Wrecked(38)

Haley’s mind races. Is even this, simply acknowledging the fact of the investigation, off--limits? As Jenny’s advisor, is she supposed to get up and walk away right now, or tell Tamra, “Sorry, sworn to secrecy”?

There’s only one surefire way to get the Ts of MacCallum to ignore you: make them think you’ve got nothing they want.

“Like I said, Tamra, I didn’t get the letter, so I don’t know what’s in it.”

“But you do know what’s going on.” Not a question. Tamra waits.

“Actually, you probably know a lot more than I do,” Haley says. “Remember, I was getting my head examined while you were all at that party with her. So you tell me. What went down?”

Tamra scowls. “Here’s what went down: Jenny disappeared. Poof! We all pregamed in my room, walked together to Conundrum, and at some point everyone lost track of her. Vivian wanted to move on to a different party, we couldn’t find Jenny anywhere, so we left.”

Haley feels a warm flush on her cheeks. “What, you didn’t text her? Find out where she was?”

Tamra seems unfazed by this question. “None of us has her number.”

“So you ditched her? At an upperclassmen party across campus, practically back in the woods?”

“Hey, we figured she ditched us! We thought she got mad and left.”

“Why would she be mad?”

Tamra rolls her eyes. “Oh . . . drama. Marliese hooked up with the guy Jenny had her eye on. This sophomore named Brandon Exley? He’s the one who invited Jenny, but he barely paid any attention to her once we got there. So when we couldn’t find her, we figured she’d gotten pissed and left. But hey, all’s fair, you know? Not Marliese’s fault the guy preferred her.”

“Jenny and Marliese competing for the same guy? In what universe?”

Tamra looks confused.

“Let me get this straight,” Haley continues. “You came together and left without her? Left without knowing where she was? You broke the number one rule, the I--got--your--back--at--a--party rule. It’s like deserting a man behind enemy lines. If you were an Army Ranger, they’d probably court--martial you.”

Tamra’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, well, you know what? I’m not an Army Ranger. And I’m not a babysitter. If Jenny can’t handle playing with the big kids, she should stay home.”

“No one expects you to be a babysitter, Tamra. But next time? Try being a friend. Even if it’s just for one night.”

The pancakes are cold, but she’s lost her appetite anyway. She doesn’t like imagining Jenny off with these girls. Counting on these girls. They look out for each other, but everyone else? They don’t even see them.

Tamra should be mad right now. No one talks to T this way. So this is the part where she huffs off and ignores Haley for the next four years.

Unfortunately, T keeps talking.

She wants something.

“So, what exactly happened? Do you know?”

Haley flashes her best fake smile. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Haley. Let me lay this out for you: We pregamed in my room that night. I’m the one with the fake ID. I bought the vodka. Now I’m about to get called before an investigator, so I’d like to know what I’m walking into.”

Cry me a river. The fake smile disappears. She is hanging on to self--control by a fingernail.

“Totally. God forbid somebody was underage drinking in college, Tamra. My advice would be to keep your mouth shut, let the rapist get away, and Mommy and Daddy will never find out you got drunk one night.”

The surprise on Tamra’s face lets Haley know she slipped. “Somebody raped her? Oh my god. Who was it?”

On cue, as if sensing from somewhere across campus that Haley desperately wants to tear herself away from this conversation, Jenny texts. Her phone is on the table, and she can see the message.

Can u come to the room? I need u.

“This has been fun, but I have to go,” Haley says, gathering her things.

Tamra jumps up. “Oh, c’mon. You can’t drop that and just walk away!”

Watch me.

“I get why you’re mad,” Tamra continues. “And you’re right, we shouldn’t have left the party without Jenny. My god. Rape. That’s awful! But we honestly didn’t know anything bad had happened to her. We were all pretty wrecked.”

Haley hoists her pack over one shoulder and picks up her tray with the cold pancakes. She sidesteps around Tamra, toward the exit, but T is on her.

“Just . . . do you think you could talk to her?” Urgency in Tamra’s voice. “Ask her to take me off the list? I don’t have anything to tell them. I barely remember what happened at the party.”

“Ask her yourself,” Haley says shortly. She walks toward the bussing station and the revolving conveyor belt where you load trays.

Tamra follows. “I’ve already tried.” Pleading now. Very un--T--like. “She won’t talk to me. Barely makes eye contact.”

“Can you blame her? You ditch her at a party and she gets attacked? You know what: I don’t want to talk to you, either. You suck.”

They’ve reached the bussing station, where Haley shoves the tray into the rotating carousel, grabs the plate, and begins furiously scraping her wasted breakfast into the compost bucket.