by McKayla Box
It's not going anywhere.
So, instead, I just cry. I'm not sure for how long, but it's a long time. My makeup is running and my pillow is a stained mess of tears and mascara. I'm sobbing so hard the bed is shaking beneath me. Finally, the tears stop and the shaking stops. My room is quiet and I force myself to sit up.
My throat hurts and my eyes are swollen. I get up and go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I open the fridge and reach for the water.
But the beer below it catches my eye.
Pacifico. My dad's favorite.
Fuck it.
I leave the water and pull the bottle of beer out of the fridge. I find a bottle opener in a drawer and pry the cap off.
I down the beer in three long gulps.
I set the empty beer bottle on the counter.
I giggle.
I'm home in the middle of a school day. The entire school thinks I'm a slut who cheated on my boyfriend with my best friend's boyfriend. And I'm getting drunk.
I'm a fucking cliché.
I throw the empty bottle in the trash, the beer settling heavily in my stomach. I walk back to my room and catch a look at my face in the mirror. My eyes are swollen, red knots and my mascara is smeared all over both of my cheeks.
I strip out of my clothes and step into my shower. The hot water is starting to go lukewarm when I puke up the beer I pounded. By the time, I'm steady again, the water has gone cold.
I dry off and pull on clean clothes, then sit on the edge of my bed.
“Get it together,” I say out loud.
Because I don't have a choice.
My life isn't going to stop because someone's done this. I'm going to have to get up each morning and go to school. I'm going to have to graduate.
And I'm going to have to figure out who did this to me.
And why.
I already have a couple of candidates in my head. It's not hard.
I just have to figure out the how.
But I know things are different now.
Not one person gave me the benefit of the doubt.
Not Trevor.
Not Bridget.
Not Gina.
Not Maddie.
None of them.
And I won't forget that.
Ever.
FORTY SIX
It's late afternoon and I'm just pacing the house when the doorbell rings. I stare at it for a moment, remembering the night before when there was a knock and Bridget was on the other side of the door. It rings again and I force myself to walk over and open the door.
“I figured you were home,” Brett says. “Can we talk for a second?”
“I don't need you to tell me what a whore I am,” I say. “So, no.”
He holds up a hand. “That's not why I'm here. I mean, it is. But I know you're not.”
I stare at him for a moment, wondering if this is some sort of trick.
“I believe you,” he says.
I step out of the way and let him in. I close the door behind him and we both stand there awkwardly. His hands are in the pockets of his shorts and he looks nervous. I walk over to the couch and sit down on the edge of it. I fold my arms across my chest. “Okay. I'm listening.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair and takes a deep breath. He looks around the living room, then back at me. “I believe you.”
“You said that,” I say. “Why? What changed?”
“I believed you this morning,” he says. “I just...I don't know. It all just went to shit.”
“You don't say.”
He points at the couch. “Can I sit?”
I nod.
He walks over and sits across from me. He scratches at his head for a second. “When I saw it last night, I didn't know what to think. On one hand, it totally looks like you. There's nothing really weird about it and it looks...like you. At least your face.” He pauses. “But on the other hand, I just knew you wouldn't do that.”
For the first time, I feel like someone is actually listening to me.
“Like, I know how you are with Trevor,” he says. “I know how you are with everyone. You aren't like that. So I'm supposed to believe that you fucked the guy who you know Trevor hates and that's running some game on your best friend?” He shook his head. “I just don't see it.”
“It's not me,” I say.
He nods. “I believe you, Presley. You don't have to keep telling me.”
“Then why doesn't anyone else believe me?” I ask.
He leans back in the couch. “I don't know. Because it looks so real, I guess? Because it's painful for them to look at?”
“But the know me,” I say. “You're sitting here telling me you know I wouldn't do that. Why aren't they?”
He shakes his head. “I don't know. I tried to talk to Trevor, but he's still on fire over it. I think just the idea of it has him not thinking straight. He's...not in a good place right now. He's pretty hurt and pretty fucking pissed off.”
“Well, I can't undo that because I didn't do anything,” I say. “There's not much I can do if he doesn't believe me.”
“I know,” he says. “So we need to figure out exactly what that thing is. Because I feel like that's the only way we're going to convince people that someone set you up.”
“You keep saying we,” I say. “You're Trevor's friend. He isn't going to like that you're trying to help me.”
He runs a hand through his hair again, then tucks his hand behind his neck. “Trevor's absolutely my best friend. He has been since we were eight. A couple of little shitheads on surfboards, thinking we were cooler than cool. That isn't gonna change.” He pauses. “But you're my friend, too. And I know how he feels about you and, right now, he's too angry to think logically. He will. Eventually. But we may have to help him.”
I tuck my legs underneath me. “If I have to convince him, I'm not sure there's much in the future for us. If he really thinks I'd do something like sleep with Kane, then he doesn't know me at all.”
“That's for you two to work out,” he says. “I can't fix any of that. But I don't think it's fair that someone is doing this to you and everyone is just buying it. I can't explain it and I don't know how it happened, but I know it's bullshit.”
“Now you sound like me,” I say.
“I may sound like you, but no one's treating me like they're treating you,” he says. “So it's not even close to the same. I'm sorry.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for being the one person who is at least thinking that it doesn't make sense.”
He nods. “I'm sorry I can't convince the others.”
I shrug. “Nothing you can do about that.”
He stands up. “Maybe there is. This isn't some random bullshit. You know it's Shanna or Athena.”
“Or Derek or Kane,” I say. “Any or all of them. And it's not a coincidence that it happens after the picture didn't really do anything.”
“I know,” he says.
I lean back in the couch. “Jesus. Why can't Trevor think like you?”
“Maybe I can convince him,” he says.
“He shouldn't need proof,” I say. “He should know it's not me.”
“I guess,” he says. “I've got a couple things I'm gonna check out. I'll call you later on, okay?”
I stand up. “Okay. And thanks. For real. For coming over and for believing me.”
“Don't thank me,” he says. “Until we figure it out.”
I walk with him to the door and open it for him.
He turns and looks at me. “Are you okay? Like, really okay?”
I think for a moment. “No, not really.”
“You aren't gonna do anything are you? If I leave?”
“Like what?”
“Like...I don't know,” he says. “I know it has to be hard and I get why you left school and I don't know. I just don't want you to...do anything.”
His concern is sweet and I appreciate. “I'm not gonna do anything like that. I came home, pounded a beer, and th
rew up in the shower. I'm miserable, but I'll live. The puking was as much pain as I plan on inflicting on myself.”
He smiles. “Good. Just wanted to make sure.”
“Can I hug you?” I ask. “I just...need to hug someone.”
He hesitates, then nods.
I step into him and hug him. He puts his arms around me and pats me awkwardly on the back. I can't help but laugh.
“What?” he asks.
I step back. “That was the most grandfatherly hug of all time.”
He makes a face. “You might be fighting with Trev, but you're still his girlfriend. I don't want anyone making a video of us.”
“Good point,” I say.
“I'll call you later,” he says.
I watch him walk down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner.
I take a deep breath and exhale.
At least there's one person in my corner.
Now I just need to figure out who isn't.
FORTY SEVEN
“How was school?” my dad asks.
He's actually home for dinner and it forces me out of my funk because I don't want to tell him how the day really was.
“Uh, it was okay,” I tell him. “I came home early because I wasn't feeling so hot.”
He's putting the pasta on the table. “You're sick?”
“I'm okay now,” I assure him. “I just wasn't feeling great this morning.”
“You still wanna eat?”
I'm actually starving because I haven't anything to eat all day. “Yeah, I do.”
He puts the pasta on both of our plates and passes me the salad.
“How was your day?” I ask.
He grunts. “Hard. Long. And I've got more to do tonight.” He holds up a finger. “But I'm not going back to the office. I'll work from home.”
“Okay,” I say, secretly happy that I won't be home alone. “What was hard about it? Actually, what do you do all day long anyway? I know you're a lawyer, but what does that mean? You always used all these analogies to describe it.”
He chuckles and stabs a piece of lettuce with his fork. “It's a lot of paperwork and phone calls and meetings. Right now, I'm working on something that isn't my area of expertise, so I'm having to learn on the fly. But there's a lot of money involved and Frank is really pushing hard. An old colleague of his is back in town and he brought him something and he's just super hot to trot on it. So there's a big learning curve.”
“What is it?” I ask.
He eyes me. “I'm not really supposed to talk about it. It's all confidential.”
“Because I'm gonna go blab about it,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Actually, you'd probably understand it better than I would.”
“Why?”
“It's for phones,” he says. “Computers and tablets, too. But the intended use is for phones. It's an application. An app.”
“Yeah, I know what an application is, Dad,” I say.
“Just making sure,” he says. “So, it's an app. And, honestly, I don't really have to do much on the technology side. I have to make sure we're covering all of the legal ins and outs, so that when we take it to the market, it's ours and ours alone. I also have to make sure that the right paperwork is in place to cover all of the finer points in creating it. And I have to keep pretty detailed records on every step in the process for investors. And I have to keep those investors informed of what the status of the app is.” He smiles. “I think your eyes might be glazing over.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No. I'm just listening. So the idea is, they create a big, popular app, it takes off, and they all make money on it. Right?”
He hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, in a nutshell, I guess. But plenty of apps fail every day. Frank really believes in this one and I think there's some potential, so he's willing to risk his money. My job is to make sure we're covered on the legal side, so that no one else can say they had the idea first. Or something like that.”
I wrap the pasta around my fork. “What's the app?”
“I knew you were gonna ask that,” he says. “I'll do my best to explain. I can't give you the name because that really is protected and not even sure we've settled on one yet. They want to market it to new parents, but I think the expanded use will actually be a much larger market.”
“Now my eyes are glazing over.”
He laughs. “Right. Okay, so, basically the app itself will use artificial intelligence to animate a photo.”
“Glazing. Over,” I tell him.
He takes a drink of his water and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Let's say you have a picture of a brand new baby. What the app will do is take the photo and make it...come alive, for lack of a better way of saying it. You could turn the picture into a 3-D photo. You could make the baby talk. You could do all sorts of things with it. It sounds silly, but that segment of the market, meaning new parents, spends a ton of money on fun, novelty things like what this app might be.”
“So it's like Photoshop?” I say.
He shakes his head. “Not really. Think of Photoshop as an almost antiquated program compared to this. This can take your photo and do anything you want with it. I could put a picture of Abe Lincoln into it and make it talk.”
I set my fork down. “So like a video?”
He nods. “Yeah, absolutely. I mean, it can do other things, but video is definitely a possibility. There are other things similar in the market right now, but the capabilities in this thing are about a hundred times greater.” He smiles. “But think how funny it would be if you have a brand new baby and you could send a video of the baby talking to his or her grandparents? Or riding a bike?” He pauses. “Kind of funny, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, goosebumps popping on my forearms. “So, you could basically take a photo of anyone and make it do...anything?”
He nods. “That's the goal. And it won't look cheap, you know? Usually you can spot those doctored videos a mile away. But with this, you won't even be able to tell.” He points at my plate. “I could literally take a pic of you and make it look like you were eating socks, if I wanted. And it would look just like that's what you were doing. It would be nearly impossible to tell it was a fake unless you knew beforehand. It breaks down every piece of the image and then recreates them, but in a way that lets the app manipulate them.” He shrugs. “I don't even know what all that means, but that's how it was explained to me.”
I look at my food and I'm no longer hungry. “Have you guys, like, tried it?”
“You mean made sure it works?” he asks. “I haven't, but the software guys obviously have. I know Frank has a beta version on his phone. And I think Jerry does, too.”
I look at him. “Jerry?”
“That's Frank's old colleague,” he explains. “It's basically his idea, but he needed Frank's money to make it go, so they're essentially partners now on the whole deal.”
I think for a moment, letting the pieces click into place. “What's his last name?”
“Jerry's?” he says. “Atkins. His daughter goes to school with you. Athena, I think it is?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Athena. Athena Atkins.”
FORTY EIGHT
“Kane was definitely talking to Athena,” Brett says.
I make it through dinner without breaking anything and tell my dad that I need to do some homework. I close the door to my room. I text Brett and ask him to call me. He calls me almost as soon as I send it.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I talked to a couple of girls I know at Del Sol,” he says. “I really thought Kane had to be involved in all of this, so I thought that might be best place to start. Anyway, these girls both said that Athena was in their parking lot after school last week. She gave him a ride somewhere one day. So they were together.”
“That makes perfect sense,” I say.
“Why?”
I tell him what I learned from my dad at dinner.
“Jesus Christ,” he says when I'm done.
“They did it.”
My free hand is balled up into a fist. “If she had access to that app, she absolutely did it. And if she got him to play along or to just let her film him first, it would've been easy to put me in the video, based on what my dad said. They would've just needed a picture of the two of us and they could do whatever they wanted.”
“Unbelievable,” he says.
“But how do we prove it?” I ask. “How can we prove she did it?”
The line is quiet for a moment.
“We need her phone,” he says.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Super simple.”
“I might have an idea,” he says. “If I can get it, then what?”
“Then we see if the app is on there,” I say. “That's the first thing. And if it is, I'm assuming it would have the file they created and maybe the links to the upload? I don't know. But if the app is on there, that would be a start.”
“I'll pick you for school in the morning,” he says.
“Why?”
“Just let me pick you up,” he says. “You're going, right?”
My stomach turns at the thought, but I know I can't hide forever.
“Yeah, I'm going,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “I'll come by in the morning.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Not exactly sure yet,” he says. “Just be ready like a half hour before school. And don't tell anyone.”
“Who the fuck would I tell?”
He laughs. “Good point.” He pauses. “Sorry, I shouldn't laugh.”
“It's fine,” I tell him. “I'll be ready in the morning.”
We hang up and I lean back on my pillows.
I'm not sure how I'll sleep because I'm too wound up. There are too many questions working through my brain. What if we're wrong? Or what if we're right? Then what? Do we show everyone what she did? Do we just tell them? Or do we give her a taste of her own medicine?
I lay there for a long time, thinking about the possibilities.
All of the possibilities.
FORTY NINE
“What happened?” I ask.
I'm getting into Brett's truck and I can barely contain myself. I slept a total of three hours at the most and I'm completely wired, wondering what he did and what he found out.