Bella raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate this. But I can take it from here.”
I shook my head. “Let me see your shoulder. You can’t see that spot.”
She stayed put. “There’s this thing called a mirror.”
“Bella.” We had a stare-down. “Just let me see if this stuff works. Then I’ll leave you to it.”
“Fine,” she huffed. Then, in one smooth motion, she whipped off her Harkness Hockey T-shirt.
I practically jumped to stand behind her, so that my eyes wouldn’t drift down to her chest. A few seconds later the room was invaded by the smell of the acetone — the scent I associated with the nail salons that I passed on New York City streets. The dampened cotton ball that I rubbed against her skin began to turn a bluish-purple color as it weakened the marker.
“This is working.” I showed her the cotton ball. Then I worked to get the word SLUTTY off her perfect, creamy shoulder. Seeing the word there made me so angry I had to take a long breath in through my nose, just to try to calm down.
“Is the scent getting to you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice like gravel. Dios. Who would do this? “Bella. Would you tell me what happened?”
“No,” she said quickly.
I considered her answer for a minute. “Would you please tell somebody else, then?”
Silence was her only answer.
Meanwhile, I’d faded the word SLUTTY to the point where it was not quite legible. I tossed the cotton ball into Bella’s garbage can and dunked another one, going to work on the word CUNT next. Getting these words off Bella’s skin wasn’t that difficult. But I was worried something worse than marks on her skin had happened to her. And if it had, I was basically involved in a cover-up job at the moment. Some sicko was going to get away with this shit, and I was helping him.
“Bella,” I whispered. We were so close to one another that my nearly inaudible words were delivered right to her ear. “If something else happened to you last night, would you tell someone? It’s important.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Her voice was flat.
“What do you remember?” I pressed.
She took a step forward and turned around. “Enough to know that it isn’t what you’re thinking.”
“Okay,” I said, holding a smelly cotton ball in the air like a moron. I could only hope she was telling me the truth.
“I’m sorry I broke your iPod.” Her eyes darted to the remains in the corner.
“Easy come, easy go,” I said. “Never really needed that thing.”
“I’ll get you another one anyway.”
“Don’t bother. Really.” I put the cap on the bottle of remover. It seemed that Bella was herding me toward the exit. And even if I still felt unsure about leaving her, I couldn’t force her to let me help.
“I can take it from here,” she said.
“Okay.” I picked up our empty coffee cups and shoved them in the bag. “I’m right downstairs if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” she said stiffly.
Feeling as though I hadn’t really done much to help, I left Bella alone.
That evening I spent hours in the library. At Harkness you couldn’t really say “the library” without qualifying your location. There were forty libraries, and everyone had a couple of favorite spots. Some libraries were good for people watching, some were close to the better coffee shops.
I didn’t go to the library to socialize. There weren’t enough hours in the day. So I favored the basement of the Central Campus Library with my business. Down there, a guy could snag a private study carrel. They were nothing but a built-in desk, a chair, three walls and a sliding glass door. We called them weenie bins, and that night I spread out my books and went to it.
Eventually, I fell asleep on a book for Urban Studies. I didn’t wake up until the midnight announcement that the library was closing. Shoving books into my bag, I staggered outside to walk home.
Harkness was breathtaking at this hour, with its old fashioned glass lamps making long shadows on the brick pathways. There was nobody else out on the street, and I could almost imagine that a horse-drawn carriage was about to round the corner from Chapel Street.
The iron gate creaked as I let myself into Beaumont gate. As I approached the entryway door, I tipped my head back to look up at the building. A single light burned on the fourth floor in Bella’s room.
I wondered why she wasn’t sleeping.
Twelve