Going Under (27 page)

“What feels weird?”

“Going to a party with a mission,” she said.
“I want to help these girls, Brooke. I want to protect them.”

I smiled. “I’m glad. But Gretchen? Please
don’t punch out one of the guys. It would kind of mess up the whole
covert thing I’ve got going on.”

“Gotcha. No punching,” she said.

After we hung up, I went to pester my dad
about his night out. I listed off all the appropriate behaviors for
a first date, and the inappropriate ones.

“Brooke, I’ve dated in the past, you know,”
he said patiently.

This was news to me. I thought he knew Mom
since birth, started dating her in middle school, and married her
right out of high school.

“You have?”

“Funny,” Dad replied. “I dated quite a few
ladies in college.”

“Gross. Don’t tell me anymore,” I said.

Dad chuckled.

“What time are you picking her up?” I
asked.

“Seven.”

“And are you wearing what we discussed?” I
raised my eyebrows at him, daring him to object.

“Brooke, you spent three hundred dollars of
my hard-earned money on that outfit,” he replied. “Yes, I will wear
it.”

I used Dad’s credit card after school on
Wednesday to buy him a pair of dark wash straight-legged jeans,
fitted collar shirt, and a casual tweed blazer for his date. I was
proud of myself for getting everything on sale. Dad, on the other
hand, was pissed and wanted to take it all back.

“Just try it on first!” I demanded. “You’re
not going on the first date you’ve had in a trillion years looking
like a typical nerdy dad!”

Dad relented and put on the outfit.

“Five years, Brooke. It’s been five years,”
he said, walking out of his room and standing in the hallway
looking lost.

I think for the first time in years he felt
stylish, and it made him uncomfortable. Then the more he moved
around in his new clothes, the more confident he became. It was
interesting watching the transformation unfold before my eyes. From
dork to dashing in ten minutes.

“I’m ashamed this cost so much,” he mumbled,
fingering the fabric of his coat.

“Dad, these are classic pieces. They never
go out of style. You can wear them forever,” I explained.

“Oh, I can, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

I stood in front of the full-length mirror
assessing my outfit: skinny jeans tucked into knee-high brown boots
accessorized with large buckles around my ankles and upper calves.
My favorite boots. The heel was the perfect height. They were the
only shoes I owned with a perfect heel, adding two inches to my
5-foot-4 frame. I wore a floral button top with a fitted cranberry
color corduroy jacket. I looked cute and casual, long straight
blond hair pulled back with a thin, clear headband. I wore gold
hoop earrings and gold bangles on my wrist. It was my version of a
police uniform. I was ready to serve and protect.

I informed Dad that Gretchen and I were
hanging out. I failed to tell him we would be attending Cal’s
party. I figured he didn’t need to know. It would only confuse him.
I felt mildly guilty lying to Ryan, though. He asked if I was free
tonight, and I told him I already made plans with Gretchen. He
seemed oblivious to my lie that we were having a girls night at her
house, and it only made me feel worse.

I picked up Gretchen around ten, and we made
our way to the party. I had no idea what to expect when we pulled
up to Cal’s house. I’d never seen it. We parked down the street and
walked to his house. It was one of those ridiculous $900,000 homes
with the brick and stone and every other design element you could
think of decorating the façade. Overly manicured lawn. I thought I
was standing in an office park.

It was already dressed up for Christmas.
White lights all over the trees, outlining the house. Wreaths on
the windows; candles inside them. I liked the decorations, but I
was tempted to come back another evening and put up one strand of
colored lights on a bush. The house needed a rebel strand.

We knocked on the door, but no one answered.
I heard music from inside, and thought it was loud enough to keep
the guests inside from hearing anyone on the outside. I pushed open
the door.

This party was much more subdued than
Tanner’s. Cal’s house was expensive. The furniture looked
expensive. The floor we were standing on looked expensive. Hell,
the paint color on the walls looked expensive, and everyone seemed
to understand. No one would be getting rowdy in this house. There
was still dancing, but Cal made sure to push the furniture to the
side, covering it with sheets. I suspected he put away all the
expensive glassware and accessories. The tables and bookcases were
bare. He was careful, and that made sense. He was careful about
everything he did.

“Hey, Brooke,” Cal said, approaching us.

“Hi,” I replied. I flashed a sweet smile,
and that seemed to encourage him.

“So, um, I’m sorry about ordering beer on
our date. I should have apologized days ago, but you looked busy,”
he said. It was cryptic, but I knew exactly what he was talking
about. He spotted me several times chatting with Ryan in between
classes. He knew there was something going on between us.

“No worries,” I replied.

“No no. I was a total dick. I shouldn’t have
drank all that,” Cal said.

Shouldn’t have
drunk.

I didn’t know what to say. “It happens.”

“No, Brooke.” Cal was insistent. “It doesn’t
happen. I have manners. I know better, and I feel like a complete
jerk. I just freaked out about the whole Parker situation. I had no
idea he was being mean to you. Did you girls get home okay?”

Cal was difficult to understand. There were
instances of complete idiocy followed by knight-in-shining-armor
acts. It’s like he had split personalities.

“Yeah. But you owe us cab fare,” Gretchen
said.

I tensed.

Cal furrowed his brows for a half second
before relaxing his face once more into a pleasant smile. “You’re
right.”

“No, she’s not,” I objected. “It’s fine.
Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I want to give you cab fare,” Cal said.
“It’s the least I can do.”

“Please, Cal,” I said. “I cannot take your
money. I won’t take your money.”

I watched him pull out his wallet and placed
my hand over his.

“I won’t take it,” I whispered. “It’s okay.
The apology was all I needed.”

Cal hesitated. He wanted to argue, but
instead, he tucked his wallet back in his pocket.

“You girls thirsty?” he asked, looking
towards the kitchen.

“Um, just a water for me,” I said. “I’m DD
tonight.”

“Gotcha. And for you, Gretchen?” he
asked.

“I’ll have a water as well,” she said.

Cal looked at her strangely. “You’re the DD,
too?”

“I can party without drinking,” she said,
staring him down like prey she was ready to maul.

Cal chuckled. “I didn’t know that was
possible.”

Gretchen opened her mouth to reply, but I
cut her off.

“We’re gonna be hanging out on the dance
floor,” I said. “Thanks for getting us those waters,” and I dragged
Gretchen away before she had the opportunity to make another
flippant remark.

“What is wrong with you?!” I hissed, trying
to find the rhythm to the song while running the conversation over
in my head. I wasn’t good at multi-tasking.

“You look like a retard, Brooke,” Gretchen
replied, shaking her hips like a belly dancer.

“Gretchen, keep your mouth shut for the rest
of the evening,” I demanded. “Got it?” I stopped altogether and
closed my eyes, concentrating on the beat of the song until I
thought I discovered it. I started dancing again, and Gretchen
burst out laughing.

“Can you move away from me, please? Cute boy
over there is eyeing me up, and you’re totally killing my
mojo.”

I rolled my eyes and gave up. Usually I was
a good dancer. No, not good. Great. And usually I had someone
tiptoeing around me within the first ten minutes on the dance floor
trying to get my attention. Tonight I looked stupid. Just plain
stupid, like someone who doesn’t get out much. I knew the problem.
I was wound up like a top, terrified of spinning out of control
because I was trying to be braver than I actually was. I put the
sole responsibility of taking care of strangers on my shoulders,
and the party was so packed I feared I wouldn’t even find them
until it was too late.

“I’m going to do some rounds,” I said. “See
if I can spot Melanie and Taylor.”

Gretchen became serious like she suddenly
remembered why we were here.

“You worry about Melanie,” she said. “I’ve
got Taylor.”

We made a plan before we arrived. I showed
Gretchen Taylor’s picture from last year, made her study it, commit
every detail to memory so she could track her at the party. I did
the same with Melanie. The goal was to intervene in any activity we
thought looked sketchy. Taylor was a player on Aaron’s team, and I
wasn’t sure about him yet. Melanie was one of Tim’s drafts, and I
knew he was trouble. If he had the opportunity to take advantage of
her tonight, he would.

Cal arrived with our bottled waters before
we started. He wanted to talk to me some more, and suddenly I
realized he planned to stay close to me all evening. Gretchen slunk
away to start investigating, and I felt helpless, trapped.

“So, are you liking Charity Run?” he
asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

“I noticed you’re not involved in any
sports,” Cal said. “Amazing considering you have a nice
figure.”

And we’re back to idiocy.

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied.

“Any reason why you don’t do sports?”

What was up with the weird questions?

“Just not really sporty, I guess. I mean, I
try to work out some,” I said, scanning the crowd for Melanie.

“Well, you should definitely do active
things,” Cal said. “If you want to keep that body.”

I ignored him as I continued searching the
room.

“Looking for someone?” Cal asked.

“No, just people-watching.”

He took another swig of his Heineken.

“So, I thought I’d invite you to a swim
meet,” Cal said.

“Why?”

He looked at me funny.

“I mean, when?” I laughed. “Did I just say
why? I meant when. Good grief, my brain is mush. When is your swim
meet? I’d love to go.”

Bad recovery, but hopefully it would
work.

“Well, not ‘til the spring actually,” Cal
replied.

“Thought you’d seal the deal early?” I asked
lightly.

He grinned. “Yeah, I guess. We’ve gotta
practice in the off-season, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

“And we’re practicing Friday afternoon. Care
to swing by and take a couple of shots for the yearbook?”

This was interesting. Ryan and I weren’t
officially dating, but we talked at school all the time. Sure, we
didn’t touch each other—we weren’t into the whole PDA thing—but it
was obvious we were interested in each other. And Cal didn’t care.
He caught me in the hallway on more than one occasion chatting it
up with Ryan, and he simply didn’t care. I would venture to say he
was
more
interested in me because of it. And a week or two
ago, I would have reveled in that realization, welcomed the
opportunity to trap the son-of-a-bitch. But I was changing. I
wasn’t sure I liked that plan anymore.

Once I accidentally told Terry, everything
shifted. He was a reflection staring back at me, mouth agape in
disbelief and disgust, and I saw for the first time how messed up I
was. How the guilt had twisted me into a monster and a victim. I
wanted something better for myself now. I still wanted justice for
Beth, but I didn’t think I could make myself a sexual sacrifice
anymore. The fact that Cal was still interested in me, though, made
me doubt my decision.

“Uh . . . sure, I guess.”

Cal looked pleased. I imagined he had plans
to show me just how ripped and awesome he was. “Okay. Practice
starts at 3:45. So—”

“Dude, Collin’s got the game set up.” It was
Hunter who interrupted us, and thank God. I had things to do.

“Interested in beer pong?” Cal asked.

I held up my water and shook it.

“Oh that’s right. DD. Mind if I split for
awhile? I’ll come see you later,” he said.

“Go. Have fun,” I replied, and started
meandering through the crowd.

Gretchen grabbed my arm in the upstairs
hallway.

“Taylor’s not here,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I asked.”

“Oh.” Asking never occurred to me. “Who told
you?”

“Her friend, Carrie. She got sick last
night. Food poisoning. So bad she actually had to go to the
hospital.”

“Well, I’m sure Aaron’s disappointed,” I
said.

“Yeah, poor Aaron,” Gretchen replied.
“Dickhead.”

“I just got away from Cal,” I said.

“Okay. Not good.” Gretchen grew worried.
“This party’s been going on since nine.”

I pulled out my cell phone. Eleven-thirty.
How was it already eleven-thirty?

“It’s time to open some doors,” I said, and
Gretchen nodded.

We made our way down the hallway—the longest
hallway in the world, with about a hundred doors.

I heard muffled talk through the sixth door
I came upon and pushed it open.

“Get the hell out!” Tim yelled, lying on top
of a girl I suspected was Melanie.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I thought this was
the bathroom,” I lied, trying to get a better look. She was awake
but not altogether lucid. “Melanie?”

She turned her face in my direction, eyes
out of focus, and grinned.

“That’s
my
name!” she squealed.

“Melanie, I’ve been looking all over God’s
green earth for you!” I said, walking towards the pair. Gretchen
followed me in. Tim looked irate.

“I thought I told you to leave,” he
snapped.