“No kidding,” said Phil Monroe.
Emma was pleased and embarrassed, embarrassed and pleased. She said, “Mom, get off, you’re crushing me.” She untangled herself, went and opened the door to the kitchen.
“Em, while you’re up, bring us a refill?” Her dad picked up an empty gin bottle and shook it. “Should be another in the fridge.”
In the kitchen, glassware scattered over the butcher-block counters. Half-drunk martinis and glasses of wine. She picked a martini glass still heavy with gin. Sipping the bitter liquid, she circled the kitchen and stopped at the sink. The gin made her head swim gently, pleasantly. Out the window were swirls of misty silver. Mill Valley lay below them, but she couldn’t make out its glitter of lights; they were floating on acres of fog. It was like gazing out the window of an airplane after ascending through a cloud—the span of clear, dark sky above, the roiling gray below. Hilltops broke through here and there, stippled with houses, but these were the only signs of any kind of life below them, any other humans in the universe.
—
In the hospital, Emma scrolled through the rest of her texts:
Lexie Carlton: omfg em r u ok I cant beleive this happened!!
Jonas Everett: Emma just want u to know Im here for u whatever u need. Sorry this sux so hard.
Dave Chu: Emma, I’m sorry abt what happened. Are you having more surgeries? My mom says Get well soon and We’re thinking abt you.
Kai Alder-Judge: Emma Fleed. This truly blows I am so sorry. Stay strong and keep a Positive Outlook. Remember its the struggles in life that help us grow. Peace and Love.
Annalynne Schmidt: Luv u to the moon and back, lets do something soooon!
Alessandra Ryding: Miss ur beautiful face girly. <3 See u soon.
Nick Brickston: Yo ima try to get there to see u asap. hang in there girl.
Ryan Harbinger: Dear Emma, Get Well Soon. My parents said we should all come visit you so maybe thatll happen, lol well see. Anyways hope you feel better soon.
Steph Malcolm-Swann: Luv u hope u r doing better. I cant wait to visit u babe!!!!
Abigail Cress: I texted your mom and she said u r ok. I’m glad.
Abigail Cress: It’s not that I’m not thinking of u. Believe me I am.
Abigail Cress: I know I should come. I will when I can. I still <3 u Em, promise.
So many declarations, so many promises. Yet she’d been in the hospital for a week and seen no one but her parents and Elisabeth Avarine. It made no sense. If her friends loved her, where were they? If they wanted to see her, why didn’t they? Emma knew that she was missing a piece of the puzzle—something must have happened that was keeping them away.
On her phone she clicked the Instagram app. She saw that she was tagged in sixteen photos. Dread settled in her chest—there were too many hours she couldn’t remember. She was scared to see the pictures, but it was more dangerous not to know.
She clicked on the first—it filled the phone’s small screen—and exhaled when she saw it was harmless, a crowd scene, Emma barely visible in a cluster of junior girls. Next there was a selfie with Abigail: they posed with eyes wide, cheeks sucked in to sharpen cheekbones, lips glossed pink and pursed.
The photos that followed told the story of the night: Emma posed on Elisabeth Avarine’s glass coffee table. Mid-swing, her hair strung over her face, and bra straps dangled down both arms; her tiered chiffon skirt swung up to flash a strip of muscled thigh. In another, she bent forward to reveal a dip of cleavage, a black push-up bra, a dark slice of nipple. In the third, she sprawled across a white couch, eyes closed, head cocked on her shoulder, legs dropped open to reveal a pink vee of underwear under her skirt. On Facebook more photos were posted—the same poses shot from different angles, by different kids—and beneath them were strings of comments from people she called friends, the same kids who had texted her afterward, professing love and promising to save her from her solitude. Then there was the blog post that popped up when she Googled her name, and Twitter posts from people she had never even met:
http://www.onemarinviewblog.com
Marin County Teenager Injured After Night of Hard Partying Recorded on Social Media
posted by admin
5/27/2013
A Marin County teen is in the hospital today after a drunken car crash near downtown Mill Valley early Sunday morning. The girl, 16-year-old Emma Fleed, will have to cope not only with the serious injuries she has suffered, but also with the nightmare that has been raging online ever since the news of the crash got out. Facebook and Instagram posts from the party that preceded the crash are all over the Internet, and they are disturbing. But they do give us a glimpse into the reality of teenage life in Marin today:
Nick Brickston: Everybody in mv get to elisabeth avarine’s shes throwing down
Ryan Harbinger: yee
Emma Fleed: yeah its bout to be fat