“I don’t live far from here,” Mila said, ignoring Brian and looking at me. “About an hour away.”
“Nice,” I said. I looked away from her and back at Brian. “Did you want to start the movie?” It was obvious he needed an escape.
“I need to get inside,” Brian said, scratching the back of his head. “Have a good break, Mila.”
He walked past her and up the front steps. I could tell Mila wasn’t ready for their conversation to end but felt helpless in my presence.
“Won’t I see you?” Mila shouted. She cleared her throat, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, I’ll be around.”
“I’ll give you a call,” Brian said, before disappearing inside the house.
Mila turned to me. She was gorgeous, albeit clingy. “Nice meeting you,” she said. Her voice was smooth and confident, the opposite of the behavior she’d just exhibited.
“Goodnight,” I said, following Brian back into the house. I shut the door and locked it.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brian said, his hand still on the back of his neck. “She’s a friend from school.” The word friend wasn’t as convincing as he wanted it to be.
“A friend you don’t want to see during Christmas break?” I walked back to the table and sat. I took a sip of my replenished cider.
“Exactly,” he said. He followed me. “So, what movie do you want to watch?”
“What’s going on with you?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You just seem so… different.” I didn’t know how else to describe his behavioral changes.
“I think I’m just happy,” Brian said. He stared at me, and a flicker of the old Brian returned. That hopeless, unexplainable stare. Then he smiled. “What’s so different about me?”
“Well, you’re interacting with me, for one. Inviting me to visit your campus.”
“I’m just trying to be nice.” He looked at me. “I get I wasn’t always the nicest to you when I lived here.”
My mind flashed to all the times Brian had hurt me, physically and emotionally. At least the memorable ones. It was hard to imagine that Brian had been expunged in a matter of months. “You were worse than not nice,” I said.
“I know.” Brian looked at the table, still holding the hot cider in his hands. “I think I’ve grown up a lot in a short amount of time.”
“How?” I asked. “How does someone terrorize their little sister at every turn, attend a couple of frat parties and then change?”
“College has given me space to process things. I don’t think I ever had that here. It was always so suffocating.” He looked around the perfectly decorated room.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You always got your way here.”
“I don’t know how to say it, Della. I always felt like I was looking for something. Some purpose or meaning in life. I never found it, so I took my frustrations out on you and others. I was my own worst enemy.” He looked at me with honest eyes. “Whatever it is, I found it at SCU. I’m happy there, which makes me happier here.”
I envied his freedom. We carry weight throughout life. It’s given to us by parents and bosses and teachers. They burden us with rules and expectations. We’re told it’s a good thing to have all these responsibilities. All this stability. Our development would be all off-whack, otherwise. Just hearing him talk, whether he sounded pretentious or not, I knew his weight had been lifted. In a matter of weeks, Brian had given up that load. Started his own path.
“Mom was hurt when you didn’t visit for Thanksgiving.”
“I know.” He looked down and wiped his mouth. “I was close to coming in but the thought of enduring another holiday in suburbia about made me sick. I needed more time. I’m happy to be home now.”
I nodded, not quite believing.
“Listen,” he continued. “I want to tell you I’m sorry. I know I was mean to you growing up. I was emotionally absent. I was just being a kid, but it probably didn’t feel that way to you. It probably really hurt you.”
“It did,” I whispered. The closest I’d come to acknowledging that hurt was with Dad. Man, I missed him.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole,” Brian said. “I know I made your life hell and I’m sorry for that, too. I’d like things to be different now.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I so desperately wanted to believe him, that change could be that easy. If it were, I wished he’d changed years ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted time feeling inadequate, living in the shadows. If he’d just shared a little bit of his light.
Thirty-Two
Now
I feel like I’m marching toward my execution. When I opened Pam’s office door and saw Principal Bowles, I didn’t interrupt a friendly discussion. Something in the way Pam averted her eyes and Bowles stared in disgust made me think they were discussing me, and I was dreading finding out what it was about.
The door to Principal Bowles’ office is wide open, waiting for me to come inside. He’s already standing behind his desk.
“Close the door,” he says.
I do, taking a seat in front of his desk. I don’t say anything, waiting for him to tell me what this impromptu meeting is about.
“Pam and I wanted to speak with you together,” he says, taking a seat. He hasn’t looked at me since I sat down, and still doesn’t. “Considering you showed up to her office with Darcy Moore, I’m guessing it’ll be just the two of us.”
“All right,” I say, not yet knowing whether I need to defend my actions. The feeling I have isn’t good.
“Marge Helton came by my office this morning. She wanted me to know what you had told her about Zoey Peterson.”
Marge went to Bowles with my concerns about Zoey? I can’t believe it. I was reaching out to her as a friend, and she left me in a position to be reprimanded. I clear my throat. “Yes,” I start. “I did speak with her about Zoey.”
“Tell me your concerns.”
My skin turns hot, like I’ve been exposed to the elements and I’m beginning to burn. Bowles looks at me as unamused as ever. “I think Zoey might have more issues than we are equipped to handle. I suspect she might be violent.”
“Suspect,” Bowles repeats. “Can you give me specific reasons why you think this?”
“Well, I’m aware of the knife incident—”
“That was a misunderstanding which took place her first week here. I handled it,” he says firmly. “Go on.”
“And I have reason to believe she is the person who attacked Darcy Moore. I received a note—”
“I’m aware of what you received. Pam gave me a copy of it. I thought I made it clear we would not be addressing the issue.”
“With all due respect, Principal Bowles, how can we not address the issue?” I ask, trying to remain calm. “That paper detailed an attack on another student.”
“A fictional account of what happened. That’s what I read. Darcy Moore admitted she has no memory of what happened.”
“I don’t think that’s true, sir,” I say. “Not anymore.”
He nods. “I assume Darcy is talking to Pam about that night right now, huh?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Did you talk to Darcy about that night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I thought I was clear about the staff not getting involved.” He looks at me with contempt. “This is an issue that should be handled by the Moores and the police, with Pam working as a liaison between them and the school.”
“Yes, but Darcy told me—”
“Darcy told you. You didn’t track down Darcy and ask her questions? The way you interrogated Adam Bryant?”
I remembered my conversation with Adam. Yes, I was the one to pull him to the side, but he wanted to tell me what was going on.
“I only spoke to him because he seemed upset. I was trying to help.”
“So your conversation didn’t contribute to your vendetta agai
nst Zoey Peterson?”
“I don’t have a vendetta against anyone,” I say. “When I see a student is upset, I get involved.”
“And now you’re speaking with Darcy Moore. Asking her questions about that night.”
“She was screaming in the hallway—”
“What about Zoey Peterson?” he asks. “Was she upset when you confronted her?”
“I didn’t confront Zoey—”
“She claims you’ve been rude to her since she arrived, despite the fact she gets along with all of her other teachers and has a solid academic performance in your classroom. She says you all but accused her of attacking Darcy Moore.”
“I didn’t accuse her,” I say, my volume rising. I’ve never openly discussed Darcy with Zoey. I know better. “She’s lying.”
“Pam says you’ve had suspicions about Zoey Peterson for weeks now. You confronted Marge, her new guardian, on Friday.”
“I did, but—”
“So, you’ve confided to two of your colleagues your concerns about this student. You think she hurt Darcy. You even insinuated she hurt her own mother. But Zoey is lying about a confrontation with you?”
“I spoke with Zoey, yes. It was after she had a disagreement in class with Adam,” I say. “But I didn’t accuse her of hurting Darcy.”
“What about your conversation with Darcy? Did you mention Zoey’s name?”
“No, of course I didn’t. I would never lead a student in that way.”
“What did Darcy say about that night?”
“You can speak with Pam. It’s not my place to say.”
“But it’s your place to investigate the situation on your own? You’ve created theories and tracked down both teachers and students to try and prove them right. After I specifically instructed faculty to let the matter go.”
“I think it’s entirely unethical to let the matter go.”
“Unethical.” He pauses, staring at me. “Ms. Helton also told me you visited Zoey’s mother. She told me you called her former schools.”
“I was only trying to get a better idea of who she is.”
“I’m going to be very clear about this,” he says, standing. “Leave this matter alone. I don’t want you talking to anyone else about Zoey Peterson or Darcy Moore. I don’t want you looking into what happened that night.”
“I’m only trying to do what’s right.”
He raises a hand to silence me. “Thankfully, this is our last week of school. Zoey Peterson will not be in your classroom tomorrow. That should make it much easier for you to follow orders.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” I ask, blinking hard.
“I think you’ve crossed a line, but because you’ve never done anything meriting disciplinary action in the past, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Just as I did Zoey.”
I grit my teeth at being compared to that sick little girl. Bowles might downplay Zoey’s behavior by labeling her a child or a student, but being a minor didn’t stop her from hurting Darcy. And it won’t stop her from becoming what she’s well on her way to being: a predator. I realize I’m playing into exactly what Zoey wants, which is for everyone else to think I’m the unstable one.
“All I’m trying to do is protect our students,” I say, standing to leave. I begin to cry because my accusations are once again being dismissed, and I know how dangerous that can be. Last time, I was slow to act. Now I’m doing everything I can to bring Zoey’s crimes to light. If only someone would listen.
“I must say, I’m upset you’ve allowed this student to impact your job performance. You’ve had students lining up in the halls waiting to enter your class. Heather told me you left work early on Friday.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Be aware, these incidents will be addressed when the board reviews your application for tenure.”
I close my eyes. This situation is growing, and I’m losing grip. Surely this ordeal won’t cost me my job. How would that look in a town this small? A teacher losing her job because she was obsessed with a student. A rumor like that could tank Danny’s practice. I’ve already been keeping Danny at a distance. Will he stick with me through this? If I ruin both our lives on a hunch?
I stand to leave. Principal Bowles follows me to the door. “Just so we’re clear. No further contact with Zoey Peterson,” he says. “She’s no longer your student.”
The dismissal bell rings when I enter the hallway, and suddenly I’m lost in the flood of students eager to leave. I walk past them, hoping I can make it to my classroom without being spotted by anyone I know. No such luck. When I pass Marge’s classroom, she’s standing at her door. I still can’t believe she would rat me out to Bowles. I want to say something to her, but I don’t. My watery stare says it all, and her brief look of defiance is swathed with sympathy. She is my friend, but she’s always a teacher first. She thinks I’m being unfair to Zoey, and she believes her role is to defend her. Now I seem unhinged. I hope, for her sake, that’s all I am.
Thirty-Three
Spring 2006
Brian returned to SCU in January, but he wasn’t his usual distant self. He called Mom more often and even started texting me. He’d tell me about the quirky events his fraternity sponsored or random happenings on campus. He started visiting every couple of weeks, which made Mom happy.
After school, I rushed home to change for my shift at the theater. I’d just hopped into a pair of black pants when my phone rang. A goofy grin covered my face when I saw the name on the screen. Danny.
“Hey, stranger,” he said when I answered.
We were far from strangers at this point. We’d met over Thanksgiving and Christmas break. We continued text messaging, and now talked on the phone. It felt very grown-up to have a college boy calling me, even if it was because I was the kid sister of his best friend.
“Can you guess what I’m doing?” I asked.
“After three o’clock on a Wednesday? Let’s see.” He made a ticking sound over the phone with his tongue. “I’m guessing you’re running late for work.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” I placed the call on speaker and put the phone on my bed. I stretched a T-shirt over my head and shook my hair. “I don’t get paid enough to rush around like this.”
“Get ready. You only think you’re broke until you get to college.” Danny worked most weekends as a desk clerk at the hospital. It gave him extra money and provided something he could put on a resumé. His every action was in preparation for medical school.
“When are you coming back to town?” I asked.
“Eh, not for a few weeks. My weekends are filling up fast thanks to the hospital.”
“I think I’m actually heading your way next week.” I bit my lip and held my breath. For whatever reason, I’d been hesitant to tell him about my plans to visit Brian over spring break. It was one thing to call me on the phone or walk with me around the old neighborhood; I wasn’t sure how Danny would react to having me on his campus.
“That’s great,” he said. “You’re going to love it here.”
I sighed in relief. So I wasn’t just some kid he liked to visit when he was bored back home. I don’t even think Brian knew we talked as much as we did. I wasn’t happy when I discovered Brian was dating Amber. Dating. Danny and I were just friends. In recent weeks, it felt like he was my best friend. I was happy he didn’t seem ashamed about my upcoming visit.
“I can’t wait,” I said, picking up the phone and placing it back to my ear. “I won’t be able to stay long. Mom and I are coming up next Friday. We’ve booked a nearby hotel, but I hope we’ll spend most of our time on campus.”
“Sweet. I’ll check my shifts for that weekend. Maybe we could meet for lunch,” he said. “I’d offer to show you around, but you have Brian for that.”
“I wish Mom would just let me stay in the dorms. I’ve been asking her.” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see. I opened by handbag to make sure I had the essentials: phone, wallet, tampons. Check.
“Eh, campus isn’t as lively these days. Especially now that curfew has been set.”
“Curfew?” I asked. College was supposed to be about freedom. I’d be damned if I left the underside of Mom’s thumb only to hear words like curfew again.
“Yeah, you know. Because of the missing girls.”
I slid behind the steering wheel of the station wagon and slammed the door, but I didn’t start the engine. “Missing girls?”
“Didn’t I tell you about them?”
“No,” I said, curiosity creeping in.
“We’ve had some girls go missing. Five in total. They’re just now taking it seriously. They’ve announced no one can walk around campus after midnight.” He grunted and sighed. “Lame, really.”
“That’s crazy,” I said, putting my bag on the seat next to me. I didn’t realize I’d been holding it since I entered the car. “And all the girls are from SCU?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess.”
“When did they go missing?”
“I think the first one was in, like, the fall? More since then. No one saw a pattern until a month or so ago. Now it’s all anyone on campus talks about,” he said. “I’m surprised I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s wild,” I said. The drama intoxicated me. College was the real world where both good and bad things could happen. The gamble seemed exhilarating. “What do people think is going on?”
“Not sure, really. I don’t follow it. I didn’t know any of the girls. You know, if you want details you should ask Brian.”
“Brian,” I said, sticking the key into the ignition and turning to peer through the back window. “He hasn’t said anything about missing girls either.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to scare you. He’s been really involved in spreading the word on campus,” he said. “He probably has all the details.”
“Really?” I said, almost laughing. Brian aimed to please, but I couldn’t imagine him shouting about missing women in the quad.
“He’s the person who told me about it.”
What I Know: An utterly compelling psychological thriller full of suspense Page 21