I don’t do drugs.
I never have.
There are a lot of reasons why. They’re illegal. It could ruin my father’s career. It might ruin my own future career options. I am afraid of getting addicted. But I think the real reason is that I like to be in control, of my body, and of my situation. I am afraid with drugs or alcohol that I would be in control of neither.
I’ve been offered, and I’ve been tempted, but I have always passed.
So the headline making all the news that morning makes me extremely angry and frustrated.
It has been hell, the last few weeks. The cycle accident, my father going missing, getting attacked by thugs on an LA street. It’s not been the greatest time of my life.
But to get blamed for it all. That really takes the cake.
When I wake my phone has gone crazy. Calls from my mom (six), from my sister (three) and a few from the family landline that could have been either of them.
I immediately think that Dad has been found, and before I phone either of them back I turn on my computer and find a news site.
I’m wrong. He hasn’t been found. The story is mostly about me. And drugs.
Clark’s Daughter Drug Deal goes bad.
Right there is enough to ruin any future employment chances and probably get me kicked out of college. But it gets worse.
Daughter of missing Congressman Paul Clark rescued by Secret Service from LA drug dealers.
I don’t know where they got their information. Probably a leak in the LAPD. I wonder if I can sue. But the next statement takes my breath away.
The LAPD are now investigating the possibility that Congressman Clark was kidnapped, and possibly killed, when he flew to Los Angeles to confront his daughter’s drug suppliers.
I can’t breathe.
It is plainly, and unimpeachably false. It is so outrageous that I suspect everyone who reads it will immediately believe it is true. Someone once said “People will believe a big lie sooner than a little one”, and this is a huge one.
And the two people I know I have to convince of this first, are my mother and my sister.
Katz answers on the first ring.
“What took you so long?” she demands. “Mom is in hysterics.”
“I was asleep!” I protest. “I’m in a different time zone to you. Now before you say anything…”
Like that was ever going to happen.
“It’s your fault,” she says. “You did this. You killed my father!”
Somehow now Dad has become hers and not ours.
“Don’t be stupid,” I say, or try to say. I get as far as “Don’t …”
“The police have been around here asking questions!” she says. “Questioning me. Interrogating Mom! About your drug habits!”
“I don’t have a drug …”
“I thought your eyes looked red when you were here.”
“That was jet lag. I don’t use drugs and I had nothing to do with Dad’s disappearance.”
“Yeah and you haven’t fooled the cops with that bullshit either,” she says.
“What do I have to do to convince…”
“Nothing,” she says. “You’re a liar and a thief, and I know you took my diary.”
I keep silent on that one. It’s a little hard to explain.
“I’m going to call Mom now,” I say. “She needs to know that this whole drug thing is bullcrap.”
While I am speaking my phone beeps with another call. I check the screen. It is Cam.
“Who’s that?” Katz asks. “Your drug dealer?”
“It’s Cam,” I say. “But I’m not going to take his call right now. I’m going to call Mom.”
“Don’t,” Katz says. “She’s taken a sedative and gone back to bed. Don’t you dare disturb her and lie to her.”
“Katz!”
“You know something Cassie? Every time I feel even a little bit sad, I start to panic that I’m going to end up like Mom,” Katz says. Her voice has gone very quiet. “And I would pray that I have a sister who is loving and supportive – I thought that’s who you were. But you’re just some hopped up dopehead who moved to the West Coast so we wouldn’t know what you’re into.”
She hangs up without a goodbye. I am on the verge of calling her back when I stop myself. She’s emotional. I’m emotional. Best to let everyone calm down and try and talk things through rationally later. I am sure there are ways of proving my innocence. Blood tests or something.
I have missed Cam’s call, so I call him back.
He says he’s heard the news, and he knows I am innocent. He’s going to put in a good word for me at the LAPD.
I thank him although I can’t help feeling it’s going to be too little, too late.