The Nowhere Girls(96)

Before Grace knew even that much, when all she had was Erin’s middle-of-the-night text message to go on, she told Mom she needed the car after school because she had to help a friend. It would have been so easy to tell her then, to tell her everything, but that would make Mom complicit. It could ruin her. So Grace looked Mom in the eye and said she couldn’t tell her why she needed the car. She said, “I need you to trust me.”

Mom looked in her eyes for a few moments and then nodded. She didn’t ask any questions. Who knows what was going through her mind, what she thought Grace could be doing. Helping someone move? Driving a friend to a clinic for an abortion? What could possibly be so serious to warrant a secret, but also her permission?

God, Grace prays. Please don’t let me abuse her trust. Please let this be worth it.

It’s the middle of sixth period and Grace can’t sit still. She’s wandering the halls carrying her Spanish class hall pass—a nearly two-foot-long rubber chicken with “El Pase de Pasillo de Se?or Barry!” written on it in blue Sharpie.

When she turns the corner into the main hall, she sees two policemen walking through the front door in full cop regalia—bulletproof vests, walkie-talkies, billy clubs, Tasers, guns. Grace watches, frozen, as they enter the main office, then walks quickly to catch up as soon as they’re inside. She leans against the wall next to the open door so she can see the front desk, just barely, without them seeing her.

“Oh my,” says Mrs. Poole. “How may I help you, officers?”

“We’re looking for three students, ma’am,” one of them says. “Rosina Suarez, Erin DeLillo, and Grace Salter. Is there a way you can get them all down to the office quickly?”

Grace thinks she’s going to throw up.

“Of course,” Mrs. Poole says. “Let me just call in Principal Slatterly. I’m sure I can guess what this is concerning.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Grace has never run so fast in her life. She is suddenly fifty pounds lighter; she is pure speed as she makes her way to Rosina’s sixth-period chemistry class. She takes a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, to put on her best invisible-girl face, then she tosses the rubber-chicken hall pass aside, knocks, and open the door.

“Hello, sir?” Grace says, with the question in her voice Erin hates. “Um, Principal Slatterly wants to see Rosina Suarez in the office?”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” the teacher says. “Miss Suarez, you heard her. You’re wanted in the office.”

Rosina stands up displaying her usual confidence, but with a questioning look on her face meant only for Grace.

“You might want to bring your bag,” Grace says.

“What’s up?” Rosina says as soon as the door closes behind them.

“We have to get Erin,” Grace says. “Do you know where her class is?”

“Yeah,” Rosina says. “But are you going to tell me why?”

“No time,” Grace says as she scuttles down the hall.

“Wait,” Rosina says. “Are we skipping class? I can’t skip class anymore. There’s just one period left. Can’t this wait an hour?”

“No. We have to go now. Trust me.”

Rosina stops. “I can’t get in trouble anymore.”

Grace turns around. “Rosina, the police are here. They’re looking for us. Skipping class is not your biggest problem right now.”

Rosina’s eyes go wide. “Oh, fucking shit fuck,” she says.

They run.

Rosina goes to get Erin out of class while Grace hurries back to Spanish. “I have to go, Se?or,” she pants as she grabs her backpack. “It’s an emergency.”

“En Espa?ol!” he shouts.

“Adios!” Grace says as she hurries out the door. She hears him yell, “Dónde está mi pase de pasillo?” as the door swings closed behind her.

“I’m dead,” Rosina says when Grace finds her and Erin in the parking lot. “This is the end of me. As of now, I am most likely homeless.”

“Did you read your packets?” Erin says as they climb into Grace’s mom’s car.

“Wait,” Grace says. “First you need to tell us exactly what happened.”

As they drive out of Prescott, Erin tells them, in excruciating detail, all about Otis coming to her house, what he said he heard, what Eric did to him. When she is done, Rosina and Grace are both speechless for a long time. It sinks in what they are about to do: They are going to try to help a girl Spencer and Eric raped, a real girl, a girl who is here right now, hurting right now. Not Lucy. Not someone already gone. Not someone hypothetical. This is someone they’re going to have to look in the eyes, someone they’re taking a kind of responsibility for. If they don’t do this right, they could hurt her, too.

“This is too much,” Rosina finally says. “I can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about?” Grace says. “This is our chance to finally get those bastards. We finally have proof.”

“This girl isn’t proof,” Rosina says. “She’s a person. A person who just got fucking raped. What if she doesn’t want anything to do with us? We can’t force her to talk to the cops. We don’t even know her. What if she doesn’t even want our help?”