Going Under (23 page)

Cal shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it’d
be fun to switch partners.”

Oh no. No no no. There was no way in hell I
was partnering with the guy who purposefully tripped me on the
bleachers. Why would Cal do this?

I was furious. This was not the date I had
intended. I wanted Cal all to myself. I wanted to flirt and be cute
and have him eating out of my hand by eleven tonight. And I thought
he wanted something more one-on-one as well. After all, what was
all that bullshit about picking me up and this being a “real” date?
He insisted on driving when I wanted to meet him here. I wanted it
casual, friendly, and he didn’t like that one bit. And now he was
giving me the “friendly” treatment?

“Did you two arrange this?” I asked. I
wanted to know.

“Sort of,” Cal replied. “It was last minute.
Parker told me he was taking Gretchen out, so I just figured we
could all do something together. Since you wanted our first date to
be more casual.” He winked at me. I wanted to poke his eye out.

I looked at Parker, who hadn’t directed two
words to me since we arrived. This was the guy who thought I was
too stupid to remember food orders. I couldn’t imagine what he’d
think after we bowled. I was lousy at it, and I’m sure he was
stellar, which meant he’d bitch the entire time about having a bad
partner. But he’d do it in a snarky, subtle way because that’s just
the kind of guy he was.

“Ladies first,” Cal said, and gently pushed
me towards the lane.

“I turned around and addressed Parker. “I’m
not very good.” It was apologetic, and I instantly regretted saying
anything at all.

He shrugged. “I figured.”

I turned back around and closed my eyes.
Find a happy place, Brooke, and just breathe. Breathe, Brooke.
Don’t say it. Don’t say what you really want to say. Just breathe.
Brooke? Don’t do it. Please don’t do it . . . Oh, just go on and
say it!

“Fuckhead.” I didn’t whisper it either. I
just said it. Right out loud.

“Excuse me?” I heard Parker ask from
behind.

I turned around. “I called you a fuckhead.
Because you are one.”

Gretchen’s eyes went wide. I could see the
struggle on her face: laugh or stay mute? She opted for mute, which
was wise.

“You’ve had a problem with me since I
accidentally ran into you in the hallway at school. I’m soooo sorry
I ran into you. It was a freaking accident. But you know what
wasn’t an accident? You tripping me on the bleachers.” I looked at
Cal. “That’s right. Your little buddy here tripped me. That’s why I
fell into you.”

“Get a grip,” Parker said. “Nobody tripped
you. And I don’t have a problem with you.”

I snorted. “Okay. Whatever.”

Cal looked at Gretchen, who shrugged her
shoulders. A waitress walked by, and Cal asked for a pitcher of
beer.

“I’ll need to see your ID and all of
theirs,” she said.

“Oh, they’re not drinking. It’s for me,” he
said, and handed the woman a fake ID. She studied it and then
studied Cal. She looked unsure about whether she believed him, but
then made up her mind to not care.

“Bud Light?” she asked. “It’s on special
tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I turned back to face the pins. What a jerk.
Did he think about the fact that he needed to drive me home later?
This night was shaping up to be the worst date in history. Thank
God I brought cab fare.

I rolled the ball down a fraction of the
lane before it settled into the gutter. I cursed profusely in my
head, wondering if I wouldn’t just abscond the pitcher of beer and
make a run for it. I could drink it while I walked home.

My second try was slightly better. I managed
to knock over one pin. It teetered for awhile and was painful to
watch.

I heard Gretchen behind me saying, “You can
do it, pin! I know you can!” and Cal telling her that she wasn’t
supposed to be cheering for the opponent.

I walked back to the group and plopped down
beside my teammate.

“Well, let’s see if you can beat
that
,” I said. Parker actually chuckled.

Gretchen bowled next, and Cal cheered for
her as loudly as possible. I admit my feelings were kind of hurt.
My partner didn’t cheer for me. Cal was supposed to be my partner.
This was our date. Why was he partners with Gretchen? I felt like
he was punishing me, and it made me unreasonably sensitive.

Parker’s first bowl was a strike. Big deal.
His second bowl was a strike, too. Slightly bigger deal. He
sauntered back over to me and lifted his hand in the air. Did he
expect me to high-five him? Get real.

“Come on, grouch,” Parker said. “I promise
to stop being mean to you if you’ll high-five me.”

I stared at him perplexed. “Just like that?
Yeah right. You know, I don’t know what your problem was with me in
the first place.”

“Look, I was having a bad day, okay?” he
said.

“Are you serious? So you were having a bad
day when I ran into you at school? And another one when I took
Gretchen away from you at the party? And another when you freaking
tripped me on the bleachers? You know, I could have broken a tooth
or something!”

“Take it easy,” Parker said.

“
You
take it easy,” I snapped. “Oh
yeah. I almost forgot the diner! Were you having a bad day then
when you insulted me?”

Parker rubbed his forehead.

“Yeah, rub your forehead. It’s sooo
exasperating being called out for acting like a complete
asshole.”

“Anyone care to watch me bowl?” Cal asked,
grabbing his ball from the ball return.

“Sure!” Gretchen said. She smiled at me. It
was a smile that said, “I don’t have a clue what’s going on right
now, and so help me God, you’re gonna tell me everything when this
horrible group date is over.”

I returned my own smile. It said, “How many
years would I get for bashing Parker’s head in with my bowling
ball?”

Cal bowled, and Gretchen and I acted
impressed because we figured that’s what he wanted. I knew in my
heart I annihilated any chance of setting him up for rape charges.
It was the most ludicrous feeling: disappointment for ruining my
chances of getting pseudo-sexually assaulted. I thought up until
now I was simply teetering on the edge of insanity. Now I knew I
had toppled over, and I wasn’t sure where to go from there. I
didn’t know what Beth would have me do, and as I sat beside one
nemesis while watching the other bowl a spare, I wanted to cry for
my failure.

Fourteen

It was time to get to work. I woke up Monday
morning with a new resolution. Well, several resolutions. Number
One: Make Beth a priority. Remember my purpose. Number Two:
Discover the rest of the boys in the Fantasy Slut League
responsible for raping girls. Number Three: Warn the girls
scheduled to play in the next game about the boys’ intentions. (I
wasn’t sure how to go about this yet, but it was one of my
resolutions.) Number Four: Make Ryan fall in love with me.

I resigned myself to my fate with Cal. After
our horrid date, I assumed he’d lost interest. I showed him exactly
who I was: not the sweet, shy, timid girl I tried to portray at
registration so many months back. Nope. I had a smart mouth and a
hot temper, neither of which made me a good candidate for
molestation. Surely Cal would cut all ties with me, especially
since I verbally trashed his friend. My only chance at justice lay
in exposing the league and encouraging victims to come forward. I
thought this was the only way I could make peace with Beth.

I cried all of Sunday night as I tried to
explain this to Beth. I lay in bed talking things over with her,
telling her I never intended to fail her, but that I made a lousy
undercover detective. A lousy date. A lousy crusader.

I cried to Gretchen, too. After the date, I
called Dad to let him know I was spending the night with her. We
took a cab to her house since neither of us had any intentions of
being driven by Cal, who was drunk, or Parker, who was an
asshole.

“Put Gretchen on the phone,” Dad
ordered.

I was confused, but I did what he asked,
pressing the speaker phone button to listen in.

“Hi, Mr. Wright,” Gretchen said.

“Gretchen, is Brooke spending the night with
you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there any boys spending the night with
you?”

“Mr. Wright! I have parents, you know!”

“How can I trust that you girls aren’t going
somewhere with this Cal person? You know who I’m talking about?
Brooke’s date for the evening?” Dad asked.

“Mr. Wright, I went on that date as well,
and let me tell you. There’s no Cal. Ever.”

“You went on the date?”

“Long story, but it was a surprise double
date that ended kind of badly. My date was a jerk. Brooke’s date
was a doofus.”

“Hmmm.”

“I swear, Mr. Wright. Brooke is spending the
night, and it’s just us two, and my parents are home,” Gretchen
said.

There was a brief pause.

“I trust you, Gretchen,” Dad said.

Gretchen looked at me. “You should. And you
should trust your daughter, too.”

“I do.”

Gretchen and I were both confused now, but
she said goodbye to my father and handed the phone to me.

“I know I was on speaker phone. I’m not an
idiot,” Dad said.

“What was that all about then?” I asked.

“It’s called being your father, Brooke,” Dad
replied. “Now, was your date really so bad?”

I sighed. “The worst. But can I just tell
you about it later?”

“Yes, Brooke. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said, and hung up.

Gretchen and I sat on her bed while I
explained Beth’s suicide, Cal, and my plans to expose the Fantasy
Slut League.

“She was raped?” Gretchen breathed. She
looked stunned.

I nodded. “I know that’s why she did it. She
was so depressed the last few months before she died. Of course, I
didn’t help at all. I wasn’t even there for her, and then she
discovered Finn and me. Can you understand why I feel so guilty
now? I knew what had happened to her because she told me. She
trusted me, and I betrayed her in so many ways.”

I was crying, unable to hide my total
anguish.

Gretchen took my hand and squeezed it.

“I’m trying to make things right for her. I
. . . I think I can. I know about this league. I know Cal is a
rapist. I’m not sure about the others. I’m trying to figure that
out.”

“How?”

“God, Gretchen. If I tell you these things,
you have to swear on your life you won’t tell a soul. A friend of
mine could get in big trouble,” I said. I took the tissue Gretchen
passed to me and blew my nose.

“Brooke, I know I can be spacey sometimes
and say stupid things, but I swear to you that I’ll keep your
secrets. You can trust me,” Gretchen said. It was the first time
she was that serious. I saw a different side of the friend I’d
known since ninth grade. I believed her, and so I talked.

I told her everything, but I left out the
part about setting up Cal.

***

I studied every game. Parker kept records
for years, all of which I received in a black binder from Terry
after work Wednesday night. He told me to be smart about it. That’s
what he always said whenever we discussed anything to do with the
Fantasy Slut League. Be smart about it. I thought I was, but when I
confessed to him that I told Gretchen about the league, he blew up
on me. We were standing beside my car.

“What the fuck, Wright?!” he yelled.

“I had no choice!” I replied. “She caught
me, Terry! I had no choice!”

“Jesus, did you mention my name?”

“No! God, no! I’m not stupid. I knew what
things to say and what I shouldn’t,” I said.

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked.

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her your
name. And I didn’t tell her I planned on getting raped.”

Terry looked shocked. “What the hell did you
just say?”

“I said I didn’t tell her your name.
Everything’s cool.”

“No, after that,” Terry clarified.

“I said I didn’t tell her I planned . . .”
My voice trailed off.
Oh my God. Stupid stupid stupid. What have
I done?

Terry advanced on me and grabbed my upper
arm. “What are you doing, Wright?” he hissed, inches from my
face.

I tried to pull away. “Nothing. I’m not
doing anything.”

“Then what was that comment all about?”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Bullshit. Now I’m giving you one minute to
explain yourself,” Terry said. He kept his fingers wrapped tightly
around my arm.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “Please, Terry. You
just don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. And you’re gonna
tell me,” he replied.

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and
searched my purse for my car keys.

“You’re not going anywhere, Wright.” Terry
moved in front of the car door, barring my escape.

“He’ll keep doing it,” I said, mostly to
myself. My body felt strange.

“Who? Cal?”

I screamed, “He’ll keep doing it! He’ll keep
getting away with it! He’s a monster!” I looked at Terry, eyes wild
and unfocused. I thought he didn’t hear me or didn’t register what
I was saying, so I screamed again. “He’ll keep doing it! He’ll keep
getting away with it! He’s a monster!”

I felt the panic explode in the base of my
chest. Usually there’s a build-up. Usually I know it’s coming. I
have a bit of a warning. But not this time. I couldn’t breathe. I
kept hearing myself yelling, repeating the lines over and over but
never taking a breath between them. I was running out of oxygen. I
was running out of time. I had to keep saying it. Someone needed to
understand, to believe me.

“He’s a monster!” I gasped, feeling my knees
buckle, my eyes roll up into my head. White nothingness as I
dropped to the pavement like a stone.