But it all left me unsettled. I’d originally started my blog to tattle on the student body and report their faults. Now, it was becoming more of a medium for reform. Yes, I was still calling people out, but with every name I withheld, I hoped that something good would come out of it. I sincerely hoped someone else would take over my blog once I graduated because someone needed to look out for the students at Eastline.
***
When I arrived at fourth period, Brett was lowering himself into his seat and waving off Sanchez.
“Dude, I’m just trying to help,” his friend said.
“I’m fine,” Brett snapped.
I stopped a few feet away. Brett was PMSing in a major way, and growing up in a house full of women, I knew better than step into his zone without having a game plan in place.
Sanchez turned around and gave me a shrug before retreating to his seat.
Brett’s scowl didn’t lighten as I sat down beside him. I expected him to message me about whatever had pissed him off, but instead he sulked through class, his arms crossed over his chest, his laptop still nestled in his backpack.
The second the bell rang, he grabbed his bag and his crutches. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t you want to have lunch with your friends?” He’d been out of school for almost a week. Surely, he’d want to catch up with them.
“No, I want to go home.” He slipped his backpack on in one fluid motion and bolted from his chair. “My ankle is killing me so much that I’m actually looking forward to the meds.”
If it was purely that, I’d believe him. But I suspected there was something more than the throbbing in his ankle that had him wanting to hightail it out of school like a freshman with a band of wedgie-pulling bullies after him. I waited until we were out of the parking lot in his oversized gas-guzzler before I asked what was wrong.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
The growl in his voice indicated he was anything but fine.
Perturbed? Maybe.
On edge? Definitely.
Ready to bite someone’s head off if they kept pressing the issue? Absolutely.
Too bad he was dealing with the Queen B*.
“I don’t believe you,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
“I’m sorry,” he replied in the most unapologetic tone imaginable.
I rolled my eyes and gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his leg was hurting him, and that was why he was acting like a sullen three-year-old. Maybe he was exhausted from his first day back and having to rush from class to class on crutches. Maybe he was tired of everyone asking how he was doing. I was trying to put myself in his position to explain his change in behavior, yet I wanted to smack him at the same time.
He’d opened the door the moment I parked his 4Runner and was out before I turned the engine off.
I chased after him and blocked him from entering his house. “Brett, I know something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”
He sighed and slumped on to his crutches. “Lexi, please. I’m tired, I’m sore, and I have a ton of work to catch up on.”
I so wanted to believe him. After all, this was Brett, the eternally optimistic guy who’d never failed. Yet, both my heart and gut told me not to give him a free pass. He might not have wanted to talk about it now, but I wasn’t going to let this conversation drop.
“I’ll walk over tomorrow so I don’t have to worry about my Prius.”
“Fine.” He awkwardly got around me, shimmying his crutches along the narrow edge of the porch. “See you tomorrow.”
He slammed the door behind him.
Yep. He was definitely PMSing about something.
I tucked his keys into my pocket. It wasn’t as though he’d be able to use them for the next few weeks anyway. Then I got in my car and drove the two blocks home.
Only to find a second drama queen standing in my driveway.
Chapter Seventeen
Morgan didn’t move from her spot as I pulled into the garage. At first, I had to do a double take. She was sporting a new rockabilly look with a halter-top dress and full petticoat. She was like a long-haired Marilyn Monroe. If I hadn’t seen her with the platinum-blond hair over the weekend, I wouldn’t have recognized her. Thankfully, I knew her tattoos. She leaned against her car, her skirt almost as wide as the trunk, and waited for me to get out.
For a moment, neither one of us said anything. We just eyed each other as though we expected someone to launch into some kind of freak ninja attack. Then she pushed off her car. “Can we talk?”
Relief flooded my veins from those three words. After almost two weeks without my best friend, I was more than ready to talk. “Come inside.”
I grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge and sat down on the couch in the living room.
Morgan didn’t take the bottle I offered her. Instead, she paced in front of me like a toy that had been wound up too tight and was in super hyper mode. Finally, she stopped and looked at me. Her face morphed from anger to fear to sadness and back again in a matter of seconds. “I’m still pissed off at you.”
“I figured,” I said quietly, not wanting to add any more fuel to her ire.
“Why did you do it, Alexis? Why did you go out with him?”
“I needed someone to make Brett jealous. Gavin had been hitting on me the whole time you were chasing after him. He even gave me his number.”
“He gave you his number?” Morgan’s face went blank as though she’d just swallowed the red pill and her perception of reality had just been altered.
“Yeah. Said he wanted to hang out and talk philosophy. Of course, I thought he was the biggest douche I’d ever met. But after I thought you’d moved on with him, he actually became the perfect guy to get back at Brett. I thought if I went out on one date with him, I’d show Brett I was over him.” I took a drink of water and added, “Stupid me.”
Morgan sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “So you weren’t flirting with him behind my back the whole time?”
“Hell no! No interest in him at all. In fact, I wondered what you saw in him.” When I caught her wincing, I softened the blow. “I know I broke the girl code, and I’m sorry, but I was in such a jealous rage after catching Brett and Summer kissing—”
“Hold on, time out.” Morgan made a T with her hands and looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. “You caught them kissing, but you’re going out with him now?”
“Summer set the whole thing up to screw with my head.”
“Big surprise there.” Morgan took the bottle of water and twisted off the top.
“I wasn’t thinking straight when I called Gavin. I made several huge mistakes that day that I swear I’ll never make again.”
She stared into the bottle, not taking a sip. “So Richard was telling the truth. I mean, about what he did to you.”
“Yeah.” I took another sip of water and tried to shake off the chills from that night. If Brett hadn’t shown up, I would’ve become another date-rape statistic. I cracked a joke to alleviate some of the heaviness that had filtered into our conversation. “I’m staying away from beer pong for the foreseeable future.”
Normally, Morgan would’ve laughed, but she hunched her shoulders and drew into herself. It was like what Richard described. She almost curled up into a little ball.
I reached out and took her hand, refusing to let go even after she jumped from the contact. “What really happened on your date with Gavin?”
“I already told you.” She shook me off and resumed her pacing. “He treated me to a cheap dinner before we went back to his room for some of the most boring sex I’ve ever had.”
I didn’t miss the way her voice broke at the end, or the way her gaze became pained and distant. She froze, giving me her profile, and seemed to hold her breath.
“Is that all, Morgan?”
A choked sob broke free, and my heart ached for my best friend. I sometimes hated when my suspicions were right—especially at times like these. I stood up and
wrapped my arms around her in a hug, letting her cry until her emotions had poured out from her eyes. And once she seemed to reach that moment of catharsis, I led her back to the couch and handed her a box of tissues.
Black lines from mascara and liquid eyeliner streaked her face, but she didn’t seem to care as she smeared them with a swipe of the tissue. Her breath shook as she gulped in air, but with each one, she grew more and more centered. “Alexis, I need to tell someone. I’m just so ashamed and embarrassed, I…”
Morgan had never associated the words shame and embarrassment with sex, and the ache in my chest deepened until my own eyes burned with tears. I reached for her hand again. “I’m listening.”
This time, she didn’t shake me off. Instead, she squeezed it so hard, my fingers went numb. “That happened like I said. And when it was over I decided to leave because there was no reason to stay, especially since the sex was so blah. I mean, I’ve had much better. So much better.”
She rolled her eyes in a show of bravado, but when she looked back at me, it all faded, leaving behind the scared teenage girl I barely recognized as my best friend. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked until she looked down at the soggy, makeup-stained tissue disintegrating in her hand.
“But last week when I saw him all beat up, I actually felt sorry for him. And I was so angry at you because I thought you’d tried to make a move on him, and I ended up agreeing to help him move his stuff out of his frat house since they’d kicked him out and he claimed he had those broken ribs and…”
She froze, her breath shaking as much as her hands. She bit her bottom lip. “I wasn’t trying to get back with him. I was just trying to be nice, to make up for the shitty stuff I thought you’d done. I helped him carry some boxes to his new apartment and tried to leave afterward, but he told me to stay. I told him I was done helping him, and then he—” Her breath caught again, and the shame and misery that washed over her face made me pull her into another hug.
Morgan pushed me back. “No, Alexis, I need to say this. I need to get it off my chest. I need to tell someone what happened so it won’t keep eating me up inside like this.”
She cleared her throat, straightened her spine, and continued in a calm, matter-of-fact manner. “He grabbed me, wrestled me to the bed until I was bent over the edge of the mattress with my face smashed against the sheets and one arm pinned behind my back. And then he fucked me.”
Her tears started flowing again, and I handed her new wads of tissue, unsure what I else I could do. Nothing I could say would take away the pain of that night for her. I’d been lucky because I’d had someone who’d come to my rescue that night. Morgan hadn’t been that lucky.
She continued to blot her eyes. “I wish I could say it was just boring, but it was the most horrible thing I’d ever encountered. He didn’t ask. He just took, called me names like slut and whore the entire time. I’d never been more scared or humiliated. And when he finished, he threw my clothes at me and said I’d gotten what I wanted, what I deserved.”
The ache around my heart gave way to the fury that ignited in my chest. “Why didn’t you report him to the campus police?”
“Because they wouldn’t believe me. After all, I’d willingly come over to his place and even slept with him a few weeks ago. They’d just say that because I’d done it with him before, that meant I wanted it, and since I turned eighteen last month, I was old enough to consent.”
“But you didn’t want it that time, and you didn’t ask for it. You didn’t give him permission.” I pressed my finger under her chin and tilted her face up until our gazes met. “What he did was rape.”
“Damn it!” She swatted my hand away and jumped to her feet, her rigid posture reminding me of a hissing cat. “You think I don’t know that? But I also know that he wouldn’t be the only one who’d call me a slut and a whore if I mentioned it to anyone else.”
“I didn’t.” I said the two words quietly, but forcefully, letting her know I’d never judge her that way.
The anger melted from her face, leaving behind an emotion I couldn’t identify. Guilt? Gratitude? Shock? She eased back on the opposite end of the couch, out of reach, and starting to shred the tear-soaked tissues in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Alexis.”
“There’s nothing to apologize—”
“No, let me finish. I’m so messed up from everything I’m trying to figure out where to start. I mean, when I ran into him at the Purple Dog and saw him all battered and bruised from Brett, I felt sorry for him. But then he spun his own tale about how you’d been coming on to him and how you’d tried to sleep with him until Brett came and beat the crap out of him…”
She stopped and curled her lips into her mouth, pressing them together in a thin line. “I guess I should’ve known better. I mean, you’re so proud of your V-card, I should’ve known you wouldn’t try to seduce him. But I was still so angry that you’d even made a move on him, I didn’t know what to think.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” I started, but she cut me off with a shake of her head.
“No, let me finish. After he did what he did, I was even angrier at you because I felt like everything was your fault. And I held on to that because it was easier to blame you than to come to terms that I’d been raped. And once Richard finally told me what had happened to you, I was angry at myself. You see, if I’d just listened to your side of the story when I called you that day, then I would’ve told him to fuck off instead of feeling sorry for him. If I’d known what he tried to do to you, I would’ve never gone to his place.”
She lifted her chin. “So, what I’m asking is, do you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Morgan. If anyone should be asking for forgiveness, it’s me.”
“Aren’t we a messed-up pair?” She nodded, shaking free a few more rogue tears. “So can we go back to being best friends now?”
I held out my arms, uncertain exactly when my own tears had broken free during this conversation. “Absolutely.”
She flung her arms around me, and we hugged and cried for another few minutes until half a box’s worth of tissues littered the floor on my mom’s otherwise pristine home. When Morgan finally pulled away, she was still sniffing and blotting the corners of her eyes, but the bright smile on her lips outshone everything else.
“We have so much catching up to do,” she said with a laugh.
“Let’s start with the new look.” I gestured to her hair and dress, hoping it would distract her from the gut-wrenching confession she’d just made to me. Now wasn’t the time to urge her to seek help and report Gavin. But I wasn’t about to let the subject drop, either. I’d just wait until she was better prepared to handle the next step.
“You know me—always trying to reinvent myself. And after the whole thing with Gavin, I decided I needed to make some major changes in my life. The retro look is just the outside. Inside, I’ve decided to be a little more choosy about the next guy I sleep with. You know, maybe do it with emotion involved instead of just the whole physical attraction thing.”
I nodded. “Sounds like a novel idea.”
“And speaking of emotion, what is going on with you and Brett?”
I filled her in on everything that had happened, from how Summer had set him up to how the truth had come out to our first official date. But as I got to the end of last week, I found myself mumbling about his injury.
“How’s he doing?” she asked with genuine concern.
“Fine, I guess.” I shrugged. “I mean, he says he’s fine, but I know he isn’t, and I’m trying my best to get him out of his funk and open up to me, but…”
“Maybe he needs a little tough love from the Queen B*.” Morgan gave me a playful punch in the arm, but her comment landed on me like a grand piano in those old cartoons.
Brett needed some tough love. But if I gave it to him, would he tell me to piss off? Would he break up with me? Even though I’d fought this whole dating thing in the beginning, I did care about him. A lot, a
ctually. And I liked being his girlfriend. Would I be able to risk sacrificing our relationship to tell him what I thought he might need to hear?
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out, half hoping it was a message from Brett. Instead, I saw Richard’s name on the screen.
Girlfriend, you just opened up a whole can of crazy into my life. Fro-yo at 5 p.m. No excuses.
I showed his message to Morgan, who laughed. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.” I told her about the whole Kelsey thing, and by the end, she looked ready to engage in a cage match with the debate team captain.
“That fucking bitch! Oh, I hope her ass goes to jail, and I’m not talking juvie, either.”
“She made her choices.” And all it would take was a few clicks of my mouse to expose them to the world.
“And that is why I love you, Alexis. You’re not afraid to call people out for being complete shits.”
But could I do it to my boyfriend?
Morgan picked up a magazine and thumbed through it. “What’s with all the wedding stuff?”
I squirmed in my seat. I hadn’t told anyone about Mom and Pete, but I suppose I needed to start somewhere, especially since Mom’s issue of Modern Bride gave it away. “You got me. I’m already planning my wedding to Brett.”
Morgan knew my sarcasm too well, and she smacked me with the rolled-up magazine. “Seriously.”
“Okay, seriously, my mom’s getting married.”
“When?” Her eyes brightened in curiosity, which only doubled the queasiness in my gut.
I must’ve been suffering sympathy morning sickness.
“December.”
“That’s awfully quick.” She opened up the magazine again and flipped a few more pages. “If I didn’t know your mom better, I’d say she was rushing to the altar before she started showing.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to come up with a lie Morgan would swallow, and I didn’t want to ruin our freshly healed friendship when the truth came out. At the same time, I was still having trouble accepting my mom was pregnant.
The Queen B* and the Homecoming King Page 15