The Cheerleaders(88)

When Tom speaks, her grip on my shoulder tightens. “What about him?”

“Being treated. Won’t be able to talk to him until tomorrow, most likely.”

“Why is he getting medical care?” Mom demands. “He should be in a cell.”

Tom shuts his eyes. Holds up a hand. “Phoebe, please.”

I touch the tender skin on my neck where Brandon tried to choke me. The first responders said to expect nasty bruises there. They checked me for any serious injuries at the house and cleared me, which is the only reason my mother let me skip going to the hospital.

I saw them carting Brandon off to the hospital. I can’t be in the same building as him. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as Brandon Michaelson.

A flutter of panic. “They can’t let him go, right?”

“They have enough to keep him for assault.” Tom doesn’t look at me as he says it, but my mother moves her hand to mine. “They’ll move to charge him for that and the statutory rape as soon as possible.”

My mother flinches at the last part.

“What about the murders?” I ask. “I have him recorded practically confessing.”

“Once they finish up interviewing Ginny about what happened today, someone is going to talk to you again. After that, the DA will want to hear from you.” Tom massages his beard. “I’ve been asked to step aside while they investigate.”

My eyes go prickly. If Brandon is charged with Juliana’s and Susan’s murders, the department will reopen the inquiry into Jack Canning’s death. Tom could lose his job.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “All of this is my fault.”

My mother moves her hand to my knee and squeezes. “Stop it.”

She’s crying and I’m crying, and soon Tom is crying and wrapping his arms around both of us and we’re all crying.

“What if Jen knew it was him?” I manage to choke out. “What if she knew and he found out and he made it look like she did it herself—”

“Monica.” My mom tightens her grip on me. “She left a note. Jen left a note. She mentioned you. She wanted you to see California for her—”

“Stop,” I say. “Please stop.”

“Honey, no. You have to understand.”

I’m sobbing too hard to get out what I want to tell her: I’ll never understand.



* * *



—

I wake in my bed to my mother’s hand on my forehead and sunlight assaulting my eyelids. “Ginny’s here, if you want to see her.”

I sit up. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. I wanted to let you sleep. Do you want me to send her up?”

My head is throbbing. “No. I’ll come downstairs.”

Ginny is on my living room couch. She cranes her neck. Stands when she sees me.

I wave a hand. “Sit, sit.”

Ginny lowers herself onto the couch and I plop down next to her. “God, this hurts so bad.”

“Your neck?”

That, and everything else. “Yeah.”

“I just wanted you to know—I didn’t tell the police anything,” she says. “Well, obviously I told them stuff. But not the last part of yesterday.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to lie for me anymore.” I pinch the bridge of my nose until I see white. “Everyone’s going to find out about Brandon and me. My life is pretty much over anyway.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Ginny’s voice is soft. “He used you, like he used Juliana.”

“I used him. I was tired of being numb and I wanted to prove to myself I could feel something.”

Ginny is quiet for a moment. Then: “Did you?”

“I do now.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until Ginny throws her arms around me.



* * *



—

Tom said to expect the murder case to move slowly. When the news breaks Brandon is being charged with statutory rape and assault, there’s no mention in the news of Juliana’s and Susan’s murders.

There’s no mention of Brandon Michaelson’s unnamed victim, but everyone at school knows it’s me.

I’m not sure who figured it out, but it doesn’t take a detective to put everything together. My two-day absence starting the morning that Brandon was fired from Sunnybrook High, rumors already swirling that he’d been arrested.

Rachel and Alexa are the only ones I’ve told outside of Ginny and my family. They shield me on the way inside the school building; when the news broke last night, my mother said I could stay home today, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to do.

Instead of nasty looks and a scarlet letter painted on my locker, I arrive to sympathetic smiles. I suspect Rach and Alexa did damage control.

I am a victim, whether or not I feel like one. Maybe one day I will wake up crushed under the weight of what Brandon did to me. For now all I feel is the memory of that baseball bat hitting his body and my foot in his ribs.

At the end of the day, before dance team practice starts, I find Coach in the athletic office, filling out registration forms for the upcoming competition. She looks up at me; she doesn’t seem surprised to see that I’m not dressed in my dance clothes.