I resigned myself to my fate with Cal. After our horrid date, I assumed he’d lost interest. I showed him exactly who I was: not the sweet, shy, timid girl I tried to portray at registration so many months back. Nope. I had a smart mouth and a hot temper, neither of which made me a good candidate for molestation. Surely Cal would cut all ties with me, especially since I verbally trashed his friend. My only chance at justice lay in exposing the league and encouraging victims to come forward. I thought this was the only way I could make peace with Beth.
I cried all of Sunday night as I tried to explain this to Beth. I lay in bed talking things over with her, telling her I never intended to fail her, but that I made a lousy undercover detective. A lousy date. A lousy crusader.
I cried to Gretchen, too. After the date, I called Dad to let him know I was spending the night with her. We took a cab to her house since neither of us had any intentions of being driven by Cal, who was drunk, or Parker, who was an asshole.
“Put Gretchen on the phone,” Dad ordered.
I was confused, but I did what he asked, pressing the speaker phone button to listen in.
“Hi, Mr. Wright,” Gretchen said.
“Gretchen, is Brooke spending the night with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are there any boys spending the night with you?”
“Mr. Wright! I have parents, you know!”
“How can I trust that you girls aren’t going somewhere with this Cal person? You know who I’m talking about? Brooke’s date for the evening?” Dad asked.
“Mr. Wright, I went on that date as well, and let me tell you. There’s no Cal. Ever.”
“You went on the date?”
“Long story, but it was a surprise double date that ended kind of badly. My date was a jerk. Brooke’s date was a doofus.”
“Hmmm.”
“I swear, Mr. Wright. Brooke is spending the night, and it’s just us two, and my parents are home,” Gretchen said.
There was a brief pause.
“I trust you, Gretchen,” Dad said.
Gretchen looked at me. “You should. And you should trust your daughter, too.”
“I do.”
Gretchen and I were both confused now, but she said goodbye to my father and handed the phone to me.
“I know I was on speaker phone. I’m not an idiot,” Dad said.
“What was that all about then?” I asked.
“It’s called being your father, Brooke,” Dad replied. “Now, was your date really so bad?”
I sighed. “The worst. But can I just tell you about it later?”
“Yes, Brooke. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said, and hung up.
Gretchen and I sat on her bed while I explained Beth’s suicide, Cal, and my plans to expose the Fantasy Slut League.
“She was raped?” Gretchen breathed. She looked stunned.
I nodded. “I know that’s why she did it. She was so depressed the last few months before she died. Of course, I didn’t help at all. I wasn’t even there for her, and then she discovered Finn and me. Can you understand why I feel so guilty now? I knew what had happened to her because she told me. She trusted me, and I betrayed her in so many ways.”
I was crying, unable to hide my total anguish.
Gretchen took my hand and squeezed it.
“I’m trying to make things right for her. I . . . I think I can. I know about this league. I know Cal is a rapist. I’m not sure about the others. I’m trying to figure that out.”
“How?”
“God, Gretchen. If I tell you these things, you have to swear on your life you won’t tell a soul. A friend of mine could get in big trouble,” I said. I took the tissue Gretchen passed to me and blew my nose.
“Brooke, I know I can be spacey sometimes and say stupid things, but I swear to you that I’ll keep your secrets. You can trust me,” Gretchen said. It was the first time she was that serious. I saw a different side of the friend I’d known since ninth grade. I believed her, and so I talked.
I told her everything, but I left out the part about setting up Cal.
***
I studied every game. Parker kept records for years, all of which I received in a black binder from Terry after work Wednesday night. He told me to be smart about it. That’s what he always said whenever we discussed anything to do with the Fantasy Slut League. Be smart about it. I thought I was, but when I confessed to him that I told Gretchen about the league, he blew up on me. We were standing beside my car.
“What the fuck, Wright?!” he yelled.
“I had no choice!” I replied. “She caught me, Terry! I had no choice!”
“Jesus, did you mention my name?”
“No! God, no! I’m not stupid. I knew what things to say and what I shouldn’t,” I said.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asked.
“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her your name. And I didn’t tell her I planned on getting raped.”
Terry looked shocked. “What the hell did you just say?”
“I said I didn’t tell her your name. Everything’s cool.”
“No, after that,” Terry clarified.
“I said I didn’t tell her I planned . . .” My voice trailed off. Oh my God. Stupid stupid stupid. What have I done?
Terry advanced on me and grabbed my upper arm. “What are you doing, Wright?” he hissed, inches from my face.
I tried to pull away. “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”
“Then what was that comment all about?”
“I don’t know why I said that.”
“Bullshit. Now I’m giving you one minute to explain yourself,” Terry said. He kept his fingers wrapped tightly around my arm.