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  I reach out to give her a hug, but she ducks me. I end up giving her an awkward two-handed pat on the back as she steps inside. The door closes and I stand there for a second, unsure how I should feel.

  My mind runs on overdrive the whole way home.

  By Monday, we’re back at school. And Lindsay’s walls are still up. She doesn’t even look in my direction. I guess she’s feeling pretty crappy about what happened at the party. I wonder if she’s mad that I didn’t fend off those guys. But then I think that’s crazy. She didn’t even want me there in the first place. Maybe she’s ashamed that I found her naked. Maybe she’s pissed that I’m meddling. Maybe she’s embarrassed that she said too much.

  Maybe I should just chill out and forget about it. Jesus.

  At break, I’m headed toward the vending machine—the one that sells good stuff, not all that heart-healthy crap. As I pass a row of lockers, I hear hooting noises. I look over and see Joshthe-drama-dork standing there. He’s surrounded by a few guys in his grade. They’re all kind of laughing in a weird, quiet way.

  I’m curious. And I’ll admit to a certain sick urge to find out more about this loser.

  I drift over to the group. They’re all clustered around, watching something on the cell phone that Josh is holding. I stand a little ways behind them so as not to draw attention to myself. But I can see what they’re looking at.

  It’s video footage of someone having sex with a girl. No audio. Her hair covers her face. It’s pretty obvious that she’s completely out of it. She’s not even moving. Although you can’t see his face on the screen, I take it that Josh must be the loverboy, judging from the backslapping and Whooing that’s going on between these guys.

  But if Josh is doing all the…um, work…then who’s holding the camera? There must be someone else there. That’s a bit creepy.

  I spy something bright pink on the screen, and that’s when I start to put it all together. My mind resists, but I can’t stop the pieces of the puzzle from dropping into place.

  The bright pink thing is a bra. It’s on the bed. It’s by the pillows.

  Lindsay was wearing a pink bra on the night of Erin’s party. That pink bra. I found it on the pillows. Those pillows.

  I take a step closer just to make sure I’m seeing things right. Pink T-shirt. Long hair. Long legs.

  God.

  There’s no doubt. My stomach twists as I realize this jerk has footage of himself having sex with Lindsay at the party last weekend.

  And the guy behind the camera was Bryce.

  Josh and Bryce knew they were going to do this. They planned it. They’d set it all up from the start. Josh was going to nail someone, and Bryce was going to catch it on video.

  And it just so happened that Lindsay was the one who rubbed herself all over Josh that evening. So she got to be the star of the show.

  Who the hell does this kind of thing? What game is this?

  My blood boils as I look around at these idiots. They think this video is funny. They’re loving it. They think Josh is a superstud. I want to smash my fist through the classroom window beside me. I want to smash my fist into every face in this group. And I want to take Josh and pound his head right into this ugly carpet below our feet.

  But I don’t. I’d get killed. There are five of them and one of me.

  My jaw clenches. I back away quietly until I enter the flow of students headed to class. My blood pulses in my ears. I feel sick.

  I wish I could stop what just happened. Stop Josh from showing people his stupid video. Speak up and tell him he’s a bastard. That he’s done something really wrong—illegal, actually. If I had the balls, I’d walk right up to him and tell him to hand the phone over to me.

  But I don’t do any of that.

  I’m too mad to think straight. So I just walk away. Feeling like a coward, but not sure what else I can do.

  I crash through the double doors leading outside. I need fresh air. But the smokers are standing right there at the entrance, and instead of grabbing a breath of O2 I suck in a bunch of airborne carcinogens that other people have breathed out. Nice.

  I duck back inside. I need to think.

  Should I tell someone? Should I call the counselor? Or the principal? Should I tell a teacher? Or maybe the nurse. She would be the best place to start. Wouldn’t she? Maybe I should just go straight to the cops. Josh and Bryce have definitely crossed the line. And even though her hair covers her face in the video, I can prove it’s Lindsay. It was the same bed. The same bra.

  The same body.

  The next question hits me like a ton of bricks: Should I tell Lindsay? It’s her right to know that this video is out there. But what good would it do to tell her? It would hurt her, no doubt. Shock her. Make her even more ashamed when she’s already feeling like a skank.

  No. I decide I can’t tell Lindsay. There’s nothing she can do about it now. It would kill her to know about this. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Josh sure isn’t going to tell her about it. Why would he? He’d get in huge trouble if the school or the cops ever found out.

  But what if the video gets out? And what if people somehow found out it was Lindsay? She’d never live it down.

  My head hurts.

  My only option is to get that phone away from Josh. If I could somehow scoop it, then I could delete the footage and slip the phone back to him. He wouldn’t even know the difference until he looked for the video again. And then he’d probably figure he just deleted it by accident.

  I like this idea. I head back toward the lockers, turning it over in my mind. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll boost his phone from his bag when he’s not looking.

  I turn the corner back into the hallway. I’m relieved to be taking action.

  The crowd has dispersed. I watch Josh hit a button on his phone. He’s still grinning. The screen goes dark. He slips the phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

  No way I’m getting that phone now.

  And just like that, my great idea falls to pieces.

  Chapter Twelve

  After school, I fly home on my bike. I need to think things through. I need to figure out how to stop that video from being shown to anyone else. I also want to make sure Josh gets his ass kicked. Hard. So that he doesn’t do this again.

  At home, I sling my schoolbag onto a hook and head to my mom’s office. She’s good to talk to. She might have some thoughts.

  I stick my head around the doorframe. “Hey. I’m home.”

  Mom looks over from her monitor. Some complicated map of heat zones under the ocean. Geothermal something-or-other. She’s been working at home for as long as I can remember. After I was born, she decided she didn’t want to work in an office downtown. She wanted to be there for me when I came home from school. And she always is.

  “Hey, baby,” she says.

  Out of old habit, I check in with her every day. I usually just say hi and then go upstairs and find something to eat. But today I stick around.

  I flop onto the big green chair that’s just inside her door. It’s a small office— barely enough room for a desk, armchair and a printer table.

  Mom takes off her glasses and turns her chair to face me. She knows when something’s bugging me. “How was school?”

  “Could’ve been better,” I say. “Didn’t see a physics quiz coming.” I examine my knuckles for a few moments.

  Mom waits.

  “Can I get your opinion on something?” I ask.

  She leans back in her chair. “Shoot.”

  “Remember when I went to Erin’s party last weekend?” I begin.

  She nods. “I do.”

  “Well, things got a little weird. Some crazy stuff happened.” I back up and sketch out some background on how Lindsay changed over the summer. How she’s been so different since the start of school. Then I tell her about how I watched Lindsay get really loaded at the party. And drop. And disappear into a bedroom with two guys.

  Of course, I explain my att
empts to intervene too. But even as I say the words, it comes out sounding so lame.

  I wish I’d done more.

  “And today I saw Josh in the hallway by the seniors’ lockers,” I finish. “He has it all on camera, Mom. He was showing a whole bunch of his friends. He had his buddy Bryce record it for him. That’s why two of them went into the room. One guy to mess around with Lindsay. And another guy to catch it on his camera phone.” I run my hands through my hair. Just thinking about Josh and his stupid friends gets me all steamed again.

  “So what did you do after you realized he has this video?” my mother asks.

  It’s the question I’ve been dreading. I don’t have an answer. At least, I don’t have the right answer—or one that feels right to me.

  “I thought about telling the school counselor, or the nurse,” I say. “But it almost feels like I’d be telling on Linds, you know?” I shake my head. “I thought about going to the cops. But then she’ll be mad at me forever.” I let out a long sigh. “I thought about taking Josh’s phone too. Except he keeps it in his jeans. I can’t steal it from in there.”

  “Have you told Lindsay yet? About the video?”

  “No. And that’s what I wanted to ask you,” I say. “Do you think I should? I was thinking it wouldn’t do her any good to know. I mean, she can’t do anything about it. And it would just make her feel worse than she already does.”

  Mom nods. She’s quiet for a moment. She clears her throat and speaks slowly, like she does when she’s thinking things through. “I think—since you’re asking my opinion—that you should tell Lindsay first,” she says. “Before you go to anyone else.”

  “Really?” I totally didn’t figure on this answer. “Why? What good is that going to do?”

  “Well, you’ve told me Lindsay’s kind of been getting out of control, right?”

  I nod.

  “But even so,” she continues, “she’s the only person who can be responsible for her own body and behavior. It’s not up to you or anyone else to look after her.”

  I consider this.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she says. “It’s good that you’re looking out for her. I know how much she means to you. You two have always been good friends. And Lindsay’s going through a hard time.” Mom pauses. “But she needs a wake-up call, Mike, before things get any worse for her. I like Lindsay, and I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt by this either. You owe it to her to tell her about the video. And she owes it to herself to start taking responsibility for her actions.”

  “But what about Josh?” I burst out. “Shouldn’t he be responsible for his actions?” I can feel my ears growing hot.

  Mom shrugs. “That’s up to Lindsay to decide. She’s got to be the one to take control of this situation.” She puts her glasses back on and looks at me. “I’m not saying that this is the way it has to be, Mike. But you asked me for my opinion. And now you have it.”

  She’s right. I asked.

  I stand. “I don’t know,” I say. “I gotta think about this some more.”

  “You do that, baby. Good luck with it,” she says, turning her attention back to her screen. “Let me know how it all turns out.”

  “I will.”

  I think about my mom’s words as I head to work. She’s probably right. This is Lindsay’s mess.

  The newspaper warehouse is hot. I’m sweating within minutes. I stop after a few dozen bundles and swipe my arm across my forehead. I decide to tell Lindsay tomorrow that she’s got to go to the police. Mom’s right: she’s the one who should do it. I’ll stand behind her and support her every inch of the way. But she’s got to be the one to start that conversation.

  I feel better. The knot in my stomach loosens a bit. I’m finally going to do something to help my best friend.

  But even so, it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m furious with Josh and Bryce. I still feel like I should do something to fix what they’ve done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I pull Lindsay aside at lunch the next day. Literally. As she leaves the school with Renata and Erin, I grab her elbow. “We have to talk,” I say. I steer her toward a bench near the parking lot.

  I sit. She doesn’t.

  She stands in front of me, arms crossed. “What’s this about, Mike?” Her voice is hard. So are her eyes. It’s such a change from the other night, when she was telling me how crushed she felt when she found me and Scarlett on the swing. To look at her now, you’d think I was something she couldn’t wipe off her shoes.

  Whatever. I’m not here to talk about how she feels about me.

  “Sit down, Linds. This is serious.”

  She narrows her eyes. She doesn’t like me telling her what to do. But she also knows whatever I have to say must be important enough for me to have dragged her away from her friends.

  She gives an irritated little sigh and perches on the edge of the bench. “Happy now?”

  I ignore her bitchy tone. “You have to go to the police about what happened at the party.”

  Lindsay looks like I’ve just slapped her. She takes a second before she responds. “What are you talking about?” Her voice is frosty.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” I say. “I was there.”

  I wish I didn’t have to be having this conversation. But she has to know.

  “Josh has a video of it on his camera phone, Linds.” I speak quietly. “Bryce took it the night of the party.” She stares at me for a long moment. “What?” she whispers. Her eyes are huge, disbelieving. Suddenly the Ice Queen facade drops away, and I’m looking at the Lindsay I know. She sucks in a breath and turns away from me. Closes her eyes.

  I don’t say anything. What can I possibly say that will make things better?

  “How do you know?” she whispers.

  I pause. “Josh was showing the video to a few guys on his phone yesterday,” I say. “By his locker.”

  She leans forward, elbows on her knees. Covers her face with her hands. I want to touch her. Rub her back or something, but I don’t know if it’s what she would want.

  “Did you…see it all? Mike? Did you watch it?”

  I shake my head. “No. I didn’t,” I say quietly. “I left. I was too angry.”

  “How do you know it was me?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

  God. I have to explain? “I saw your…your bra,” I say. “The pink one. That’s how I knew it was you.” She flinches, and I hurry to reassure her. “But that’s the only way I knew, Linds. No one else could possibly figure it out. Your hair was covering your face. It’s impossible to tell that it’s you.” Suddenly I feel incredibly awkward.

  Lindsay presses her palms to her forehead. A sob escapes her lips.

  “Linds, I’m so sorry.” I let the silence settle for a minute.

  She doesn’t move. I take a deep breath and carry on. “What Josh did was illegal. Drugging you. Taking advantage of you. Filming you. And now showing it to other people.”

  The color drains from her face as I talk.

  “You need to report it, Linds.”

  She’s silent for a moment. Then she straightens. She doesn’t look at me. When she speaks, the chill has crept back into her voice. “I don’t think so, Mike.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “It wouldn’t go over very well.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Who cares how it goes over? The guy committed a crime, Lindsay. Against you. You need to report it to the police. You can’t let him get away with this.”

  Lindsay turns on me with eyes that could cut steel. In one vicious movement, she shoves me, hard. I lurch backward and almost fall off the bench.

  “What the hell?” I gasp, grabbing at the backrest to keep my balance.

  “Shut up, Mike,” she hisses. “Just shut up, okay? You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re telling me to do.”

  Suddenly I’m angry too. This conversation makes no sense.

  “What do you mean, I don’t know wh
at I’m saying?” I say. “A guy you barely know has footage of you having sex with him and you’re just going to stand by and…and…let him show it around?” I realize I’m nearly shouting. “To the whole school?”

  Lindsay’s eyes flash. “You don’t get it.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe how stupid I am. “Fine. So Josh got it on camera. Do you realize what will happen to me if I go to the police about it, Mike? Huh? Do you have any clue?” She spits the words at me. “No, you don’t. Because you don’t get it.” She looks away, then back at me. “Here. Let me lay it out for you.” Her voice is low and cold. “If I rat him out to the cops, this whole thing will blow up in my face. They’ll drag Josh and his friend in for statements. And me. And a ton of other people. Renata. Sara. Erin. Anyone who was at the party. It’ll get out, Mike, and everyone will know it’s me in the video.”

  My head spins as I try to sort out her words. “Rat him out? You say it like you’re the one who’s doing the wrong thing,” I say. “But he should be charged, Linds. He assaulted y—”

  She cuts me off, furious. “Yeah, Mike, I’d be bringing Josh up on charges. Great. Reporting the king of Westpark High to the police.” She gives a bitter laugh. “Don’t you understand what will happen? Everybody will turn against me. I won’t have any friends left.” She crosses her arms and legs, drawing herself tight. She looks away for a moment. “Josh is the most popular guy in the whole school. I’m a zero compared to him. Who’s going to take my side? My friends will drop me like a diseased rodent.” She gestures in frustration. “Even if people realize what Josh did was wrong, they’re too chickenshit to hold it against him. People always blame the victim.”

  I shake my head, even though I know at least part of what she’s saying is true. “No, they don’t,” I say. “Not necessarily. This is different.”

  Her look stops me from saying anything else.

  She’s right.