“It doesn’t?” I asked. I wasn’t trying to be a smartass.
“No,” Terry said. “I found stuff on her dating back to seventh grade.”
“So maybe Parker saw her as an easy target,” I replied. “If she’s already crazy, who’s going to believe she was raped?”
Terry shrugged. “It’s not right, Brooke.”
“Too hard to say, ‘It’s not right, Wright’?” I asked.
“You’re a dork and completely unfocused. I was saying it’s not right to assume something without hard proof. You know that.”
I scowled. “That asshole is a rapist. I know he is!”
“Okay then. Have you figured out how you’re going to prove any of this?”
“I have, actually,” I replied. I smiled a smug little smile, and Terry rolled his eyes. “Can we have this conversation somewhere else? It’s freezing out here.”
“Get in your car,” Terry said.
“No way. We’ll get in your car and waste your gas on the heat,” I replied.
“Whatever.”
We slipped into Terry’s unassuming Acura and blasted the heat.
“Okay, Wright. What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to ask them to come forward,” I replied.
“You’re what?”
“The girls who’ve been raped. I’m going to ask them to come forward.”
“Why would they agree? It’s been years for some. No rape test. No DNA evidence. Their word against the guys’. Are you serious?” Terry asked.
“If I can get them together—”
“So you’re a group therapist all of a sudden?”
“Shut up. If I can get them together and encourage them to come forward together, I think there’s a real chance these boys will get some well-deserved justice,” I said. “Strength in numbers.”
“That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”
“Hey! It’s not stupid. It’s the only thing I’ve got!”
“You might have to come to the realization that these boys may never see justice. Okay? You may have to be satisfied with exposing their league and embarrassing them, because that may be all you get.”
“No!” I slapped my hand on the dashboard.
“Wright, do not do that to my car,” Terry warned.
“I’ll never be satisfied with a little bit of embarrassment. I want them in jail. They’re criminals who belong in jail.”
“So your plan is to trick these girls into what? Coming over to your house for a sleepover? Then you expose each of their painful secrets to the group and tell them they need to take those painful secrets public? With no evidence? No proof? Do you hear how fucking stupid that is?”
“Fuck you.”
“Typical teenager response,” Terry scoffed.
“I hate you.”
“And there’s another.”
“Shut up and help me then!” I screamed.
“I don’t have an answer, Brooke. I don’t have a plan. The only thing I can tell you is to go public with your knowledge of their club.”
I hung my head. “You said you’d help me get them. That’s what you said.”
“I know, Brooke. But I can’t make them confess to rape. And I can’t make those girls come forward. They have every right to stay silent. That’s their right, and I think you forget that. You think they have a duty to your friend, but they don’t. Their justice isn’t her justice, don’t you see? They’re individuals with individual experiences. I’m not saying it’s healthy for them to hold on to their secrets, but it’s their right. You can only do so much. And you’ve done everything you can, and I’m proud of you for wanting to protect them. I really am. Expose the league and you’ve settled your debt with Beth.”
I was crying. I realized it when Terry fished a napkin out of the glove box and handed it to me.
“Can’t I just shoot them all in the head?!” I cried, blowing my nose into the musty paper.
“Oh my God. First you want to be a rape victim, and now you want to be a murderer?”
“It’s murderess, dumbass. I’m a girl.”
“Wright, you need to visit a therapist,” Terry said.
“I already do,” I blubbered.
“Well, thank God for that.”
I shot him a nasty look.
“And quit crying, for Christ’s sake. You cry all the time. Aren’t you supposed to be big and tough?”
I looked at him stunned. “For real?”
“Yeah, Wright. ‘For real’. Straighten up and stop acting like a total wimp. You wanna be some badass fem crusader? Then start acting like one.”
“You are the biggest jerk on the planet!”
“Yeah, and one hell of a good friend to you,” Terry replied.
Well, I couldn’t argue that.
I drove home with “Big Girls Don’t Cry” playing over and over in my head. Don’t ask me how I knew the song. It wasn’t Frankie Valli singing, though. It was Terry instead, and I laughed my ass off imagining him leading the Four Seasons to the tune. No tears. Exactly how he’d want it.
***
“Are you never going to talk to me again?” I hissed, watching Lucy stack her books and binder in a neat little rectangle on her desk. I leaned over and pushed the top book on to the floor.
“Hey!” she yelled.