by McKayla Box
I nod. “I understand.”
“You said two reasons,” my dad says. “What's the second?”
She picks up the pen and taps the pen. “This is the tough part. Both of these things happened awhile ago. That makes things a little trickier.”
“Why?” I ask.
“If you'd come in the night after the drugging happened, we could've tested you,” she explains. “Taken blood and urine. We could've figured out exactly what she gave you.” She pauses. “We've missed that window.”
My heart sinks.
“Doesn't make it impossible, but it will make it a little moe difficult if the girl in question denies she did it,” she explains. “Then it becomes Presley's word against hers. Hopefully, we can get someone else to confirm that she gave you the drug. But that will take some more interviewing and digging in.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn't have waited.”
“Your response was natural,” she says. “You were scared. You were confused. Don't blame yourself.”
Except that I do.
“What about with the video?” my dad asks.
She taps the pen again. “Same type of thing. I'm hoping the video won't be hard to track down and I'm hoping that the girl who created it will just admit that she didn't. But if we can't locate the video and if she denies it?” She frowns. “Then it'll take a little more work.” She glances at me. “But I'll put in the work, Presley. Please believe that.”
I believe her, but I'm not sure it'll matter. I feel like I've already screwed it up by staying quiet for so long. And that makes coming here and talking to her seem pointless.
“One thing I would encourage you to do is seek out an attorney,” she says. “I know you said you're one, but you might want to find one who specializes in civil suits. Regardless of what we're able to do here, you could certainly pursue come of this in a civil court.”
My father nods.
“How long will it take?” I ask.
“How long will what take?” she asks.
“All of it. Talking to people. Interviewing them. Deciding if I'm telling the truth or not.”
She lays down the pen. “Let's get one thing straight now. I believe you're telling the truth, Presley. A young woman doesn't walk in here and tell me everything you've just told me unless it happened. I tried to poke holes in what you told me, but there were no holes. I believe you. Please know that, no matter what happens.”
I look down at my lap.
“I will start making visits tomorrow,” she says. “Sometimes, people are quicker to talk if you surprise them on their doorsteps. They have a harder time saying that they won't come in to sit down when you're looking them in the face.” She smiles at me. “But I'll start tomorrow. And I'll keep you updated as to what happens. If you think of anything else, you call me. Alright?”
I nod. “Okay.”
We all stand. My dad thanks her and she walks us out to the lobby, then she says goodbye and heads back down the hallway.
It's dark outside when we go out to the parking lot. It feels like we've been in there for days.
“You okay?” my dad asks when we get in the car.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“No,” I tell him. “Not really.”
“You did great,” he says. “I'm not just saying that. What you did was hard. But you did great.”
“But it might not matter,” I say. “I waited. And I shouldn't have.”
“Can't change that,” he says. “What matters is that you did it now. She seems really sharp. She'll do what she can.”
I look out the window. “I guess.”
“You wanna stop for ice cream?” he asks. “You hungry?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I just wanna go home.”
He nods and starts the car. He backs out of the parking spot and points us toward home.
My phone is vibrating like crazy in my pocket.
I know why.
They all want to know what happened.
Maddie, Gina, and Bridget all knew I was going in and they haven't heard from me.
They want to know what I said.
What the police said.
What's going to happen next.
The phone vibrates again.
But I don't reach for it.
I don't have know what to tell them.
Because I have no fucking clue what's going to happen next.
THIRTY FOUR
I can't sleep.
I've been in bed for two hours and I've barely been able to close my eyes. I came home with my dad, stared at the TV for an hour, then told him I was going to bed. I ignored the messages on my phone and shut off the lights.
But I can't sleep.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, skip all of the waiting messages, and find Trevor's name.
You awake?
The dots show up right away.
Yeah. How are you?
Shitty. You?
Why? What happened?
I told the detective lady everything. We were there for forever. Ugh.
So that's good. Right?
I dunno.
Why not?
Because the world sucks. I wish you were here.
I can come over. You want me to?
I think about it. I do want him to. But I'm also afraid I won't be very good company and that my dad will frown on late night male visitors.
I do, but you shouldn't. My dad's home.
I can sneak in.
No.
Okay.
I stare at the screen for a minute, then type again.
I'm really afraid.
The dots show up.
Of?
Of what's going to happen. Of what people are going to say. Of what they'll do.
Fuck all of them.
Not that simple.
No one's going to do anything to you.
You don't know that.
I don't? Who is gonna mess with you?
Let's make a list. Shanna. Athena. Derek. THE WORLD.
No one's going to mess with you. I won't let it happen. Promise.
You can't always protect me.
Watch me.
His words are sweet, but he's wrong. It's not that kind of protection that I need. All I can think about is what's going to happen if Detective Gentry can't do anything. It's the worst case scenario. I will have told everyone what happened, everyone will know I told the police, and nothing will be done. I'll look exactly like what Shanna says I am.
An attention whore.
My phone vibrates and I look down at the screen.
I rented a tux. In case you wondered if I loved you.
Lol a tux? For prom?
Yeah. Never had one before. It's fucking lame.
You'll look hot.
If you say so.
I do.
Don't worry, Presley. Everything will be fine.
I'm not sure why that's so hard for me to believe. I want to believe it. I want to believe that the police will do their job and that Shanna and Athena will have to answer for what they did. I want to believe that Trevor won't get in too much trouble after his arrest. I want to believe that everything will go back to normal. Everyone is telling me that things will be fine.
I should believe them.
But I don't.
I just don't.
THIRTY FIVE
When I get to school the next morning, people already know.
I barely sleep after getting off the phone with Trevor and I feel like a zombie getting ready for school. I eat half my breakfast and have to concentrate on the drive from the house to the school. When I pull into the lot, Bridget is standing at her car with Gina and Maddie. They see me pull in and start walking to the car before I even shut the engine off.
“I didn't bring food,” I tell them when I get out. “Was I supposed to?”
They all look at me, confused.
“It's a joke,” I say. “Or was supposed to be.”
<
br /> “Oh,” Bridget says. “Yeah. No, you didn't have to bring food.”
“I know,” I tell her, getting my bag from the backseat. “That's why I said it was a joke. What's going on?”
She winces. “Sorry. What happened yesterday?”
I close the door. “I went to the police station with my dad. I'm sorry I didn't text you guys. I was exhausted and I just needed to...not talk.”
Bridget shakes her head. “No, that's fine. Totally get it. I meant, what actually happened?” She glances at Gina and Maddie. “Because people are already losing their minds.”
I adjust the bag on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“The cops showed up at Shanna's house last night,” Gina says. “I live down the street from her. I was out walking the dog and I saw a cop car pull up with another car. This lady in a suit went to the door with a uniformed guy. They went into the house and I couldn't just stand there. I texted you.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I should've responded.”
“No, Bridget's right,” she says. “It's fine. I would've thrown my phone in the trash, too. But it was pretty clear something was going on.”
“Did the lady have glasses? Red hair?” I ask.
“Yep,” Gina says, nodding. “Kind of a crappy gray suit.”
“That was the detective I talked to,” I say. “We were there for a long time talking to her.”
“All of Shanna's social media is either missing or went into lockdown,” Maddie says. “And apparently other people saw the police there, too, because people are already talking about it. Do you think they arrested her?”
I lean against my car. “No idea. Here's what happened.” I give them the full rundown on what the conversation was like, what I told Detective Gentry, and what she told me was going to happen next. “But she said she wasn't going to start talking to anyone until today.”
“Guess she started early,” Bridget says. “Good. Fuck Shanna.”
“It doesn't mean anything is going to happen to her,” I say. “I'm honestly not sure anything is going to change.” I tell them what the detective told me about the time in between when everything happened, my reporting it, and the problems that creates. “So I seriously doubt she was arrested last night. She made it sound like she was going to have to interview a lot of people before she did anything else.” I pause. “And that'll probably include you guys, too.”
They all look at one another.
“Why us?” Gina asks.
“Because she wants to see if we have the same story,” Maddie answers. “Right?”
I nod. “Think so. She wants to get as complete of a picture as she can get. So she needs to know what you guys saw. What you know. What you remember.”
Gina makes a face. “Great. My parents will fucking love that.”
“I'm sorry,” I say. “All of this feels super fucked up.”
“No,” Gina says, putting an arm around me. “Not what I meant. I'm not mad at you. I just mean my parents will be freaked out that I have to talk to the cops and then they'll have a million questions about where I am, what's going on at the parties, and all that shit.” She grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye. “But I can deal with that shit. I'll tell this detective lady everything. My parents will live. Or not. That might be better.”
I laugh, but it's really not funny to me. I hate that I'm putting them in these positions. They're my friends and I don't want to make their lives more difficult or fucked up.
“Well, she didn't get arrested,” Maddie says.
I look at her. “How do you know?”
“Because she's pulling into the lot right now,” she says, then points.
We all turn and look.
She glides into her parking spot. Her hair is down and from what I can tell, she's not wearing a ton of makeup.
Which is sort of shocking because I'm not sure I've ever seen her not in model condition.
She gets out of her car, her bag slung over her shoulder. She sees us and her entire expression hardens. She shakes her head, takes a step toward the school, then stops. Then she changes course and heads toward us.
“This should be fun,” Bridget mutters.
She marches up to us, both hands clenched tightly to the strap on the bag. She stops and stares at me, but doesn't say anything.
“You look like shit,” Gina says. “More so than usual.”
“I can't believe you did it,” Shanna says, ignoring her and looking at me. “I seriously can't believe you did it.”
I don't say anything.
“I'm not even supposed to be talking to you,” she says. “That stupid lady cop said I have to stay away from you. But fuck it. What does it matter at this point? I'm already fucked, so I don't give a shit.” She laughs bitterly. “I mean, does it really fucking matter if you tell on me again?”
I don't say anything.
“I swear to god,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “No matter what happens to me, I'm going to get you. I don't give a shit what anyone says to me or tells me I can't do. No matter what happens, I won't forget this. And I am going to ruin your shitty little life if it's the last fucking thing I do.” She looks me up and down. “You are so fucking gross.” She pushes between Maddie and me and stomps toward the school.
The four of us stand there, watching her go.
“Well, that improves my morning a shit ton,” Gina announces. “Seeing her all fucked up puts me in a great mood.”
Maddie and Bridget both laugh and we start heading for the doors.
But I don't laugh.
I don't think it's funny.
I hate that she's somehow turned this around and is now making me feel guilty for something she did.
But I do.
THIRTY SIX
By the end of the day, everyone knows.
Detective Gentry moved much faster than she said she was going to.
I have no idea what's true, but the girls have all reported hearing the following things to me:
The cops were at Athena's.
The cops were at Derek's.
The cops were on the beach behind his house.
The cops took a computer from Athena's house.
Athena isn't at school.
I have no idea what's true and what's not, but it seems clear that she didn't wait to get started investigating what I've told her. I'm not sure why it unsettles me so much that she's jumped right into it, but it does. I thought I would have some time to prepare myself for whatever was going to happen, but it feels like it's started before I can take a breath.
Trevor finds me at lunch and when I ask him about all of it, he says he hasn't heard from anyone yet. He kisses me and tells me to relax. It seems to be his mantra.
Except that I can't.
I'm thinking about all of that when I'm walking to my car after school and I hear footsteps behind me. When I reach my car, I turn around.
Derek is standing there, glaring at me.
He doesn't say anything.
“What?” I ask, the silence freaking me out.
He turns away from me, squinting into the sunshine. “You're really fucking stupid, you know that?”
“That seems to be the popular opinion,” I say. “Ask me if I care.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I don't need to ask. Seems pretty clear that you don't.” He turns away from the sun and in my direction. “Did you think I was kidding?”
I don't say anything.
“About Trevor,” he clarifies. “I wasn't. I didn't hold back.”
It dawns on me that he's using the past tense.
“Yeah,” he says, laughing, seeing something in my expression. “The cops came to my house last night and I'm super fucked. But so is he. Because I told them what he did to me. So I hope you're happy.”
I am anything but happy.
“You may be trying to ruin my life, but I'm going to pay that back,” he says. “In full.”
“I'm not trying to ruin anyone's life,�
� I say.
He laughs and it's exaggerated, almost cartoonish. “Really? Fooled me then. Because I thought when I lost my place on the football team and then the cops came to visit me you were all about ruining my fucking life. Because that's what you're doing.”
Anger rushes through me. “Don't make this my fault. You were the one who lied to me. You were the one took me into that pool house knowing what Shanna was doing. Don't act like you didn't do anything wrong. That was your choice. Not mine.”
He frowns. “What the fuck ever. I don't need to hear about your fucking overreaction to a prank. You can fuck right off with that.” He points at me. “But I'm going to make sure you regret it. So make sure and let your fucking boyfriend know. He's fucked and I'm going to smile when it all comes down on him.” He flexes thumb like he's pointing an imaginary gun at me. “Enjoy that shit, Presley.”
I watch him walk away.
My stomach is knotted again and it feels like it's in that perpetual state now, like I can never relax.
Is this really what I wanted?
Am I prepared for all of this?
I thought that I was.
I thought I could handle the fallout, the blowback.
But as I fumble for my keys in my bag and tears sting my eyes, I'm not sure I'm ready.