Jenny’s wrong about Dean Hunt. He doesn’t think she’s lying. And he doesn’t think she’s nuts.
He thinks she was too drunk to remember where she was.
So what else does Jenny . . . misremember?
The Residence Inn where the Jameses are staying is walking distance from campus, but the drive over seems to take forever. Haley and Jenny sit in the backseat of a superclean car as Mr. James drives.
“Rental car smell,” Haley murmurs to Jenny. It’s nothing like Haley’s mom’s station wagon. Typically strewn with half--full Gatorade bottles, outgrown shin guards, random socks, and discarded protein bar wrappers, the Doughertys’ car is a rolling Dumpster in comparison.
Jenny doesn’t respond to Haley’s attempt to coax a smile out of her. Instead, Jenny buckles her seat belt and stares out the window. Mr. Talbot follows in his car.
Mr. James doesn’t waste any time. “You were going to tell us why you changed rooms,” he begins.
“Dan, can we wait until we get back to the hotel?” Mrs. James implores. She glances at her daughter who, unspeaking, aims her tear--streaked face at the buildings whishing past. Mr. James ignores his wife.
“Why do I get the impression there’s some conspiracy of silence here?” he persists. “We show up this morning, and not only are you nowhere to be found, but Haley’s shocked to see us. We find you living in this . . . fleabag on the outskirts of campus, no explanation. What’s going on?”
Jenny continues to stare out the window.
“Have you girls had a fight?” he presses.
Jenny makes this sound, like a short laugh. “No, Dad. We’re getting along just fine,” she says to the window glass.
“You know, it’s bad enough the college tells us nothing, but for god’s sake, Jen, we’re your parents! We’re on your side!” he says. It’s as if he can’t make himself stop.
They slow for a red light. How bad would it be to jump out here? Haley does a quick risk assessment, calculates the odds of successfully dodging traffic and making it to the sidewalk without injury. Her chances aren’t good, but faced with being trapped in this box with the Jameses . . .
The light turns green. Haley makes a different decision.
“Want me to tell them?” Her voice is low, intended only for the backseat.
Jenny’s head swivels forward. Her furious eyes meet her father’s in the rearview mirror.
“He’s stalking me,” she says. “He ignored the protection order, came into our dorm, and wrote on our door. He’s also cyber--harassing me. It’s all over campus. I’m notorious. That’s why I changed rooms. I don’t want him to know where I am.”
Jenny’s parents don’t react. Both stare in shocked silence at the oncoming traffic.
“So guess what, Dad?” Jenny continues. Her voice is loud in the closed car. “You were right. As usual. And I was wrong. As usual. Guess I should have gone to the cops. He’d have been hauled off campus in cuffs by now. But stupid me! I wanted to protect my privacy and handle this quietly. Instead, I’m the campus skank. Hiding in some random group house and wondering, every time I walk through the dining hall, which of my wonderful classmates just posted cruel, obscene lies about me on the Internet!”
Mr. James almost misses the entrance to the inn.
“What are you talking about?” he demands. “Internet?”
“Enough! Both of you,” Mrs. James says. She whirls on her husband. “Not here, okay? We will talk when we get out of the car and back to the room.”
Something in her tone finally convinces him to shut up. He closes his mouth in a tight line.
In their room, Jenny heads straight for the bathroom and clicks the lock. It’s one of those places with a living area and kitchen as soon as you enter, the bedroom and bathroom in back. Mr. James throws himself into one of the living room armchairs; Mrs. James follows Jenny. They can hear her talking to her daughter through the closed door. Mr. Talbot, who’d followed them into the room, drops his briefcase on the breakfast bar and loosens his tie. He sits on the couch.
Haley isn’t sure where to go.
“Will you tell us what’s going on?” Mr. James asks Haley.
“Do you want to know about the stalking? Or what happened with the investigator?” She’s not trying to be a smart--ass, but realizes it might sound that way. “Sorry, I—”
“Stalking?” Mr. Talbot’s eyes grow wide.
Mr. James throws up his hands. “What can I tell you, Bob? It just gets better and better.”
The lawyer turns to Haley. “Just . . . start at the beginning.”
At some point during her description of The Board, Mr. Talbot takes out his phone and attempts to download the app. He wants to read the posts.
“It may not work,” Haley warns him. “The company might have put up the fence by now.”
“Fence?” he asks.
“Virtual fence,” she explains. “MacCallum was going to report the bullying and ask the company to block the app within a certain radius of the campus. Like a fence.”
“Is it that bad?” Mrs. James asks. At some point in the conversation she must have abandoned her post outside the bathroom door.