried, shocking me with the suddenness of it. "He told me I was practically asking for it! The way I wore my uniform that day..."

"Jo, are you sure you want to tell me this? We can talk about it another time if you want."

"No Betti, I have to tell someone. I tried telling Ollie some of it but he...he blew up. He said some awful things and I don't think I can forgive him for them. I don't want this to be the end of us, I really don't but...I hate him! I love him but I hate him for what he said about me."

I reached over and put my arms around her. She didn't need to say much else. I could put the pieces together from there. Mr. Kriegman was a creep, he went too far with Joanne, she tried to tell somebody she loved and thought she could trust and Ollie being his stupidly jealous self, got the wrong idea and lashed out. I understood why Joanne was angry at him-I wanted to wring his neck myself! Had all those school assemblies and talks about treating women with respect meant nothing to him?! I knew he could be stubborn at the best of times but this...this was infuriating.

"How much did you manage to tell Ollie?" I asked her.

"Just that someone I knew was trying it on with me and I wasn't able to make it stop right away. He took that as me liking that some other guy was giving me attention and he went mental. That's what he actually said Betti! That I must've liked it, otherwise it wouldn't keep happening. I just didn't know what to do next so I called him a prick and I left. That was earlier, during study period. He hasn't even tried to call and he's left no messages. He doesn't want to know."

"And Mr Kriegman, what do you want to do about him?"

"I don't know what to do about him. I thought about going to Ms. Humphries about it."

"You should! She can be a bit of a witch sometimes but she'll listen. She has to. And I'll go with you if you'd like. I can mention Mr. Kriegman going off the rails that time on me and Orland. It'll show at least that the man shouldn't be around school-kids. And he shouldn't be allowed to get away with what he did! Not to you, not to anyone."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. On a face I knew she'd spent at least half an hour on this morning, perfecting her wing-tipped eyes, artfully dulling each, tiny blemish (even if there were barely any!) and finishing it all off with her favourite lip-balm. Tutti-fruity. The kind you could smell from a mile off. Only for that effort to be marred by a bastard who went after his own student. It was disgusting. Not just what he did to Joanne, but how what he did might make her second-guess herself. It wasn't right or fair that she might look in a mirror now and wonder 'is it a good idea? I don't anyone to think I'm a slut!'. And sometimes, women weren't that much better. Whether they were jealous of other women or pushed their holier-than-thou morals onto others, they could be just as cruel and just as damaging as the gender they'd spent their own lives, fighting against for better opportunities. It made me sick. I was sixteen, yet I was old enough to know just how sickening that was.

"You'll really go with me?" She sniffled, her tears slowing down.

"Of course I will! And from now on, I'll be watching that creep extra closely. But Jo, are you sure you don't want to tell anyone else? If Nick and Orland knew-"

"-No Betti. I don't want anyone else knowing; especially not those two. If I can't make Ms. Humphries believe me then they might only make things worse."

"And Ollie? What do you want to do about him?"

"Until he apologises and hears me out properly, without going nuclear, I'm not talking to him. I love him but he needs to do something about this jealousy crap. Seriously."

"Alright then, I can respect that. Do you want some more hot-chocolate?"

"As great as that sounds, I've got to head home. Mum and dad will be wondering where I am."

"Do you want me to walk back with you? You know, in case-"

"I see where you're going with this, but I'll be fine. I know for sure that Mr. Kriegman won't be in town tonight. I heard him saying to Mr. McLear that he was going to see his fiancé for the weekend and wouldn't be back until Tuesday. I can't believe he has a fiancé! He's got someone he's going to marry while he's...well, the point is, I'll be alright. I might even get through a Geography lesson unscathed."

"Call me if you feel like talking, alright?"

"Alright Betti. I'll see you later."

After I saw her off, still not quite certain that she would be okay by herself, I went back to my room and fell back onto my bed. Homework long abandoned in a crinkled heap near my pillow. Oh God. What was I supposed to do now? I should've known that man was a scumbag, the moment he went off on us. We all thought he was so amazing when he walked through the classroom door! In his nice, expensive, blue shirt that matched his eyes and a face that belonged in a brooding, dream-guy flick. I couldn't believe we'd ever found the accent attractive! And now...how could he do that, to Jo of all people? Jo was nice. Jo worked hard, got good marks, always helped me with makeup and boys-both of which I was clueless in, and never had a problem with anyone. People liked her. We loved her.

Perhaps, I thought with a dreadful realisation, that this was why he went for her. Jo would have everything to lose by getting involved with him so why would she risk that? Even if she wasn't consenting, that didn't used to matter before. If you were involved with a teacher, there would be a sort-of stain on you that you couldn't remove, no matter how hard you scoured and scrubbed away at it. People would look at you differently, speak to you differently, whisper about you when your back was turned. I didn't want that for Jo. If I could just do something, have someone back a truck into the scumbag...no. Jo trusted me to keep this a secret and I wouldn't go back on my word. I couldn't. Besides, if she was serious about talking to Ms. Humphries, then that had to be a good thing! If it could be done quietly, Jo wouldn't have to worry. Mr. Kriegman could be fired without a word and Jo could move on eventually, without being whispered about. It could be done; it could be. I would just have to keep this secret for a little while and trust that at least a few people in this world could do the right thing. They would, wouldn't they?