by Kai Juniper
"Then let him go to the cops," Parker says. "It'll be his word against ours."
"And the victim's," I say. "My dad just told me the guy we hit said the people who hit him were teenagers."
"You said he told the investigator they were men," Briggs says.
"He did, but then he told his nurse they were younger, like our age."
"So he changed his story," Briggs says. "That's good. He'll lose credibility the more he changes it."
"Or the cops will think his memory's coming back," I say, "and that what he says now is more accurate than what he told them before."
"Doesn't matter," Parker says. "I'm still not giving away the money."
"So you have it?" Briggs asks. "You have ten grand?"
"I said I'm not giving it away!"
"Just answer the fucking question."
"Yeah," he huffs. "I have the money."
Briggs looks at Finn. "What about you?"
"Maybe. I don't keep track of it."
"Are you seriously thinking of doing this?" Parker says to Briggs.
"I don't know. I haven't decided."
"If you do this," I say, "where does it end? What if he keeps making demands?"
"Exactly!" Parker throws his hands up. "What if he just keeps telling us to do shit?"
"We wouldn't keep doing it," Briggs says. "I'd only agree to it now to buy us time to figure out either who this guy is or how to protect ourselves if he goes to the cops. Like we said before, it's his word against ours. The only way he wins is if he has video of that night, proving we did it."
"If he did, it'd be too dark to tell it was us," I say.
"Maybe," Briggs says. "It depends on what kind of camera he was using."
"Let's ask the bastard," Finn says. "Text him right now and ask if he has video. Tell him we want to see it."
Briggs looks at Parker and me. "What do you think? Should we ask?"
Parker shrugs. "Might as well."
"Why wouldn't we?" I ask Briggs.
"I'm thinking the less we interact with this guy, the better," Briggs says. "Every time we respond, we're giving him power. Making him think he's in charge."
"He kind of is," I say, "if we're doing what he says without knowing if he has proof of what we did. If he doesn't, then like you said, it's his word against ours."
Briggs stares down at his phone. "Okay, I'm doing it." He talks as he texts. "Show us proof. A video. Otherwise it's your word against ours." Briggs looks up at us. "It's sent."
Parker leans back on the couch, tipping his head back and tapping his foot on the floor. "This is such a waste of time. I should be getting laid right now, not sitting here waiting for a text."
"If he doesn't come back with a video, I say we end this," Briggs says. "Let him go to the cops. We'll tell them he made it up."
"But why would he make it up?" I ask.
"Because he's jealous of us," Briggs says. "Or wants revenge. If he knows our names, he knows who we are. I've got plenty of enemies, and so do Finn and Parker. We tell the cops the guy was pissed at us and that's why he made up the story."
"What if his story matches up with the story the guy we hit gives the cops?"
"Then we're fucked," Finn says, swiping through his phone,
"The guy didn't give details." Briggs looks at me. "Isn't that what your dad's girlfriend said?"
"Yeah, but I don't know if she just told my dad that because she's not allowed to tell him what the guy really said. He could've told her stuff she's not allowed to talk about, and he might tell her more when he gets better."
"We don't need to worry about that." Parker turns his phone to us. "The guy died."
"What—when?" I take Parker's phone and read the story. "It says he died a few hours ago."
Parker takes his phone back. "Finally got some good news."
"A guy dying is good news?" I say.
"It is when he could've put us in jail."
"The guy was a rapist and a murderer," Briggs says to me. "I have to agree with Parker on this one. I'm not feeling bad that he's gone."
Finn gets up. "He hasn't sent anything. He doesn't have a video. I'm going home."
"Me too," Parker says. "It's over. The guy we hit is dead and the mystery texter doesn't have proof." He smiles at Finn. "Want to get high before we go to the party?"
"I already am," Finn says with a laugh. "But I can always do more."
They walk out to the foyer.
I stand up. "Guess I'll be going too."
"I'll walk you out," Briggs says.
"Hey, what about the assignment?"
"I don't have time. With everything going on, I'm way behind on homework. I know I said we'd meet tonight, but I need to do some other stuff. You think you can do this one by yourself?"
"Yeah, okay," I say, trying to hide my disappointment. I can do the assignment, but I was hoping to spend time with him. I'm determined to prove he's not the Briggs I know from school and that he has this other side, a side I actually like.
We go outside and Briggs stops suddenly and stares at his phone. "Fuck."
I hear the sound of brakes screeching and look up and see Parker's Porsche and Finn's Range Rover stopped halfway down the driveway.
Finn pops his head out the window. "You see this?" he yells at Briggs, holding his phone out.
"What?" I say, looking at Briggs. "What is it?"
"He sent a video." Briggs sighs. "The bastard has proof."
Chapter Fourteen
Briggs
We all return to the living room, but none of us can sit down. We're all too anxious, knowing whoever this is who's texting us could turn us in at any time.
"I say let him do it," Finn says. "It's better than playing this fucking game with him."
"He's gonna give the cops that video no matter what," Parker says. "Playing along with his demands is just delaying the inevitable."
"Ask him." Ella points to my phone. "Ask him if you do what he says and give money to charity if he'll destroy the video."
"Don't listen to her," Parker says. "She's not even on the video." He glances at Ella. "How are the three of us on it and she's not?"
"I was standing in the way," I say. "The camera couldn't see past me."
"Or she purposely moved so she wouldn't be seen," Parker scoffs.
"Seriously?" Ella whips back to Parker. "I didn't even know we were being recorded. How would I possibly know to move out of the way?"
"Because you were working with whoever recorded the video."
"And I also made Finn hit the guy?" She rolls her eyes.
"Stop fighting so I can think." I sit down and watch the video again. It's short, maybe thirty seconds, and shaky, and the quality isn't great. "It's hard to tell it's us. A lawyer could argue it's someone else."
"Maybe for you," Finn says. "But not Parker and me."
The video shows the front of Finn and Parker but only the back of me, other than a brief shot of the side of my face when I turned to say something to Finn. Luckily, it was taken from too far away to pick up the audio of our voices. The angle is looking down, meaning whoever took this was on the hill above the road.
"You think they knew each other?" I ask. "The guy we hit and the guy who took this?"
"Maybe." Ella sits down across from me. "What are you thinking?"
"I just don't know why anyone would go out there at night unless they're running from something or trying to hide. What if that guy we hit had a friend, someone who was also wanted by the cops, and they were on the run together?"
"It's possible," Ella says, "but how would they know who we are?"
"He has pictures of our faces from the video, or at least Parker's and Finn's faces. He does an image search online, sees them on social media, and finds out who they are. I'm in a lot of their photos so it wouldn't be hard to piece it together that the other guy is me."
"I can't deal with this shit," Parker says, pacing the floor. "I need to get out of here."
"Why don
't we all go home and take some time to think about this," Ella says. "Maybe we could meet back here tomorrow and figure out what to do next."
"There's nothing to figure out," Parker says. "We're not doing what he tells us. If we do, it'll never end."
"I'll ask him," I say, pulling up the text.
"What are you going to ask?"
"If we give the ten grand to charity," I say as I text, “will you destroy the video?"
As soon as I send it, I get a text right back. It depends.
On what? I text.
If it's a worthy cause or something that benefits you.
"What'd he say?" Finn asks.
"That he might destroy it if we give to a charity that doesn't benefit us."
"Like what?" Parker says. "I don't know what the fuck that even means."
"Like if you spent ten thousand on a watch at a charity auction where the money goes toward sending the rugby team to Hawaii," Ella explains. "You benefit by getting the watch and a trip. That's just an example, but I'm guessing that's what he means."
"So we have to give it to people like you?" Parker says to Ella. "So you can buy some decent clothes?"
"I'm not a charity, asshole."
I storm over to Parker, getting in his face. "Stop this shit with Ella. You're wasting everyone's fucking time and I'm tired of listening to it."
"Then get rid of her. She doesn't need to be here. She's not at risk. She's not even on the video."
"I'm at risk if you guys tell the cops I was there," Ella says.
"Ella stays." I look Parker in the eye. "Now sit your ass down and come up with some fucking ideas of what to do."
"I already know what I'm doing. I'm keeping the ten grand. The rest of you fuckers want to give up your money, go ahead. I'm out of here." He storms out of the room.
"I'm with Parker," Finn says, following him out. "I'm keeping the money."
I turn to Ella, shaking my head. "Fucking disaster."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm thinking of donating the money just to see what happens."
"That's a lot of money."
It is, and it's going to take away from the money I need to start my new life. I've been saving up for months, just in case I don't get the car.
"At least it goes to charity," I say.
"Where would you donate it?"
"I don't know. I don't even know if I'm doing it. How soon could you talk to that tech guy?"
"Calvin? I was thinking I'd talk to him on Monday."
"Could you do it sooner than that? If we can find out where those texts are coming from, we might be able to stop this."
"I guess I could call him tonight. Or maybe tomorrow, but I have to work all day."
"If you talk to him, let me know. Maybe tell him it's for an assignment."
"I'm not sure what kind of assignment that would be, but I'll figure it out." Ella gets up and I walk her to the door.
"Talk to him on the phone," I say. "Don't go to his house."
She sighs. "He's not dangerous. He's just a little strange."
"He's more than strange. There's something off with that guy."
"You don't even know him." She opens the door. "I'll let you know what I find out."
When she's gone, I feel myself wishing I would've asked her to stay. I'd rather hang out with Ella all night than go to this party. I used to love parties, and I probably still would if I wasn't consumed with thoughts of what my future's going to look like if this guy turns us in.
My phone rings and I see my mom's name on the screen. I don't feel like talking to her, but I want to know why she's calling. I'm sure it's about the divorce, but maybe while I have her on the phone I can get her to tell me why she won't go to my graduation.
"Hey, Mom," I say as I go up to my room.
"Briggs, I'm glad I caught you. Are you at home?"
"Yeah. I'm in my room." I go in there and lock the door, in case my father comes home.
"How have you been?"
"I've been better."
"I assume your father told you the news."
"Yeah, he told me. So does this mean you're not coming back?"
"Not anytime soon. Your father probably told you I've been staying at a center for spiritual awakening."
"He mentioned it, but he didn't give me any details. Where is this place?"
"In India."
"You're in India? When did you leave Italy?"
"A few weeks ago. I heard about the center from a friend of mine and felt it was time for a change." She takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Being here has opened my mind to a whole new world. I feel like a different person."
She sounds like one too. The mom I know talks fast and always seems stressed. This version of her talks slow and sounds almost too relaxed, like she's on drugs.
"Dad said you're giving up all your stuff?"
"I already have. In the spiritual world, there's no need for money or material possessions."
This is not my mom. She used to spend hours a day shopping. She wouldn't wear the same outfit more than once and was constantly redecorating the house because she got bored with how it looked.
"Don't you need money to live off of?"
"Everything's provided here at the center, but I've set aside a small amount of money for when I leave."
"When are you leaving?"
"I haven't decided yet. As of now, I plan to be here a few months. It'll take me that long just to get through the teachings."
"Are you sure this place is legit? It sounds like a cult."
She laughs. "It's not a cult. It's a place to be at peace and alone with your thoughts. A place to learn and grow without the pressures of society."
"Are you ever coming back? To California?"
"I don't see myself going back, but I will if my spirit desires it."
The more she talks, the angrier I get. If her spirit desires it? What about her son? What if I want her to come back? Did she even consider that, or is she too wrapped up in herself?
I'm just going to tell her what I want. How could she say no to her son?
"Mom, I want you to be at my graduation. You don't have to stay for a week. Just stay for a few days."
"Briggs, if your father is putting you up to this—"
"He's not. I want you there. You're my mother and you should be there. You should want to see your son graduate."
"Ceremonies such as graduations are continuing the cycle of praising accomplishments that mean nothing in terms of who we really are. It's society telling us what to focus on rather than letting us decide. When you—"
"It doesn't matter what you think of the ceremony or what it represents. I need you there. It's important to me."
"You don't need me. You have your father, and he's so very proud of you, Briggs. He said you two have been going to the office together?"
"Mom, you're not listening to me. I don't give a shit if Dad is there. I want YOU there. Would you please just come? I'll pay for your plane ticket. And you don't have to stay at the house. I'll get you a hotel."
"I'm sorry, Briggs, but I can't be around that kind of energy. Being around your father will take me back to the place I was when I left there. Anxious. Uptight. Unable to breathe. I need to protect my health and my spirit, which means I can't be around your father."
"What about ME?" I yell into the phone. "You don't think I feel anxious and uptight being around him? I have to fucking LIVE with him, and every day's a goddamn nightmare!"
"Briggs, you need to calm down or I'll have no choice but to hang up. Your negative energy—"
"I don't give a shit about my negative energy! Don't you even care about what I'm saying? I hate living with Dad! You think he was bad when you were here? He's ten times worse now, and he's taking his anger out on me."
"Your father has always had a bad temper. You know that, Briggs. He's been that way forever. His father was the same way. It's a Chadwick trait."
"What about vio
lence? Is that a trait too?"
I wasn't going to tell her this, but maybe telling her will make her finally listen to me.
"Briggs, I've had enough of this. I'm feeling my anxiety starting to return." She takes a breath. "My breathing is becoming shallow. That's a sign I'm being overwhelmed with negative energy. We'll have to talk some other time, when you're not so wound up."
"Why aren't you listening to me?" I collapse to the floor and lean against my bed, feeling defeated and hurt. It hurts even worse than when my father hits me. "Why don't you care? I'm telling you I need you and you don't even care."
"I DO care, but you're an adult now, Briggs. You need to learn to handle your own problems. Perhaps if you—"
"He hits me," I blurt out, desperate to get a response from her, a response that tells me she cares.
She doesn't say anything.
"Did you hear me? He hits me. With his hand. With objects. Chairs. Whatever he can find."
The phone remains silent.
"Mom? Are you there?"
"I'm sorry to hear about your disagreements with your father," she says, calm and cold and fucking heartless. "But I'm sure you two will figure it out. Goodbye, Briggs."
I throw the phone against the room and scream. I scream because I won't let myself cry and I need to release this rage boiling inside me. I scream until my voice is nearly gone and pound my fists into the wood floor until my skin burns and my hands ache.
And then I lay down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths, and wondering if I should just end it. Why keep doing this? Why keep hoping things will get better when all they do is get worse?
My phone rings from across the room.
"Go to hell!" I scream, but all that comes out is a hoarse whisper.
The phone goes to voicemail, then rings again.
"Fuck." I sigh as I get up. "If you're calling to apologize, Mom, don't waste your time. We're done. Have a good life."
I pick up the phone and see Ella's name.
"What do you need?" I say.
"Briggs?"
"Yeah? What do you want?"
"What's wrong with your voice? Are you sick?"
"No, I was just singing really loud in the shower."