Rite of Passage

by Bill Tope

Image credit: Tim Umphreys on Unsplash

Sadie knew she was in over her head. She had accepted the boy's invitation to 'the farmhouse,’ where all the great parties were held by upperclassmen at her school. She accepted because Arno was one of the popular boys: he was tall and gorgeous and so smooth. Arno had been her first lover just a week ago. They had gone to a movie, and later, in the backseat of his car, they had consummated their relationship.

"Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth," Sadie's mother had told her after a short meeting with her new boyfriend. He was her new boyfriend, right? she wondered. She shrugged the thought away.

"In here, babe," said Arno, opening a door off the lobby he'd left her in minutes ago.

God, thought Sadie. Arno could have any girl at school that he wanted; why would he choose her? She wondered if he was a good lover. She had nothing to compare him against, and that's just the way she liked it.

"You're starting at the top of the social pyramid, Sad," said her best friend Sally, when she told her that she was dating the football captain. She said it a little sharply, Sadie thought. Maybe she was jealous? That would be a first, Sadie thought with a little smirk. Sally always had her choice of boys, or men, as she called them. Arno was certainly in the class of men, thought Sadie.

Arno beckoned her, and she followed him through the door and up a steep staircase to the second floor. From there, they passed down a hallway to the third of four doors. Arno knocked once, and the door was opened from inside.

"Patty will get you ready," said Arno, leaving Sadie in the company of a slightly chunky girl with coppery red hair. Arno pulled the door shut and disappeared back the way he'd come.

Patty squinted at Sadie. "First time at The Farm?" she asked. Patty seemed older, at least 17, Sadie thought.

Sadie nodded.

"Get undressed," said Patty abruptly.

Sadie stared at her. "What?" she asked.

"Put on this thong," Patty said impatiently, holding out a tiny, lurid swatch of cloth. When Sadie did nothing, Patty said, "You don't expect to pull a train wearing what you got on, do you?"

Sadie knew she was young, not yet 16, and naive. Her parents had kept her cloistered, compared to other girls, but she was not stupid. She'd read her share of adult novels and coming-of-age books, and she knew what pulling a train meant. She wanted none of it.

"I'm out of here," said Sadie, turning on her heel to face the door.

"Do you even know where you are?" asked Patty. "You're 30 miles outside town, in the boonies."

Sadie recalled the long drive on Arno's motorcycle and, despite the pleasure she'd felt nestled close to him on the bike, she was relieved when they finally arrived where they were going.

"None of the boys will even give you a ride back if you don't put out," said Patty flatly.

Sadie reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. There were zero bars. She felt a sudden panic.

"Look," said Patty in a conciliatory manner. "You're a cute little chick, got a nice shape, a good complexion, nice hair..."

Sadie felt like a heifer at a cattle auction.

"All the chicks go through this ritual, one time or another, eventually,” said Patty.

Finally, Sadie found her voice, "I don't believe that," she whispered. "I never heard of this before."

"It's a regular thing," explained Patty. "Every year, in the fall, four freshmen on the team are summoned, and they put on a performance..."

"You mean they have sex," Sadie interrupted.

"Right," agreed Patty. "They nail a sophomore cheerleader, and this year, that's you."

So, thought Sadie, Arno wasn't attracted to her at all, but rather wanted to use her as a "vessel" for favored underclassmen as a part of an initiation. She shook her head and felt sick to her stomach.

"That's humiliating," she told the other girl.

"You wanna keep being a cheerleader, and popular, and a student leader, then you go along to get along. You know what I mean?"

"I do," replied Sadie. "And I'm out of here if I have to walk home."

"They won't let you go just like that," warned Patty.

"Then they're rapists," accused Sadie. "I'll tell the police."

"Who will believe you?" asked Patty. "They won't leave a mark on you when they do it."

"Do it?" repeated Sadie. "You mean rape me? They've got DNA now, and I'll see every one of them–all of you–up on charges."

"These are all student leaders, good athletes, and..."

"They won't get into college with a rape conviction," declared Sadie.

"Why are you doing this?" cried Patty. "This has been going on for years. It's a ritual, it's tradition. It's not rape if you give it up."

"I'm not going to 'give it up,’" snapped Sadie.

"You little bitch!" cursed the older girl.

"You betcha! Now, you take me home, right now, and I'll forget this night ever happened."

As Sadie rode back into town in Patty's Hyundai, she considered what had nearly transpired. She had surprised herself with her resolve, her courage, her gumption. But what about the next 15-year-old, the next "cute chick" selected by Arno or one like him, who would be pressured to satisfy the animal urges of a misogynistic group of students? Sadie wanted to go to college to learn to help people. This should start now, she decided.

"Where do you live?" asked Patty.

"Let me off at the police station," she said.

Sadie watched the other girl's eyes dilate. "Are you serious?" Patty asked.

"You're right," said Sadie, reconsidering. Patty relaxed. "Just drop me off at the newspaper office," Sadie told her.

***

Bill Tope is a retired public assistance caseworker; construction laborer; line cook at Hilton Hotels; and one-time nude model for university art classes. He lives in the American Midwest with his mean little cat Baby.