Going Under

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said. I groped blindly for my keys, finally locating them and pulling them from my bag. “Move.”


“Well, it appears you are,” Parker replied, not moving. “I can’t even get a date.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re a dickhead.”

The side of Parker’s mouth turned up. “Someone needs to wash out that mouth of yours, Brooklyn. Absolutely filthy.”

“Leave me alone or I’ll scream at the top of my lungs,” I warned.

“Sure you will,” Parker taunted. “Now you listen to me.”

I looked into his eyes. I swear they were the color of coal.

“Quit being nosy. Let me and my friends do our thing, and we’ll be more than happy to let you do yours. A truce sort of thing, huh? I mean, I’d hate for someone to find you face down in the school pool, know what I’m saying?”

I shook violently, rattling my keys.

“Tim was generous. I don’t know that I’d be,” Parker said.

“Are you threatening me?” I whispered.

Parker burst out laughing. “God, Brooke! I didn’t think you were one of the dumb bitches!”

I filled my lungs with the maximum amount of air possible and opened my mouth to scream. Parker slammed me against the car and clapped his hand over my mouth.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed in my ear. “Get your ass in your goddamn car and drive away.”

He squeezed my face before backing away enough for me to open the car door. I remained composed as I slid inside, turned the key in the ignition and drove off. Once I turned onto the street, however, I burst into tears, crying so hard that I made it just a mile down the road before pulling off on the shoulder to have a satisfactory breakdown.

Fuck them! my mind screamed at me. Don’t let them intimidate you. They’ve been intimidating girls for far too long.

“I know!” I screamed back. “I’ll do something! I will!”

But first I cried until I was completely spent. I cried until a police officer pulled up behind me and asked if everything was all right. I told him I was upset that my boyfriend broke up with me, and he told me I shouldn’t be driving while I was so emotional.

“Well, excuse me for living,” I sniffed.

“Really?” he replied.

“Well then, excuse me for being a woman.”

The officer was patient. “Just trying to keep the roads safe, ma’am.”

“The roads are the least of your problems,” I mumbled.

I watched his mouth turn up in a smile. “How’s that?”

I wiped the last of my tears away. “Well, you’ve got burglars, drug dealers, murderers, all kinds of low-lifes roaming around, and you’re worried about a car parked on the side of the road.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am. Making sure you’re safe.”

“Then go arrest some rapists or something.”

“I’ll do my best. Now make sure that seat belt is buckled tight, and you be careful.”

I told him to go fuck himself once he was out of earshot. The exchange was exactly what I needed. It gave me perspective. I wasn’t scared Brooke. I was warrior Brooke, and I was about to take some assholes down.

You wanna threaten me? I don’t think so, bitch.





Twenty

Everything was ready. I had all the documents sealed in an envelope addressed to “Patrick Langston,” a rookie reporter for the Raleigh News and Observer. I decided to go with him after some research into the staff because he was new and I figured this story could be his big break.

I mailed the packed manila envelope Monday morning before school, excitement mixed with dread sneaking out of my fingertips and dampening the package with sweat. I couldn’t say that I regretted abandoning my original plan with Cal. I realized it was unhealthy, and who was I to think I could endure what these other girls experienced simply because I was filled to the brim with vengeance? No, I simply couldn’t, and I knew I made the right decision in mailing the information about the Fantasy Slut League. I never discovered the “smoking gun” evidence to get Cal, Parker, and Tim charged with rape, but I could hope that after the story broke of their salacious club, some girls might have the courage to come forward.

I could only hope.

I committed to staying after school to take pictures of the boys’ baseball game. I promised Ryan I would be over as soon as the game ended. We planned an innocent night of playing video games; his parents and sister would be home, and we were all going to hang out together. It would be the first time I spent any significant amount of time with his family, and I was nervous. I had met Ryan’s parents when we first started seriously dating, but this would be the first night I actually talked to them. I wanted them to like me.

“Hey, Brooke,” Cal said, sliding into the bleacher.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I said, putting my sunglasses back on as the sun peeked out from another cloud.

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