I tell my mother everything. She advises me to tell the lawyer. The lawyer says, “It was your computer, and it’s going to be your word against three girls who sound like they have their story pretty much together.”
“Then the police will just have to talk to them,” my mom says.
The lawyer doesn’t answer. He asks me, “Those boys who were there— do you know who they were?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t see their faces. It was too dark. And they were wearing masks.”
“I see.”
“Those girls know who they were,” my mom says.
“And they’re not telling,” my dad says. He sounds angry, but I can’t tell at who. I hope it’s not me.
The lawyer’s sharp eyes are still on me. “Did you actually see that girl, Jen, hack into the school computer?”
“No.” I didn’t pay the least attention to what Jen was doing. I was too focused on impressing Kayla.
The lawyer is silent for a moment. He caps his pen and slides his notepad back into his briefcase. “I’ll talk to the school and see if they’re willing to take Neely’s record into consideration. Maybe they’ll agree to drop the charges. I’ll talk to the police, too, and see if they can make any headway with those girls. But I can’t promise anything.”
He makes no headway. Kayla’s mother freaks out when the cops show up to question her daughter about something the police have already established was done by someone else. She contacts Jen’s parents and gets Jen’s mom all worked up, and the two of them get a lawyer. Shayna’s parents contact Kayla’s mom. Together they form a united front to protect their daughters against this slander from some local farm girl—me. All three girls are forbidden by their lawyers to talk to the police.
All three sets of parents, led by Kayla’s mom, contact the school and demand that the school do something about these accusations against their daughters. They get their lawyers to make threats, too, if the harassment of their daughters continues while the local farm girl—they always refer to me as the farm girl—gets preferential treatment even though it’s known beyond a shadow of a doubt what her role in all this has been. Kayla’s mom also points out, in person, that her daughter has no reason to persecute any student for any reason—why would she?
For a day or two, it looks like the school is going to let me off with a suspension—at least, that’s what the lawyer says. But then the school board gets involved. It seems that two of the school trustees, businessmen, have been contacted by Kayla’s father, who has been enlisted to come to the defense of his darling daughter’s reputation.
“They’re pressing charges after all,” the lawyer says. “They’re going to allow you to go back to school, but you’re not to have anything to do with any of those girls. You’re also not allowed to use any of the computers at school.”
“It could be worse,” my mom says, squeezing my hand.
“Oh,” says the lawyer, getting ready to stand up, “you’re also forbidden to have any contact with Addie Murch. Her parents have taken out a restraining order.”
“What?! But I didn’t—”
I stop. Because, as far as anyone can see, I did. I look down at the table. Tears sting my eyes. I made a mistake. The least I can do now is take the punishment.
“Okay,” I say.