by Michelle Ray
Mr. Kerwin looked at me.
“He pretty much nailed it,” I told him. “That is how every dance goes.”
“Ah, Leo!” Mr. Werner called across the gym and I waved at my uncle. “B, I’ve got the rest under control so you can go change.”
Ben
B walked out in a light gray dress that was tight in all the right places and reminded me in the best way of the lingerie she’d worn the night she freaked out. Man, how exactly did I get her as my girlfriend?
“Wow,” I said.
She tugged at the fabric a little, looking skeptical.
“Honestly, B. You look incredible.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, and twisted her mouth. “I guess. Thanks.” I was about to ask her why she didn’t believe me or take compliments very well, when she put her arms around me and kissed my neck. All I can say is it’s a good thing I’m a gentleman because if I weren’t . . . Well, I was becoming the king of restraint. And of controlled breathing.
Just then, our friends came through the door in a pack, and the girls started admiring each other’s dresses and hair and all that. Everyone else had been lucky enough to go to dinner before the dance while B and I were stuck setting up. Responsibility is overrated. As is being a gentleman. Seriously, that dress was killing me.
And then the girls all ran off to the bathroom together. What’s up with that?
Beatriz
“So how was dinner?” I asked Hope.
“Great. But so fancy.”
“It was just Leffler’s Farm to Table,” Sula said with a shrug. “We go there all the time.”
“Well I’ve never been to a place that was so nice.” Then Hope asked, “B, what’s with the backpack?”
“I was on my way to put my regular clothes in my car when you all walked in.”
“Want me to go? You have to work now, right?”
I hesitated. I hated having people do stuff for me, even something as small as this. But before I could argue, Hope put my bag over her shoulder and held out her hand. I dropped my keys into it.
When we all left the bathroom, the guys were gone.
“That’s weird,” said Sula. “Where’d they go?”
I went to deal with the ticket booth, where the tenth graders were trying to show the ropes to a couple of nervous seventh graders. How could 7th graders be stressed about selling $10 tickets? Multiples of 10. Hello! But then I heard the tenth graders intentionally scaring them with misinformation, so I stepped in.
Ben
When B disappeared into the bathroom, I had half a mind to run after her and tell her to get her very cute butt back out to the dance. Why do girls always go in packs? I mean, it takes so much longer, and it’s not like we don’t all know that they’re talking about us in there.
“So how’s it been at B’s house?” Clay ventured.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s been a long couple of weeks since ‘the talk’ with her parents. B hardly wants to hang out on school nights, which is kind of okay because her folks have been taking turns coming home early from work, and the thought of facing them right now is . . .” I shivered.
“It’ll blow over.”
“Whatever. How’re things with Hope?”
“Good. She’s a little hands-off, but I figured she would be since she’s a junior and, well, B’s cousin. But I don’t think it hurts me as much as it hurts you. This waiting around isn’t exactly your style.”
I pulled at the back of my neck. “Don’t remind me.”
Just then, Peter walked out of the men’s room with John and Bryce. Seeing the grim look on Peter’s face, I knew there was some kind of trouble.
“Clay,” Peter said, “John needs to talk to you.”
John cut in, “I know we’re not the best of friends, but this is important.”
Clay gritted his teeth. “What is it?”
Peter grabbed Clay by the arm. “We should not do this here.”
My heart started pounding and I thought going anywhere with John and Bryce was a bad idea, but Peter led us all down the back stairs that went to the locker rooms.
When we finally got into the hallway, John told Clay, “Hope is trouble.”
Clay started to laugh. “You must be joking.”
“Hear him out,” Peter said, and his tone rooted us.
John explained, “Trouble isn’t even strong enough to describe what she is. If you can think of a worse name for a girl, I guarantee that’s what you’ll think of Hope after I show you this.” He pulled out his phone and the screen was lit with Hope’s smiling face. “If you want to stay blinded by her beauty and her fake innocence, then go out there and dance and drink punch. But I think you should know the truth.”
Fake innocence? This guy was mental. Hope was about the purest, sweetest girl I’d met. I was about to say as much when John said, “Here you go.”
Clay reached for the phone, but pulled his hand back. He looked at Peter. “What is this?”
“Just watch,” Peter said.
Bryce and John — anticipating Clay’s reaction, I’m sure — took a step back. This made me move closer to Clay, ready to protect him. But from what?
The video played, and over Clay’s shoulder, I could see Hope onscreen. Then Bryce. And they were together. I mean, together. I didn’t know whether to watch or look away. All I could think was, “That was Hope? B’s cousin would do . . . that?”
Within seconds, Clay’s shouted profanities echoed through the locker room hallway. Peter grabbed the phone from Clay, but Clay wrenched Peter’s hand around to see what his girlfriend was doing with Bryce. Clay muttered, “What the — holy — that — f . . . .”
I should have walked away. I should have taken the phone. I should have gotten Clay out of there. I should have done a bunch of things, but what I did instead — because I’m the biggest goddamned fool on the goddamned planet — was keep watching.
When the screen went black, Clay punched the cinderblock wall with his fist. Then he did it again. And again. A smear of blood stained the wall. Peter took Clay by the shoulders and tried to move him away. Clay spun around and lunged for Bryce, and I launched myself between them because if Clay hit Bryce, he could get expelled. Peter and I barely held Clay back while he shouted, “You bastard! How could you do those things with Hope?”
Bryce shoved his hands in his pockets. “She came to me, dude. She was begging for it.”
Clay spun around, punched the wall again, and sank to the ground clutching his hand. “What do I do?” he asked, rage burning in his eyes.
“Show everyone what she really is,” said John, a trace of a smile on his lips. “But you have to be sure this is what you want.” His tone dared Clay to chicken out.
Clay stood up quickly and squared off with Bryce. “You bet it’s what I want. I want Hope to be as . . . as — I want her to feel what I feel.”
John and Bryce exchanges looks that were a little too pleased with themselves. Something was definitely wrong here.
I stepped forward, my eyes on John and Bryce. “Clay, wait a minute. Don’t you think—”
John poked his index finger in my chest. “If you’re not man enough to help your friend, then get the hell out of here.”
What I really wanted to do was wrench his finger until it broke and then keep twisting. Instead, I said, “All I’m saying is—”
“No one cares what you’re saying, Ben.” John scowled. “You’re either with us or you’re against us.”
“Us?” When had John and Bryce become any kind of “us” with my friends? This made no sense. I looked at Clay and Peter. Clay had taken the cell phone and was watching the video again. Peter shook his head at me and looked back at the screen with disgust. I needed a second with my buddies. A second without the video and without Bryce and John poisoning anyone’s minds.
But before I could say anything sane, John smirked and said, “So Richardson, you helping us or not?”
I swallowed hard. “No. And I don’t
think—”
“No one cares what you think,” John said, his eyes narrow. “I’m forwarding this file to you, Clay, so you can watch it again. And share. Let’s go.”
“You sure this is what you want?” Peter asked as he walked Clay down the hall, his arm around Clay’s shoulder.
“I don’t know. I mean, she’s a fake and . . .” His voice faded before I could hear the rest.
I stood frozen for a second, considering what to do. Where were my loyalties? If I told Hope or a teacher, the guys would be pissed. If I didn’t tell anyone, B would kill me. I could try to stop my friends again, but they seemed pretty determined. I was basically screwed. I wandered into the gym, hoping an answer would magically appear. Which, of course, it didn’t.
John Crotalus A toast to faith, Hope, and chastity — er, charity.
Beatriz
I went into the gym and didn’t see the guys. I was starting to get mad because, well, they’d totally abandoned us. I mean, I know we ran into the bathroom and all, but still. Finally I spotted Ben, coming through the side door of the gym, looking anxious. I ran up to kiss him and he reared back.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice distant.
Hope came up behind me and Ben looked like he’d seen a ghost. What was up with him?
Ben’s eyes darted around. I followed his gaze but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Was I being paranoid? I can get like that sometimes.
Ben
A slow song started and B tugged at me.
I sighed. There was nothing I wanted to do less right then than dance. “I’m not much of a dancer, B.” My gaze darted around again. I had to stop doing that.
“Just put your arms around me, sway and shut up,” she said, smiling, though there was something in her eyes. Suspicion? “Come on. I’ve been waiting six years to dance with someone I really like at a school function.” I let B drag me onto the basketball court.
B’s body pressed dangerously close to mine. I leaned my face against her hair and inhaled. I friggin’ loved her shampoo and the way she moved against me and the way she felt in my arms. I was just starting to forget everything else when she turned back to Hope and asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just don’t understand what happened to Clay.”
Feeling punched in the stomach, I opened my mouth but shut it again.
“What?” B asked me.
How exactly could I answer that question? I pulled B close and said, “Nothing.”
A few minutes passed and everything seemed normal. I thought maybe the guys weren’t going through with it.
John Crotalus I love technology.
Beatriz
After the slow song, Ben and I went to stand with Hope because Clay still wasn’t back from wherever he’d gone. I was definitely getting worried now. Ben was jumpy and not telling me a thing; Hope was nervously clutching her phone.
Then Clay came up to us, and his eyes were wild. Plus his knuckles were . . . bloody.
“Hope, do you have anything to confess?” he growled.
She looked at him steadily and shook her head. I moved closer to my cousin, and Ben moved closer to me.
“Liar!” he shouted. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders. “You came here, acting all innocent, but I saw! I saw you!” His face was red and sweating, and his bloody fingers were digging into her shoulder.
The area around us had quieted as kids stopped to listen.
Hope tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Clay, I don’t know what you think—”
“I think you’re a two-faced psycho who came here pretending to be something she’s not!”
“Hey. Hey!” shouted Mr. Kerwin, who was running up to us with Mr. Werner. Mr. Kerwin, Ben and I ended up talking at the same time, me shouting, “Don’t call girls whores!” and Ben screaming, “Don’t do this!” and Mr. Kerwin demanding, “Clay, you need to let go of her. Now.”
Then Clay’s phone dinged. I thought for sure he’d ignore it, but he looked at the screen, his face contorting. Phones all around us started vibrating and pinging and ringing.
My uncle came up to us. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Clay said, “Coach, I bet you’d swear your daughter doesn’t know much about guys. What a joke.”
Behind me, Ben exhaled, “Jesus.”
“What did you do to her?” my uncle screamed.
“Me? Me?” Clay shouted. “I have been a gentleman. And your daughter has been a whore.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Mr. Werner and Mr. Kerwin held my uncle tight as he struggled. “Hijo de puta! You little — How dare you talk about my daughter like that?”
Throughout the entire gym, the same video began to play on dozens of phones. I grabbed for Ben’s phone and tapped the screen. I gasped.
“Hope, come over here and sit on my lap,” booms a voice. Bryce.
(Wait, what was my cousin doing talking to Bryce?)
Hope giggles and covers her face.
“Hope, don’t be a tease.”
Hope puts her hands down and says, “I’m not a tease. You know I’m dating Clay.”
“He’ll never know.”
Hope flips her hair, smiles, and then walks off screen.
“Hope, come back. You know you want to.”
“Turn that off,” she says.
“What’ll you give me if I do?”
Something flutters across the screen and the camera follows it to the ground. It’s a pair of lacy underpants. Laughter is heard off screen and the camera turns to Bryce’s face in close-up. “That’s more like it.”
When the camera finally rests, Hope is seen from behind and she’s kissing him hard. Then he presses on her shoulders until she drops to her knees.
Oh my God. My baby cousin? With Bryce? I had to look away. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one in the room who was embarrassed or shocked, because every mouth in the room that wasn’t covered by a hand was gaping. I tightened my grip on a shivering Hope trying to figure out why she would have done this.
Ben
Coach Garcia was unhinged, cursing in Spanish and English. Peter grabbed Clay and they sprinted out the back door of the gym. Bryce and John hurried out, too, but seemed far less concerned. They were so damn smug.
I was so focused on my hate for them that it took me a second to hear what Hope was saying. “That’s not me,” she was telling us. She looked very young at that moment. Her eyes were wide, tears streamed down her face, her full lips quivered. “That’s not me. That’s not me.” She kept repeating this, shaking and crying. B went to hold her, but she pulled away and said again, “That’s not me.”
“Let’s get her out of here,” I whispered to B.
Hope turned to my uncle, and said, “That’s not me.”
“Liar!” he shouted. “We all saw you.” Then he lunged at her but was grabbed and pinned up against the wall by the other teachers. Hope blinked a few times and ran off crying.
God. How did I let this happen?
“Ben, let’s find Hope,” B said.
Kids were whispering and pointing as we walked across the gym. I spotted one guy laughing and something in me cracked. “Son of a—” I muttered and started after him, but B yanked me back.
Beatriz
Hope beat us to the parking lot, and we arrived in time to see her driving my car away. I had given her my keys before the dance got going.
“Damn it!” I shouted. “Damn it! Damn it! What now?”
* * *
“You are charged with trafficking in child pornography,” says one officer as he puts handcuffs on Clay.
“Child pornography?” Clay’s father steps forward and the other officer pushes him back.
“Yeah. The girl was under 18,” says the first officer.
“But it was a video made by another kid,” Clay’s father declares.
“Clay was responsible for sending it out.”
“I didn’t send it,” Clay whimpers.<
br />
Clay’s father’s face turns bright red. “This is absurd.”
“Take it up with the DA’s office,” says the officer holding Clay.
“Dad?” Clay calls over his shoulder as he is led away.
“Don’t worry. I’ll meet you downtown with Charles Harlan. He’ll handle this.
10
Beatriz Garcia Rojas If anyone has seen Hope, please call me.
Russ Michaels Oh, we’ve aaaallll seen Hope. The stuff of dreams.
Sula Blom Shut up, you pig.
Beatriz
When my parents came home, Ben told the story because Antonio hadn’t gotten home and I was a mess. I couldn’t figure out how to explain to my parents what the entire upper school saw. Through my haze, I was pretty impressed by how Ben made it clear what happened without saying anything specific. Even so, when he finished, my father threw his sport coat across the room and my mother walked out.
My uncle called the house and everyone held their breath until my mom’s face fell and she hung up the phone with a, “Call us if she shows up.” There was no sign of Hope at his house, not even that she had come by to grab clothes, so Leo decided that if she didn’t show up by midnight he would come to us.
My parents stayed in the kitchen, pacing and strategizing, and Ben and I listened, only occasionally adding an idea. When Antonio finally came home and talked to my parents, he was a little twitchy and tense, but as soon as his eyes met Ben’s, he stiffened and said he was going to his room, which bothered me. I couldn’t say whether it was Ben’s being friends with Clay and Peter that was bugging him, or if Antonio thought Ben was intruding, or if he just didn’t like that Ben and I were dating. Maybe it was all those things, but I still thought Antonio should have hung around. And I guess I could have told Ben to leave. Maybe I should have. But I didn’t want to. Deep inside I knew I needed Ben there. For the first time in my life, my family wasn’t enough.