Lionel Shriver - We Need to Talk About Kevin

Most of this was addressed to the linoleum, but Kevin would shoot quick glances at Strickland from time to time, and Strickland would nod reassuringly.

“So I waited around till 4 o’clock, since she said she had stuff to do right after the bell, and by then there wasn’t hardly anybody around anymore. I walked into her classroom, and I thought it was kinda strange that she’d changed clothes since our fourth-period class. I mean, just the shirt, but now it was one of those stretchy T’s that are scooped low and it was clingy enough I could see her—you know.”

“Her what?”

“Her… nipples,” said Kevin. “So I said, ‘You want me to go though my monologue?’ and she got up and closed the door. And she locked it. She said, “We need a little privacy, don’t we?” I said, actually, I didn’t mind the air. Then I asked should I start at the top, and she said, ‘First we’ve got to work on that posture of yours.’ She said I’ve got to learn to speak from the diaphragm, right here , and she put her hand on my chest and she left it there. Then she said, and you’ve got to stand up real straight, and she put her other hand on my lower back and pressed and sort of smoothed around. I sure did stand up straight. I remember holding my breath, like. Since I was nervous. Then I started my monologue from Equus —actually, I’d wanted to do Shakespeare, you know? That to be or not to be thing. I thought it was kinda cool.”

“In your own good time, son. But what happened next?”

“I think she interrupted me after only two or three lines. She said, ‘You have to remember that this play is all about sex .’ She said, ‘When he blinds those horses, it’s an erotic act .’ And then she started asking if I’ve ever seen horses, big horses up close, not the like, geldings, but stallions, and had I ever noticed what a big—I’m sorry, do you want me to say what she really said, or should I just, you know, summarize?”

“It would be better if you used her exact words, as well as you can remember.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Kevin inhaled. “She wanted to know if I’d ever seen a horse’s cock. How big it was. And all this time I’m feeling kinda—funny. Like, restless. And she put her hand on my, uh. Fly. Of my jeans. And I was pretty embarrassed, because with all that talk, I’d got… a little worked up.”

“You mean you had an erection,” said Strickland sternly.

“Look, do I have to go on?” Kevin appealed.

“If you can, it would be better if you finished the story.”

Kevin glanced at the ceiling and crossed his legs tightly, tapping the toe of his right sneaker in an agitated, irregular rhythm against the toe of the left. “So I said, ‘Miss Pagorski maybe we should work on this scene some other time, ’cause I’ve got to go soon.’ I wasn’t sure whether to say anything about her hand, so I just kept saying that maybe we should stop , that I wanted to stop , that I should go now. ’Cause it didn’t seem right, and, you know, I like her, but not like that . She could be my mother or something.”

“Let’s be clear here,” said Strickland. “Legally, it’s only so important, because you’re a minor. But on top of the fact that you’re only fifteen, these were unwanted advances , is this correct?”

“Well, yeah. She’s ugly.”

Pagorski flinched. It was the brief, floppy little jerk you get when you keep shooting a small animal with a high-caliber pistol and it’s already dead.

“So did she stop?” asked Strickland.

“No, sir. She started rubbing up and down through my jeans, all the while saying, ‘Jesus’… Saying, and I really apologize Mr. Strickland but you asked me… She said every time she saw a horse’s cock she ‘wanted to suck it.’ And that’s when I—”

“Ejaculated.”

Kevin dropping his head to look at his lap. “Yeah. It was kind of a mess. I just ran out. I skipped class a couple of times after that, but then I came back and tried to act as if nothing happened since I didn’t want to wreck my grade-point average.”

“How?” I murmured under my breath. “By getting another B ?” You shot me a glare.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, and we want to thank you, Kevin, for being so forthcoming. You can take a seat now.”

“Could I go sit with my parents?” he implored.

“Why don’t you sit over there with the other boys for now, because we might need to ask you a few more questions. I’m sure your parents are very proud of you.”

Kevin hove back to his original perch, curling with a tinge of shame—nice touch. Meanwhile, the classroom was pin-drop silent, as parents met one another’s eyes and shook their heads. It was a bravura performance. I cannot pretend that I was not impressed.

But then I looked to Vicki Pagorski. Early in Kevin’s testimony she’d emitted the odd repressed squeal, or she’d dropped her mouth open. But by the time it was over she was beyond histrionics, and this was a drama teacher. She was drooped so bonelessly in her folding chair that I feared she would fall off, while the frizz of her hair evanesced into the air as if her whole head were in a state of dissolve.

Strickland turned to the drama teacher’s chair, though he kept his distance. “Now, Miss Pagorski. It’s your contention that this encounter never happened?”

“That’s—.” She had to clear her throat. “That’s right.”

“Do you have any idea why Kevin would tell such a story if it wasn’t true?”

“No, I don’t. I can’t understand it. Kevin’s class is an unusually talented group, and I thought we’d been having a lot of fun. I’ve given him plenty of individual attention—”

“It’s the individual attention he seems to have a problem with.”

“I give all my students individual attention!”

“Oh, Miss Pagorski, let’s hope not,” Strickland said sorrowfully. Our small audience chuckled. “Now, you claim you didn’t invite Kevin to stay after school?”

“Not separately. I told the whole class that if they want to use my classroom to practice their scenes after school, I’d make it available.”

“So you did invite Kevin to stay after school, then.” As Pagorski sputtered, Strickland proceeded, “Have you ever admired Kevin’s looks?”

“I may have said something about his having very striking features, yes. I try to instill confidence in my students—”

“How about this ‘speaking from the diaphragm.’ Did you say that?”

“Well, yes—”

“And have you put your hand on his chest, to indicate where the diaphragm is?”

“Maybe, but I never touched him on—”

“Or on his lower back, when ‘improving’ his posture?”

“Possibly. He has a tendency to slump, and it ruins his—”

“What about the selection from Equus ? Did Kevin choose this passage?”

“I recommended it.”

“Why not something from Our Town, or Neil Simon, a little less racy?”

“I try to find plays that students can relate to, about things that are important to them—”

“Things like sex.”

“Well, yes, among other things, of course—.” She was getting flustered.

“Did you describe the content of this play as ‘erotic’?”

“Maybe, probably, yes! I thought that drama about adolescent sexuality and its confusions would naturally appeal—”

“Miss Pagorski, are you interested in adolescent sexuality?”

“Well, who isn’t?” she cried. Someone should have given the poor woman a shovel, so intent was she on digging her own grave. “But Equus isn’t steamy and explicit, it’s all symbolism—”