Chapter 8 - Kody

The first thing I notice when President steps into the classroom is her extremely overdone makeup. I wonder what her excuse will be today. But for her to need an excuse or an explanation, her makeup - no, it looks more like face paint - will have to come off somehow.

I grumble under my breath as I consider how that might happen. It also occurs to me that Yulina might be willing to help… until I notice that she’s carrying a makeup kit in her bag, but not wearing any makeup herself. Darn.

Throughout the entire day, I watch her carefully, but her bruises never show. Finally, we’re in the Student Council room. I decide to ask, albeit in a flippant manner since that’s how she sees me. “What, no bruises today?” I see Yulina roll her eyes in annoyance, but her next expression catches me off guard. It’s a look that quite clearly says, “What are you doing, you idiot? That’s not how you make her fall for you!” I jump slightly.

Shaking my head, I turn to see President’s reaction and find her staring blankly into space. “Ah, President? Everything okay in there?” I wave my hand in front of her face and she startles. “Ah, sorry, what were we discussing?” She asks, blinking.

I open my mouth, but hesitate. Shaking my head, I turn away. “The budget for the soccer team. They’re claiming to need new nets this year.”

She sighs. “Someone should go check… let’s see. John, do you know anything about sports?”

John’s head comes up. “I know the rules, but I can’t tell you anything about the equipment. Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing to apologize for. Hmmm… Yulina has a doctor’s appointment today, and I know literally nothing about sports. Lakodi, will you go look?”

I nod. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll look into the other teams’ equipment while I’m at it.” I start to walk out.

“Oh, and Lakodi,” she calls, offering me a tired smile, “thanks.”

My eyes widen, and I head out with a crazy smile on my face, as if I’d just won the lottery. She smiled! At me, of all people! Is something going on today? The smile drops when I remember her usual bruises and today’s makeup, though.

A long hour-and-a-half later, I stumble out of the back exit of the school building with my stuff, exhausted. As I make my way to the side gate of the school grounds, I’m startled to see President sitting on a bench with her head in her hands. I approach quietly, trying to ascertain if she’s asleep.

I step up next to her and jump slightly when she says with a muffled voice, “What do you want, Lakodi?”

Thinking quickly, I decide to sit down. “Nothing, really. Just wondering if you needed some help with anything.”

“Go away.”

“Ah, nope. Sorry. See, leaving a distressed girl alone just doesn’t sit right with me. Why don’t you tell me what happened?” It’s a long shot, but I’ll take it.

“Grrr…” Her grumbling is cut off when I tug her hand away from her face. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“You’re crying,” I say in surprise. Then I realize how that could sound. “...do you want a tissue?”

“I’m fine!” She yells. She stands as if to storm away, but her knees give out and she lands back on the bench.

I finally do what I’ve been wanting to do the entire time and pull her to my chest. “Just cry if you need to, President,” I say quietly. “No one else is around to hear it. Let it all out.”

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She struggles to keep it in, but it doesn’t last long. I wonder silently if tears and snot wash out like anything else, but I don’t complain. The simple fact that she’s willing to cry into my shoulder is enough for me.

When her sobs quiet and her shoulders stop shaking, I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She stays tucked up in my shoulder, as if I’m providing some kind of security. I don’t object. After all, she rarely lets me touch her.

“...name…” She mumbles something into my shirt that I don’t catch.

“Hm? Did you say something, President?”

“Use my name…”

My eyes widen and I remember thinking that Yulina wasn’t telling me everything when she told me why President responded to the nickname she’d used. So this is what she didn’t say. President only lets people she’s opened up to use her name at all, and I doubt I’m allowed to use a nickname. So… “Yes, Kamorina?”

She seems to startle. I guess she’s not used to being called that. Makes sense, since very few people refer to her by anything other than her position. “U-umm, I think I got snot on your clothes… sorry.”

I shrug. “It’ll wash out.”

“I still feel bad about it. Maybe - oh, I could wash it for you. Is that okay?” She pulls her head away from my chest to look up at me.

I offer her a smile. “It’s fine, I can wash it myself.”

“B-but I still want to do something!”

I pause. “I would love to say that there’s nothing I want you to do for me, but… there is one thing.”

“What? As long as it’s nothing inappropriate, of course.”

“Of course not!” My shock isn’t fake. I can’t believe she thinks I’m that kind of person.

“I didn’t think so, but I had to be sure.” I look down and see that her eyes hold some teasing. “So what is it that you want?”

“I just want to ask you something, I swear. And naturally I would prefer an honest answer.”

I can feel her tense up as she figures out what I’m after. She sighs. “In that case, let’s go somewhere more private. It’ll be a long story.”

I nod and we make our way to a small café in town. “So? Your question? Though I’m pretty sure I already know what it is. After all, you’ve been sniffing for answers for quite a while, haven’t you?”

I smile at her gently. “You’re right, I have. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I had to try. As you suspect, I want to know about the origin of your injuries… which means my real question is, what’s going on in your house?”

She sighs again, more heavily this time. “My mother and older siblings claim my father used to be kinder, but I don’t remember it. All I know is that the beatings started when I was three.” She looks up to gauge my reaction, but I keep my face calm, blank, open. I want her to know that I’m listening, not deafened by the force of my anger, which I’m holding back through sheer force of will. “My older siblings agree that it all started after his accident, something we have no details about. After he recovered, he had developed several addictions - smoking, drugs, alcohol. Mom could do nothing to stop him.

“The substance abuse seemed to remove all of his self-control. My older siblings, Andrew and Mary, fled as soon as they could. I know, sounds selfish, but they’ve been working really hard to send Mom money for groceries and bills, since Father spends his entire paycheck on his vices. I’ve spent most of my life protecting my younger siblings; it’s why Conor doesn’t have as many bruises and Kara rarely has any.”

“You take the hits for them,” I realize. “That’s why you’re always so beaten up. You distract him so he takes it out on you instead of them, don’t you?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but she answers it anyway.

“Yes. My father barely even knows Kara exists. We’ve told her time and time again to run, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sneaks out and buys groceries and medicine.” She smiles slightly, but it’s sad. “Things got worse when I turned five. Conor was barely three and Father had just started hitting him - it seems he won’t hit anyone under that age - but apparently we weren’t enough anymore. He started abusing Mom, too, and… well…” She trails off. “Things got worse for me, too, because…” Her next words are nearly unintelligible. “I’m...female.”

I stare at her in silence for a full minute as the implications sink in. My voice is dangerously, angrily quiet, a bare whisper. “Are you telling me that a full-grown man raped his five-year-old daughter? And not to mention, repeatedly?”

She looks up at me with fear in her eyes and I feel my anger subside. She nods. I sit back in my chair, my hand over my eyes as I try to wrap my head around just how much of an *** her father is. I lower my hand and stare at her. In a soft voice I ask, “Why haven’t you gone to the authorities? Or told someone?” I hope I don’t sound like a jerk, but I’m concerned for her health.

Her eyes are sad. “Because if they came, and the evidence was hidden, it would just get all that much worse. And besides, I have told someone. Yuli knows, and since John is smart, I’m pretty sure he’s figured it out too.”

That stops me where I am. “So… if the police came in a surprise raid, while your entire family was home, just in time to see you get hit, would it work?” Her eyes go wide.