Vigilante
Vigilante
Kady Cross
A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands.It's senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend's attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.Donning a pink ski mask and fuelled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley's revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can't turn back from?
A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands
It’s senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend’s attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.
Donning a pink ski mask and fueled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley’s revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can’t turn back from?
Vigilante
Kady Cross
KADY CROSS, publishing under various names, is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty books, including Harlequin’s Steampunk Chronicles and the Sisters of Blood and Spirit duology. She is lucky enough to have a husband who shares her love for the slightly twisted and all things geek. Visit her on the web at www.alterkate.com (http://www.alterkate.com) or on Twitter, @alterkates (https://twitter.com/alterkates).
This book is dedicated to all the girls who have survived. You are strength incarnate, and I hope you continue to heal, grow and thrive.
Also, this book is for Amy Lukavics and Gena Showalter, my signing sisters. Love and miss you both so much! I will always treasure that drive from Houston to Austin where our friendship took root. The two of you are shining examples of light, beauty and strength, and I’m honored to call you my friends.
And for Steve, because they’re all for you, babe.
Contents
Cover (#u13042cff-2eb6-50d8-bf1c-bd3679227167)
Back Cover Text (#u30ca2cc3-e3ea-5519-8ddd-61125f6e0bcb)
Title Page (#u6765286a-6fb0-5364-8401-e93a8576241b)
About the Author (#u410db1b9-ec2a-5b9f-9cda-74db87b0c243)
Dedication (#ud04d1cc3-428e-590e-8372-69d2edbd8c11)
CHAPTER 1 (#ua0e655df-d34a-552e-927c-b510f5593740)
CHAPTER 2 (#u346e5925-5b15-5a99-a94f-e00f0e8393b8)
CHAPTER 3 (#uafafcabd-283b-58e2-9467-c7ad18c36008)
CHAPTER 4 (#ude8a7eb7-392e-569a-876a-3511d3753937)
CHAPTER 5 (#u9ad81c92-c76c-5fea-a016-616423a1b1d9)
CHAPTER 6 (#ude4f5cd1-c63b-5686-aa70-68bd93d76378)
CHAPTER 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 1 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Before
Someone had written slut on Magda’s locker again. I watched her try to scrape it off with the zipper of her makeup bag.
Last time she’d cried, but there weren’t any tears in her dark eyes this time, and instead of being flushed, her cheeks were actually pale. They were getting to her, I realized. Wearing her down.
I pulled a Sharpie from my bag, walked up beside her and changed the u to an a and added an e at the end.
“Slate?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, my mind frantically reaching for an explanation that might please her. “As in clean.”
Her face darkened. “I’m not the one who got a clean slate. They did.” But she didn’t go back to scraping.
I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right lately. I hadn’t since the night my best friend was raped and images of it uploaded to the internet. Besides me, and Magda’s family, no one really seemed to believe she’d been raped at all. In fact, the boys who did it said she’d wanted to have sex with all four of them, and the entire school believed them, even though Magda hadn’t so much as gone out on a date with a guy before that night. It was easier to believe a teenage girl would want her first time to be with multiple partners than it was to believe four popular boys were capable of rape.
I looked at my friend; her expression was blank. The fact that Magda didn’t look too upset was good, right? At least, I thought it was. I’d never say anything to her, but I’d been starting to get impatient with her. I knew what happened to her had been terrible—but they hadn’t hurt her so badly that she hadn’t healed properly. She’d survived what they’d done. No, it wasn’t fair that they got to walk around free while people called her a slut, but when was she going to start defending herself? I kept waiting for her to get mad—maybe punch somebody. Tell them off. But she didn’t—she just took what they said and tucked it away inside herself. She hardly smiled anymore, and I was so tired of it. I just wanted my friend back—and I had no idea how to make that happen.
We walked home together, like we always did. It was a gorgeous spring day—sunny and warm. A block from Magda’s house, a car pulled up beside us. In it were three boys from the senior class.
“Hey, Magda,” one said, leaning out the passenger window. “We’re having a party this weekend. Want to come? We need entertainment.”
Her face turned scarlet, but she didn’t say anything. Why didn’t she tell them off?
“Fuck off,” I said to them, putting myself between her and them. “Just fuck off.”
He grinned at me. “You can come too, baby. No need to get jealous. There’s enough of us to go around.”
I had a can of grape soda in my hand, and before I could think about it, I’d dumped what was left over his stupid head. It ran down his surprised face in purple rivers, staining his white shirt. His friends stared at me, mouths hanging open.
“You stupid bitch!” he cried. He started to open his door, but I kicked it shut, and held it like that with the strength of my leg. I didn’t know what I was going to do if the other two decided to get involved.
“Cops!” the one in the back shouted. I turned my head and saw the cruiser approaching. The car took off so fast I fell on my ass. Shit. It hurt.
By the time the police car pulled up, Magda had already helped me to my feet. I recognized the woman behind the wheel as Diane Davies. She’d worked Magda’s case before it became a joke.
“You girls okay?” she asked, but she was looking at Magda.
“Yeah,” my friend said. “We’re fine, Detective Davies. Thanks.”
The cop didn’t look like she believed us. “You want a lift home?”
Magda shook her head.
“Okay, then. Be careful.” She didn’t look happy about leaving us, but short of forcing Magda into the car, what could she do?
We watched her drive away before we started walking again.
“You don’t always have to defend me.” Magda sounded pissed. “They would have driven away. You didn’t need to start a fight.”
“Yes, I did. Those pricks deserved it. You shouldn’t have to keep paying for a stupid mistake.”
Magda stopped suddenly, under the shade of a huge tree. “What mistake?”
I stared at her. Was she medicated? “Going off with Drew Carson at that party.”
“You’ve never gone off with a guy before?”
She knew I had. “You know what I mean. You just picked the wrong guy.”
“Was I supposed to know that?” Her voice had gotten louder, and her eyes were wide as she looked at me. “And I didn’t pick him, he picked me, but that doesn’t matter, because I thought he liked me. I never thought his friends would be waiting for us. I never wanted that, Hadley. And that wasn’t my fault!”
“Calm down.” I’d never seen her like this before. “I didn’t mean it was your fault.”
“Yeah, you did. Just like everyone else in this shit-hole town. I haven’t heard anyone ask Drew, Brody, Jason or Adam why they raped me, but everyone has questions for me. Why did you wear that skirt? Why did you go with Drew? Why didn’t you scream louder? What did you expect to happen? Here’s a question for you, Had—why don’t you just fuck off?”
She ran away from me then, leaving me standing on the sidewalk like an asshole, staring after her in openmouthed shock. What the hell? I hadn’t meant to upset her. I was on her side for crying out loud!
I continued walking home. I could have gone to her house, but I didn’t want to fight, and she needed time to cool off. And so did I. After all I’d done, all the times I’d defended her, this was what I got in return? If she thought I appreciated being lumped in with the rest of the people who blamed her, she was stupid and wrong. I’d believed her when no one else would.
Yes, it had been stupid of her to go off with Drew. Most of us knew he was a dog, but he and his friends had never done anything like that before. They were all from fairly decent families, and were good-looking. They didn’t need to rape in order to get sex. But Magda wouldn’t lie. I’d seen her afterward, and I knew something horrible had happened. I wished I had been able to stop it.
My parents weren’t home when I got there. Mom was still at work, and Dad was away on business. I heard them fight once in a while. They didn’t know I knew, but our house wasn’t that big.
I did my homework and helped Mom with dinner when she came home. Then I walked over to Magda’s to apologize and talk. Her older brother Gabriel answered the door. He smiled when he saw me, and my heart did this little flip in my chest. When had he gotten so hot? Those dark eyes of his and long dark hair killed me—made me feel like I couldn’t think straight.
“Hi, Had. Mags is in her room. She’s been listening to some sad-bastard music. Maybe you can cheer her up.”
I smiled, my insides still dancing around like lunatics. “I’ll try.”
His gaze narrowed. “Everything okay with you two?”
“We had a bit of a fight earlier. I said something stupid.” I looked him in the eye. “Sometimes I don’t know the right thing to say to her.”
He nodded, his expression somber. “None of us do.” Then he hugged me, and I let myself enjoy it a little longer than I should.
When I knocked on Magda’s door, she didn’t say anything. She probably couldn’t hear me over the music. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. She was going to scream when she saw me—she scared so freaking easy.
She was on her bed. For a moment, I thought she was sleeping—and then I saw the pill bottle, and I realized she wasn’t breathing.
CHAPTER 2 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Magda and I were supposed to go into senior year together, but on the first day of school, I was alone and Mags was dead.
I arrived ten minutes before the bell for homeroom. It was a nice day, warm and sunny, and there were kids all over the front lawn of Carter High School. A year ago, Magda and I had been among them, excited to be back, but dreading the daily grind.
I walked up the concrete path to the main doors and walked inside. The halls teemed with kids—tall, short, fat, skinny, nervous or bored. There was every hair and skin color imaginable represented. I saw a girl with pink hair, a guy with a mohawk and a kid with a septum piercing clustered together, talking animatedly by a classroom. The three of them would probably get hassled at some point during that day. Would anyone stand up for them?
No one had stood up for Magda. No one but Magda’s brother Gabriel and me. I hadn’t always been the friend I should have been to her. I hadn’t understood what she was going through. I had to live with that—and without my best friend.
There was a shadow box on the wall by the principal’s office that had photos of kids who had been killed during the school year. They’d started it back in the eighties. There were a lot of pictures in it. Magda’s wasn’t there. They justified her exclusion by calling it a suicide. But Magda’s life had been over months before she took those pills. She’d been murdered, and her killers had been allowed to walk free. Their names were even protected by the press because they were underage. We were all going to be under the same roof that day, the four of them and me. It seemed more ominous after a summer of missing Magda, like her absence had intensified the gravity of what they’d done.
I looked for them as I roamed the halls, but I didn’t see them. They traveled as a pack, usually followed by sycophants and foolish girls who believed that cute boys couldn’t possibly be monsters. I hoped none of those girls discovered how wrong they were.
Gabriel had graduated last year, and would be starting classes at a local college in a couple of days. I missed having him with me. After Magda died, the two of us had become each other’s support—it was the only way we could get through the day at school. We kept each other from falling apart, and when the charges against Magda’s rapists were dropped, we raged and cried together.
“Hadley?”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing beside a row of lockers was Zoe Kotler, who I’d known since first grade. We weren’t close friends, but we’d hung out a bit over the years. I remember she cried at Magda’s funeral, something I hadn’t been able to do.
“Hey, Zoe.” A guy wearing a huge backpack practically hip checked me into the wall.
“Watch it,” I snarled.
He shot me a dirty look. “Fuck you.”
There were meaner things he could’ve said. By the time you get to senior year the F word has lost much of its gravity and ability to offend. It’s almost a regular part of the lexicon of teenage language, like texting, or soda.
I watched him walk away. Normally I would’ve had a good comeback, but I couldn’t summon one. What I wanted to do was kick him in the back of his stupid head. I could do it.
Zoe scowled after him. “Douche,” she said to his retreating back.
I shrugged. “The school’s full of them.”
She laughed. “You’ve got that right.” When I met her gaze, I saw concern and wariness in her brown eyes, like I was a wounded animal she wanted to pet but was afraid would take her hand off if she did.
“I know this might sound weird, but a few of us have started a petition.” She pulled a stapled stack of paper from her binder and handed it to me. I looked at the pages; the petition was to have Magda’s picture added to the shadow box.
I stared at all the signatures. There had to be at least forty there already.
“It’s not fair that she’s not there,” Zoe said. “Three other people whose pictures are there died the same way.”
I looked at her, tempted to ask if those people had been raped, but I knew that wasn’t what she meant. She meant they’d killed themselves. “Do you have a pen?” I asked.
She smiled and handed me the pen she had clipped to her binder. I signed my name.
“I miss her, you know?”
I handed the petition and pen back to her. I wanted to tell her that she knew nothing. That she was a stupid cow who had no idea what it was like to lose your best friend, someone you knew so well they felt like a part of you. Wanted to tell her she should be glad that she had never seen someone she loved suffer like Magda had. I wanted to tell her that I hoped she never walked into a friend’s room and found them on their bed after they’d taken a handful of sleeping pills—enough to kill them, but not enough to do it quickly.
I remembered holding Magda in my arms, screaming for help. My brain latched on to that memory of her, so pale and unresponsive, and rolled it around in my head until my lungs felt as though they were being squeezed by a giant hand, each breath more strangled and difficult than the last.
Mostly, I hoped Zoe never knew what it was like to feel responsible, to know that the last thing you’d said to your best friend had broken her heart and her spirit. I’d let Magda feel alone, and she’d killed herself.
“Yeah,” I rasped. “I know. I have to go.” I pivoted on my heel and walked away as fast as I could without running. I dived into the nearest girls’ bathroom and ducked into a stall. I closed the door and locked it before pressing my forehead against the cool metal.
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth until the panic faded. My mother thought I had PTSD. Maybe I did, but calling it that felt like I was trying to excuse my grief. It felt like a lie. Because what I had was not a disorder, but a sadness that ran so deep I could feel it in my bones. Sometimes I felt like Magda had taken my own life with hers that day.
I tried to push thoughts of her away. My parents and my therapist had been concerned about how returning to school would affect me. I thought they were the crazy ones, but it seemed they understood me better than I did. I should have taken a Xanax before I left the house. At least that would have taken the edge off.
* * *
The bell rang. I made my way to the auditorium with the rest of the throng. Magda and I always sat as far back as we could. I couldn’t bring myself to climb the stairs to the back of the room, so I sat four rows back from the front. The seat to my right remained empty as the auditorium filled up. I could almost pretend my friend was there beside me.
They divided freshmen into their classes first, calling out names and then telling them where their classroom was located. Next was the sophomores, then the juniors and finally the seniors.
I sat there, numb and disinterested, until four familiar names were called: Jason Bentley, Drew Carson, Brody Henry and Adam Weeks. People actually cheered them. Those raised voices set my teeth on edge. Then, the universe decided to be cruel.
“Hadley White.”
No one cheered for me or applauded. I doubted many of them even knew who I was. It didn’t make me feel any better, though. Because I had been Magda’s best friend, and those four boys had destroyed her. They should know who I was, but they didn’t. I could probably walk right up to all four of them and spit in their faces, and they would have no idea why I had done it.
My name was the last one called for that class. I stood up with the others and filed out of the auditorium. Like all the other sheep, I followed the four of them to our homeroom class. I was the only one who didn’t seem to want their attention.
I was probably also the only one who wanted to kill them all.
Last Year
“I don’t understand what you see in him,” I said as Magda and I walked to our lockers. It was only the second week of school, and she couldn’t stop staring at Drew Carson. “He creeps me out.”
She frowned at me. She looked like an angry deer, her dark eyes were so big. “I think he’s cute. He grinned at me in class this morning.”
“That’s not a grin, it’s a leer.” We stopped at my locker, and I turned the dial on the combination lock. “Seriously, I’ve heard stories about him, Mags. He’s not a good guy.”
“Take a pill. It’s not like I want to marry him.” Her eyes sparkled now. “I just want to see if he’s as good a kisser as I think he is.”
I grimaced. Gross. There was only one way to stop this conversation. “You know who I think would be a great kisser?”
She leaned forward, eagerly, as though I was about to tell her the secrets of the universe. “Who?”
“Your brother.”
“Ugh!” She looked like she’d bit into something rotten. “Don’t even go there!”
I laughed as I grabbed my books. “But he’s so pretty, and his lips look like they’d be really soft, y’know? But firm.” I’d never admit that I wasn’t joking with her. My crush on Gabriel was my little secret.
“Stop it! Okay, fine, you win. Let’s talk about something else. Are you still sleeping over Saturday night?”
“Sure.” I shut the locker door and we walked the short distance to hers. “Are you going to cancel on me if you get a better offer? ’Cause I can always just hang out with Gabe if you have other plans.”
She rolled her wide, dark eyes. She was so pretty. “Please. Like I’d ever choose a guy over my best friend.”
I grinned. “Nothing will ever come between us. Ever.”
I was wrong.
* * *
I had only one class that none of them were in. AP English literature and composition would be my refuge. I was tempted to see if I could transfer out of some of the other classes, but then someone might want to know why.
If Mags hadn’t died, she would be right there with me. She’d spent months in the same classroom with those assholes after they hurt and humiliated her. She suffered through it until she couldn’t anymore. Changing classes would seem like an insult to her memory. Besides, there was part of me that liked sitting a few seats behind Drew Carson, staring at his back as rage bubbled inside me. Maybe it was the fact that I felt something that made me like it, or maybe I was just broken.
Jason Bentley sat next to me. I started to shake so bad I could barely hold my pen. I picked up my stuff and moved two rows over. There was no way I could spend the rest of the year next to him.
After my last class I went to my locker, gathered up what I needed and left. How was I going to do this for the next eight months? One day had felt like a year.
Halfway home I heard someone shout, “Hey!” behind me. When they did it again, I realized they were talking to me. I stopped and turned around.
It was Jason.
I wanted to run—away from him and at him. Every instinct I had screamed for me to escape while my heart urged me to pick up a rock and throw it at his face. Instead, I just stood there, unable to tell if it was defiance or stupidity that kept me still.
He approached me with a confused and wary look on his face, sort of like the one Zoe had worn that morning. “Hey,” he said. “You’re Hadley, right?”
I just stared, unable to speak for fear that all that would come out of my mouth was a scream, not of fear, but something primal and filled with rage. God, was I having a heart attack? My chest was so tight.
At one time—before he and his friends ruined my best friend—I’d found him cute. He was smart too, and out of the four he was the only one who ever paid any attention to me. Whenever Magda was around, I was always surprised when a boy looked at me. I wasn’t ugly—in fact I’ve always thought of myself as passably pretty—but Magda was gorgeous, and she’d had no idea just how beautiful she was.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
I continued to stare.
“Why did you move when I sat next to you in class today?”
Did he really have to ask? Yes, apparently he did, because there didn’t seem to be any malice in his tone or expression at all. He truly had no idea why I despised him.
“Magda Torres was my best friend,” I whispered, staring into those blue eyes. Disgust rolled in my stomach, rose in the back of my throat until I thought I might puke. Hate was a vile-tasting thing I wanted to spit onto his expensive sneakers.
Jason’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He took a step backward. “Oh.”
I took a step toward him, unwilling to allow him to escape so quickly. My chest wasn’t so tight now. Instead, it burned with rage. “Is that all you have to say?” I smiled, but it felt more like a twisting of my lips. I mean, he’d followed me all this way. It wasn’t just to ask me why I moved, was it?
What was I doing? He was bigger than me, and even though I’d been taking martial arts ever since I was a kid, I’d never actually fought someone outside the dojo.
He held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“No, and you didn’t get any, did you?” I glared at him, took another step forward. “You didn’t even go to trial. How does it feel to have gotten away with it? Did you and your buddies celebrate when she killed herself?”
Jason looked horrified. Good. He just stared at me, shaking his head.
A car pulled up beside us. Drew Carson was driving, and Brody was in the passenger seat. Adam was in the back. For a second I was terrified that they were going to throw me in the car, take me somewhere secluded, and do to me what they’d done to my friend.
Brody’s window came down. “Dude, we’ve been looking for you. Get in.”
I didn’t look at them. I couldn’t. I was already shaking so badly my teeth chattered. If I looked at them, they’d see my fear. They’d see my rage. And I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
Jason glanced at me before opening the car door and jumping into the backseat. I stared at the ground and heard them laugh as they drove away.
When I finally felt like I could walk without falling down, I didn’t head straight home. My legs shook for most of the walk, but eventually they became strong again and they carried me up the hill to the local cemetery. I didn’t have to look at the headstones to find the one I was looking for. I knew exactly where it was. It was the newer one at the end of the row with so many roses on it. Magda had loved roses. It didn’t matter what color so long as they smelled like they should. Usually I brought her one when I came to visit, but I hadn’t planned on visiting her until Friday.
I set my book bag on the grass left of her headstone and sat right on top of the mound that covered the hole where she’d been buried. I pulled a weed from the base of the heart-shaped stone her mother had erected that simply had her name, her birthday and the date she died engraved upon it.
Usually when I visited, I talked to her and told her what was going on in my life. I would tell her about our favorite TV shows, the books I’d read, local gossip, but today I didn’t feel much like talking. I just wanted to be near her, so I sat there, on the grass, and let the sun warm me.
A little while later, I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. I already knew.
“I thought you weren’t coming until Friday,” he said.
I didn’t look up, but moved a little to the left so he could sit down beside me. We always shared the mound and never made the other sit on the flat grass.
Gabriel and I came here a lot. We never planned to be here at the same time, and sometimes we weren’t, but when we were it was okay. Once you cried on someone, it wasn’t such a big deal if they saw your grief again.
Magda’s older brother was tall and lean with long dark hair and even darker eyes. Like his sister he was gorgeous, and seemed naively unaware of it. He was more cynical, though. Magda had seen good in everybody; Gabe knew it wasn’t true.
“Rough day?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
I’d known Gabriel since I was five years old, so when he put his arm around my shoulders I leaned into him, my cheek resting on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, and for some reason that made me incredibly sad and happy at the same time.
That’s when the tears finally came, because I hadn’t felt happy since before my best friend had her rape smeared across the internet. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be happy now, when I should have been the one to save her, and had failed.
CHAPTER 3 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
I had Aikido class that night, in a strip mall located on West Main Street. The instructor was a great big guy named José, who was very strong, and surprisingly light on his feet. He smiled a lot, which made him look completely unthreatening. I liked him. I’d started taking his class a couple of years ago. It was one of the few things Magda and I hadn’t done together. She tried it, but just didn’t like it. She didn’t like hurting people—or getting hurt.
“We have a special guest tonight,” José said. “Detective Diane Davies from our local police station. She’s going to talk to you all about how you can use aikido to protect yourself from an attacker.”
Detective Davies was tall. She wore a T-shirt and sweatpants, and I could see muscle definition in her arms. She’d seemed nice at the time, like she really wanted to help. But in the end, she’d let Magda down too.
“I need someone to help me demonstrate these moves,” Detective Davies said. “Would anyone like to volunteer?”
I put up my hand before I could stop myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to be helpful, but that I was hoping to have the chance to punch her in the face. Not a particularly sane thought, but I was just so angry. Angry that Magda was gone. Angry that Jason Bentley hadn’t known who I was. Angry that everybody was just going about their regular lives like nothing terrible had happened. My best friend was dead, and she had been for months. My life hadn’t been the same since she was attacked, and it never would be. I was always going to wonder what Magda could’ve been, what she could’ve achieved, and about the fact that four assholes had made certain she’d never do any of it.
So yeah, the chance to unload a little violence—with no ramifications—on one of the people who had let Magda down was too tempting to pass up.
And maybe she’d land a couple of strikes on me, and I could let the pain inside me go somewhere else. Take the punishment I deserved.
Detective Davies met my gaze as I approached the front of the dojo. When we stood face-to-face she smiled at me, and said, “I know you. It’s Hadley, right?”
So she did remember. “Yes.”
Her smile faded a little. Good. I hope she remembered Magda, and that she felt at least a little guilt standing there with me.
“First I want you to come at me,” she instructed. “I’ll defend myself against you, then we’ll break down the moves, and then you’ll use them on me.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
She moved a few feet away from me. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I didn’t run toward her, or lunge. But I quickly closed the distance between us and aimed a kick I had learned in tae kwon do at her sternum. She was fast, way faster than I anticipated. She grabbed my leg, using my momentum to throw me off balance and facedown on the floor.
I sucked in a deep breath to replace what had been knocked out of me, and pushed myself to my feet. She was good. And I was pissed at myself for not being at least as good.
The detective addressed the class. “You all know that aikido is about displacing the energy of an attack. I didn’t have to strike out, and I avoided being hit simply by using Hadley’s momentum to my own advantage and against her. Now, Hadley, would you mind helping me break the moves down so that everyone can see before you use it against me?”
I walked back to the center of the mat with her. We went through the movements again, this time in slow motion. I paid close attention to how she grabbed my leg and twisted her own body. This time when I hit the mat it was with barely any force at all, and I was able to catch myself.
“Now,” Diane said. “I will attack you.”
Obviously she knew other martial arts as well, because she came at me fast with a confident kick aimed at my midsection. Remembering her moves, I grabbed her leg and with a sharp pivot of my body, brought her crashing to the mat. I hoped she found it as hard to breathe as I had.
I offered her my hand to help her to her feet. She took it. As she rose to her feet she gave me an odd look, like she knew what was going on in my head. It made me uncomfortable.
“Very good,” she told me. “Why don’t the rest of you pair off and take turns practicing on your partners?”
Not everyone had shown up for class that night, so I was left without a partner. Normally I wouldn’t have cared, because it would’ve meant I got to spar with José. This time, however, it left me with the cop.
“You’re very good,” she told me. “Though I don’t believe aikido is meant to be used with such anger.” She actually smiled when she said it.
I wanted to tell her off, but even I wasn’t that ballsy. “Sorry.”
She laughed. “Don’t apologize. If you’re ever attacked, I want you to be angry about it.”
I looked her in the eyes. “I’m angry if any woman gets attacked.”
Her smile slid from her face. “That’s where I know you from. You were Magda Torres’s friend.”
“I still am her friend. The fact that she’s dead doesn’t change that.”
“No,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t think that it did.” She watched me like I was something potentially dangerous, as though she wasn’t quite sure that I was safe to be around.
“Sorry,” I said, even though I didn’t mean it. “Today was the first day of senior year. Magda and I had a lot of plans, and today I realized that none of them were ever going to happen.” Saying that out loud made my throat tight and my eyes burn. I blinked fast to clear them. This woman was not going to see me cry.
“I wish I could say I don’t know what you’re going through. But unfortunately I have too good an idea. When I was in college, a good friend of mine was raped on campus. She didn’t take her own life, but she carried the trauma with her for years afterward. She still does. They never caught the guy who did it. She’s the reason I became a cop.”
“Do you know who he was?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Everyone knows who raped Magda.” Maybe I was just stupid, or maybe I just didn’t care what the consequences were, but I stepped close to her and stared directly into her eyes. “And you weren’t able to catch them, either. Maybe you should consider another career choice.”
She didn’t even blink. “Believe me, I considered it. But I have to believe that I can make more of a difference as a police officer than I could outside the law.”
“Good luck with that.” I turned away from her and walked over to where José stood going over some paperwork. “Will you spar with me?” I asked.
He looked up, his friendly face looking bewildered. “I thought you’d want to learn from Detective Davies.”
“I don’t think she can teach me anything helpful.”
I used to think that some girl rolling her eyes at me, or sneering at me, was the worst expression in the world. Contempt—even hatred—those are things I don’t mind seeing in somebody’s face anymore. What I hate is pity—that moment when someone looks at you and you can see it in their eyes, that they feel so badly for you, like you’re a puppy that just got kicked.
“Give her a chance,” he suggested. “I think the two of you might be able to help each other.”
I knew better than to argue. José didn’t get angry; he never raised his voice. Once you were in his class for a couple of sessions, you realized that he meant whatever came out of his mouth, and no amount of urging, begging or even threats could persuade him otherwise.
I stepped back to where Diane Davies stood. She was checking her phone.
“José made you come back, did he?” She didn’t even glance up from her screen.
“Yes.” I said it through clenched teeth.
She looked me in the eye. “I’m very aware of how much I let Magda Torres and her loved ones down. How much the system let them down. I would give just about anything to go back and change that, but I think you and I both know you can’t go back.”
“No, you can’t. If we could, I would have never let her out of my sight at that party. I would’ve stopped her from taking those pills.”
“But you can’t do either of those things. No one can. I know something you can do.”
“What?” I could practically taste the bitterness and mockery in my tone.
“José and I have been talking about starting a self-defense course for girls. I would like for you to be a part of it if you’re interested. Help us teach other girls to protect themselves, so that what happened to Magda maybe won’t happen to one of them.”
I stared at her. Was she serious? She did know that Magda had been drugged, right? Being able to throw a punch wouldn’t have helped her. “Why me?”
“Because I think helping other girls might give you a place to channel all that anger.”
“I’m not angry.”
Instead of laughing like I expected her to, she gave me an understanding look. “No, you’re heartbroken.”
Maybe she understood a little better than I thought. “This class, are you going to teach them to actually fight, or will it just be things like blowing whistles and sticking people with keys?” Because Magda had taken one of those classes, and it had done her absolutely no fucking good.
“There might be a little bit of whistles and keys. But we’ll be teaching them to fight, and to fight dirty. We’re talking forcing testicles to retract, that kind of fighting.”
For the first time in months, a genuine smile curved my lips. “I’m in.”
* * *
“You should eat something.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, I looked up at my mother. She had that pinched expression on her face that I’d seen a lot since Magda died. It was an expression I understood to mean that while she was worried about me, she was also annoyed with me. I think she thought that I should be over it by now.
But did we ever get over losing someone we cared about? I mean, it wasn’t like Magda had moved to another city, or had gone away to school. She was gone. Forever. Three-quarters of my life had been spent with her and then, during the space of a few hours, she’d stopped being. How did you just “get over” that?”
“I’m not all that hungry.”
Mom spooned some scrambled eggs onto my plate. “At least eat these. You need the protein.”
She was right. I wasn’t one of those kids who thought my parents were wrong all the time. Usually they were right. Well, Mom usually was. My father pretty much just pissed me off whenever I saw him.
Then again, it didn’t take much to upset me these days.
I didn’t argue about the eggs. I ate them on autopilot, not really tasting them. I couldn’t live the rest of my life like this—numb except for bouts of rage. I knew it was part of the grieving process, but it was also exhausting.
“You’ve gotten so thin.”
I ate another mouthful of eggs as a response. I hadn’t really lost much weight. After the funeral I did lose about ten pounds, but some of those had come back. The difference was that I had been working out like mad. Aikido was the third martial arts class I had taken since I was thirteen. It hadn’t started out as me just wanting to hit or kick something. I signed up for martial arts because I wanted to be fit, and it was really the only thing I found fun enough to stick with. And now it was the only thing that calmed me down.
Magda hadn’t been into the kicking and punching. She liked to run and had been on the school track team. The muscles in her legs had been like granite. I ran with her once in a while, but I could never keep up.
Regardless, I was working out more, turning the soft parts of my body into something hard and strong.
“The police officer that was at class last night asked me to help her with a self-defense class for girls.”
Mom look surprised at this. “Really? Why would she do that?”
I shrugged. “She thinks I’m good. And she knew Magda.”
There was that pinched look again. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Hadley.”
“I do.” And it wasn’t until that moment when she opposed it that I realized I had already made up my mind about it. “I’m good at it, Mom. And if I can help even one girl escape what happened to Magda, it will be worth it.”
She sighed. “I suppose if I say no you’ll only do it anyway.”
“Why are you making it sound like I want to go out and do something reckless? Or something that might get me hurt or in trouble? Jesus, Mom.” I shook my head. “I just want to do something good.”
She looked pained, like I was doing this deliberately to hurt her. I had no idea why she was so opposed to this. I had no idea what was going through her head. It was almost like she blamed Magda for my emotional state. It didn’t make sense, but I was sure it was true.
“Fine. Help at the class. If your grades start to suffer, you will quit.”
I nodded. “Sure.” But I only made the promise so she’d stop talking about it.
Mom wasn’t done. “Your father isn’t going to like this.”
It was so tempting to say that I didn’t care if Dad liked it or not. I wanted to ask why she was so worried about his opinion anyway. It wasn’t like he was ever around. He was always working or... Whatever.
“I’ll tell him,” I said. “He’ll be okay with it when I tell him that I think it would be good for me—help me work out the guilt I feel for Magda being raped.”
My mother winced. The R word always made her intensely uncomfortable. “It wasn’t your fault. You know how much I liked Magda, but she ought to have known better than to be drinking at a party with that many boys around.”
My fingers tightened around my fork. Her words—so stupid and careless—made me remember what I’d said to Magda that day about being punished for making a mistake. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “No, those boys ought to have known better than to drug and rape a girl.”
“Hadley...”
“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare say it.” I didn’t understand how she could think it, let alone believe it. I knew, however, that my mother wasn’t the only woman to think that Magda had asked for what happened to her. Hell, even I had thought it once or twice. God, I wish I could take it back, because that guilt was a weight I’d carry the rest of my life. “Even if I walked into school stark naked with a box of condoms and a bottle of lube, I would not be asking to be raped.”
“Oh, Hadley!” She made a face. “Don’t be so crude.”
“What if it had been me, Mom? Would you blame me? Would you say those things about me?”
“Of course not!” She looked offended that I’d even suggest it. God, she really didn’t have a clue. “I hope I raised you well enough that you wouldn’t get yourself into such a situation.”
I’d had enough. There was a very real possibility that I was going to stab my mother with my fork if I didn’t leave the house at that moment. I pushed back my chair—it screeched against the floor—and practically jumped to my feet.
“I have to go. I’ll be late for school.” I grabbed my bag and stomped from the kitchen, throwing open the door so hard that it banged against the wall.
“Hey!” my mother yelled. “There’s no need for that!”
I ignored her and kept walking. I was halfway to school before I realized that I still had the fork in my hand.
CHAPTER 4 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
I ran into Zoe at lunch that day. Actually, I was outside sitting on the grass, letting the sun beat down on me in the hope that it might thaw the coldness inside, when she plopped down beside me.
“So,” she began, “are you going to the party Saturday night?”
I turned my head toward her, looking at her through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. “What party?”
“Jason Bentley is having a party Saturday night.”
I laughed—it was not a happy sound. “No.”
“He asked me to tell you about it.”
I peered at her over the top of my sunglasses. She was shitting me, right? “Seriously? Why would he do that?” Was he trying to mess with me?
She pulled a pair of pink cat-eye sunglasses from her bag and put them on. “He didn’t say. He just asked me to tell my ‘pretty blonde friend’ about the party.”
“And you thought he meant me?”
Zoe smiled. “He saw us talking in class.”
He must have asked her to do this before he came after me yesterday. “I’m not sure why he would think I’d want to go. Zoe, you know he’s one of the guys who raped Magda.”
She glanced away. “He was never charged.”
Was I the only person who had a grip on reality around there? “That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry, Hadley. I’ve known Jason for years. I just don’t want to believe he could do such a thing.”
And I never believed Magda would kill herself. I never thought my father would turn out to be an asshole. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, either.”
“So what, you’re just going to avoid all social gatherings your last year of high school?”
“No. Just the ones Bentley and his friends are involved with.”
“They’re going to be at all of them. They’re the most popular guys in school.”
“I know. That’s how they managed to get away with it. They’re rich and popular. They’re also rapists. If you go to that party, don’t let Drew Carson get you a drink.”
“I don’t let anyone get me a drink.”
So maybe she wasn’t as gullible as I thought.
Zoe pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Has it occurred to you that maybe if you go to the party, people will see you and remember what happened to Magda? Maybe another girl will think twice before going off with one of them.”
I stared at her. I didn’t know why it was so important to her that I go to this damn party, but she had a point. “I’ll think about it.”
She smiled. “I can pick you up.”
If she’d wanted me to go to the party with her why hadn’t she just said so? I wanted to warn her that I wasn’t much of a wing man, but I couldn’t make the words come out. I wasn’t in the market for a new best friend, either. Still, I kept that to myself.
Instead, I said to her, “We’re starting a self-defense course for girls at my dojo. Diane Davies—she’s a cop—is putting it together. She’s asked me to help. Are you interested?”
Zoe’s pretty face brightened. “You mean like teaching us to fight?”
I nodded. “It would be about protecting yourself from an attack, but yes, we teach you to fight.” Maybe I shouldn’t make that promise, but if Detective Davies wasn’t going to do it, I would.
She grinned. “Cool. I always wanted to learn how to fight. When does it start?”
“Thursday night. I know that’s soon, but we wanted to get going as quickly as possible. It’s at seven. Here’s the address.” I gave her one of José’s cards.
“Thanks.” She glanced at it before putting it in her bag.
“If you know anybody else who’d be interested, feel free to spread the word.” The more girls we got, the less chance there was of Drew Carson and his friends being able to continue hurting people. Warning girls that their drinks might be spiked only did so much.
“I will.”
We sat there for a while, not saying much. It was nice to hang out with someone. I hadn’t done that since Magda died. Lunch was almost over when I heard laughter. I turned my head toward it and saw Drew, Jason, Brody and Adam standing together farther down the lawn. They were talking to a group of girls, all of whom looked at them like they were special. I didn’t understand it. We all knew what they had done. Everyone in that school knew what had happened that night. For fuck’s sake, everyone in the goddamn town knew what had happened that night. Why, then, did the four of them get to continue on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened? Why did people treat them as though they were innocent, even though they had taken pictures of what they’d done to my friend?
And why did Magda, the best person I’ve ever known, get treated like she had done something wrong? I could almost understand why guys wouldn’t care, but I would never understand why the girls didn’t.
I stared at them, that familiar burn of anger and helplessness churning in my stomach, spreading up into my chest and throat until I thought my ribs might cave in from the heaviness of it, and I might choke to death.
They would all be at the party at Jason’s. They would be there, and so would those girls. And one of those girls would get Drew’s attention. Maybe he already had her picked out. He would get her a drink, and he would put something in it that made it difficult for her to fight back or even move. And he would take her to a bedroom, where he and his three best friends would take turns violating her while one of them took video and photographs. And if anybody found out about it, they would say she was willing. That she wanted it. That she was a slut. And they would get away with it, because they always got away with it. I knew of three other girls who had been assaulted by one or more of those assholes, and nothing had been done about it.
The edges of my vision were black, as I gasped for breath. Was this a panic attack? Or was I finally being suffocated by my grief, guilt and rage? My anger was not a bad thing. My anger was righteous. Teaching girls to defend themselves was only a small part of what needed to be done. Someone had to show those boys that they would not be allowed to hurt people, that there was a price. They owed Magda her life, and that was a debt they could never repay. But as I sat there watching them, caught between imploding and breaking down, I realized something with absolute clarity. The four of them had to pay.
And it was at that moment that I realized I was going to make sure they did.
* * *
I arrived at the dojo early Thursday night. Detective Davies was already there setting up. José was with her. They smiled when I walked in.
“Thanks for helping get this off the ground,” Detective Davies said to me. “I hope we get a good turnout.”
I shrugged. “We probably won’t. A lot of the girls from school don’t think anything bad could ever happen to them.”
Her smile faded. “Until it does.”
“Yeah.” How much violence against women had she seen since becoming a cop?
By the time class started we had five girls, including me. To be honest, it was a better turnout than I expected. Zoe was one of the girls. She had her auburn hair in a ponytail and was wearing leggings and an oversize T-shirt.
“I have a couple of friends who will come next week,” Zoe said. “They both had band meeting tonight.”
“Great,” I said. The more the better.
Detective Davies started the class by talking about nonviolent ways for girls to protect themselves. She talked about not leaving your drink unattended at a party, and not drinking anything that you hadn’t poured yourself.
“You know,” one of the girls said, “it would be a lot easier if boys didn’t act like assholes.”
The detective nodded. “It would be. No matter what happens, you’re not to blame for any of it. Unfortunately, the unfairness of the situation is that there are boys, and men, out there who will hurt you if they can. And until society stops allowing that, women have to look out for themselves and each other. That’s one of the most important things—you girls looking out for each other.”
I swallowed the bitterness that rose in the back of my throat. Guilt tasted like shit. I should’ve taken better care of Magda. I should’ve watched out for her and protected her instead of turning my back. The reality of it was that I’d been jealous. Jealous of the fact that boys seemed to find her so desirable and barely looked at me. I tried to tell her Drew was a jerk, but she didn’t believe me. I had wanted her to find out for herself, but not like that. Never like that.
Detective Davies went on to talk about things like pepper spray and using keys as a weapon. She talked about having safety words with your friends, so that if you thought a guy was a threat you could warn each other.
Half an hour passed before she got to the actual physical part of the class. The five of us sat on the mats in front of her chair.
“How many of you have heard of Krav Maga?” she asked.
I put my hand up. So did Zoe.
“Krav Maga is a form of fighting developed for the Israeli military. It combines several kinds of martial arts and street fighting. Like a lot of disciplines, it promotes avoiding violence, but if that is unavoidable the idea is to terminate the conflict as quickly and efficiently as possible by using attacks aimed at vulnerable parts of the body and designed to do as much damage as necessary.”
“By vulnerable do you mean the balls?” a girl named Jenna asked. A couple of the other girls giggled.
Detective Davies smiled. “That’s one place. But a lot of times men expect that to be the first point of attack, and they’re good at protecting what’s between their legs. Also, what if your attacker’s not a guy?”
We all exchanged glances. None of us expected a threat from one another. But I’d seen girls fight before, and they were nasty.
The older woman continued. “It is rare for women to perpetrate sexual assault against each other, but we can be just as violent as men. If you are attacked by someone who doesn’t have testicles, you need to know other areas to strike. Of course, these areas are also vulnerable on men. The eyes, the throat, the solar plexus, which is the area right here—” she gestured to an area in the center of her chest “—the knees, the face, the fingers... All of these areas are vulnerable. And I will show you ways to hurt all of them.”
I smiled, and so did the other girls. I guess she was right when she said we could be just as bloodthirsty as guys. But I don’t think any of us were gleeful at the idea of being able to hurt somebody—well, except for me. It wasn’t about inflicting pain. It was the idea of not having to be afraid. Sure, you still had to be smart, but there was power in the idea of being able to fight back.
We started with practicing how to fend off an attacker while on our feet. Detective Davies showed us how effective a shove could be, but then also turned it around and showed us how to use momentum against our attacker if they tried to shove us.
I don’t think most of us would even have thought of using what she showed us on our own.
“As women, we are taught that physicality is masculine, and any woman who fights is vulgar. I’m telling you, as a physically strong, older woman, that it is okay for you to do whatever necessary to save yourself.” Detective Davies’s face was slightly flushed from demonstrating defensive moves. “If you can grab your attacker’s finger and bend it, or break it, do it. If you can gouge his eye, knee him in the groin or stomach, do it. Smash your head into his nose or mouth. Punch him in the throat. Hit him with anything you can get your hands on.
“You’ve been told all your life not to hurt people, and now I want you to forget that. If someone is trying to hurt you, I want each and every one of you to do whatever necessary to escape. I want you to hurt back.”
I wanted to applaud. I won’t lie. I wanted to hug her, even if she had let Mags down. I wish Magda hadn’t had to die for her to teach this class. If she had learned how to protect herself, maybe it would’ve helped. Then again, Drew Carson had drugged her, so she hadn’t had much fight in her anyway.
I raised my hand.
“Yes, Hadley?”
“Can you show us how to get out of a pin? What if someone bigger than us has us pinned to the ground?” Or a bed?
The older woman looked at me for a moment. She seemed...thoughtful. “I had planned on doing that in another class, but I can show you now, and we can work on it more later. Why don’t you come up here and help me?”
I stood up. She’d used me for a lot of the class already, getting me to help her demonstrate different techniques as I was the only one there with a martial arts background.
“Lie down on the floor on your back,” she instructed.
I did. The mat was cool beneath my back. We may not have gotten into anything too vigorous, but I had still managed to work up a bit of a sweat. Detective Davies knelt in front of me and then braced her hands on either side of my head so that her hips were between my thighs and her torso had me pinned.
One of the girls giggled. I rolled my eyes, a gesture that made my “attacker” smile. “Okay, you can see that I am bigger than Hadley. I’m taller and heavier, and I have gravity on my side. All I have to do is push or press down. To move me, Hadley has to exert force upward, so not only is she fighting my body weight and my strength, but she is also fighting gravity. Her shoulder blades are flat on the floor, which makes it even more difficult for her to escape. Now, what are things she can do to get out of this hold?”
Her question was met with silence. I turned my head to the side and saw the four girls looking at each other, as though waiting for one of them to speak first.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m your best friend, and we’re at a party together. You walk into a room and you see a guy trying to get my clothes off and rape me. You can’t attack him physically, but you can tell me how to hurt him. What do I do?”
The girls had gone pale. They weren’t looking at each other anymore, they were looking at me.
“See if you can work your legs under his,” Zoe suggested. “Then he can’t rape you, and you’re in a better position to knee him in the balls.”
I did as she suggested, miming trying to knee Detective Davies between the legs. But as I did so, the woman quickly snapped her leg shut and shoved her knee between mine again. She was strong, and for a moment I was filled with an irrational fear of what she was going to do to me.
The girls must’ve seen my fear because suddenly they jumped to life.
“Bash his nose with your forehead!” Jenna yelled.
“Punch him in the solar plexus!” another shouted. Anna, that was her name.
“Gouge his eyes!” That was Zoe again.
“Push your forearm into his neck so you’re shoving his head back, and then punch him in the throat with your other fist.” This was calmly delivered by the fourth girl, whose name I didn’t know, but whose face I would never forget. It was the face of a girl who’d been in this position herself and was only now realizing that she could’ve fought.
Hers was the advice I took, pushing Detective Davies’s head back and mock punching her. She jerked backward, and I seized the opportunity to get my legs around her, lift up and flip her so that she was the one on her back and I was the one on top. Then, I pretended to punch her repeatedly in the face until she was unconscious.
I met the gaze of that girl. “Thank you. You saved me.”
I wasn’t prepared for the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes. She nodded, blinking furiously to stop herself from crying. The other girls did a funny thing—instead of comforting her, they applauded—turning her from victim to hero. Her tears evaporated into a smile. It was a shaky smile, but it was still a smile.
I climbed to my feet and offered Detective Davies my hand to help her up. She took it and gracefully rolled up onto her feet.
“Well done,” she said. “You knew exactly what to say to them.”
“I wish I hadn’t.” Our gazes met. “Known what to say to them, I mean.”
She patted my shoulder. “Me too.” Then, she turned to the class. “I think that’s a good place to leave it for this week. We’ll meet again next Thursday at the same time. Feel free to bring a friend with you. Until then, feel free to practice what we went over. Although try not to actually hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” She smiled.
The girls stood up. I approached the girl whose name I didn’t know. The one who had told me how to get out of Detective Davies’s hold. She had brown hair, and blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. “Hey,” I said. “I’m Hadley.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m Caitlin. Thanks for setting this up.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t really. Detective Davies did. It was her idea.”
“Well, thanks anyway.” She turned to walk away.
“Hey,” I called. She turned around. “Are you coming next week?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” This had to be the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had. I felt so stupid. What had I expected? That we would be instant friends?
Her smile was lopsided, and I think maybe a little sarcastic. “Well, see you then.” And then she walked away.
“Hadley?”
I turned. Zoe stood there with her friend Anna. “Did you like it?” I asked.
The two of them grinned. “Yeah,” they chorused.
“We’re going over to the frozen yogurt place,” Zoe said. “Do you want to come with us?”
I meant to say no. No was what I’d said ever since Magda’s funeral. No, I didn’t want to hang out. No, I didn’t want to go to the dance. No, I didn’t want anything to eat. And no, I did not want to talk about it.
“Sure. Are you going right now?”
Zoe nodded. “Yeah. You can come with us, or you can meet us there if you have something to do.” She sounded almost as awkward and uncertain as I felt, which was strangely comforting. It struck me as odd that we seemed even more vulnerable after learning how to kick the shit out of somebody than we had before. Why was that?
“I just have to grab my jacket.”
“We’ll wait,” Anna blurted. She blushed. “If you want us to, that is.”
At this rate, by next class we wouldn’t even be able to make eye contact. I felt myself smile, and not just because I wanted to put her at ease, but because I actually wanted to smile. I felt a strange tickle in my chest, like when your foot falls asleep and gets all prickly when the blood starts to circulate again. I hadn’t hung out with another girl since Magda. Since her suicide I’d been pretty antisocial. The only person I saw on a regular basis that wasn’t family was Gabe. Which reminded me I needed to go by the cemetery tomorrow after school.
“I’ll just be a second,” I said. “We can walk over together.”
Anna actually clapped her hands. “Yay!”
I laughed as I walked away. I thought this class would just be about violence. My experience with other girls was that once you put a group of them together they got all bitchy with one another. Maybe this class was going to be different. Maybe instead of fighting with each other we’d start fighting for each other.
And God help any guy who got in our way.
CHAPTER 5 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Gabriel was already at Magda’s grave when I got there on Friday. Like me, he must’ve come straight from class, because there was a backpack on the grass by her tombstone.
He sat cross-legged on the grass, leaning back on his forearms as the afternoon sun shone down on his face. It was warm—even for September—and he’d taken off his jacket. His eyes were closed, so I just stood there for a moment and looked at him.
I didn’t remember when my feelings for him had become something more than just friendship, but I know it had been at least a couple of years. I’d never told Magda that I had a crush on her brother. She would’ve found it weird. I found it weird.
I don’t think there were many girls who would blame me for having a thing for him. He was gorgeous. But more than his looks, he was a good person. Strong and honorable. He could make me laugh—even after all that had happened.
Finally, I decided to approach. If he opened his eyes and saw me standing there gawking at him, he’d think I’d gone nuts.
“Hi.”
He opened his eyes, squinting at me. “Hey. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show.”
“School only let out twenty minutes ago,” I told him. I put my bag beside his before plopping down on the grass on the opposite side of the tombstone. We both faced the same direction as the stone. It made it easier to pretend that Magda was between us rather than beneath.
“Right.” He slipped on a pair of sunglasses that had been lying on the grass by his hip. “I forgot. How’s it going?”
I shrugged. “Okay. It doesn’t seem right without her.”
Gabriel stared straight ahead. “Nothing does. It’s getting a little easier, but that just makes it all the more painful when I remember she’s gone.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. He knew I felt the same way.
“Diane Davies has started a self-defense course for girls.”
He turned his head to look at me, but I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses. “The cop?”
“Yeah. We had the first one Thursday night. She’s doing it at the dojo.” Gabriel had been the one to get me into aikido in the first place, but he hadn’t been there in a while.
“You’re taking it?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I thought you hated her. And you already know how to kick ass.”
“I was mad that she couldn’t make the four of them pay for what they did. I guess now I know it wasn’t her fault—like you said.”
“It’s good that she’s doing something. Did many girls show up?”
“A few. Hopefully we’ll get more.” I plucked a blade of grass and shredded it between my fingers. “Jason Bentley’s having a party on Saturday night.”
His back stiffened. The tightened muscles in his arms were like smooth stone beneath his skin. “Are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
This time when he turned his head his gaze lingered on me. “Yes, you do.”
I don’t know how he did it, but he always seemed to know when I was lying. “Okay then, fine. I’m going.”
“Why?”
“Because if Drew Carson tries to drug and rape another girl, I want to be there to stop it.”
“And just how do you think you can do that? Are you going to stand guard outside the bedrooms?”
“If I have to.” My voice was sharp and belligerent.
“What if he takes that as an invitation? What if the girl he targets is you?”
“That won’t happen. I’m not going to let him get anywhere near me.”
“That won’t matter if the four of them gang up on you. Even you’re not capable of fighting off four guys.”
He was right, and I knew it. I also hated him for it. “I’m not going alone. I’m going with another girl.”
“I’m coming with you.”
My heart jumped in fear. “No. You can’t do that. If you walk in there, the four of them and all their friends will jump you.”
“My odds of not being raped are significantly higher than yours.”
“My odds of not being beaten to death are significantly higher than yours. You can’t go.”
“If you go, I’m going.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
He rolled onto his side so that he faced me, bracing himself on his forearm. “I could say the same thing. What are you thinking, Hadley? What are you planning to do that you don’t want me to know about?”
Could he see the pulse at the base of my throat pounding beneath my skin? “Nothing. I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not. Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good. Your intelligence isn’t the problem. Your impulsiveness is. Your anger is.”
I snorted. “Don’t you lecture me on anger. I was there when you went after Drew. I know what you would’ve done to him if those guys hadn’t pulled you off. And I know what those guys would’ve done to you if there hadn’t been an audience.” I remembered how bruised and bloody he’d been, and how much worse Drew had looked. Most people went through life not knowing whether or not they could kill somebody, but Gabriel knew.
“You’re not going without me.”
“Fine. I won’t go.”
“Good.”
We stared at each other, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I was lying, and he probably knew it, but I was still going to try to sell it. If he was stupid enough to show up knowing what would happen to him, then let him. Him getting beaten up was more of a given than me being attacked.
We sat there in silence. Usually, we spent the time talking. Mostly we talked about Magda, but sometimes we talked about other things. This was the first time that neither of us had anything to say.
A little while later Gabriel rolled to his feet. “I have to go to work.” He brushed grass off his jeans and picked up his backpack.
I stood as well. “Gabe...”
He looked at me. “Yeah?”
“I...I don’t like feeling like you’re mad at me.”
His shoulders slumped. He dropped the backpack on the grass again and stepped across his sister’s grave to stand directly in front of me. I wasn’t prepared for him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close. He smelled like sunshine and fabric softener with a touch of sandalwood. I wound my arms around his waist, pressing my hands against his back. Holding him was like holding strength. I could feel it seeping through my clothes, slipping beneath my skin and into my bones. The sadness and helplessness that usually threatened to overwhelm me disappeared. I couldn’t even find any anger in my heart.
He rested his cheek against my head. “Please stay away from those guys. I can’t lose you too.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn’t going to cry on him again, and I wasn’t going to let him see how much his words affected me. I couldn’t let him see my feelings for him, because I was his little sister’s best friend and I knew the love he felt for me was only friendship. I didn’t want to lose him. He wasn’t just all I had left of Magda. He was all I had left period.
* * *
Like most of the wealthier families in our town, the Bentleys lived on Smith Street. It might have a common name, but Smith Street was one of the oldest streets in town. You could tell how old the houses were by how they were built. The newer houses were large and sprawling, usually white or bluish gray. The older houses—the ones that had been there for a century or more—were red brick or gray stone. The Bentleys lived in a house that was brick that had been stuccoed over.
Zoe and I arrived there around ten o’clock Saturday night. I didn’t live on Smith Street, or anywhere near it. My family lived in one of the newer suburbs of town. My mother was an accountant and my father was an engineer. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t the Bentleys. Mags and I were top of our class in our old school, and we were able to get scholarships. Our parents somehow managed to scrape together the rest of the money for tuition. Magda’s grades had slipped after the rape—to the point where the school was going to kick her out. Her suicide saved them the trouble, the unfeeling bastards.
“Are you ready to do this?” Zoe asked. “I mean, it’s gotta be painful.”
I wanted to say that sometimes pain was better than feeling nothing, but that was really so melodramatic. I shrugged. “It’s okay.” I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish by going to that damn party. Maybe it was penance for letting Magda down. Maybe I wanted to show that I wasn’t afraid. Maybe I thought I could possibly stop another girl from being raped. Maybe I just didn’t want to sit home alone.
We walked up the flagstone path. Zoe had driven and promised me she wasn’t going to drink. It was a relief to know that I probably wouldn’t have to worry about her. Unfortunately, I still had to worry about pretty much every other girl there.
It was a warm night, and I was wearing cropped jeans and a blouse. I didn’t wear dresses or skirts anymore.
We rang the doorbell. We could hear the music inside the house. It was loud, but not so loud that the neighbors would call the police. Not that it would matter if they did. The Bentleys, the Weeks, the Henrys and the Carsons were important families, which apparently entitled them to behave in ways that would get the rest of us in trouble. They were exempt from any kind of responsibility, and that extended to their sons.
The door opened. Standing in the open frame in jeans and a T-shirt that probably cost more than my entire outfit was Jason. A year ago I would’ve described him as cute. I might’ve even wanted him to pay attention to me. Now his face had as much appeal as a bowl of maggots. If he ever touched me, I would probably take a cheese grater to the spot just to get rid of the taint.
He smiled when he saw us, though it faltered a little when he looked at me. “Hey,” he said, standing back so we could step inside. “Glad you could make it.”
I followed Zoe inside. She smiled and thanked him for inviting us. I couldn’t do anything more than nod.
“Do you want a soda or anything?” he asked, leading us deeper into the house. The floor looked like marble, and the staircase was wide enough to drive a car up.
“Sure,” Zoe said.
“Do you have anything in cans?” I asked. There was no way I was going to let him bring me a glass.
He shot me a glance as though he could read my mind. “Sure. Come into the kitchen.”
The kitchen was just as perfect as the rest of the house. There wasn’t even a crumb on the stove. A stack of pizza boxes sat on the counter, and I could smell the cheesy, tomatoey goodness.
I wasn’t going to eat anything, either.
Jason opened the wide, stainless-steel fridge. “Help yourself.”
Zoe took a can of Sprite. I reached in and grabbed a can of diet Dr Pepper. “Thanks.”
He closed the fridge door. The action made him step closer toward me. Instinctively I lurched backward, banging my hip against the counter in my effort to avoid contact.
Jason frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You didn’t.” Scare me? No. Repulse me? Yes.
He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but then a small group of people burst into the kitchen. They were all in our class, though one of the girls was a junior.
“Hey, Jay, where’s the beer?” one of the guys asked.
Jason went to get it for them, and I took that as my opportunity to escape. Zoe and I followed the music and conversation downstairs into a large finished basement that had the biggest television I’ve ever seen and a pool table. Patio doors opened up to the backyard, where there was a pool and hot tub. There were kids in each.
Zoe turned to me. “This house is fricking amazing.”
“Yeah,” I agreed through clenched teeth. The house was gorgeous.
“Hey, there’s Anna and Caitlin. Want to go say hi?”
“Yeah.” I meant it. I was happy to see the two of them, and not just because there was safety in numbers.
The two girls looked just as happy to see us, and they immediately started talking about how they’d been practicing what they learned in class.
“I think my mother thought we were killing each other,” Anna joked. “We almost busted the lamp in my room.”
I laughed. I was glad they came. Having them there eased my anxiety. That anxiety came back, however, about an hour later when I saw Drew Carson hovering around the girl I’d recognized as a junior earlier, who was now so drunk she could barely stand up.
A hot prickly sensation ran up the back of my neck, followed by a shiver of ice down my spine. For months I’d thought about what I would do in that very situation. I’d imagined myself walking up to him and beating him stupid. I imagined myself being the girl’s savior. Once, I even imagined myself going full-on Kill Bill on them. Never had I imagined myself just standing there, frozen to the spot and shaking with anger. How could I just stand there and not do anything?
I couldn’t. With my can of soda in hand—because I was not about to set it down—I started walking toward them. Zoe, Caitlin and Anna were right behind me. Zoe said my name, but it sounded like she was talking to me from the far end of a tunnel.
What was I going to do? Smash my soda can into his face? Kick him? At that moment he hadn’t done anything wrong. Of course that was the moment I remembered Gabriel telling me I couldn’t fight all four of them.
Suddenly, my path was interrupted by Jason. I hadn’t even seen him approach. One second I had my sights set directly on Drew, and the next Jason was there, blocking me.
“You okay, Angie?” I heard him ask the girl.
“She’s had too much to drink,” Drew said with a smirk. “She just needs to lie down for a bit. She can use your room can’t she, Jay?”
I froze. This cannot be happening. Drew could not be planning to rape this poor drunk girl. Even though I knew him to be the worst kind of monster, I couldn’t believe how easily it seemed to come to him.
“Actually,” Jason said, glancing at me. “I think Angie needs to go home. I’m going to put her in a cab.” He took the girl by the arm and pulled her away from Drew, who had a stupefied look on his face.
The girls and I exchanged glances as Jason steered Angie past us. He had his cell phone to his ear. I heard him ask for a cab.
Drew had been cock-blocked by one of his best friends. His face twisted into a combination of anger, petulance and disappointment. It made me smile.
I followed Jay and Angie, needing to make sure he actually did send her home and didn’t take her upstairs instead.
I stood at the opposite end of the hall, near the stairs, and watched. Jason held the girl up, and when the cab arrived, he took her outside and put her in it. I moved closer to the open door so I could watch him pay the cabbie and close the car door.
He spotted me before I could duck away, so I stayed where I was rather than run, as I wanted. I watched him step inside the house, closing the door behind him.
He looked at me. “Did you follow me to make sure I sent her home?”
“Yes.” I had no trouble meeting his gaze.
His fists clenched at his sides. “I. Am. Not. A. Monster.”
I tilted my head as I looked at him. “Are you trying to convince me of that?” I asked. “Or yourself?” And then I turned on my heel and went back to my new friends. Just because he’d sent one girl home didn’t mean he and his friends didn’t have another victim picked out.
And it didn’t change what he’d done to Magda.
CHAPTER 6 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Jason began drinking shortly after our little chat. Every time I saw him he had a drink in his hand. As the evening went on, he became more drunk and obnoxious. More like Drew and his other buddies. The four of them were laughing and being loud, and despite that, girls still flocked around them. It disgusted me.
“What’s up with him?” Anna asked.
“Me,” I said. “I watched him put a girl in a cab earlier because I wanted to make sure he actually sent her home. He saw me. He knew why I was watching.”
The three girls stared at me. I thought maybe they thought I was crazy or paranoid. Zoe spoke first. “You followed him alone?”
I nodded. “To the door, yeah.”
Her face flushed, and I didn’t think it was because she was too warm. “Are you mental? So all that stuff about traveling in groups doesn’t apply to you? Are you, like, Wonder Woman or something? What if he had grabbed you?”
I frowned at her. “I would’ve punched him in the throat.”
She shook her head. “You should’ve taken one of us with you.”
“I didn’t think of it, okay? I’m not used... It’s been a little while since anyone has cared what I do.”
The three of them exchanged glances. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure if they pitied me or thought I was lying.
“Don’t do it again, okay?” Zoe gave me a beseeching look. “If you don’t want to take one of us with you, at least let us know where you’re going so we can find you if you don’t come back right away.”
I nodded. “Okay. We’ll make a deal right now that whenever we’re together we’ll stay together.” But really, how often would we be together? It wasn’t like we were best friends. No one could replace Mags.
The girls smiled, and the heaviness inside me lightened a little. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Responsibility to another person was something I hadn’t had for months. And wasn’t Magda going off on her own one of the things that upset me so much? If she had told me where she was going, maybe I would’ve been able to help her. Instead I’d gone looking for her too late and found her in a bedroom, passed out with her panties wrapped around one ankle and condom wrappers on the floor.
I didn’t want anyone to ever find me that way.
I stuck close to my new friends after that. We all stuck together, moving as a group. I met a few more people who I didn’t really know that well and talked to some that I did. It felt weird, being social. Zoe told every girl we talked to about the self-defense course. A few of them seemed interested, though a couple wrinkled their noses at the idea of violence. I didn’t bother trying to convince them that the class was about protecting yourself rather than hurting someone. They obviously didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to them. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them they were wrong.
Shortly before midnight I realized two things: one—Gabriel had obviously come to his senses and decided not to crash the party, and two—Jason had gone missing.
I glanced around the room, mentally counting female heads to see if anyone was absent. It was impossible to tell as the party took up most of the house.
Where was he? At least Drew and Adam were still visible. That didn’t mean that Jason and Brody weren’t raping a girl somewhere while they waited for their buddies to show up.
It made me anxious. I turned to Anna, who stood next to me, and yelled above the music, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She nodded, then leaned closer to me. “There’s one upstairs. Use that. Someone puked in the one on this floor. If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’ll come looking for you.”
I smiled. It didn’t matter that I could probably take out one or two guys on my own. The three of them had decided that they were my protectors and that the four of us would protect each other. It was as comforting as it was annoying. I didn’t need to be fussed over. I didn’t want to be a girl who needed protection. I wanted to be the girl who kicked ass.
I took my soda with me out of paranoia. I moved through the crowd, which had gotten bigger in the last hour and made my way out to the foyer. As I climbed the stairs to the second floor, I couldn’t help but feel even more out of place. How did people get this wealthy? It was ridiculous.
My heart thumped against my ribs as I climbed. The house wasn’t evil, and it couldn’t hurt me, but every step I took away from the heart of the party, the more anxious I became. Would anyone hear me scream up here?
Every door on that floor was shut, except for one. I walked down the corridor toward it, my gaze traveling over paintings and framed photographs that hung on the walls. Some of the paintings looked old, and they had little gold tags at the bottom of their frames that had their names engraved on them. Every one of them I looked at was a Bentley.
I reached the partially open door and pushed it open. As soon as I looked inside, I knew it wasn’t the bathroom. It was a bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, and I could clearly see posters on the walls and a guitar in the corner.
I could also see Jason passed out on the bed.
There’s a moment—and I believe everyone’s had it—when you have to make a decision whether to act or retreat. I could back out of the room and continue my search for the restroom, or I could close the door behind me and take advantage of the fact that Jason was unconscious.
I knew that most people, decent people, would leave. A good person didn’t take advantage of someone who was too drunk to fight back. But Jason had already proved that he wasn’t a decent person. He and his friends had purposely drugged Magda so they could assault her.
I wasn’t a decent person.
I closed the door and locked it. I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I planned to do it. What if he woke up? Cautiously, I moved toward him. He was on his back, limbs splayed. I reached out with my left hand, keeping my right free in case I needed to hit him, and poked him hard in the leg. He didn’t even make a sound.
His cell phone was on the bed by his hand. I picked it up and pressed the button to wake it up. It didn’t ask for a password, but for a fingerprint. I knew Jason was left-handed from being in class with him, so I took his hand and turned it so that I could press his index finger to the right spot on the phone. Just like that, the phone was unlocked.
I scrolled through his pictures—there were a lot of photos of girls. One of them made my heart thump hard against my ribs and then fall still. Magda. It was a portrait of her, taken at school. I don’t think she knew he’d taken it, because she didn’t look self-conscious. The sight of her, smiling and happy, hurt to the point of physical pain. He’d taken that smile from her, just as he’d taken this photograph without her consent, and he’d been allowed to get away with both.
I stared at him through a veil of scorching tears. There had to be something I could do to make him pay, even just a little bit.
I couldn’t rape him. Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t. That kind of violation would make me as bad as him, and it would make him a victim. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him. I wanted them to mock him and say the kinds of things to him that people had said to Magda after photos and video of her attack had gotten around. I wanted people to see him for what he was.
In my purse I had one of Magda’s lipsticks. Her skin was darker than mine, and she’d been able to wear some rich berry colors I envied. The one in my bag was a deep raspberry. I took it out and removed the cap.
I hovered over Jason for a moment, considering my next action. Chickening out wasn’t an option. I turned the lipstick and bent down. In block letters I wrote RAPIST on his forehead. I put the lipstick back in my bag and took out my phone. I removed the case first, because I didn’t want it to be identifiable. I brought up a Facebook photo of Magda and put my phone in Jason’s limp fingers. Then I picked up his phone and switched it to camera mode. I took a photo of him lying there, with his title on his forehead, and Magda’s photo right there, so everyone would know exactly who he had hurt. Then I uploaded the photo I’d taken to Jason’s social media with the hashtags #rapist #NoJusticeForMagda #GotAwayWithIt and #CarterHigh.
I wiped his phone down before putting it on the bed beside him, then I took back my own and went to the door. I peeked into the hall to make sure no one was there before stepping outside.
Another door down the hall was open, and the light on inside allowed me to see that it was the bathroom. I slipped in and did my business. My legs trembled as I washed my hands. I wasn’t sure what I’d just done, or what the consequences would be, but there was no taking it back now.
I dried my hands and opened the door. “Shit!” I cried when I saw someone standing there. I pulled back my fist, but a familiar voice said my name before I lashed out. It was Zoe. Behind her were Anna and Caitlin. They were wide-eyed as they stared at me.
“Have I been gone ten minutes?” I asked, embarrassed to be so on edge.
Anna blushed. “No, but I got worried.”
I smiled. “There was someone in here when I came up. I had to wait. Thank you for worrying.”
“It wasn’t all about you,” Zoe remarked with a grin. “I have to pee too.”
While we waited outside for her to finish, Caitlin fished her phone out of her purse. I watched as she tapped the screen with her finger, my pulse beating wildly.
“Oh my God!”
Anna whirled toward her. “What?” Caitlin showed her the screen, and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”
If I didn’t ask it would be weird, and I was already pushing it by having been upstairs when the picture was taken. “What is it?”
Anna couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to laugh or cheer as Caitlin showed me the photo. It was the one I’d taken just minutes before.
I didn’t have to fake the laughter that poured out of me. The adrenaline of what I’d done hit hard, making me light-headed and giddy. “Was that taken tonight?” I asked.
Caitlin shrugged. “How should I know? I guess so.”
Anna’s gaze was bright as it met mine. “Who cares? It’s fabulous. Now everyone will know what he did.” It was exactly what I wanted to hear. “Whoever took it even left Magda’s picture beside him.”
On the other side of the door Zoe shouted, “What are you laughing at?” Then the toilet flushed, and we heard running water at the sink. A few seconds later the door opened. Zoe was still drying her hands.
“Check your phone,” Caitlin said.
Anna was looking at her own. “I got it too.”
Zoe’s reaction was the best. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and then she started to cackle—like a witch who had just performed the perfect spell. “Oh, this is awesome.” She began tapping at the screen. “Not only am I loving this, but I’m going to share it.”
We went back downstairs to join the party. When we got there, I couldn’t believe the number of people who were looking at their phones, exchanging startled glances, or acting like it was awesome. A few were pissed, but who cared about the douche bags? I’d known the photo would get noticed, it just hadn’t occurred to me how quickly.
I found myself looking for Drew, Brody and Adam. The three of them were together in the kitchen, staring at their phones with expressions that were somewhat amused, but mostly pissed. Drew seemed especially angry. I braced myself, waiting for one of them to look at me and point his finger. Surely, they had to know it had been me.
“What the fuck?” Drew demanded. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrow. “Who the fuck did this?”
Not one of them looked at me—at least not for any length of time. They looked around the room at the laughing crowd, glaring at everyone who met their collective gaze. I realized then that they were looking for a guy. It didn’t occur to them that a girl might do something like this. Did they not think we had the balls to pull such a prank? Did they think a guy would just randomly have lipstick in his pocket? I didn’t care which it was, because I’d gotten away with it.
That was the moment I realized what I had to do—for Magda and for myself. I had to get revenge. On all of them.
One down.
Three to go.
Last Year
“Do you have a costume yet?” Magda asked. We were in her kitchen making pizza while Gabe and one of his friends sat at the dining-room table discussing some project for their senior history class. I had a perfect view of his profile from where I stood. God, he was pretty.
“A costume for what?” I asked, slapping pepperoni slices on top of the sauce.
“Drew Carson’s Halloween party. He invited us, remember?”
Ugh. She didn’t really want to go to that, did she? One look at her face and I could tell she did. And she wanted me to go with her. I hated going to rich-kid parties—they always made me feel like trash. My family wasn’t poor, but we didn’t have a lot of disposable income.
I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t going—not for her, not for anyone. And then she said, “Gabe said he’d drop us off. He might even stay for a bit.”
“Fine,” I said. “But only because you and your brother will be the only people there worth hanging out with.”
“I’m going as Cleopatra,” she announced. “I hope Drew notices me.”
Her little smile was so cute I couldn’t bring myself to warn her off Drew again. She wouldn’t listen anyway. She was going to get her heart broken when Drew hooked up with someone not so obviously virginal as she was.
“He’d be blind not to,” I said instead, dumping a handful of grated cheese on the pizza. When she turned that grin on me, I smiled back. “Of course he’ll notice you.”
I had no idea how much I’d regret saying that.
* * *
I woke up Sunday morning feeling better than I had in months. Even though I knew what I’d done to Jason was wrong, I couldn’t deny the happiness it gave me. Maybe happiness was the wrong word. I felt like I had accomplished something, or taken a step to fix a problem.
And was it really wrong to label someone a criminal when you knew they’d done the crime?
Regardless, I felt good. I got up, showered and went downstairs for breakfast. My mother smiled when I kissed her cheek. I hadn’t realized how much I’d changed until I saw the surprise on her face. When you’re drowning in grief it’s hard to see all the people who are trying to save you. And she had her own problems with my father. I thought she was weak to stay with him, but I also understood that this house would be a lot harder to run without his income.
After breakfast, I rode my bike to the cemetery. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I wanted to talk to Magda, but not about how angry or sad I was, or even how much I missed her. I wanted to talk to her about what I had done. When I got there, church had just let out. Magda’s mother, Gabriel and his little sister Teresa walked the gravel path from the church into the cemetery. My heart stuttered at the sight of them. For a moment I contemplated running away, so Mrs. Torres’s sadness couldn’t diminish my sense of accomplishment. I didn’t run. In the end, my love for these people won.
Mrs. Torres was an older version of Magda, only a little shorter. She was in her forties, and very pretty. Her husband had walked out on them a few years ago, and the last I’d heard was living in Miami with a twenty-three-year-old. He had nothing to do with the kids, and they had nothing to do with him. Magda had acted like he didn’t even exist. I remembered him, but I couldn’t remember if I ever even liked him. I certainly didn’t like him after he abandoned his family. It made the reality of my own family situation even more bitter. What the fuck was wrong with men? Weren’t there any good ones in the world? So far, Gabe seemed to be the only one.
Magda’s mother smiled when she saw me, even though she had tears in her eyes. She cried a lot. In a way I envied that she was able to get her grief out in a way that didn’t require punching someone in the face. She held out her arms, and I stepped into her hug as she told me how good it was to see me.
“It’s been too long,” she said. “You must come for dinner some night. How does tomorrow sound?”
“I’ll check with Mom, but it should be okay.”
Mrs. Torres released me. “Come after school. We’ll visit. You can help me cook like Magda used to.”
My throat was tight as I swallowed. “Okay. I’ll check with Mom and call you later.” Then I was distracted by Teresa, who also wanted a hug. She was thirteen, and losing her big sister had been very hard on her. Gabriel had told me she was afraid of boys. I didn’t know how to help with that, because I had to be honest—I was afraid of them too.
I hung back when Mrs. Torres and Teresa went to the grave. Their grief was a private thing. And I was still clinging to that fading sense of accomplishment I’d woken up with.
Gabriel stayed with me. I should’ve known it wasn’t because he enjoyed my company so much.
“A friend of mine forwarded me an interesting Instagram post this morning,” he said, looking down at me.
My heart gave a hard thump. I raised my gaze to his. “The picture of Jason Bentley?” If I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, he’d know for sure I’d been behind it. “Yeah, I saw that too.” It wasn’t a lie. Zoe had forwarded the photo to me last night.
“Whoever did that to him must’ve really had it in for him.”
I didn’t even blink. “I really didn’t think about it. But it’s the wallpaper on my phone now.”
He smiled—just a small tilt of his lips. “Mine too.”
I grinned. “I wonder if he’ll show his face at school tomorrow.”
“He will. They’ll make it some kind of smear campaign. It’ll take more than this to hurt those four for long.”
There went my sense of accomplishment.
“Though this will sting. Whoever did it took a photo from Magda’s Facebook page. Makes me think they did this in retaliation for her more than to out Bentley as a rapist.”
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Kady Cross
A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands.It's senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend's attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.Donning a pink ski mask and fuelled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley's revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can't turn back from?
A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands
It’s senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend’s attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.
Donning a pink ski mask and fueled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley’s revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can’t turn back from?
Vigilante
Kady Cross
KADY CROSS, publishing under various names, is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty books, including Harlequin’s Steampunk Chronicles and the Sisters of Blood and Spirit duology. She is lucky enough to have a husband who shares her love for the slightly twisted and all things geek. Visit her on the web at www.alterkate.com (http://www.alterkate.com) or on Twitter, @alterkates (https://twitter.com/alterkates).
This book is dedicated to all the girls who have survived. You are strength incarnate, and I hope you continue to heal, grow and thrive.
Also, this book is for Amy Lukavics and Gena Showalter, my signing sisters. Love and miss you both so much! I will always treasure that drive from Houston to Austin where our friendship took root. The two of you are shining examples of light, beauty and strength, and I’m honored to call you my friends.
And for Steve, because they’re all for you, babe.
Contents
Cover (#u13042cff-2eb6-50d8-bf1c-bd3679227167)
Back Cover Text (#u30ca2cc3-e3ea-5519-8ddd-61125f6e0bcb)
Title Page (#u6765286a-6fb0-5364-8401-e93a8576241b)
About the Author (#u410db1b9-ec2a-5b9f-9cda-74db87b0c243)
Dedication (#ud04d1cc3-428e-590e-8372-69d2edbd8c11)
CHAPTER 1 (#ua0e655df-d34a-552e-927c-b510f5593740)
CHAPTER 2 (#u346e5925-5b15-5a99-a94f-e00f0e8393b8)
CHAPTER 3 (#uafafcabd-283b-58e2-9467-c7ad18c36008)
CHAPTER 4 (#ude8a7eb7-392e-569a-876a-3511d3753937)
CHAPTER 5 (#u9ad81c92-c76c-5fea-a016-616423a1b1d9)
CHAPTER 6 (#ude4f5cd1-c63b-5686-aa70-68bd93d76378)
CHAPTER 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 1 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Before
Someone had written slut on Magda’s locker again. I watched her try to scrape it off with the zipper of her makeup bag.
Last time she’d cried, but there weren’t any tears in her dark eyes this time, and instead of being flushed, her cheeks were actually pale. They were getting to her, I realized. Wearing her down.
I pulled a Sharpie from my bag, walked up beside her and changed the u to an a and added an e at the end.
“Slate?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, my mind frantically reaching for an explanation that might please her. “As in clean.”
Her face darkened. “I’m not the one who got a clean slate. They did.” But she didn’t go back to scraping.
I didn’t know what to do. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right lately. I hadn’t since the night my best friend was raped and images of it uploaded to the internet. Besides me, and Magda’s family, no one really seemed to believe she’d been raped at all. In fact, the boys who did it said she’d wanted to have sex with all four of them, and the entire school believed them, even though Magda hadn’t so much as gone out on a date with a guy before that night. It was easier to believe a teenage girl would want her first time to be with multiple partners than it was to believe four popular boys were capable of rape.
I looked at my friend; her expression was blank. The fact that Magda didn’t look too upset was good, right? At least, I thought it was. I’d never say anything to her, but I’d been starting to get impatient with her. I knew what happened to her had been terrible—but they hadn’t hurt her so badly that she hadn’t healed properly. She’d survived what they’d done. No, it wasn’t fair that they got to walk around free while people called her a slut, but when was she going to start defending herself? I kept waiting for her to get mad—maybe punch somebody. Tell them off. But she didn’t—she just took what they said and tucked it away inside herself. She hardly smiled anymore, and I was so tired of it. I just wanted my friend back—and I had no idea how to make that happen.
We walked home together, like we always did. It was a gorgeous spring day—sunny and warm. A block from Magda’s house, a car pulled up beside us. In it were three boys from the senior class.
“Hey, Magda,” one said, leaning out the passenger window. “We’re having a party this weekend. Want to come? We need entertainment.”
Her face turned scarlet, but she didn’t say anything. Why didn’t she tell them off?
“Fuck off,” I said to them, putting myself between her and them. “Just fuck off.”
He grinned at me. “You can come too, baby. No need to get jealous. There’s enough of us to go around.”
I had a can of grape soda in my hand, and before I could think about it, I’d dumped what was left over his stupid head. It ran down his surprised face in purple rivers, staining his white shirt. His friends stared at me, mouths hanging open.
“You stupid bitch!” he cried. He started to open his door, but I kicked it shut, and held it like that with the strength of my leg. I didn’t know what I was going to do if the other two decided to get involved.
“Cops!” the one in the back shouted. I turned my head and saw the cruiser approaching. The car took off so fast I fell on my ass. Shit. It hurt.
By the time the police car pulled up, Magda had already helped me to my feet. I recognized the woman behind the wheel as Diane Davies. She’d worked Magda’s case before it became a joke.
“You girls okay?” she asked, but she was looking at Magda.
“Yeah,” my friend said. “We’re fine, Detective Davies. Thanks.”
The cop didn’t look like she believed us. “You want a lift home?”
Magda shook her head.
“Okay, then. Be careful.” She didn’t look happy about leaving us, but short of forcing Magda into the car, what could she do?
We watched her drive away before we started walking again.
“You don’t always have to defend me.” Magda sounded pissed. “They would have driven away. You didn’t need to start a fight.”
“Yes, I did. Those pricks deserved it. You shouldn’t have to keep paying for a stupid mistake.”
Magda stopped suddenly, under the shade of a huge tree. “What mistake?”
I stared at her. Was she medicated? “Going off with Drew Carson at that party.”
“You’ve never gone off with a guy before?”
She knew I had. “You know what I mean. You just picked the wrong guy.”
“Was I supposed to know that?” Her voice had gotten louder, and her eyes were wide as she looked at me. “And I didn’t pick him, he picked me, but that doesn’t matter, because I thought he liked me. I never thought his friends would be waiting for us. I never wanted that, Hadley. And that wasn’t my fault!”
“Calm down.” I’d never seen her like this before. “I didn’t mean it was your fault.”
“Yeah, you did. Just like everyone else in this shit-hole town. I haven’t heard anyone ask Drew, Brody, Jason or Adam why they raped me, but everyone has questions for me. Why did you wear that skirt? Why did you go with Drew? Why didn’t you scream louder? What did you expect to happen? Here’s a question for you, Had—why don’t you just fuck off?”
She ran away from me then, leaving me standing on the sidewalk like an asshole, staring after her in openmouthed shock. What the hell? I hadn’t meant to upset her. I was on her side for crying out loud!
I continued walking home. I could have gone to her house, but I didn’t want to fight, and she needed time to cool off. And so did I. After all I’d done, all the times I’d defended her, this was what I got in return? If she thought I appreciated being lumped in with the rest of the people who blamed her, she was stupid and wrong. I’d believed her when no one else would.
Yes, it had been stupid of her to go off with Drew. Most of us knew he was a dog, but he and his friends had never done anything like that before. They were all from fairly decent families, and were good-looking. They didn’t need to rape in order to get sex. But Magda wouldn’t lie. I’d seen her afterward, and I knew something horrible had happened. I wished I had been able to stop it.
My parents weren’t home when I got there. Mom was still at work, and Dad was away on business. I heard them fight once in a while. They didn’t know I knew, but our house wasn’t that big.
I did my homework and helped Mom with dinner when she came home. Then I walked over to Magda’s to apologize and talk. Her older brother Gabriel answered the door. He smiled when he saw me, and my heart did this little flip in my chest. When had he gotten so hot? Those dark eyes of his and long dark hair killed me—made me feel like I couldn’t think straight.
“Hi, Had. Mags is in her room. She’s been listening to some sad-bastard music. Maybe you can cheer her up.”
I smiled, my insides still dancing around like lunatics. “I’ll try.”
His gaze narrowed. “Everything okay with you two?”
“We had a bit of a fight earlier. I said something stupid.” I looked him in the eye. “Sometimes I don’t know the right thing to say to her.”
He nodded, his expression somber. “None of us do.” Then he hugged me, and I let myself enjoy it a little longer than I should.
When I knocked on Magda’s door, she didn’t say anything. She probably couldn’t hear me over the music. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. She was going to scream when she saw me—she scared so freaking easy.
She was on her bed. For a moment, I thought she was sleeping—and then I saw the pill bottle, and I realized she wasn’t breathing.
CHAPTER 2 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Magda and I were supposed to go into senior year together, but on the first day of school, I was alone and Mags was dead.
I arrived ten minutes before the bell for homeroom. It was a nice day, warm and sunny, and there were kids all over the front lawn of Carter High School. A year ago, Magda and I had been among them, excited to be back, but dreading the daily grind.
I walked up the concrete path to the main doors and walked inside. The halls teemed with kids—tall, short, fat, skinny, nervous or bored. There was every hair and skin color imaginable represented. I saw a girl with pink hair, a guy with a mohawk and a kid with a septum piercing clustered together, talking animatedly by a classroom. The three of them would probably get hassled at some point during that day. Would anyone stand up for them?
No one had stood up for Magda. No one but Magda’s brother Gabriel and me. I hadn’t always been the friend I should have been to her. I hadn’t understood what she was going through. I had to live with that—and without my best friend.
There was a shadow box on the wall by the principal’s office that had photos of kids who had been killed during the school year. They’d started it back in the eighties. There were a lot of pictures in it. Magda’s wasn’t there. They justified her exclusion by calling it a suicide. But Magda’s life had been over months before she took those pills. She’d been murdered, and her killers had been allowed to walk free. Their names were even protected by the press because they were underage. We were all going to be under the same roof that day, the four of them and me. It seemed more ominous after a summer of missing Magda, like her absence had intensified the gravity of what they’d done.
I looked for them as I roamed the halls, but I didn’t see them. They traveled as a pack, usually followed by sycophants and foolish girls who believed that cute boys couldn’t possibly be monsters. I hoped none of those girls discovered how wrong they were.
Gabriel had graduated last year, and would be starting classes at a local college in a couple of days. I missed having him with me. After Magda died, the two of us had become each other’s support—it was the only way we could get through the day at school. We kept each other from falling apart, and when the charges against Magda’s rapists were dropped, we raged and cried together.
“Hadley?”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing beside a row of lockers was Zoe Kotler, who I’d known since first grade. We weren’t close friends, but we’d hung out a bit over the years. I remember she cried at Magda’s funeral, something I hadn’t been able to do.
“Hey, Zoe.” A guy wearing a huge backpack practically hip checked me into the wall.
“Watch it,” I snarled.
He shot me a dirty look. “Fuck you.”
There were meaner things he could’ve said. By the time you get to senior year the F word has lost much of its gravity and ability to offend. It’s almost a regular part of the lexicon of teenage language, like texting, or soda.
I watched him walk away. Normally I would’ve had a good comeback, but I couldn’t summon one. What I wanted to do was kick him in the back of his stupid head. I could do it.
Zoe scowled after him. “Douche,” she said to his retreating back.
I shrugged. “The school’s full of them.”
She laughed. “You’ve got that right.” When I met her gaze, I saw concern and wariness in her brown eyes, like I was a wounded animal she wanted to pet but was afraid would take her hand off if she did.
“I know this might sound weird, but a few of us have started a petition.” She pulled a stapled stack of paper from her binder and handed it to me. I looked at the pages; the petition was to have Magda’s picture added to the shadow box.
I stared at all the signatures. There had to be at least forty there already.
“It’s not fair that she’s not there,” Zoe said. “Three other people whose pictures are there died the same way.”
I looked at her, tempted to ask if those people had been raped, but I knew that wasn’t what she meant. She meant they’d killed themselves. “Do you have a pen?” I asked.
She smiled and handed me the pen she had clipped to her binder. I signed my name.
“I miss her, you know?”
I handed the petition and pen back to her. I wanted to tell her that she knew nothing. That she was a stupid cow who had no idea what it was like to lose your best friend, someone you knew so well they felt like a part of you. Wanted to tell her she should be glad that she had never seen someone she loved suffer like Magda had. I wanted to tell her that I hoped she never walked into a friend’s room and found them on their bed after they’d taken a handful of sleeping pills—enough to kill them, but not enough to do it quickly.
I remembered holding Magda in my arms, screaming for help. My brain latched on to that memory of her, so pale and unresponsive, and rolled it around in my head until my lungs felt as though they were being squeezed by a giant hand, each breath more strangled and difficult than the last.
Mostly, I hoped Zoe never knew what it was like to feel responsible, to know that the last thing you’d said to your best friend had broken her heart and her spirit. I’d let Magda feel alone, and she’d killed herself.
“Yeah,” I rasped. “I know. I have to go.” I pivoted on my heel and walked away as fast as I could without running. I dived into the nearest girls’ bathroom and ducked into a stall. I closed the door and locked it before pressing my forehead against the cool metal.
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth until the panic faded. My mother thought I had PTSD. Maybe I did, but calling it that felt like I was trying to excuse my grief. It felt like a lie. Because what I had was not a disorder, but a sadness that ran so deep I could feel it in my bones. Sometimes I felt like Magda had taken my own life with hers that day.
I tried to push thoughts of her away. My parents and my therapist had been concerned about how returning to school would affect me. I thought they were the crazy ones, but it seemed they understood me better than I did. I should have taken a Xanax before I left the house. At least that would have taken the edge off.
* * *
The bell rang. I made my way to the auditorium with the rest of the throng. Magda and I always sat as far back as we could. I couldn’t bring myself to climb the stairs to the back of the room, so I sat four rows back from the front. The seat to my right remained empty as the auditorium filled up. I could almost pretend my friend was there beside me.
They divided freshmen into their classes first, calling out names and then telling them where their classroom was located. Next was the sophomores, then the juniors and finally the seniors.
I sat there, numb and disinterested, until four familiar names were called: Jason Bentley, Drew Carson, Brody Henry and Adam Weeks. People actually cheered them. Those raised voices set my teeth on edge. Then, the universe decided to be cruel.
“Hadley White.”
No one cheered for me or applauded. I doubted many of them even knew who I was. It didn’t make me feel any better, though. Because I had been Magda’s best friend, and those four boys had destroyed her. They should know who I was, but they didn’t. I could probably walk right up to all four of them and spit in their faces, and they would have no idea why I had done it.
My name was the last one called for that class. I stood up with the others and filed out of the auditorium. Like all the other sheep, I followed the four of them to our homeroom class. I was the only one who didn’t seem to want their attention.
I was probably also the only one who wanted to kill them all.
Last Year
“I don’t understand what you see in him,” I said as Magda and I walked to our lockers. It was only the second week of school, and she couldn’t stop staring at Drew Carson. “He creeps me out.”
She frowned at me. She looked like an angry deer, her dark eyes were so big. “I think he’s cute. He grinned at me in class this morning.”
“That’s not a grin, it’s a leer.” We stopped at my locker, and I turned the dial on the combination lock. “Seriously, I’ve heard stories about him, Mags. He’s not a good guy.”
“Take a pill. It’s not like I want to marry him.” Her eyes sparkled now. “I just want to see if he’s as good a kisser as I think he is.”
I grimaced. Gross. There was only one way to stop this conversation. “You know who I think would be a great kisser?”
She leaned forward, eagerly, as though I was about to tell her the secrets of the universe. “Who?”
“Your brother.”
“Ugh!” She looked like she’d bit into something rotten. “Don’t even go there!”
I laughed as I grabbed my books. “But he’s so pretty, and his lips look like they’d be really soft, y’know? But firm.” I’d never admit that I wasn’t joking with her. My crush on Gabriel was my little secret.
“Stop it! Okay, fine, you win. Let’s talk about something else. Are you still sleeping over Saturday night?”
“Sure.” I shut the locker door and we walked the short distance to hers. “Are you going to cancel on me if you get a better offer? ’Cause I can always just hang out with Gabe if you have other plans.”
She rolled her wide, dark eyes. She was so pretty. “Please. Like I’d ever choose a guy over my best friend.”
I grinned. “Nothing will ever come between us. Ever.”
I was wrong.
* * *
I had only one class that none of them were in. AP English literature and composition would be my refuge. I was tempted to see if I could transfer out of some of the other classes, but then someone might want to know why.
If Mags hadn’t died, she would be right there with me. She’d spent months in the same classroom with those assholes after they hurt and humiliated her. She suffered through it until she couldn’t anymore. Changing classes would seem like an insult to her memory. Besides, there was part of me that liked sitting a few seats behind Drew Carson, staring at his back as rage bubbled inside me. Maybe it was the fact that I felt something that made me like it, or maybe I was just broken.
Jason Bentley sat next to me. I started to shake so bad I could barely hold my pen. I picked up my stuff and moved two rows over. There was no way I could spend the rest of the year next to him.
After my last class I went to my locker, gathered up what I needed and left. How was I going to do this for the next eight months? One day had felt like a year.
Halfway home I heard someone shout, “Hey!” behind me. When they did it again, I realized they were talking to me. I stopped and turned around.
It was Jason.
I wanted to run—away from him and at him. Every instinct I had screamed for me to escape while my heart urged me to pick up a rock and throw it at his face. Instead, I just stood there, unable to tell if it was defiance or stupidity that kept me still.
He approached me with a confused and wary look on his face, sort of like the one Zoe had worn that morning. “Hey,” he said. “You’re Hadley, right?”
I just stared, unable to speak for fear that all that would come out of my mouth was a scream, not of fear, but something primal and filled with rage. God, was I having a heart attack? My chest was so tight.
At one time—before he and his friends ruined my best friend—I’d found him cute. He was smart too, and out of the four he was the only one who ever paid any attention to me. Whenever Magda was around, I was always surprised when a boy looked at me. I wasn’t ugly—in fact I’ve always thought of myself as passably pretty—but Magda was gorgeous, and she’d had no idea just how beautiful she was.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked.
I continued to stare.
“Why did you move when I sat next to you in class today?”
Did he really have to ask? Yes, apparently he did, because there didn’t seem to be any malice in his tone or expression at all. He truly had no idea why I despised him.
“Magda Torres was my best friend,” I whispered, staring into those blue eyes. Disgust rolled in my stomach, rose in the back of my throat until I thought I might puke. Hate was a vile-tasting thing I wanted to spit onto his expensive sneakers.
Jason’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He took a step backward. “Oh.”
I took a step toward him, unwilling to allow him to escape so quickly. My chest wasn’t so tight now. Instead, it burned with rage. “Is that all you have to say?” I smiled, but it felt more like a twisting of my lips. I mean, he’d followed me all this way. It wasn’t just to ask me why I moved, was it?
What was I doing? He was bigger than me, and even though I’d been taking martial arts ever since I was a kid, I’d never actually fought someone outside the dojo.
He held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“No, and you didn’t get any, did you?” I glared at him, took another step forward. “You didn’t even go to trial. How does it feel to have gotten away with it? Did you and your buddies celebrate when she killed herself?”
Jason looked horrified. Good. He just stared at me, shaking his head.
A car pulled up beside us. Drew Carson was driving, and Brody was in the passenger seat. Adam was in the back. For a second I was terrified that they were going to throw me in the car, take me somewhere secluded, and do to me what they’d done to my friend.
Brody’s window came down. “Dude, we’ve been looking for you. Get in.”
I didn’t look at them. I couldn’t. I was already shaking so badly my teeth chattered. If I looked at them, they’d see my fear. They’d see my rage. And I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
Jason glanced at me before opening the car door and jumping into the backseat. I stared at the ground and heard them laugh as they drove away.
When I finally felt like I could walk without falling down, I didn’t head straight home. My legs shook for most of the walk, but eventually they became strong again and they carried me up the hill to the local cemetery. I didn’t have to look at the headstones to find the one I was looking for. I knew exactly where it was. It was the newer one at the end of the row with so many roses on it. Magda had loved roses. It didn’t matter what color so long as they smelled like they should. Usually I brought her one when I came to visit, but I hadn’t planned on visiting her until Friday.
I set my book bag on the grass left of her headstone and sat right on top of the mound that covered the hole where she’d been buried. I pulled a weed from the base of the heart-shaped stone her mother had erected that simply had her name, her birthday and the date she died engraved upon it.
Usually when I visited, I talked to her and told her what was going on in my life. I would tell her about our favorite TV shows, the books I’d read, local gossip, but today I didn’t feel much like talking. I just wanted to be near her, so I sat there, on the grass, and let the sun warm me.
A little while later, I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. I already knew.
“I thought you weren’t coming until Friday,” he said.
I didn’t look up, but moved a little to the left so he could sit down beside me. We always shared the mound and never made the other sit on the flat grass.
Gabriel and I came here a lot. We never planned to be here at the same time, and sometimes we weren’t, but when we were it was okay. Once you cried on someone, it wasn’t such a big deal if they saw your grief again.
Magda’s older brother was tall and lean with long dark hair and even darker eyes. Like his sister he was gorgeous, and seemed naively unaware of it. He was more cynical, though. Magda had seen good in everybody; Gabe knew it wasn’t true.
“Rough day?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
I’d known Gabriel since I was five years old, so when he put his arm around my shoulders I leaned into him, my cheek resting on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, and for some reason that made me incredibly sad and happy at the same time.
That’s when the tears finally came, because I hadn’t felt happy since before my best friend had her rape smeared across the internet. I didn’t feel like I deserved to be happy now, when I should have been the one to save her, and had failed.
CHAPTER 3 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
I had Aikido class that night, in a strip mall located on West Main Street. The instructor was a great big guy named José, who was very strong, and surprisingly light on his feet. He smiled a lot, which made him look completely unthreatening. I liked him. I’d started taking his class a couple of years ago. It was one of the few things Magda and I hadn’t done together. She tried it, but just didn’t like it. She didn’t like hurting people—or getting hurt.
“We have a special guest tonight,” José said. “Detective Diane Davies from our local police station. She’s going to talk to you all about how you can use aikido to protect yourself from an attacker.”
Detective Davies was tall. She wore a T-shirt and sweatpants, and I could see muscle definition in her arms. She’d seemed nice at the time, like she really wanted to help. But in the end, she’d let Magda down too.
“I need someone to help me demonstrate these moves,” Detective Davies said. “Would anyone like to volunteer?”
I put up my hand before I could stop myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to be helpful, but that I was hoping to have the chance to punch her in the face. Not a particularly sane thought, but I was just so angry. Angry that Magda was gone. Angry that Jason Bentley hadn’t known who I was. Angry that everybody was just going about their regular lives like nothing terrible had happened. My best friend was dead, and she had been for months. My life hadn’t been the same since she was attacked, and it never would be. I was always going to wonder what Magda could’ve been, what she could’ve achieved, and about the fact that four assholes had made certain she’d never do any of it.
So yeah, the chance to unload a little violence—with no ramifications—on one of the people who had let Magda down was too tempting to pass up.
And maybe she’d land a couple of strikes on me, and I could let the pain inside me go somewhere else. Take the punishment I deserved.
Detective Davies met my gaze as I approached the front of the dojo. When we stood face-to-face she smiled at me, and said, “I know you. It’s Hadley, right?”
So she did remember. “Yes.”
Her smile faded a little. Good. I hope she remembered Magda, and that she felt at least a little guilt standing there with me.
“First I want you to come at me,” she instructed. “I’ll defend myself against you, then we’ll break down the moves, and then you’ll use them on me.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
She moved a few feet away from me. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I didn’t run toward her, or lunge. But I quickly closed the distance between us and aimed a kick I had learned in tae kwon do at her sternum. She was fast, way faster than I anticipated. She grabbed my leg, using my momentum to throw me off balance and facedown on the floor.
I sucked in a deep breath to replace what had been knocked out of me, and pushed myself to my feet. She was good. And I was pissed at myself for not being at least as good.
The detective addressed the class. “You all know that aikido is about displacing the energy of an attack. I didn’t have to strike out, and I avoided being hit simply by using Hadley’s momentum to my own advantage and against her. Now, Hadley, would you mind helping me break the moves down so that everyone can see before you use it against me?”
I walked back to the center of the mat with her. We went through the movements again, this time in slow motion. I paid close attention to how she grabbed my leg and twisted her own body. This time when I hit the mat it was with barely any force at all, and I was able to catch myself.
“Now,” Diane said. “I will attack you.”
Obviously she knew other martial arts as well, because she came at me fast with a confident kick aimed at my midsection. Remembering her moves, I grabbed her leg and with a sharp pivot of my body, brought her crashing to the mat. I hoped she found it as hard to breathe as I had.
I offered her my hand to help her to her feet. She took it. As she rose to her feet she gave me an odd look, like she knew what was going on in my head. It made me uncomfortable.
“Very good,” she told me. “Why don’t the rest of you pair off and take turns practicing on your partners?”
Not everyone had shown up for class that night, so I was left without a partner. Normally I wouldn’t have cared, because it would’ve meant I got to spar with José. This time, however, it left me with the cop.
“You’re very good,” she told me. “Though I don’t believe aikido is meant to be used with such anger.” She actually smiled when she said it.
I wanted to tell her off, but even I wasn’t that ballsy. “Sorry.”
She laughed. “Don’t apologize. If you’re ever attacked, I want you to be angry about it.”
I looked her in the eyes. “I’m angry if any woman gets attacked.”
Her smile slid from her face. “That’s where I know you from. You were Magda Torres’s friend.”
“I still am her friend. The fact that she’s dead doesn’t change that.”
“No,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t think that it did.” She watched me like I was something potentially dangerous, as though she wasn’t quite sure that I was safe to be around.
“Sorry,” I said, even though I didn’t mean it. “Today was the first day of senior year. Magda and I had a lot of plans, and today I realized that none of them were ever going to happen.” Saying that out loud made my throat tight and my eyes burn. I blinked fast to clear them. This woman was not going to see me cry.
“I wish I could say I don’t know what you’re going through. But unfortunately I have too good an idea. When I was in college, a good friend of mine was raped on campus. She didn’t take her own life, but she carried the trauma with her for years afterward. She still does. They never caught the guy who did it. She’s the reason I became a cop.”
“Do you know who he was?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Everyone knows who raped Magda.” Maybe I was just stupid, or maybe I just didn’t care what the consequences were, but I stepped close to her and stared directly into her eyes. “And you weren’t able to catch them, either. Maybe you should consider another career choice.”
She didn’t even blink. “Believe me, I considered it. But I have to believe that I can make more of a difference as a police officer than I could outside the law.”
“Good luck with that.” I turned away from her and walked over to where José stood going over some paperwork. “Will you spar with me?” I asked.
He looked up, his friendly face looking bewildered. “I thought you’d want to learn from Detective Davies.”
“I don’t think she can teach me anything helpful.”
I used to think that some girl rolling her eyes at me, or sneering at me, was the worst expression in the world. Contempt—even hatred—those are things I don’t mind seeing in somebody’s face anymore. What I hate is pity—that moment when someone looks at you and you can see it in their eyes, that they feel so badly for you, like you’re a puppy that just got kicked.
“Give her a chance,” he suggested. “I think the two of you might be able to help each other.”
I knew better than to argue. José didn’t get angry; he never raised his voice. Once you were in his class for a couple of sessions, you realized that he meant whatever came out of his mouth, and no amount of urging, begging or even threats could persuade him otherwise.
I stepped back to where Diane Davies stood. She was checking her phone.
“José made you come back, did he?” She didn’t even glance up from her screen.
“Yes.” I said it through clenched teeth.
She looked me in the eye. “I’m very aware of how much I let Magda Torres and her loved ones down. How much the system let them down. I would give just about anything to go back and change that, but I think you and I both know you can’t go back.”
“No, you can’t. If we could, I would have never let her out of my sight at that party. I would’ve stopped her from taking those pills.”
“But you can’t do either of those things. No one can. I know something you can do.”
“What?” I could practically taste the bitterness and mockery in my tone.
“José and I have been talking about starting a self-defense course for girls. I would like for you to be a part of it if you’re interested. Help us teach other girls to protect themselves, so that what happened to Magda maybe won’t happen to one of them.”
I stared at her. Was she serious? She did know that Magda had been drugged, right? Being able to throw a punch wouldn’t have helped her. “Why me?”
“Because I think helping other girls might give you a place to channel all that anger.”
“I’m not angry.”
Instead of laughing like I expected her to, she gave me an understanding look. “No, you’re heartbroken.”
Maybe she understood a little better than I thought. “This class, are you going to teach them to actually fight, or will it just be things like blowing whistles and sticking people with keys?” Because Magda had taken one of those classes, and it had done her absolutely no fucking good.
“There might be a little bit of whistles and keys. But we’ll be teaching them to fight, and to fight dirty. We’re talking forcing testicles to retract, that kind of fighting.”
For the first time in months, a genuine smile curved my lips. “I’m in.”
* * *
“You should eat something.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, I looked up at my mother. She had that pinched expression on her face that I’d seen a lot since Magda died. It was an expression I understood to mean that while she was worried about me, she was also annoyed with me. I think she thought that I should be over it by now.
But did we ever get over losing someone we cared about? I mean, it wasn’t like Magda had moved to another city, or had gone away to school. She was gone. Forever. Three-quarters of my life had been spent with her and then, during the space of a few hours, she’d stopped being. How did you just “get over” that?”
“I’m not all that hungry.”
Mom spooned some scrambled eggs onto my plate. “At least eat these. You need the protein.”
She was right. I wasn’t one of those kids who thought my parents were wrong all the time. Usually they were right. Well, Mom usually was. My father pretty much just pissed me off whenever I saw him.
Then again, it didn’t take much to upset me these days.
I didn’t argue about the eggs. I ate them on autopilot, not really tasting them. I couldn’t live the rest of my life like this—numb except for bouts of rage. I knew it was part of the grieving process, but it was also exhausting.
“You’ve gotten so thin.”
I ate another mouthful of eggs as a response. I hadn’t really lost much weight. After the funeral I did lose about ten pounds, but some of those had come back. The difference was that I had been working out like mad. Aikido was the third martial arts class I had taken since I was thirteen. It hadn’t started out as me just wanting to hit or kick something. I signed up for martial arts because I wanted to be fit, and it was really the only thing I found fun enough to stick with. And now it was the only thing that calmed me down.
Magda hadn’t been into the kicking and punching. She liked to run and had been on the school track team. The muscles in her legs had been like granite. I ran with her once in a while, but I could never keep up.
Regardless, I was working out more, turning the soft parts of my body into something hard and strong.
“The police officer that was at class last night asked me to help her with a self-defense class for girls.”
Mom look surprised at this. “Really? Why would she do that?”
I shrugged. “She thinks I’m good. And she knew Magda.”
There was that pinched look again. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Hadley.”
“I do.” And it wasn’t until that moment when she opposed it that I realized I had already made up my mind about it. “I’m good at it, Mom. And if I can help even one girl escape what happened to Magda, it will be worth it.”
She sighed. “I suppose if I say no you’ll only do it anyway.”
“Why are you making it sound like I want to go out and do something reckless? Or something that might get me hurt or in trouble? Jesus, Mom.” I shook my head. “I just want to do something good.”
She looked pained, like I was doing this deliberately to hurt her. I had no idea why she was so opposed to this. I had no idea what was going through her head. It was almost like she blamed Magda for my emotional state. It didn’t make sense, but I was sure it was true.
“Fine. Help at the class. If your grades start to suffer, you will quit.”
I nodded. “Sure.” But I only made the promise so she’d stop talking about it.
Mom wasn’t done. “Your father isn’t going to like this.”
It was so tempting to say that I didn’t care if Dad liked it or not. I wanted to ask why she was so worried about his opinion anyway. It wasn’t like he was ever around. He was always working or... Whatever.
“I’ll tell him,” I said. “He’ll be okay with it when I tell him that I think it would be good for me—help me work out the guilt I feel for Magda being raped.”
My mother winced. The R word always made her intensely uncomfortable. “It wasn’t your fault. You know how much I liked Magda, but she ought to have known better than to be drinking at a party with that many boys around.”
My fingers tightened around my fork. Her words—so stupid and careless—made me remember what I’d said to Magda that day about being punished for making a mistake. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “No, those boys ought to have known better than to drug and rape a girl.”
“Hadley...”
“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare say it.” I didn’t understand how she could think it, let alone believe it. I knew, however, that my mother wasn’t the only woman to think that Magda had asked for what happened to her. Hell, even I had thought it once or twice. God, I wish I could take it back, because that guilt was a weight I’d carry the rest of my life. “Even if I walked into school stark naked with a box of condoms and a bottle of lube, I would not be asking to be raped.”
“Oh, Hadley!” She made a face. “Don’t be so crude.”
“What if it had been me, Mom? Would you blame me? Would you say those things about me?”
“Of course not!” She looked offended that I’d even suggest it. God, she really didn’t have a clue. “I hope I raised you well enough that you wouldn’t get yourself into such a situation.”
I’d had enough. There was a very real possibility that I was going to stab my mother with my fork if I didn’t leave the house at that moment. I pushed back my chair—it screeched against the floor—and practically jumped to my feet.
“I have to go. I’ll be late for school.” I grabbed my bag and stomped from the kitchen, throwing open the door so hard that it banged against the wall.
“Hey!” my mother yelled. “There’s no need for that!”
I ignored her and kept walking. I was halfway to school before I realized that I still had the fork in my hand.
CHAPTER 4 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
I ran into Zoe at lunch that day. Actually, I was outside sitting on the grass, letting the sun beat down on me in the hope that it might thaw the coldness inside, when she plopped down beside me.
“So,” she began, “are you going to the party Saturday night?”
I turned my head toward her, looking at her through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. “What party?”
“Jason Bentley is having a party Saturday night.”
I laughed—it was not a happy sound. “No.”
“He asked me to tell you about it.”
I peered at her over the top of my sunglasses. She was shitting me, right? “Seriously? Why would he do that?” Was he trying to mess with me?
She pulled a pair of pink cat-eye sunglasses from her bag and put them on. “He didn’t say. He just asked me to tell my ‘pretty blonde friend’ about the party.”
“And you thought he meant me?”
Zoe smiled. “He saw us talking in class.”
He must have asked her to do this before he came after me yesterday. “I’m not sure why he would think I’d want to go. Zoe, you know he’s one of the guys who raped Magda.”
She glanced away. “He was never charged.”
Was I the only person who had a grip on reality around there? “That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry, Hadley. I’ve known Jason for years. I just don’t want to believe he could do such a thing.”
And I never believed Magda would kill herself. I never thought my father would turn out to be an asshole. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, either.”
“So what, you’re just going to avoid all social gatherings your last year of high school?”
“No. Just the ones Bentley and his friends are involved with.”
“They’re going to be at all of them. They’re the most popular guys in school.”
“I know. That’s how they managed to get away with it. They’re rich and popular. They’re also rapists. If you go to that party, don’t let Drew Carson get you a drink.”
“I don’t let anyone get me a drink.”
So maybe she wasn’t as gullible as I thought.
Zoe pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Has it occurred to you that maybe if you go to the party, people will see you and remember what happened to Magda? Maybe another girl will think twice before going off with one of them.”
I stared at her. I didn’t know why it was so important to her that I go to this damn party, but she had a point. “I’ll think about it.”
She smiled. “I can pick you up.”
If she’d wanted me to go to the party with her why hadn’t she just said so? I wanted to warn her that I wasn’t much of a wing man, but I couldn’t make the words come out. I wasn’t in the market for a new best friend, either. Still, I kept that to myself.
Instead, I said to her, “We’re starting a self-defense course for girls at my dojo. Diane Davies—she’s a cop—is putting it together. She’s asked me to help. Are you interested?”
Zoe’s pretty face brightened. “You mean like teaching us to fight?”
I nodded. “It would be about protecting yourself from an attack, but yes, we teach you to fight.” Maybe I shouldn’t make that promise, but if Detective Davies wasn’t going to do it, I would.
She grinned. “Cool. I always wanted to learn how to fight. When does it start?”
“Thursday night. I know that’s soon, but we wanted to get going as quickly as possible. It’s at seven. Here’s the address.” I gave her one of José’s cards.
“Thanks.” She glanced at it before putting it in her bag.
“If you know anybody else who’d be interested, feel free to spread the word.” The more girls we got, the less chance there was of Drew Carson and his friends being able to continue hurting people. Warning girls that their drinks might be spiked only did so much.
“I will.”
We sat there for a while, not saying much. It was nice to hang out with someone. I hadn’t done that since Magda died. Lunch was almost over when I heard laughter. I turned my head toward it and saw Drew, Jason, Brody and Adam standing together farther down the lawn. They were talking to a group of girls, all of whom looked at them like they were special. I didn’t understand it. We all knew what they had done. Everyone in that school knew what had happened that night. For fuck’s sake, everyone in the goddamn town knew what had happened that night. Why, then, did the four of them get to continue on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened? Why did people treat them as though they were innocent, even though they had taken pictures of what they’d done to my friend?
And why did Magda, the best person I’ve ever known, get treated like she had done something wrong? I could almost understand why guys wouldn’t care, but I would never understand why the girls didn’t.
I stared at them, that familiar burn of anger and helplessness churning in my stomach, spreading up into my chest and throat until I thought my ribs might cave in from the heaviness of it, and I might choke to death.
They would all be at the party at Jason’s. They would be there, and so would those girls. And one of those girls would get Drew’s attention. Maybe he already had her picked out. He would get her a drink, and he would put something in it that made it difficult for her to fight back or even move. And he would take her to a bedroom, where he and his three best friends would take turns violating her while one of them took video and photographs. And if anybody found out about it, they would say she was willing. That she wanted it. That she was a slut. And they would get away with it, because they always got away with it. I knew of three other girls who had been assaulted by one or more of those assholes, and nothing had been done about it.
The edges of my vision were black, as I gasped for breath. Was this a panic attack? Or was I finally being suffocated by my grief, guilt and rage? My anger was not a bad thing. My anger was righteous. Teaching girls to defend themselves was only a small part of what needed to be done. Someone had to show those boys that they would not be allowed to hurt people, that there was a price. They owed Magda her life, and that was a debt they could never repay. But as I sat there watching them, caught between imploding and breaking down, I realized something with absolute clarity. The four of them had to pay.
And it was at that moment that I realized I was going to make sure they did.
* * *
I arrived at the dojo early Thursday night. Detective Davies was already there setting up. José was with her. They smiled when I walked in.
“Thanks for helping get this off the ground,” Detective Davies said to me. “I hope we get a good turnout.”
I shrugged. “We probably won’t. A lot of the girls from school don’t think anything bad could ever happen to them.”
Her smile faded. “Until it does.”
“Yeah.” How much violence against women had she seen since becoming a cop?
By the time class started we had five girls, including me. To be honest, it was a better turnout than I expected. Zoe was one of the girls. She had her auburn hair in a ponytail and was wearing leggings and an oversize T-shirt.
“I have a couple of friends who will come next week,” Zoe said. “They both had band meeting tonight.”
“Great,” I said. The more the better.
Detective Davies started the class by talking about nonviolent ways for girls to protect themselves. She talked about not leaving your drink unattended at a party, and not drinking anything that you hadn’t poured yourself.
“You know,” one of the girls said, “it would be a lot easier if boys didn’t act like assholes.”
The detective nodded. “It would be. No matter what happens, you’re not to blame for any of it. Unfortunately, the unfairness of the situation is that there are boys, and men, out there who will hurt you if they can. And until society stops allowing that, women have to look out for themselves and each other. That’s one of the most important things—you girls looking out for each other.”
I swallowed the bitterness that rose in the back of my throat. Guilt tasted like shit. I should’ve taken better care of Magda. I should’ve watched out for her and protected her instead of turning my back. The reality of it was that I’d been jealous. Jealous of the fact that boys seemed to find her so desirable and barely looked at me. I tried to tell her Drew was a jerk, but she didn’t believe me. I had wanted her to find out for herself, but not like that. Never like that.
Detective Davies went on to talk about things like pepper spray and using keys as a weapon. She talked about having safety words with your friends, so that if you thought a guy was a threat you could warn each other.
Half an hour passed before she got to the actual physical part of the class. The five of us sat on the mats in front of her chair.
“How many of you have heard of Krav Maga?” she asked.
I put my hand up. So did Zoe.
“Krav Maga is a form of fighting developed for the Israeli military. It combines several kinds of martial arts and street fighting. Like a lot of disciplines, it promotes avoiding violence, but if that is unavoidable the idea is to terminate the conflict as quickly and efficiently as possible by using attacks aimed at vulnerable parts of the body and designed to do as much damage as necessary.”
“By vulnerable do you mean the balls?” a girl named Jenna asked. A couple of the other girls giggled.
Detective Davies smiled. “That’s one place. But a lot of times men expect that to be the first point of attack, and they’re good at protecting what’s between their legs. Also, what if your attacker’s not a guy?”
We all exchanged glances. None of us expected a threat from one another. But I’d seen girls fight before, and they were nasty.
The older woman continued. “It is rare for women to perpetrate sexual assault against each other, but we can be just as violent as men. If you are attacked by someone who doesn’t have testicles, you need to know other areas to strike. Of course, these areas are also vulnerable on men. The eyes, the throat, the solar plexus, which is the area right here—” she gestured to an area in the center of her chest “—the knees, the face, the fingers... All of these areas are vulnerable. And I will show you ways to hurt all of them.”
I smiled, and so did the other girls. I guess she was right when she said we could be just as bloodthirsty as guys. But I don’t think any of us were gleeful at the idea of being able to hurt somebody—well, except for me. It wasn’t about inflicting pain. It was the idea of not having to be afraid. Sure, you still had to be smart, but there was power in the idea of being able to fight back.
We started with practicing how to fend off an attacker while on our feet. Detective Davies showed us how effective a shove could be, but then also turned it around and showed us how to use momentum against our attacker if they tried to shove us.
I don’t think most of us would even have thought of using what she showed us on our own.
“As women, we are taught that physicality is masculine, and any woman who fights is vulgar. I’m telling you, as a physically strong, older woman, that it is okay for you to do whatever necessary to save yourself.” Detective Davies’s face was slightly flushed from demonstrating defensive moves. “If you can grab your attacker’s finger and bend it, or break it, do it. If you can gouge his eye, knee him in the groin or stomach, do it. Smash your head into his nose or mouth. Punch him in the throat. Hit him with anything you can get your hands on.
“You’ve been told all your life not to hurt people, and now I want you to forget that. If someone is trying to hurt you, I want each and every one of you to do whatever necessary to escape. I want you to hurt back.”
I wanted to applaud. I won’t lie. I wanted to hug her, even if she had let Mags down. I wish Magda hadn’t had to die for her to teach this class. If she had learned how to protect herself, maybe it would’ve helped. Then again, Drew Carson had drugged her, so she hadn’t had much fight in her anyway.
I raised my hand.
“Yes, Hadley?”
“Can you show us how to get out of a pin? What if someone bigger than us has us pinned to the ground?” Or a bed?
The older woman looked at me for a moment. She seemed...thoughtful. “I had planned on doing that in another class, but I can show you now, and we can work on it more later. Why don’t you come up here and help me?”
I stood up. She’d used me for a lot of the class already, getting me to help her demonstrate different techniques as I was the only one there with a martial arts background.
“Lie down on the floor on your back,” she instructed.
I did. The mat was cool beneath my back. We may not have gotten into anything too vigorous, but I had still managed to work up a bit of a sweat. Detective Davies knelt in front of me and then braced her hands on either side of my head so that her hips were between my thighs and her torso had me pinned.
One of the girls giggled. I rolled my eyes, a gesture that made my “attacker” smile. “Okay, you can see that I am bigger than Hadley. I’m taller and heavier, and I have gravity on my side. All I have to do is push or press down. To move me, Hadley has to exert force upward, so not only is she fighting my body weight and my strength, but she is also fighting gravity. Her shoulder blades are flat on the floor, which makes it even more difficult for her to escape. Now, what are things she can do to get out of this hold?”
Her question was met with silence. I turned my head to the side and saw the four girls looking at each other, as though waiting for one of them to speak first.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m your best friend, and we’re at a party together. You walk into a room and you see a guy trying to get my clothes off and rape me. You can’t attack him physically, but you can tell me how to hurt him. What do I do?”
The girls had gone pale. They weren’t looking at each other anymore, they were looking at me.
“See if you can work your legs under his,” Zoe suggested. “Then he can’t rape you, and you’re in a better position to knee him in the balls.”
I did as she suggested, miming trying to knee Detective Davies between the legs. But as I did so, the woman quickly snapped her leg shut and shoved her knee between mine again. She was strong, and for a moment I was filled with an irrational fear of what she was going to do to me.
The girls must’ve seen my fear because suddenly they jumped to life.
“Bash his nose with your forehead!” Jenna yelled.
“Punch him in the solar plexus!” another shouted. Anna, that was her name.
“Gouge his eyes!” That was Zoe again.
“Push your forearm into his neck so you’re shoving his head back, and then punch him in the throat with your other fist.” This was calmly delivered by the fourth girl, whose name I didn’t know, but whose face I would never forget. It was the face of a girl who’d been in this position herself and was only now realizing that she could’ve fought.
Hers was the advice I took, pushing Detective Davies’s head back and mock punching her. She jerked backward, and I seized the opportunity to get my legs around her, lift up and flip her so that she was the one on her back and I was the one on top. Then, I pretended to punch her repeatedly in the face until she was unconscious.
I met the gaze of that girl. “Thank you. You saved me.”
I wasn’t prepared for the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes. She nodded, blinking furiously to stop herself from crying. The other girls did a funny thing—instead of comforting her, they applauded—turning her from victim to hero. Her tears evaporated into a smile. It was a shaky smile, but it was still a smile.
I climbed to my feet and offered Detective Davies my hand to help her up. She took it and gracefully rolled up onto her feet.
“Well done,” she said. “You knew exactly what to say to them.”
“I wish I hadn’t.” Our gazes met. “Known what to say to them, I mean.”
She patted my shoulder. “Me too.” Then, she turned to the class. “I think that’s a good place to leave it for this week. We’ll meet again next Thursday at the same time. Feel free to bring a friend with you. Until then, feel free to practice what we went over. Although try not to actually hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” She smiled.
The girls stood up. I approached the girl whose name I didn’t know. The one who had told me how to get out of Detective Davies’s hold. She had brown hair, and blue eyes that seemed to look right through me. “Hey,” I said. “I’m Hadley.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m Caitlin. Thanks for setting this up.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t really. Detective Davies did. It was her idea.”
“Well, thanks anyway.” She turned to walk away.
“Hey,” I called. She turned around. “Are you coming next week?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.” This had to be the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had. I felt so stupid. What had I expected? That we would be instant friends?
Her smile was lopsided, and I think maybe a little sarcastic. “Well, see you then.” And then she walked away.
“Hadley?”
I turned. Zoe stood there with her friend Anna. “Did you like it?” I asked.
The two of them grinned. “Yeah,” they chorused.
“We’re going over to the frozen yogurt place,” Zoe said. “Do you want to come with us?”
I meant to say no. No was what I’d said ever since Magda’s funeral. No, I didn’t want to hang out. No, I didn’t want to go to the dance. No, I didn’t want anything to eat. And no, I did not want to talk about it.
“Sure. Are you going right now?”
Zoe nodded. “Yeah. You can come with us, or you can meet us there if you have something to do.” She sounded almost as awkward and uncertain as I felt, which was strangely comforting. It struck me as odd that we seemed even more vulnerable after learning how to kick the shit out of somebody than we had before. Why was that?
“I just have to grab my jacket.”
“We’ll wait,” Anna blurted. She blushed. “If you want us to, that is.”
At this rate, by next class we wouldn’t even be able to make eye contact. I felt myself smile, and not just because I wanted to put her at ease, but because I actually wanted to smile. I felt a strange tickle in my chest, like when your foot falls asleep and gets all prickly when the blood starts to circulate again. I hadn’t hung out with another girl since Magda. Since her suicide I’d been pretty antisocial. The only person I saw on a regular basis that wasn’t family was Gabe. Which reminded me I needed to go by the cemetery tomorrow after school.
“I’ll just be a second,” I said. “We can walk over together.”
Anna actually clapped her hands. “Yay!”
I laughed as I walked away. I thought this class would just be about violence. My experience with other girls was that once you put a group of them together they got all bitchy with one another. Maybe this class was going to be different. Maybe instead of fighting with each other we’d start fighting for each other.
And God help any guy who got in our way.
CHAPTER 5 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Gabriel was already at Magda’s grave when I got there on Friday. Like me, he must’ve come straight from class, because there was a backpack on the grass by her tombstone.
He sat cross-legged on the grass, leaning back on his forearms as the afternoon sun shone down on his face. It was warm—even for September—and he’d taken off his jacket. His eyes were closed, so I just stood there for a moment and looked at him.
I didn’t remember when my feelings for him had become something more than just friendship, but I know it had been at least a couple of years. I’d never told Magda that I had a crush on her brother. She would’ve found it weird. I found it weird.
I don’t think there were many girls who would blame me for having a thing for him. He was gorgeous. But more than his looks, he was a good person. Strong and honorable. He could make me laugh—even after all that had happened.
Finally, I decided to approach. If he opened his eyes and saw me standing there gawking at him, he’d think I’d gone nuts.
“Hi.”
He opened his eyes, squinting at me. “Hey. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show.”
“School only let out twenty minutes ago,” I told him. I put my bag beside his before plopping down on the grass on the opposite side of the tombstone. We both faced the same direction as the stone. It made it easier to pretend that Magda was between us rather than beneath.
“Right.” He slipped on a pair of sunglasses that had been lying on the grass by his hip. “I forgot. How’s it going?”
I shrugged. “Okay. It doesn’t seem right without her.”
Gabriel stared straight ahead. “Nothing does. It’s getting a little easier, but that just makes it all the more painful when I remember she’s gone.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. He knew I felt the same way.
“Diane Davies has started a self-defense course for girls.”
He turned his head to look at me, but I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses. “The cop?”
“Yeah. We had the first one Thursday night. She’s doing it at the dojo.” Gabriel had been the one to get me into aikido in the first place, but he hadn’t been there in a while.
“You’re taking it?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I thought you hated her. And you already know how to kick ass.”
“I was mad that she couldn’t make the four of them pay for what they did. I guess now I know it wasn’t her fault—like you said.”
“It’s good that she’s doing something. Did many girls show up?”
“A few. Hopefully we’ll get more.” I plucked a blade of grass and shredded it between my fingers. “Jason Bentley’s having a party on Saturday night.”
His back stiffened. The tightened muscles in his arms were like smooth stone beneath his skin. “Are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
This time when he turned his head his gaze lingered on me. “Yes, you do.”
I don’t know how he did it, but he always seemed to know when I was lying. “Okay then, fine. I’m going.”
“Why?”
“Because if Drew Carson tries to drug and rape another girl, I want to be there to stop it.”
“And just how do you think you can do that? Are you going to stand guard outside the bedrooms?”
“If I have to.” My voice was sharp and belligerent.
“What if he takes that as an invitation? What if the girl he targets is you?”
“That won’t happen. I’m not going to let him get anywhere near me.”
“That won’t matter if the four of them gang up on you. Even you’re not capable of fighting off four guys.”
He was right, and I knew it. I also hated him for it. “I’m not going alone. I’m going with another girl.”
“I’m coming with you.”
My heart jumped in fear. “No. You can’t do that. If you walk in there, the four of them and all their friends will jump you.”
“My odds of not being raped are significantly higher than yours.”
“My odds of not being beaten to death are significantly higher than yours. You can’t go.”
“If you go, I’m going.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
He rolled onto his side so that he faced me, bracing himself on his forearm. “I could say the same thing. What are you thinking, Hadley? What are you planning to do that you don’t want me to know about?”
Could he see the pulse at the base of my throat pounding beneath my skin? “Nothing. I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not. Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good. Your intelligence isn’t the problem. Your impulsiveness is. Your anger is.”
I snorted. “Don’t you lecture me on anger. I was there when you went after Drew. I know what you would’ve done to him if those guys hadn’t pulled you off. And I know what those guys would’ve done to you if there hadn’t been an audience.” I remembered how bruised and bloody he’d been, and how much worse Drew had looked. Most people went through life not knowing whether or not they could kill somebody, but Gabriel knew.
“You’re not going without me.”
“Fine. I won’t go.”
“Good.”
We stared at each other, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I was lying, and he probably knew it, but I was still going to try to sell it. If he was stupid enough to show up knowing what would happen to him, then let him. Him getting beaten up was more of a given than me being attacked.
We sat there in silence. Usually, we spent the time talking. Mostly we talked about Magda, but sometimes we talked about other things. This was the first time that neither of us had anything to say.
A little while later Gabriel rolled to his feet. “I have to go to work.” He brushed grass off his jeans and picked up his backpack.
I stood as well. “Gabe...”
He looked at me. “Yeah?”
“I...I don’t like feeling like you’re mad at me.”
His shoulders slumped. He dropped the backpack on the grass again and stepped across his sister’s grave to stand directly in front of me. I wasn’t prepared for him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close. He smelled like sunshine and fabric softener with a touch of sandalwood. I wound my arms around his waist, pressing my hands against his back. Holding him was like holding strength. I could feel it seeping through my clothes, slipping beneath my skin and into my bones. The sadness and helplessness that usually threatened to overwhelm me disappeared. I couldn’t even find any anger in my heart.
He rested his cheek against my head. “Please stay away from those guys. I can’t lose you too.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn’t going to cry on him again, and I wasn’t going to let him see how much his words affected me. I couldn’t let him see my feelings for him, because I was his little sister’s best friend and I knew the love he felt for me was only friendship. I didn’t want to lose him. He wasn’t just all I had left of Magda. He was all I had left period.
* * *
Like most of the wealthier families in our town, the Bentleys lived on Smith Street. It might have a common name, but Smith Street was one of the oldest streets in town. You could tell how old the houses were by how they were built. The newer houses were large and sprawling, usually white or bluish gray. The older houses—the ones that had been there for a century or more—were red brick or gray stone. The Bentleys lived in a house that was brick that had been stuccoed over.
Zoe and I arrived there around ten o’clock Saturday night. I didn’t live on Smith Street, or anywhere near it. My family lived in one of the newer suburbs of town. My mother was an accountant and my father was an engineer. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t the Bentleys. Mags and I were top of our class in our old school, and we were able to get scholarships. Our parents somehow managed to scrape together the rest of the money for tuition. Magda’s grades had slipped after the rape—to the point where the school was going to kick her out. Her suicide saved them the trouble, the unfeeling bastards.
“Are you ready to do this?” Zoe asked. “I mean, it’s gotta be painful.”
I wanted to say that sometimes pain was better than feeling nothing, but that was really so melodramatic. I shrugged. “It’s okay.” I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish by going to that damn party. Maybe it was penance for letting Magda down. Maybe I wanted to show that I wasn’t afraid. Maybe I thought I could possibly stop another girl from being raped. Maybe I just didn’t want to sit home alone.
We walked up the flagstone path. Zoe had driven and promised me she wasn’t going to drink. It was a relief to know that I probably wouldn’t have to worry about her. Unfortunately, I still had to worry about pretty much every other girl there.
It was a warm night, and I was wearing cropped jeans and a blouse. I didn’t wear dresses or skirts anymore.
We rang the doorbell. We could hear the music inside the house. It was loud, but not so loud that the neighbors would call the police. Not that it would matter if they did. The Bentleys, the Weeks, the Henrys and the Carsons were important families, which apparently entitled them to behave in ways that would get the rest of us in trouble. They were exempt from any kind of responsibility, and that extended to their sons.
The door opened. Standing in the open frame in jeans and a T-shirt that probably cost more than my entire outfit was Jason. A year ago I would’ve described him as cute. I might’ve even wanted him to pay attention to me. Now his face had as much appeal as a bowl of maggots. If he ever touched me, I would probably take a cheese grater to the spot just to get rid of the taint.
He smiled when he saw us, though it faltered a little when he looked at me. “Hey,” he said, standing back so we could step inside. “Glad you could make it.”
I followed Zoe inside. She smiled and thanked him for inviting us. I couldn’t do anything more than nod.
“Do you want a soda or anything?” he asked, leading us deeper into the house. The floor looked like marble, and the staircase was wide enough to drive a car up.
“Sure,” Zoe said.
“Do you have anything in cans?” I asked. There was no way I was going to let him bring me a glass.
He shot me a glance as though he could read my mind. “Sure. Come into the kitchen.”
The kitchen was just as perfect as the rest of the house. There wasn’t even a crumb on the stove. A stack of pizza boxes sat on the counter, and I could smell the cheesy, tomatoey goodness.
I wasn’t going to eat anything, either.
Jason opened the wide, stainless-steel fridge. “Help yourself.”
Zoe took a can of Sprite. I reached in and grabbed a can of diet Dr Pepper. “Thanks.”
He closed the fridge door. The action made him step closer toward me. Instinctively I lurched backward, banging my hip against the counter in my effort to avoid contact.
Jason frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You didn’t.” Scare me? No. Repulse me? Yes.
He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but then a small group of people burst into the kitchen. They were all in our class, though one of the girls was a junior.
“Hey, Jay, where’s the beer?” one of the guys asked.
Jason went to get it for them, and I took that as my opportunity to escape. Zoe and I followed the music and conversation downstairs into a large finished basement that had the biggest television I’ve ever seen and a pool table. Patio doors opened up to the backyard, where there was a pool and hot tub. There were kids in each.
Zoe turned to me. “This house is fricking amazing.”
“Yeah,” I agreed through clenched teeth. The house was gorgeous.
“Hey, there’s Anna and Caitlin. Want to go say hi?”
“Yeah.” I meant it. I was happy to see the two of them, and not just because there was safety in numbers.
The two girls looked just as happy to see us, and they immediately started talking about how they’d been practicing what they learned in class.
“I think my mother thought we were killing each other,” Anna joked. “We almost busted the lamp in my room.”
I laughed. I was glad they came. Having them there eased my anxiety. That anxiety came back, however, about an hour later when I saw Drew Carson hovering around the girl I’d recognized as a junior earlier, who was now so drunk she could barely stand up.
A hot prickly sensation ran up the back of my neck, followed by a shiver of ice down my spine. For months I’d thought about what I would do in that very situation. I’d imagined myself walking up to him and beating him stupid. I imagined myself being the girl’s savior. Once, I even imagined myself going full-on Kill Bill on them. Never had I imagined myself just standing there, frozen to the spot and shaking with anger. How could I just stand there and not do anything?
I couldn’t. With my can of soda in hand—because I was not about to set it down—I started walking toward them. Zoe, Caitlin and Anna were right behind me. Zoe said my name, but it sounded like she was talking to me from the far end of a tunnel.
What was I going to do? Smash my soda can into his face? Kick him? At that moment he hadn’t done anything wrong. Of course that was the moment I remembered Gabriel telling me I couldn’t fight all four of them.
Suddenly, my path was interrupted by Jason. I hadn’t even seen him approach. One second I had my sights set directly on Drew, and the next Jason was there, blocking me.
“You okay, Angie?” I heard him ask the girl.
“She’s had too much to drink,” Drew said with a smirk. “She just needs to lie down for a bit. She can use your room can’t she, Jay?”
I froze. This cannot be happening. Drew could not be planning to rape this poor drunk girl. Even though I knew him to be the worst kind of monster, I couldn’t believe how easily it seemed to come to him.
“Actually,” Jason said, glancing at me. “I think Angie needs to go home. I’m going to put her in a cab.” He took the girl by the arm and pulled her away from Drew, who had a stupefied look on his face.
The girls and I exchanged glances as Jason steered Angie past us. He had his cell phone to his ear. I heard him ask for a cab.
Drew had been cock-blocked by one of his best friends. His face twisted into a combination of anger, petulance and disappointment. It made me smile.
I followed Jay and Angie, needing to make sure he actually did send her home and didn’t take her upstairs instead.
I stood at the opposite end of the hall, near the stairs, and watched. Jason held the girl up, and when the cab arrived, he took her outside and put her in it. I moved closer to the open door so I could watch him pay the cabbie and close the car door.
He spotted me before I could duck away, so I stayed where I was rather than run, as I wanted. I watched him step inside the house, closing the door behind him.
He looked at me. “Did you follow me to make sure I sent her home?”
“Yes.” I had no trouble meeting his gaze.
His fists clenched at his sides. “I. Am. Not. A. Monster.”
I tilted my head as I looked at him. “Are you trying to convince me of that?” I asked. “Or yourself?” And then I turned on my heel and went back to my new friends. Just because he’d sent one girl home didn’t mean he and his friends didn’t have another victim picked out.
And it didn’t change what he’d done to Magda.
CHAPTER 6 (#u76b1cd3b-6dee-58c7-b48c-e3150851238a)
Jason began drinking shortly after our little chat. Every time I saw him he had a drink in his hand. As the evening went on, he became more drunk and obnoxious. More like Drew and his other buddies. The four of them were laughing and being loud, and despite that, girls still flocked around them. It disgusted me.
“What’s up with him?” Anna asked.
“Me,” I said. “I watched him put a girl in a cab earlier because I wanted to make sure he actually sent her home. He saw me. He knew why I was watching.”
The three girls stared at me. I thought maybe they thought I was crazy or paranoid. Zoe spoke first. “You followed him alone?”
I nodded. “To the door, yeah.”
Her face flushed, and I didn’t think it was because she was too warm. “Are you mental? So all that stuff about traveling in groups doesn’t apply to you? Are you, like, Wonder Woman or something? What if he had grabbed you?”
I frowned at her. “I would’ve punched him in the throat.”
She shook her head. “You should’ve taken one of us with you.”
“I didn’t think of it, okay? I’m not used... It’s been a little while since anyone has cared what I do.”
The three of them exchanged glances. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure if they pitied me or thought I was lying.
“Don’t do it again, okay?” Zoe gave me a beseeching look. “If you don’t want to take one of us with you, at least let us know where you’re going so we can find you if you don’t come back right away.”
I nodded. “Okay. We’ll make a deal right now that whenever we’re together we’ll stay together.” But really, how often would we be together? It wasn’t like we were best friends. No one could replace Mags.
The girls smiled, and the heaviness inside me lightened a little. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Responsibility to another person was something I hadn’t had for months. And wasn’t Magda going off on her own one of the things that upset me so much? If she had told me where she was going, maybe I would’ve been able to help her. Instead I’d gone looking for her too late and found her in a bedroom, passed out with her panties wrapped around one ankle and condom wrappers on the floor.
I didn’t want anyone to ever find me that way.
I stuck close to my new friends after that. We all stuck together, moving as a group. I met a few more people who I didn’t really know that well and talked to some that I did. It felt weird, being social. Zoe told every girl we talked to about the self-defense course. A few of them seemed interested, though a couple wrinkled their noses at the idea of violence. I didn’t bother trying to convince them that the class was about protecting yourself rather than hurting someone. They obviously didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to them. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them they were wrong.
Shortly before midnight I realized two things: one—Gabriel had obviously come to his senses and decided not to crash the party, and two—Jason had gone missing.
I glanced around the room, mentally counting female heads to see if anyone was absent. It was impossible to tell as the party took up most of the house.
Where was he? At least Drew and Adam were still visible. That didn’t mean that Jason and Brody weren’t raping a girl somewhere while they waited for their buddies to show up.
It made me anxious. I turned to Anna, who stood next to me, and yelled above the music, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She nodded, then leaned closer to me. “There’s one upstairs. Use that. Someone puked in the one on this floor. If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’ll come looking for you.”
I smiled. It didn’t matter that I could probably take out one or two guys on my own. The three of them had decided that they were my protectors and that the four of us would protect each other. It was as comforting as it was annoying. I didn’t need to be fussed over. I didn’t want to be a girl who needed protection. I wanted to be the girl who kicked ass.
I took my soda with me out of paranoia. I moved through the crowd, which had gotten bigger in the last hour and made my way out to the foyer. As I climbed the stairs to the second floor, I couldn’t help but feel even more out of place. How did people get this wealthy? It was ridiculous.
My heart thumped against my ribs as I climbed. The house wasn’t evil, and it couldn’t hurt me, but every step I took away from the heart of the party, the more anxious I became. Would anyone hear me scream up here?
Every door on that floor was shut, except for one. I walked down the corridor toward it, my gaze traveling over paintings and framed photographs that hung on the walls. Some of the paintings looked old, and they had little gold tags at the bottom of their frames that had their names engraved on them. Every one of them I looked at was a Bentley.
I reached the partially open door and pushed it open. As soon as I looked inside, I knew it wasn’t the bathroom. It was a bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, and I could clearly see posters on the walls and a guitar in the corner.
I could also see Jason passed out on the bed.
There’s a moment—and I believe everyone’s had it—when you have to make a decision whether to act or retreat. I could back out of the room and continue my search for the restroom, or I could close the door behind me and take advantage of the fact that Jason was unconscious.
I knew that most people, decent people, would leave. A good person didn’t take advantage of someone who was too drunk to fight back. But Jason had already proved that he wasn’t a decent person. He and his friends had purposely drugged Magda so they could assault her.
I wasn’t a decent person.
I closed the door and locked it. I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I planned to do it. What if he woke up? Cautiously, I moved toward him. He was on his back, limbs splayed. I reached out with my left hand, keeping my right free in case I needed to hit him, and poked him hard in the leg. He didn’t even make a sound.
His cell phone was on the bed by his hand. I picked it up and pressed the button to wake it up. It didn’t ask for a password, but for a fingerprint. I knew Jason was left-handed from being in class with him, so I took his hand and turned it so that I could press his index finger to the right spot on the phone. Just like that, the phone was unlocked.
I scrolled through his pictures—there were a lot of photos of girls. One of them made my heart thump hard against my ribs and then fall still. Magda. It was a portrait of her, taken at school. I don’t think she knew he’d taken it, because she didn’t look self-conscious. The sight of her, smiling and happy, hurt to the point of physical pain. He’d taken that smile from her, just as he’d taken this photograph without her consent, and he’d been allowed to get away with both.
I stared at him through a veil of scorching tears. There had to be something I could do to make him pay, even just a little bit.
I couldn’t rape him. Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t. That kind of violation would make me as bad as him, and it would make him a victim. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him. I wanted them to mock him and say the kinds of things to him that people had said to Magda after photos and video of her attack had gotten around. I wanted people to see him for what he was.
In my purse I had one of Magda’s lipsticks. Her skin was darker than mine, and she’d been able to wear some rich berry colors I envied. The one in my bag was a deep raspberry. I took it out and removed the cap.
I hovered over Jason for a moment, considering my next action. Chickening out wasn’t an option. I turned the lipstick and bent down. In block letters I wrote RAPIST on his forehead. I put the lipstick back in my bag and took out my phone. I removed the case first, because I didn’t want it to be identifiable. I brought up a Facebook photo of Magda and put my phone in Jason’s limp fingers. Then I picked up his phone and switched it to camera mode. I took a photo of him lying there, with his title on his forehead, and Magda’s photo right there, so everyone would know exactly who he had hurt. Then I uploaded the photo I’d taken to Jason’s social media with the hashtags #rapist #NoJusticeForMagda #GotAwayWithIt and #CarterHigh.
I wiped his phone down before putting it on the bed beside him, then I took back my own and went to the door. I peeked into the hall to make sure no one was there before stepping outside.
Another door down the hall was open, and the light on inside allowed me to see that it was the bathroom. I slipped in and did my business. My legs trembled as I washed my hands. I wasn’t sure what I’d just done, or what the consequences would be, but there was no taking it back now.
I dried my hands and opened the door. “Shit!” I cried when I saw someone standing there. I pulled back my fist, but a familiar voice said my name before I lashed out. It was Zoe. Behind her were Anna and Caitlin. They were wide-eyed as they stared at me.
“Have I been gone ten minutes?” I asked, embarrassed to be so on edge.
Anna blushed. “No, but I got worried.”
I smiled. “There was someone in here when I came up. I had to wait. Thank you for worrying.”
“It wasn’t all about you,” Zoe remarked with a grin. “I have to pee too.”
While we waited outside for her to finish, Caitlin fished her phone out of her purse. I watched as she tapped the screen with her finger, my pulse beating wildly.
“Oh my God!”
Anna whirled toward her. “What?” Caitlin showed her the screen, and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”
If I didn’t ask it would be weird, and I was already pushing it by having been upstairs when the picture was taken. “What is it?”
Anna couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to laugh or cheer as Caitlin showed me the photo. It was the one I’d taken just minutes before.
I didn’t have to fake the laughter that poured out of me. The adrenaline of what I’d done hit hard, making me light-headed and giddy. “Was that taken tonight?” I asked.
Caitlin shrugged. “How should I know? I guess so.”
Anna’s gaze was bright as it met mine. “Who cares? It’s fabulous. Now everyone will know what he did.” It was exactly what I wanted to hear. “Whoever took it even left Magda’s picture beside him.”
On the other side of the door Zoe shouted, “What are you laughing at?” Then the toilet flushed, and we heard running water at the sink. A few seconds later the door opened. Zoe was still drying her hands.
“Check your phone,” Caitlin said.
Anna was looking at her own. “I got it too.”
Zoe’s reaction was the best. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and then she started to cackle—like a witch who had just performed the perfect spell. “Oh, this is awesome.” She began tapping at the screen. “Not only am I loving this, but I’m going to share it.”
We went back downstairs to join the party. When we got there, I couldn’t believe the number of people who were looking at their phones, exchanging startled glances, or acting like it was awesome. A few were pissed, but who cared about the douche bags? I’d known the photo would get noticed, it just hadn’t occurred to me how quickly.
I found myself looking for Drew, Brody and Adam. The three of them were together in the kitchen, staring at their phones with expressions that were somewhat amused, but mostly pissed. Drew seemed especially angry. I braced myself, waiting for one of them to look at me and point his finger. Surely, they had to know it had been me.
“What the fuck?” Drew demanded. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrow. “Who the fuck did this?”
Not one of them looked at me—at least not for any length of time. They looked around the room at the laughing crowd, glaring at everyone who met their collective gaze. I realized then that they were looking for a guy. It didn’t occur to them that a girl might do something like this. Did they not think we had the balls to pull such a prank? Did they think a guy would just randomly have lipstick in his pocket? I didn’t care which it was, because I’d gotten away with it.
That was the moment I realized what I had to do—for Magda and for myself. I had to get revenge. On all of them.
One down.
Three to go.
Last Year
“Do you have a costume yet?” Magda asked. We were in her kitchen making pizza while Gabe and one of his friends sat at the dining-room table discussing some project for their senior history class. I had a perfect view of his profile from where I stood. God, he was pretty.
“A costume for what?” I asked, slapping pepperoni slices on top of the sauce.
“Drew Carson’s Halloween party. He invited us, remember?”
Ugh. She didn’t really want to go to that, did she? One look at her face and I could tell she did. And she wanted me to go with her. I hated going to rich-kid parties—they always made me feel like trash. My family wasn’t poor, but we didn’t have a lot of disposable income.
I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t going—not for her, not for anyone. And then she said, “Gabe said he’d drop us off. He might even stay for a bit.”
“Fine,” I said. “But only because you and your brother will be the only people there worth hanging out with.”
“I’m going as Cleopatra,” she announced. “I hope Drew notices me.”
Her little smile was so cute I couldn’t bring myself to warn her off Drew again. She wouldn’t listen anyway. She was going to get her heart broken when Drew hooked up with someone not so obviously virginal as she was.
“He’d be blind not to,” I said instead, dumping a handful of grated cheese on the pizza. When she turned that grin on me, I smiled back. “Of course he’ll notice you.”
I had no idea how much I’d regret saying that.
* * *
I woke up Sunday morning feeling better than I had in months. Even though I knew what I’d done to Jason was wrong, I couldn’t deny the happiness it gave me. Maybe happiness was the wrong word. I felt like I had accomplished something, or taken a step to fix a problem.
And was it really wrong to label someone a criminal when you knew they’d done the crime?
Regardless, I felt good. I got up, showered and went downstairs for breakfast. My mother smiled when I kissed her cheek. I hadn’t realized how much I’d changed until I saw the surprise on her face. When you’re drowning in grief it’s hard to see all the people who are trying to save you. And she had her own problems with my father. I thought she was weak to stay with him, but I also understood that this house would be a lot harder to run without his income.
After breakfast, I rode my bike to the cemetery. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I wanted to talk to Magda, but not about how angry or sad I was, or even how much I missed her. I wanted to talk to her about what I had done. When I got there, church had just let out. Magda’s mother, Gabriel and his little sister Teresa walked the gravel path from the church into the cemetery. My heart stuttered at the sight of them. For a moment I contemplated running away, so Mrs. Torres’s sadness couldn’t diminish my sense of accomplishment. I didn’t run. In the end, my love for these people won.
Mrs. Torres was an older version of Magda, only a little shorter. She was in her forties, and very pretty. Her husband had walked out on them a few years ago, and the last I’d heard was living in Miami with a twenty-three-year-old. He had nothing to do with the kids, and they had nothing to do with him. Magda had acted like he didn’t even exist. I remembered him, but I couldn’t remember if I ever even liked him. I certainly didn’t like him after he abandoned his family. It made the reality of my own family situation even more bitter. What the fuck was wrong with men? Weren’t there any good ones in the world? So far, Gabe seemed to be the only one.
Magda’s mother smiled when she saw me, even though she had tears in her eyes. She cried a lot. In a way I envied that she was able to get her grief out in a way that didn’t require punching someone in the face. She held out her arms, and I stepped into her hug as she told me how good it was to see me.
“It’s been too long,” she said. “You must come for dinner some night. How does tomorrow sound?”
“I’ll check with Mom, but it should be okay.”
Mrs. Torres released me. “Come after school. We’ll visit. You can help me cook like Magda used to.”
My throat was tight as I swallowed. “Okay. I’ll check with Mom and call you later.” Then I was distracted by Teresa, who also wanted a hug. She was thirteen, and losing her big sister had been very hard on her. Gabriel had told me she was afraid of boys. I didn’t know how to help with that, because I had to be honest—I was afraid of them too.
I hung back when Mrs. Torres and Teresa went to the grave. Their grief was a private thing. And I was still clinging to that fading sense of accomplishment I’d woken up with.
Gabriel stayed with me. I should’ve known it wasn’t because he enjoyed my company so much.
“A friend of mine forwarded me an interesting Instagram post this morning,” he said, looking down at me.
My heart gave a hard thump. I raised my gaze to his. “The picture of Jason Bentley?” If I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, he’d know for sure I’d been behind it. “Yeah, I saw that too.” It wasn’t a lie. Zoe had forwarded the photo to me last night.
“Whoever did that to him must’ve really had it in for him.”
I didn’t even blink. “I really didn’t think about it. But it’s the wallpaper on my phone now.”
He smiled—just a small tilt of his lips. “Mine too.”
I grinned. “I wonder if he’ll show his face at school tomorrow.”
“He will. They’ll make it some kind of smear campaign. It’ll take more than this to hurt those four for long.”
There went my sense of accomplishment.
“Though this will sting. Whoever did it took a photo from Magda’s Facebook page. Makes me think they did this in retaliation for her more than to out Bentley as a rapist.”
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Kady Cross
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Книги для подростков
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: A brutally honest, uncompromising story about a teen girl who decides to take matters into her own hands.It′s senior year, and Hadley and her best friend, Magda, should be starting the year together. Instead, Magda is dead and Hadley is alone. Raped at a party the year before and humiliated, Magda was driven to take her own life and Hadley is forced to see her friend′s attackers in the classroom every day. Devastated, enraged and needing an outlet for her grief, Hadley decides to get a little justice of her own.Donning a pink ski mask and fuelled by anger, Hadley goes after each of the guys one by one, planning to strip them of their dignity and social status the way they did to Magda. As the legend of the pink-masked Vigilante begins to take on a life of its own, Hadley′s revenge takes a turn for the dangerous. Could her need for vengeance lead her down a path she can′t turn back from?