Mr. Lambert came over to my house at about 8:30; Tug and Carol, MIke, Sarah, Aunt Rose and some other people that were friends followed at a quarter to nine. They told me of their plan to have a “teach-in” regarding my situation in the park across the street from the school at lunchtime. I was skeptical at first, but then suggested that all of us (well, girls anyway) should wear tight skirts to protest the school’s “policy.” Everyone thought it was a great idea, and after a while, the girls went home to find something “inappropriate” to wear, while Aunt Rose and I dug through some of my (and Mom’s) old dresses to see what we could come up with. Finally, I found a floral-print minidress that I hadn’t worn since the first month of school, and tried it on. Aunt Rose ironed it while I found a short slip to wear underneath.

Mike drove me to the park at 11:30. Several banners were already up, saying things like: “Girls have the right to be safe in skirts,” “Punish the guilty, not the victim,” and “Pierson and Walters must go.” About 12:15, the teach-in began, and we were joined by a group of sympathetic students who had nonetheless decided to attend school. Mr. Lambert talked for a few minutes, then asked me to speak and tell my story. I had been talking for two or three minutes when Dick Winston pulled his car up next to the park, revved his engine up to full blast (his muffler was off), spun his wheels on the pavement, and gave me the finger. Someone then called the cops, who came out and broke up our peaceful demonstration, and threatened to arrest us students for truancy and Mr. Lambert for disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, and anything else they could think of.

That night, Dad was out of town on a business trip, so Aunt Rose stayed with Mom and me. While we were sleeping, Dick and his friends broke into our house, and gang-raped us. I think each one screwed each of us twice. They left us tied up on the floor to the bathroom, where Dad found us the next morning.

The only good thing was that there were two female cops on the case, and they were pretty nice. The mother of one had been raped years earlier. We had to let them take hair and semen samples and who knows what else off our bodies. We told them we thought we knew who had done the act, but it was dark and we hadn’t seen anyone. We had left the doors and windows locked, and there was evidence of a forced entry.

Sarah took the news of the rape the hardest. Her cousin Peg seemed less upset. We thought it was because she wasn’t as close to our family as Sarah was. We were partly right. But Peg already had plans to avenge us.

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