I wanted to go to Michaela’s. But I couldn’t do that.
And anywhere was better than in Mom’s house.
So I sat in Sarah’s beanbag chair, idly leafing through a magazine. You were in it, Rachel.
“Did you know I have the same birthday as Rachel Maddow?” I said.
“No, I didn’t. April Fools’ Day, right? Funny.” She smiled. She nudged me over and sat down next to me in the beanbag. It was not big enough for two people, and she kind of ended up in my lap.
“Is this okay?”
“I have a girlfriend.”
“But she’s not here,” she said.
She smiled and started playing with my hair. In September, I would have killed for this. Maybe I would have only killed Adam or Fart Weasel, but still. Killed. Now I was smooth, my jagged edges rubbed off. There was only matte where once had been glossy, sea glass instead of a broken bottle. The idea of sea glass made me smile. Sarah thought it was because of her.
“Brynn, we should be together,” Sarah said. “We made sense together.”
“Why?” I asked. Her fingers drifted down to my shirt.
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Just because.”
That wasn’t an answer. I hated that. Even if my stupid life was shit, that still irked me. Answer the question. If you don’t know the answer, fine. Say that. But don’t act like you know and make the other person feel stupid for needing information to give themselves a chance.
Sarah shifted off of the beanbag until her chest stretched over my lap. She held herself up on either side of me, her lips brushing mine in a kiss.
“Come on, Brynn. I know things are tough. But let’s just be together. This is easier, don’t you think?” Her fingers traced a belt loop, then another, then the zipper of my jeans.
“Easier than what?”
“Good grief. I don’t know. Not being together? Being with someone else? No offense, but it’s not like you have many better options.” Her voice softened. “We were great once.”
I sank back into the chair and let her touch me. I didn’t agree. We were never great. We were good. But only for a little while.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“The campaigning sucked, and we’re not allowed to do it anymore. But there’s still time before the election for people to forget about me. Do you think Adam will win? If either of us is still allowed to be in it?” I asked.
She looked up and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know. He took a hit there. But … he has ways of getting out of things.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Those pictures…” She shifted her eyes nervously.
“Yeah?”
“It really wasn’t you, right? Like, the underwear and the zombies weren’t you, and neither were the pictures?”
I sat up. “No. Well, okay, the underwear was me, and the zombies were Justin. But not the pictures. I’d never do something like that. Lacey runs a clean campaign.”
I wasn’t going to ruin someone’s life, even a slime mold ball sack someone’s life, because of his or her bad choices. I knew what that could do to a person. I was no saint.
“Okay, okay. And they don’t have any idea of who sent them, then?”
“No, they were from my account. So they think it’s me. And there’s no way to prove it wasn’t me, I guess.”
Sarah gave me a look I didn’t understand.
Which was really weird, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t that upset her, if she wanted my name to be cleared?
“It. Wasn’t. Me,” I said. Anger wedged itself up from my stomach. It was almost refreshing to feel something other than a dull, formless suck.
“Okay, okay, it wasn’t you.”
She sounded like she believed that. No. Like she knew.
“I just thought you’d be happy to get the credit for that stunt. Or if you knew something, you would definitely tell me, right? Because we might be together, or something, and if you knew something bad, you could tell me.” She looked nervous again.
“Sarah, what are you even talking about? You know what? You were right last summer. I am too much drama. And if you think I’d approve of shit like that … then you don’t know me. Maybe you never really knew me at all. Because Rachel Maddow would think that was sketchy. Well, okay, maybe she’d put it on the air after the info was vetted and shit. But she wouldn’t pull some sort of Adamesque anonymous crap. And if Rachel wouldn’t do that, then I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh please. Like you even still watch her. You just liked her because I did. If you don’t know what I’m talking about with the pictures, or who else would have them, then never mind.”
I shook my head. “Bye, Sarah,” I said. I got up and walked out of her room and out of her house. She didn’t stop me.
She was right, in a way. I don’t still watch you, since I can’t. That sunk in. You were basically the one constant I had left.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
March 7
Subject:
Countdown
Dear Rachel Maddow,
I am very, very close to eighteen. At eighteen, I can move out and quit school, and there isn’t a thing Mom and Fart Weasel can do. I can hide at Erin and Leigh’s for a week or two. That’s all it will take for them to lose interest in me.
Since I can’t text, I thought about writing e-mails to everyone I knew. Though, the only contacts I have in this e-mail are Mr. Grimm, Lacey, Erin, Michaela, and you, since I technically opened this account just for you.
I should really try to meet some more people.
Today I loathed life in my silent stupor when we were sent to the cafeteria for lunch. Lance had some sort of assessments, and they wanted his familiar room. I gathered my bleak tray and noticed a slop of gray peas forming tributaries of pea juice along a mount of mashed potatoes. I sat down next to Michaela, who put her arm around me. It’s all she could think to do these days. I gave her a small smile.
“Hello, crew,” said Justin, looming over me. “Welcome to the fray.”
“They made us come up here with yinz randos.” Bianca laughed.
“We did not come willingly,” said Lacey, but her face evidenced she was totally in love with Justin, too.
I said nothing, just watched the peas drip, drip, drip.
“Yo, Brynn,” said Justin. “You okay there, or are you having a moment with your food?”
Still I said nothing. Riley nudged Bianca.
“She’s in a bad place since the accusation.”
“Why?” Justin frowned.
“You know. She was accused of sabotaging Adam.”
“I thought you were cleared of that,” Justin said to me.
“Not to my knowledge, no,” I said. “He is under investigation for the War Memorial thing. I am under investigation for alerting everyone to the War Memorial thing. It’s awesome.”
“Everyone thinks Brynn did it,” said Bianca.
I glared at her.
“But they are happy you did!” she added.
I shrugged.
Justin continued to frown the whole time he sat with us.
He caught up with me later as I was kissing Michaela good-bye before she got on her school bus.
“Brynn. Dude. Stop. You’re kind of scaring me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Uh, you aren’t speaking? You even kind of ignored Michaela and Lacey. You look as pale as one of the zombies half the student body actually thinks you have killed. Like, legit, they think you kill zombies. Who are these people?” He rolled his eyes.
I shrugged again.
“See? You didn’t even smile. Brynn. Seriously, talk to me,” he said.
I looked at him. He stared back at me, his wide eyes the color of his freckles. I never no
ticed that before.
“You answered my question,” I said.
“What question?”
“Why you were worried. You actually had an answer. With examples. That’s refreshing.”
So unlike, say, Adam. I hope Justin wins treasurer, even if he has to work with uncontested Sarah (which was likely, as he was still unopposed as well).
Justin looked bewildered. “Right. Okay. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Where’s that?”
I shrugged. If I thought about it, nowhere really.
“Can I walk you?”
“My stepfather will think you are banging me for money.”
“Shut up.”
When I didn’t smile, he whistled. “I’ll take the risk.”
We walked in silence for at least a quarter mile. “Brynn,” he said finally, “is there anything I can do? You’re cool. But you aren’t you these days. It’s like you’re … broken somehow.”
All I could do was grimace. We walked in silence for a while again and reached my crappy street.
“This is my stop,” I said. “You know, there is something you can do for me.”
“What? Anything.”
“Win the election for me.”
“That I can’t do, Madam Candidate.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Promise me you’ll vote in a couple of weeks, Brynn. For yourself. Every single one counts, you know. ‘Now more than ever the people are responsible for the character of their Congress. If that body be ignorant, reckless, and corrupt, it is because the people tolerate ignorance, recklessness, and corruption.’ James Garfield said that.”
“Okay, I’ll vote,” I said.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Good. I’ll see you later.” He waved.
That was a good quote. Stupid James Garfield and his fucking compelling arguments. Because heaven forbid Adam won by one fucking vote.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Spam
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
March 9
Subject:
Countdown
Hey, baby,
You know I’m not much of an e-mailer. You seem so down lately. I’m sorry I’m not much help. If there’s anything I can ever do, please let me know. I’m here for you. Well, I’m not here here—I’m at my grandmother’s. But I meant what I said. We could move in together.
Love,
M
Folder:
Drafts
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
March 12
Subject:
One Week Out
Dear Rachel Maddow,
The student body votes for its elected officials in a week. Not since … the last national election … have there been candidates with such sketchy rumors going around about them.
That sentence should be more dramatic. The time of questionable public servants should be past us. But maybe nothing is ever in the past. This kind of stuff sleeps until someone pokes it and wakes it up and it takes a dump on everyone around it.
There. That had impact, as Mr. Grimm would say. Maybe I should try to be a speechwriter.
Justin informed me that Adam still thinks I sent out the pictures of him, and that Adam is out for blood. Which is reasonable, since the pictures that could get him in a shitload of trouble came from my account.
“Are you sure you didn’t send them?” asked Justin.
“Actually, there was a day or two I don’t remember recently. Who knows what went down then.”
“Seriously?”
“No, Justin. God.” I sighed. “I had no pictures with which to blackmail Adam. And if I did, I would have told Lacey, and she would have tried to talk me out of using them.”
“Damn right I would,” said Lacey.
“And then I would have probably sent them anyway because my heart is a small, dead thing. But Lacey would have rolled her ass to Maynard’s faster than you can say ‘dirty politics.’ And even that wouldn’t have mattered, because I would have probably accidently carbon-copied Rachel Maddow and you and Mr. Grimm for good measure.”
Justin considered this for a second. “Yeah,” he finally agreed. “It’s a shame. You were pretty epic in the debate.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes. Yes, you were. Your girl Michaela helped you out, but you had it together. You touched me.” Justin put his hand to his heart.
“And look at me now. The subject of controversy,” I said.
“All publicity is good publicity,” said Lacey.
“Do you actually believe that?” I narrowed my eyes at her.
She kind of shrugged. “You didn’t send the pictures. You stood up to Adam in public. You were articulate. You had my vote, Brynn. But now it’s because you’ve really earned it.”
Rachel, honestly, what matters more than that? Lacey thinks I’m articulate. Adam can take his accusations and shove them up his ballot box. Even if Justin seemed worried about retaliation from Adam, what more could Adam do to me? He already went after Nick. He couldn’t possibly sink lower than that.
Mr. Maynard e-mailed the school tech guys, but they don’t seem to have the time to clear my name, since they cover several districts. I still wondered who the fuck could even do that. Adam wasn’t stupid enough to frame himself. His buddies weren’t smart enough to frame him. Who else was left? Sarah?
Actually.
The only person who might know my password (which until a few weeks ago was ChrisHayesRulz!) was also Sarah.
But how would she …
There were rumors of pictures. I heard about them from Justin, but Sarah was in journalism, too. Maybe she got them from one of the Honors kids who had been with Adam. Maybe she had been there, too?
That was crazy. There was no way. Why would she take me out, too? This was before I gave her the big brush-off.
I have to go to bed. I go a little too conspiracy theory in the head if I stay up too late.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
March 13
Subject:
Shoe leather reporting
Dear Rachel Maddow,
The question about Sarah stayed in my brain. If I thought about it for any length of time, the answer was simple. It had to be her.
Sarah didn’t actually want to be student body vice president. I knew this about her. I’d bet a lot of money she only ran for that position because Adam wanted to be in charge, and there was no way anyone in their little cult would take him on.
What Sarah really wanted was to be student body president. To do that, she’d have to get rid of Adam. If she had those pictures, all she had to do was sit on them until the right time.
But then I entered the race. So then she had to get rid of Adam and me.
Did Sarah ever want to get back together with me? If she had, I bet she had thought that she could live with being vice president, because she could just tell me what to do if I got elected.
Then she must have changed her mind. Instead, she decided to screw me over, too. Maybe she just wanted all the attention and power for herself. Sharing it with me was too much for her to take.
And she assumed I’d never suspect her. Because she knew good ol’ Brynnie still had feelings for her.
Fuck me. She was right about that. At least for a while.
But she made a mistake using my school e-mail. Because I knew she was the only one who knew my password. It’d been the same since ninth grade.
I made Michaela wait for Justin with me outside of the journalism
room. “Justin,” I said when I saw him. “How good are you with computers?” I asked.
“Okay. Not my geek fu, if you know what I mean,” he said.
“I don’t. But you are likely better than me. So, you know how I have been unjustly accused?”
“Yes.”
“I think I know who might have had my password. But I can’t prove it. Is there a way to see when someone got in my e-mail?”
Michaela grimaced. I told her that I thought Sarah might be behind this whole thing, and she was ready to shove her in a locker and throw away the key.
“Well, the e-mail itself would have a time and date stamp on it,” he said.
“Yeah, but is there another way? Like, could you tell where someone was logging on to my e-mail?”
Justin thought. “Yes. Maybe. The Westing High e-mail has you put in an alternate address. It makes you update it every year. Did you ever do that?”
I frowned. I had put this, my Rachel account, in at some point, but there is never anything in the inbox of this one.
“Yeah, I have an e-mail from an assignment I used this year. But Greg and Lance showed me how to just filter all that stuff into another folder.”
“Well, if someone logged in from a funky location, your school e-mail might have sent you a notice.”
A light bulb flickered dimly over my head. It’s like I could look up and see it, like you would in a cartoon.
“Maybe there’s something in there?” Michaela said.
Justin’s eyes lit up. Even if it was because I was in a deep pile of shit, at the moment we were political investigative journalists.
“Maybe,” he breathed.
I tore my laptop out of my backpack and logged on. And do you know what was in that filter folder?
Dear Rachel Maddow Page 18