“Thanks,” I told her. “I’ll be up front with Detective Davies. I don’t care if she knows that Gabriel and I were steaming up the windows of his car.” My friends “oohed” at me like we were in middle school and I said something naughty.
I turned to Anna, tired of talking about myself. “So, how’d it go with Jenny?”
She blushed. “Good.”
“Oh no, you don’t get away with just ‘good.’ I want details.” I plopped onto my bed. “Spill.”
The three of them joined me, and soon we were talking about things I never talked to another girl about. Even if Magda was alive, I couldn’t tell her about me and her brother—it would just be weird.
I let myself tell secrets. I laughed when I was supposed to and offered sympathy when it was needed. I told Anna how pretty she was, and Caitlin that she was smarter than she gave herself credit. And I told Zoe that it was okay that she wanted to go away to college, even though it meant leaving her family behind. And for the rest of that afternoon, I felt like a normal girl.
And then the cops arrived.
CHAPTER 20
Detective Davies wore jeans, a button-down shirt, boots and a black leather jacket. She looked tough and gorgeous at the same time. It was weird, because seeing her made me anxious, but she had a strange calming effect on me, as well. I felt like I could trust her, but I didn’t want to disappoint her.
And if she knew the truth about me, she’d be disappointed. I was disappointed.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked with a smile, her gaze settling on the three girls standing behind me.
“Nope,” Zoe said. “We were just leaving. See you on Thursday, Detective.”
The girls filed out, leaving me to face my interrogator. It was then that my mother appeared. I’d always thought Mom was weak, because of how she was with my father. But when she saw Detective Davies her spine stiffened, and a look came over her face that could only be described as protective. Physically my mother wouldn’t stand a chance against Diane Davies, but I wouldn’t bet against her in a battle of wills.
“Hello.” Mom stepped forward, offering her hand. “I’m Michelle White, Hadley’s mother. And you are?”
Detective Davies shook her hand and introduced herself. “I’m sure you heard about the incident at the gravel pit last night. I’ve been talking to many of the kids who were there about the alleged attack on a young man who was at the party.”
Mom pulled her hand back and clasped it in front of her. “You mean that Weeks boy. It sounds as though he got a little of his own.”
The detective and I arched an eyebrow at exactly the same time. I’d never heard my mother use that kind of tone, and had always thought she blamed Magda for what happened to her. She’d practically said as much.
“Well,” Detective Davies began, “given Hadley’s relationship with Magda Torres and what happened to her, I can certainly understand why you would feel that way.”
Mom smiled faintly. “That was very diplomatic. Was the boy seriously hurt?”
“Some bruises and a cut.” A cut? I’d curved a fucking V into his forehead. That wasn’t just a cut.
My mother nodded. “That doesn’t sound serious enough to warrant all this police attention. If it had been another boy with whom he’d gotten into a fight, would you be here right now?”
Detective Davies smiled, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “Probably not. The fact that it was a girl—a girl who had already assaulted two of his friends—has made this particular incident more than just a fight.”
“The fact that his father hopes to become mayor has nothing to do with it?”
Adam Weeks’s father wanted to be mayor? How could I have not known that? God, I really was self-absorbed.
“Oh, I’m sure that it does. I’m told that Hadley was at the party, and I would just like to ask her if she heard or saw anything.”
“Are you going to ask me to lift my shirt?” I asked. Mom’s attitude was contagious. I felt bold and in charge.
The smile changed into something a bit more genuine. She even laughed a little as she shook her head. “No, I am not. I assume that you have a bandage on either your right or left side?”
“Right.”
My mother glanced at me. “Hadley, what is she talking about?”
I looked at her. “Adam Weeks said he stabbed the Pink Vigilante when she attacked him.” I hoped she’d just fill in the rest herself. I couldn’t very well say in front of the cop that the girls were willingly obstructing justice. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to lie and say that I was just following the crowd, when I was the one actually being followed by the crowd.
Mom grimaced. “He stabs a girl and is still treated like a victim.” She shook her head. “If this wasn’t your senior year, I’d move so you didn’t have to go to that school any longer. Come in, Detective Davies. Would you like anything to drink?”
“Just water, thank you.”
“Hadley, show the detective to the living room. I’ll be right there.” Underneath that polite remark was the unspoken command that I was to keep my mouth shut until Mom joined us.
I gave the detective an apologetic smile as we walked to the living room. “She’s not normally like that.”
“She’s exactly as she should be. Don’t apologize, I’ve seen worse. Much worse. It’s amazing how some women distort and defile the title of motherhood.”
I didn’t want to know. Over the last year I’d vilified men because of the ones who hurt my friend. I was just starting to realize that there were some good ones out there. I didn’t need to hear about the rotten women.
Detective Davies sat in an armchair, while I sat on the sofa. Mom came in a few minutes later.
“Thank you,” Detective Davies said taking the glass of water. “I won’t keep the two of you long.”
My mother sat beside me, her hands over her knees as she perched on the edge of the cushion. It was almost as if she was putting herself between me and the detective.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
She had a notebook in her hand and a pen in the other. “What time did you get to the party?”
“Around nine. We met up with Anna, Zoe and her boyfriend in the parking lot and walked down together.”
She smiled at me. “I’m glad you’ve become such good friends with those girls.”
She was being honest, I could tell. All these months since Magda’s death I thought I’d been so tough and stoic. I realized at that moment that I hadn’t been fooling anyone. In fact, it seemed like everyone around me knew what was going on inside me better than I did.
“Yeah, so am I. Anyway, when we got to the fire, Caitlin and Rick were already there. We hung out with them the whole time.”
She scribbled in the notebook and then looked up. “When you say ‘we,’ you mean yourself and...?”
Heat crept into my face from my neck. “Gabe. Gabriel Torres. I went to the party with him.” God, I hope she didn’t want to question him too, but she probably would.
My mother turned her head toward me—I could see her out of the corner of my eye. “Are you and Gabe dating?” she asked.
I nodded, forcing myself to look at her. “We are.”
Mom smiled. There was a lot of relief in that expression. “He’s always been such a nice boy.”
I smiled too. “Yeah, he is.”
“Did you see Adam Weeks arrive?” Detective Davies asked.
“Yes. I always notice when he and his friends show up.” There was no harm in admitting that. In fact, it would be weirder if I didn’t.
“Were you still at the party when he was attacked?”
Fuck. Okay, so making out with Gabe was a great alibi before I knew my mother would have to hear it. “We weren’t at the fire.”
“You’d gone for a walk?”
I nodded. “Actually, Gabe and I walked back to his car. We left shortly after and went back to his place. That was probably right around midnight.” I’d attacked Adam shortly after twelve, so I wanted to give both Gabe and I a reasonable alibi, but keep the timing close enough in case anyone saw us.
“Was there anyone else at his house when you got there?”
I’d be offended that she was asking if anyone could back me up if I wasn’t already up to my eyeballs in lies. “No. His mother and sister are out of town. That’s why we went back to his place.”
“Oh,” my mother said. And then something really weird happened. I watched in horror as a tear trickled down my mother’s cheek.
“Mom, I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” God, this was awful.
Mom shook her head and wiped at her cheek. “It’s not that. You could never disappoint me. After what happened to Magda, I was worried that you would never be able to trust anyone enough to have that kind of relationship.”
Wow. I’d really had my head up my ass these last few months. I’d been so caught up in my own grief and anger that I simply hadn’t realized what watching me grieve had done to my mother.
I turned back to Detective Davies. “Zoe texted me after Adam was attacked and asked where I was. We were already on our way back to Gabe’s.”
She closed her notebook. “All right then. I guess we’re done.” She rose to her feet. “Thank you both for your time, and the water.”
Water she hadn’t even tasted. I wondered if cops just did that to put people at ease, because even on TV they never seemed to drink anything they were given when they came to somebody’s house.
Mom and I walked her out.
“I may be in touch again if I have any further questions.” She gave me her business card. “I know you already have my cell phone number, but just in case.”
“Thanks.” Our gazes met and locked. For a moment I felt like she could see right into my soul, like she knew every last secret in there and was disappointed. She smiled and said goodbye to my mother.
Mom shut the door behind her and leaned against it with a sigh before turning her attention to me. “Well, I’ll make a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow, so you can discuss birth control options. I’m going to assume a boy his age knows about condoms and uses them?”
I nodded. My face felt like it was on fire. I could break a man’s nose. I could carve a V into his forehead, but talking to my mother about sex made me squirm.
“Good. Do you have any questions?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She hesitated, and then said, “He is a nice boy, right? He’s good to you?”
Something broke inside me. I think it might have been my heart. I hated that she felt like she had to ask me that.
“Yeah. He’s great.”
Mom nodded. “Good. You need some kindness in your life.” She put her arms around me. “But next time, you use me as your alibi, sweetie.”
I hugged her back. “There won’t be a next time, Mom.”
But there would be, and we both knew it.
* * *
Someone organized an after-school program to discuss vigilante justice and how it harmed society. Someone else had hung a poster about a support group for guys who had been the victims of violent crime. Another advertised a group that wanted to discuss the “ramifications of committing violent crimes on the feminine psyche” and how we’re “losing our womanly identity” by defying our stronger male counterparts. Someone had drawn a huge pink V on that one—which made me smile.
And then, on pink paper, pinned to the bulletin board was a poster for a group of girls who had been the victims of sexual assault, sexual bullying, or harassment. Take Back What’s Ours, it read. It was meeting Wednesday after school. You had to call the phone number to get the location, which I thought was smart—and sad. It was too bad that girls had to be concerned about guys, or even other girls, coming to the meeting just to make trouble, or intimidate them. I took a photo of the poster in case I wanted to attend. I might not have been sexually assaulted, but I’d certainly been affected by it.
And maybe I could talk a few of the girls into joining the self-defense class.
There’d been a big change over the weekend. My jaw almost dropped open as I walked down the corridor and saw all the girls with pink shirts, pink skirts and jeans—even pink hair. They had Vs on their books and bags and on their shirts. Of course, it wasn’t everyone. And yeah, there were people—both guys and girls—who made comments about it, but instead of slinking away, the girls being sneered at gave their critics the finger—literally.
And despite the principal’s crackdown on vandalism, someone had left a big pink V on Adam’s locker. It looked like it had been painted on.
This was surreal. I’d worried about bad things happening because of what I’d done—negative consequences—but I’d never dreamed that anything like this would happen. Sure, I’d hoped some girls might find a little empowerment, but this was crazy. More than I could have ever imagined, or deserved.
Adam wasn’t at school, of course. He was probably already at some swank plastic surgery clinic getting his face fixed. God, I wished I didn’t feel so bad about cutting him. Really.
Someone grabbed my shoulder. I whipped around, fists up.
“Whoa, tiger!”
I relaxed. It was Zoe. God, I was such an idiot. “Sorry. Tense.”
“Did everything go okay with Detective D?”
“Yeah, fine. Hey, thanks.”
She knew what I was thanking her for. Her plan hadn’t been terribly smart, but getting a bunch of girls to cut themselves so the Vigilante—me—wouldn’t get caught was brilliant. “This should brighten your day, check it.” She handed me her phone.
On the screen was a webpage. It was for the group Faceless—they were like Anonymous, only they dealt mostly with issues that affected high school or college age people. When I saw the photo, I couldn’t believe it. It was Adam. He had blood running down his face from his forehead and his nose. The mark I’d left on him was clearly visible, but that wasn’t what was amazing, nor was it the fact that someone at the party had to have taken the picture. What was incredible was the headline:
RAPISTS OUTED. IT’S TIME FOR JUSTICE FOR MAGDA TORRES.
Underneath Adam’s photo were the ones I’d posted of Brody and Jason with their own phones. And beneath those, their names were printed in bold font. There was an article as well, publicly outing the three of them, and Drew Carson, as Magda’s rapists. It detailed what the four of them had done to her—enough to be enraging, but not enough to demean my friend. Faceless called for justice, saying that the rapists’ identities had been protected by a corrupt system funded by their families’ money. They demanded that something be done.
The article had almost ten thousand comments attached to it. And a link to a video that had already had over a million views. It was basically the same as the article, but it featured some photos Drew had posted—and part of the video they’d made of that terrible night. It was all presented with a digitized voice-over demanding justice for Magda.
I pressed my hand to my mouth as tears burned my eyes and scalded my cheeks. Finally, people would know what happened to Magda, and they would know who did it. She wasn’t just another victim.
Zoe hugged me as I cried. And afterward, she helped me fix my makeup in the bathroom before the bell for homeroom. As we walked out, I spied Drew on his way to class. He was alone. I don’t think I’d ever seen him by himself—there were always little groupies gathered around him. Most people would feel that isolation. They’d shrink back, knowing they’d been ostracized, but Drew was a narcissist, and a psychopath, and his reality was as warped as he was. He still had that sneer on his face, along wi
th that “I’m better than you” walk. He still thought he was untouchable, even after being outed to the entire world.
“What do you have planned for him?” Zoe asked, her voice low so no one else could hear.
“I don’t know,” I replied. And I honestly didn’t. He would never admit that what he’d done had been wrong. There was probably no way to make him sorry.
But I was going to try.
CHAPTER 21
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in a while.” I looked down at Magda’s headstone. “Things have been crazy, but that’s no excuse. I hope you don’t feel left out.”
It was chilly. Two weeks into October, and it was starting to feel like fall. Brilliant red and orange leaves drifted from the trees above the spot where the box that held what was left of my best friend was buried. I knew there was nothing of Magda in that box—not the parts that mattered—but I came to this place because it was concrete. There was a stone with her name on it, and flowers, but nothing of her. I could have this conversation sitting in my room, but that felt too much like praying, and I had a lot to say.
“Zoe is becoming a really good friend—more than I deserve. You’d like her, I think. And Gabe... Mags, I really like him. Like, I think I love him. I hope you’re okay with that. You probably knew I had a thing for him, anyway. You always knew things I thought I’d hidden. I miss that, you know. You always knew when I was upset, and how to pull my head out of my ass.”
Speaking of asses...
“My dad’s gone. Mom kicked him out. Can you believe it? I couldn’t. It’s weird. It’s like she’s changed overnight. She’s gone from this dishrag to a mom more like yours. I don’t know why she let him keep her down for so many years, or why she decided that now would be a good time to change that, but I think maybe I had something to do with it.” I paused. Should I keep ignoring the real reason I was there? Or should I just go for it? It wasn’t like she could answer me.