“Oh no!” Vanessa’s voice rings with fake concern. “Poor thing! Her legs gave out.”
They didn’t. While my eyes were on Jake, someone’s foot hooked my ankle and brought me down. I have a pretty good idea whose, but can’t say anything because I’m too busy trying to suck air into my lungs.
“Addy, are you okay?” Vanessa keeps her fake voice on as she kneels next to me, until she’s right next to my ear and whispers, “Serves you right, slut.”
I’d love to answer her, but I still can’t breathe.
When our gym teacher arrives Vanessa backs off, and by the time I have enough air to talk she’s gone. The gym teacher inspects my knees, turns my hands over, clucks at the damage. “You need the nurse’s office. Get those cuts cleaned up and some antibiotics on you.” She scans the crowd that’s gathered around me and calls, “Miss Vargas! Help her out.”
I guess I should be grateful it’s not Vanessa or Jake. But I’ve barely seen Janae since Bronwyn’s sister called Simon out a couple of days ago. As I limp toward school Janae doesn’t look at me until we’re almost at the entrance. “What happened?” she asks as she opens the door.
By now I have enough breath to laugh. “Vanessa’s version of slut-shaming.” I turn left instead of right at the stairwell, heading for the locker room.
“You’re supposed to go to the nurse’s,” Janae says, and I flutter my hand at her. I haven’t darkened the nurse’s doorstep in weeks, and anyway, my cuts are painful but superficial. All I really need is a shower. I limp to a stall and peel off my clothes, stepping under the warm spray and watching brown-and-red water swirl down the drain. I stay in the shower until the water’s clear and when I step out, a towel wrapped around me, Janae’s there holding a pack of Band-Aids.
“I got these for you. Your knees need them.”
“Thanks.” I lower myself onto a bench and press flesh-colored strips across my knees, which sure enough are getting slick with blood again. My palms sting and they’re scraped pink and raw, but there’s nowhere I can put a Band-Aid that will make a difference.
Janae sits as far away as possible from me on the bench. I put three Band-Aids on my left knee and two on my right. “Vanessa’s a bitch,” she says quietly.
“Yeah,” I agree, standing and taking a cautious step. My legs hold up, so I head for my locker and pull out my clothes. “But I’m getting what I deserve, right? That’s what everybody thinks. I guess it’s what Simon would’ve wanted. Everything out in the open for people to judge. No secrets.”
“Simon …” Janae’s got that strangled sound to her voice again. “He’s not … He wasn’t like they said. I mean, yes, he went overboard with About That, and he wrote some awful things. But the past couple years have been rough. He tried so hard to be part of things and he never could. I don’t think …” She stumbles over her words. “When Simon was himself, he wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”
She sounds really sad about it. But I can’t bring myself to care about Simon now. I finish dressing and look at the clock. There’s still twenty minutes left in gym class, and I don’t want to be here when Vanessa and her minions descend. “Thanks for the Band-Aids. Tell them I’m still at the nurse’s, okay? I’m going to the library till next period.”
“Okay,” Janae says. She’s slumped on the bench, looking hollowed out and exhausted, and as I head for the door she abruptly calls out, “Do you want to hang out this afternoon?”
I turn to her in surprise. I hadn’t thought we were at that point in our … acquaintance, I guess. Friendship still seems like a strong word. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
“My mom’s having her book club, so … maybe I could come to your house?”
“All right,” I say, picturing my own mother’s reaction to Janae after being used to a house full of pretty-perky Keelys and Olivias. The thought brightens me up, and we make plans for Janae to stop by after school. On a whim I text an invitation to Bronwyn, but I forgot she’s grounded. Plus, she has piano lessons. Spontaneous downtime isn’t really her thing.
I’ve barely stowed my bike under the porch after school when Janae arrives dragging her oversized backpack like she came to study. We make excruciating small talk with my mother, whose eyes keep roving from Janae’s multiple piercings to her scuffed combat boots, until I bring her upstairs to watch TV.
“Do you like that new Netflix show?” I ask, aiming the remote at my television and sprawling across my bed so Janae can take the armchair. “The superhero one?”
She sits gingerly, like she’s afraid the pink plaid will swallow her whole. “Yeah, okay,” she says, lowering her backpack next to her and looking at all the framed photographs on my wall. “You’re really into flowers, huh?”
“Not exactly. My sister has a new camera I was playing around with, and … I took a lot of old pictures down recently.” They’re shoved beneath my shoe boxes now: a dozen memories of me and Jake from the past three years, and almost as many with my friends. I hesitated over one—me, Keely, Olivia, and Vanessa at the beach last summer, wearing giant sun hats and goofy grins with a brilliant blue sky behind us. It had been a rare, fun girls’ day out, but after today I’m more glad than ever that I banished Vanessa’s stupid smirk to the closet.
Janae fiddles with the strap to her backpack. “You must miss how things were before,” she says in a low voice.
I keep my eyes trained on the screen while I consider her comment. “Yes and no,” I say finally. “I miss how easy school used to be. But I guess nobody I hung out with ever really cared about me, right? Or things would have been different.” I shift restlessly on the bed and add, “I’m not gonna pretend it’s anything like what you’re dealing with. Losing Simon that way.”
Janae flushes and doesn’t answer, and I wish I hadn’t brought it up. I can’t figure out how to interact with her. Are we friends, or just a couple of people without better options? We stare silently at the television until Janae clears her throat and says, “Could I have something to drink?”
“Sure.” It’s almost a relief to escape the silence that’s settled between us, until I run into my mother in the kitchen and have a terse, ten-minute-long conversation about the kind of friends you have now. When I finally get back upstairs, two glasses of lemonade in hand, Janae’s got her backpack on and she’s halfway out the door.
“I don’t feel well suddenly,” she mumbles.
Great. Even my unsuitable friends don’t want to hang out with me.
I text Bronwyn in frustration, not expecting an answer since she’s probably in the middle of Chopin or something. I’m surprised when she messages me back right away, and even more surprised at what she writes.
Be careful. I don’t trust her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cooper
Sunday, October 21, 5:25 p.m.
We’ve almost finished dinner when Pop’s phone rings. He looks at the number and picks up immediately, the lines around his mouth deepening. “This is Kevin. Yeah. What, tonight? Is that really necessary?” He waits a beat. “All right. We’ll see you there.” He hangs up and blows out an irritated sigh. “We gotta meet your lawyer at the police station in half an hour. Detective Chang wants to talk to you again.” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth. “I don’t know what about.”