Wrecked(44)

“Sure it is. It’s my option and I’m exercising it.”

“Richard, you agreed to do this. You can’t back out now.”

“I agreed to sit there looking like an upstanding citizen while people grill you, but that doesn’t mean I have to jump every time your family cruises into town. Tell him hi from me.”

He leaves the room for real now, expecting to hear Jordan call him back, reply in some way. But he’s silent.

For Richard, that’s good enough for now.





. . .


Jenny doesn’t drift to the center with the dancers. But the red cup gives her something to do.

Because no one talks. No one can. They yell into each other’s ears, but even then they have no idea what was said.

She’s not sure what to say anyhow. So she stands to the side, watching the dancing, sipping. Sipping. Lemony, fizzy. Supersweet.

She pushes through the crowd, back to the can, which takes some time. The tall boy is still there. Friendly smile when he refills her cup.

. . .





21





Haley “Tell me I didn’t just see what I just saw,” Gail says to Haley from across the café table.


The older girl wears this expression—head tilted, one eyebrow arched—that challenges Haley to say anything but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

But Haley is a complete idiot about guys. “He’s my math tutor,” she explains.

Gail snorts.

“Seriously. I met him at math help,” Haley insists.

“That didn’t look like calculus to me.”

“No,” Haley admits.

Gail’s eyes narrow. “You do know he’s Carrie’s latest, right?”

“I thought that was over.”

Gail pauses, thinking. “It is. But she’s . . . territorial. Just because she doesn’t want him doesn’t mean anyone else can have him. Especially her friends.”

“I’m not her friend,” Haley says quickly.

“Hmmm,” Gail responds. She looks at Haley critically. Assessing. “She’s not a bad person to have in your corner. And she likes you.”

“Unless I start dating her old boyfriend,” Haley adds. “Not that it’s even a remote possibility. I just messed that up for good.”

“He didn’t look like a happy camper,” Gail agrees. “Want to talk about it?”

You have no idea how much I don’t.

The look on his face. Anger. Hurt. He’s absolutely right: he’d done nothing to deserve her suspicion. It’s just . . . she’s heard so much negative stuff about him. Plus he lives with the damn rapist! Does she buy his insistence that they’re not friends?

“No. But thanks,” Haley says.

“Well, for the record, I always thought he was a nice guy. Definitely gets failing grades for political correctness, but his heart’s in the right place. So are a lot of his other parts. Which compensates, know what I mean?” Haley smiles, as if she knows. “But just in case you two do kiss and make up, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t say anything to Carrie.”

“Thanks,” Haley repeats.

Gail glances at the wall clock behind the counter. “My break’s almost over. How’s life treating you otherwise?”

“Actually, there is something.”

Gail leans back in her seat, arms folded across her chest. “Five minutes. Shoot.”

“It’s Jenny. I don’t know, Gail, it’s strange. But I think she’s being stalked, and for some reason she won’t report it. We pretty much had a fight over it this morning.”

Gail sits up straight. A thin line forms between her eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about this.”

Haley describes the morning’s drama. Leaving out, of course, her conversation with Richard. More omissions. As she speaks, Gail reaches into her café apron pocket and pulls out her cell phone. Her fingers fly over the screen. She scrolls, reads.

“Damn. Damn!” Gail stands. “It’s on The Board.” She tugs at her apron strings. Yanks the thing off. “We’ve got to go.”

Haley stares at her. “I thought you were working?”

“It’s on The Board!” Gail repeats angrily.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gail looks at her like she’s too stupid to live. She thrusts her phone at Haley’s face.

“The Board,” she explains. “It’s an app. People share whatever garbage pops into their heads. You can read whatever’s posted within a ten--mile radius. Oh, and did I mention? No one uses real names.”

On the screen, Haley sees a cartoon of an old--fashioned bulletin board. Alongside, in glowing blue, a column of Twitter--length comments, each marked by a thumbtack--shaped icon. She manages to read a few lines before Gail snatches it away.

Someone oughta take the no--good c*** out and rape her again

She’s nasty as shit

Bitch is psycho. She’s not hot enuf to rape

For a moment, Haley wonders if she might actually vomit. The words are like a kick to her gut.

“Oh Gail. Oh no,” is all she manages.

Gail grabs her mug and Haley’s from the table and practically hurls them into the nearby bussing tray.