The Rise and Fall of Derek Cowell

by Valerie Sherrard

  My very first thought was that Denise would see it. I felt a shudder running up my spine.

  It was true that she’d been super cool about the other videos, but we hadn’t been a couple then. I doubted she’d be excited to have the whole town reminded of what a gutless wimp her boyfriend was.

  There was more to it than that, though. It was the thought of how she was going to see me. Sure, she knew I’d been scared up there, that I’d had to be rescued, but knowing that and actually seeing it were two different things.

  I lost count of the number of times I started to text her that evening, never quite managing to hit send. What stopped me was knowing she had to have seen the video by then. There was no way it was out there being shared all over Breval without someone sending it to my girlfriend. (Goodness knows there was no shortage of people sending it to ME!)

  So, if Denise had seen it, as I was sure she had, why hadn’t she messaged me?

  I could only think of one reason. She was embarrassed.

  I could also only think of one person to blame.

  Riley. Just the thought of her made me furious.

  I spent a good half hour seething, and thinking about how she was not going to get away with this. She might think this move of hers had given her the upper hand between us, but she was going to find out just how wrong she was, and soon.

  Not that I had any sort of actual plan to make her pay. Not at first. There was just the idea that she must!

  And another thing. It puzzled me, trying to figure out what her strategy might be, what the motive was for what she’d just done. She’d thrown away the only ammunition she had to keep me from telling everyone the truth about her. Or, at least, as much of the truth as I knew.

  Maybe she’d convinced herself that if she humiliated me, she could claim I was making things up to get back at her — if I retaliated and exposed her as a total liar.

  If so, that miscalculation was going to backfire on her, and badly. A plan was slowly forming in my brain.

  A plan for revenge.

  That festered and grew until bedtime, when another thought managed to slip through. As I was lying back on my pillow with my arms crossed behind my head, I couldn’t help wishing my life could go back to the way it used to be.

  When no one is paying attention to you, you can klutz your way along and never give a thought to your reputation. Heck, you don’t even have a reputation. Nobody’s watching, because when people barely know you exist, they don’t care if you make a fool of yourself now and then.

  But that felt like the way my world (and life) had been in another lifetime. Ever since the first picture got out there — the accidental photobomb — people were paying attention.

  And no one cuts you any slack, that’s for sure, which was something else I’d learned. This town was about as fickle as a place could be.

  The only person I knew for sure I could count on was Steve. I was hoping the same was true for Denise, but that wasn’t looking too hopeful at the moment.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Iexpected the worst at school the next morning so the reception I got didn’t shock me.

  It was a collage of mockery. I might even have been impressed at the variety of ways my schoolmates found to ridicule me if their actual performances hadn’t been so predictable.

  There were those who contorted their faces to appear terrified and others who trembled in supposed fear — these two groups made up the majority. But there were a few more original acts: the whimperers, screechers, frozen statues, and even a few who hit the floor and pretended to cling to it.

  Some kids just laughed. Some looked embarrassed for me. Some shouted out what they probably thought were hilarious bits of commentary.

  For the most part, it was actually boring. I’d already decided how to handle what I’d known was coming, so I put on a grin, forced out a few fake laughs and acted like I wasn’t one bit bothered.

  And then it hit me. I actually didn’t care very much about any of what was happening!

  What I cared about was Denise, and what was going on with her. So I was nervous when I finally spotted her coming toward me from the south entrance. I suddenly felt as if an enormous rock was sitting in my gut.

  As she came fully into view, I saw that she was chatting with another girl who was walking next to her.

  She must have sensed me looking at her then, because her eyes shifted up, over and straight at me.

  No smile. Her face was instantly serious and as she got closer, she leaned toward me and said, very quietly, “It’s almost time for the bell. We’ll talk at lunch, okay?”

  It was not a good morning. Classes stretched on and on, time shifted into slow motion mode, and the furtive ridicule from my classmates grew more annoying and tiresome by the moment.

  It seemed lunch would never arrive. And then it did and I wished with everything in me that I could delay it for even a few more minutes.

  Until we sat down face to face, Denise was still my girlfriend. More than that, I could hope she wasn’t going to dump me. Except, I knew she was. I’m not an intuitive guy, but this was one of those premonitions you get when you’re one hundred percent sure about what’s going to happen.

  I dragged my feet toward the cafeteria, hoping she’d chosen a remote corner table where there’d be a bit of privacy.

  Nope. She and Sharon were already at the table with Steve. They all looked up as I got close, prompted by the murmurs around them. I wondered, without really caring, how long ridicule season was going to last.

  I took the seat across from Denise and offered what I hoped was a brave smile, although brave wasn’t a word much associated with me these days.

  Denise’s face was solemn. She reached over, touched my hand lightly and said, “I’m really sorry, Derek.”

  And there it was. I almost felt relief. At least she hadn’t dragged it out with a long explanation or told me we were better as friends or whatever.

  “It’s okay,” I managed. “I don’t blame you at all.”

  “Why would you blame me?” she asked, surprised. “I didn’t send the video all over the place.”

  “No, I mean—”

  What did I mean? I searched my brain for words. Nothing. Thanks brain.

  “Well, anyway,” she said when it was apparent I had no immediate plans to finish my sentence. “I was furious when I saw the video this morning. Whoever sent it was just plain mean.”

  “You just saw it today?” I said.

  “Yup. My phone was missing last night,” she said. “I thought I left it in my locker, but then Dad found it in the car this morning.”

  “Oh,” I said, as that sank in. So, her silence yesterday had meant nothing.

  “I feel so bad for you,” she said. “It’s like the whole train station thing was over and done, and now this.”

  “So you’re not breaking up with me?” I said.

  Denise laughed. Beside her, Sharon laughed too.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding,” Sharon said. “Denise would never do something like that. She’s the most loyal person I know.”

  I felt my face redden.

  “Never mind,” Denise said. “I’m just impressed with how you’re handling it.”

  “I’m not letting it get to me,” I said, which I think came across as pretty manly.

  “I wish we could find out who did it, though,” she said. “I’d love to tell them what I think of them.”

  “I bet it was meant as a joke,” Steve said.

  I was annoyed, but not exactly surprised to hear him sticking up for Riley. Cute girls get cut a lot of slack in his rule book.

  Denise shook her head. “A joke is funny — that was anything but,” she said, offering me an onion ring from her lunch tray.

  Steve shrugged and dropped it. I wish I could say the same for the rest of
the students at Breval Middle School. The taunting went on for the remainder of the day and it was a relief to head home after the final bell.

  My sisters had pretty much gotten it out of their system already so there wasn’t too much said at home. Until Anna found me getting myself a bedtime snack and took that opportunity to have a chat.

  I’d been dotting butter on a crispy brown toaster waffle when she slid onto the chair directly across from me.

  “Someone in my class said you wet your pants,” she announced. “On the roof that day.”

  Terrific. More rumors.

  “Well I didn’t,” I told her. “If I had, everyone would have seen it in the videos taken on the ground.”

  A smile burst onto her face. (And was that actually relief? Good to know my own sister had found the pants-wetting story credible.)

  “That’s what I told Gertie,” she said.

  It took me a few seconds to remember that Gertie was one of Anna’s friends. If I had the right kid in mind, she was a gangly girl with stringy hair who sounded like a seal when she laughed.

  “Well, good news. You can go ahead and brag to Gertie — heck, tell all your friends — that your brother doesn’t go around wetting himself,” I said.

  “I’ll just tell Gertie. She’s the only one who will care,” Anna told me. “She loves you. She thinks you’re cute.”

  My stomach lurched at the thought those words coming out of my sister’s nine-year-old friend.

  “Stop it,” I said. “Don’t be saying stuff like that.”

  “But it’s true,” Anna said indignantly. “She told me!”

  “I said stop!” I almost shouted. “That’s disgusting!”

  “My friends are not disgusting,” Anna said angrily.

  “That’s not what I meant. But they’re way too young to be talking that way about guys. Especially if the guy is me.”

  Anna gave me a cold, hard look. She was still sulking when I swallowed the last bite of my waffle and escaped.

  I shook off the grossness of that conversation by letting my mind wander to thoughts of revenge on Riley. Specifically, to the plan that had been festering since the first moment the video was shared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  When my phone alarm woke me the next morning I only groaned once before I remembered. It was rec center day. Community service time.

  Instantly energized, I was out of bed and downstairs in a flash. I gobbled down some cereal, jogged upstairs to shower and brush my teeth, threw on some clothes and headed cheerfully out the door. You’d have thought I was on my way to do something fun with my friends instead of spending the day on my knees with a scrub bucket.

  Of course, it wasn’t the cleaning I was looking forward to. It was putting Part One of my plan of revenge in place. I could hardly wait to see Riley’s face when she realized what a huge mistake she’d made.

  I got there first this time, and went straight to the office where I was treated to the sight of Mr. Durand wolfing down a couple of breakfast burritos. He had a certain rhythm going, which was, bite, chew, chew, swallow, gulp a mouthful of coffee, repeat.

  He waved me in and pointed to a chair without the slightest break in this pattern. I waited until he was finished before saying good morning to him.

  “Hey kid.” He glanced sideways at a form sitting just out of danger from the burrito drips that had plopped onto a napkin on the middle of the desk. “Derek, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And call me Serge, remember?”

  “Okay.”

  “So, you raring to go this morning?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  He laughed. “Probably raring to go back to bed,” he said. “But I’m glad to see you’re being a good sport.”

  A squeak behind us announced Riley’s arrival and a few seconds later she was standing in the office doorway. She gave me a half wave, which I ignored.

  Serge pushed his chair back. He stood and brushed crumbs from his shirt before leading us along the hall to the janitor’s supply room. He passed out the supplies we needed and told us to go ahead and finish up the job we’d started last weekend.

  I noticed Riley darting quick glances at me as we carried our buckets and cleaning stuff to the auditorium. It was obvious she was expecting me to say something about the video, but I kept my mouth shut and got straight to work as soon as I found the spot I’d stopped at the previous Saturday.

  We worked in a tight, tense silence for more than an hour. That took some self-control, believe me. There were a few times I was tempted to speak up, but I wanted to force her to start the conversation.

  Finally, she got up, stretched and said, “I’m going to get a bottle of water. You want one?”

  I don’t know what I was expecting from her, but that sure wasn’t it. I stopped scrubbing at a glob of unknown grime and turned toward her.

  “Well, well,” I said. “I have to say I’m a bit surprised that you’re offering to do something nice for me.”

  Riley sighed, like we’d been arguing for a long time and she was sick of it.

  “You want some water or not?” she repeated.

  I tried to think of something else to say, something clever and cutting that would draw her into a conversation about the video, and that she couldn’t sidestep so easily.

  Nothing.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. Because I was kind of thirsty and I knew I’d look like a fool if I refused and then two minutes later went and got myself a bottle. Which I’d definitely have to do, since nothing makes you thirstier than thinking about a nice cold drink when you don’t have one.

  By the time she got back with the water I’d grown suspicious. When she passed one of the bottles to me I checked carefully to make sure the seal wasn’t broken. It seemed fine.

  “Anyway,” she said. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

  Her words registered slowly, like I was hearing them spoken through a cardboard tube.

  This was her master plan for getting on my good side?

  “You’re not serious,” I said. “You think you can act half civil to me for two minutes and I’m going to forget about what you did?”

  Riley shifted from foot to foot. Her eyes swept over me as though she was examining a big hairy spider.

  “If you mean the video,” she said at last. “That wasn’t me.”

  I almost laughed out loud. Did she think I was going to take her word for anything? I’d only known her a short time and the collection of lies — and those were just the ones I knew about — were already a mile high. This was definitely a no-brainer.

  “Don’t waste your time lying,” I said. “I know the truth.”

  “Believe whatever you want,” she said. The hostility was back in full force, curling the edge of her lip and casting an ugly shadow on her face.

  “I’ll do a lot more than that,” I told her. “And you know what they say about payback.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, but her voice wavered and the sneer was gone.

  There wasn’t another word exchanged between us that day. I did a bit of talking to myself, though, kind of thinking out loud.

  “I wonder who should I tell first,” I said.

  And, “What do they call someone who can’t tell the truth? Oh, right, a pathological liar.”

  It wasn’t quite as satisfying as I’d hoped it would be. After our conversation, Riley turned stone-faced and offered no reaction to anything else I said. Even so, I knew she heard me. Believing she was about to be exposed had to be worrying her.

  That was the first part of the plan. To have her waiting, with her nerves on edge, for when it was going to happen.

  What I hadn’t yet figured out was what, if anything, to do next. Because I’m not a rat. I wanted Riley to think I was going to leak her secret, but there was no w
ay I was really going to do it.

  In any case, this seemed like enough for now. Let her sweat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The next thing that happened took place on Sunday, although I didn’t hear about it until Monday evening when Kim got a phone call. I don’t know what was happening on the other end of the call, but there was quite a performance on hers. Gasping, pacing, head-grabbing (her own, thankfully) and cries of things like “No!” and “I can’t believe it.”

  By the time Kim got off the phone our whole family had gathered around and was waiting to find out what was going on. She faced us solemnly and tried to keep her voice steady.

  “Riley is gone,” she said, and burst into tears.

  The awfulness of those words cascaded over me. I couldn’t move; I could barely breathe.

  It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Riley was dead and I knew without a second’s hesitation that I was responsible.

  What had I done?

  Mom stepped forward and pulled Kim gently into her arms.

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “What happened?”

  “Nobody knows,” Kim sobbed. “I just can’t believe it. I mean, where would she go?”

  Huh?

  Where would she go?

  Mom stepped back a bit, still holding onto Kim, but by the shoulders as she looked into her face.

  “Do you mean this girl has run off somewhere?” she asked.

  Kim nodded, sniffling and pulling herself together.

  “Well, for goodness’ sakes! I thought you were saying something happened to her.”

  “Me too!” I blurted, partly angry, but mostly relieved. That drew a few strange looks.

  “What do you care?” Kim snapped. “You don’t even like Riley.”

  “So what? That doesn’t mean I want her going around dying,” I said. I would normally have left the room after a lame comment like that, but I wanted to find out if Kim knew anything else. She did, though it wasn’t much.

  “She disappeared on Sunday when the rest of the family was having lunch at Have Happy.”