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PULLING ON MY JEANS and belt, I kiss a slumbering Christy on the cheek. God, she’s gorgeous. We had the best night. After our first time together, we were hungry. So, we ordered pizza and talked until midnight. Then we made love again. Why had I been so afraid to do this?
“Best night of my life.” I nuzzle her cheek.
She stretches her arms over her head with a sleepy smile. “Hey, you.” As I grab my jacket, she sits up. “Where are you going?”
“Home. I told my parents I was staying at Pete’s, and that I’d be back by noon.” I peck her on the nose. “It’s eleven-thirty already.”
She purrs softly and grins like the Cheshire cat. “Sorry. You wore me out.”
“Same here.” I lace my fingers with hers and touch her leg. “Are you sore?”
She shrugs. “A little. It was worth it.”
“Totally.” Giving her another kiss, I finally step away. “I’ll call you later, okay? I have a test in AP Lit tomorrow that I’ve gotta study for, and Dad wants me at the pool early.”
Sitting up on her elbow, she throws off the blanket and sighs. “I know. I hate that our special night is over.”
I draw her to standing. She’s still naked. Holding her in my arms, I rasp, “It isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I meant what I said last night, Chris. I love you.”
Staring at me as if the sun rises and sets on me, she cups my cheeks. “I love you too, Luke. Always remember that.”
My heart soars. Crashing my mouth to hers, I groan. I want to stay here all day, but my father won’t be happy if I’m late. Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to hers. “Talk to you soon?”
Lying back, she snuggles under the blanket. “Love you.”
I quietly close the door to her room and sneak downstairs. What the hell? We’re the only ones here, right? Whistling, I exit and head to my car.
I start the ignition and let the engine warm up a few minutes before driving toward the other side of town. I stop at the gas station for a breakfast sandwich.
Turning on my music, I hum along with Jon Mayer’s Waiting for the World to Change as I head home. Sunbeams shine through the colorful fall leaves. Everything looks bright.
Life can’t get much better than this.
As I turn left at my street, I glance in the opposite direction toward Penny’s house. I hope she had fun last night. She looked happy. It’s the first time I’ve seen any semblance of my Sunshine for years.
Prickles dance across the back of my neck. There’s a squad car in her driveway. I frown. “Aw, hell. What did Miranda do now?” Parking in front of my house, I stare down the street. It doesn’t look like the usual brawl that normally accompanies Miranda Ramsay’s visits with the police.
My mom meets me at the door. Stepping onto the porch, she sighs. “Not again. Is Penny okay?”
I shrug. “I think so. She was fine last night at the dance.” I pull the camera from my pocket and show her a few pictures I’d taken. The one of Penny and me together is hilarious.
Mom laughs. “I think you scared her.” She flips forward to the ones I’d shot of Penny as she entered the school. The big smile she’d sported lit up the room. Warmth fills my body, and I grin. That’s why I nicknamed her Sunshine.
Mom gives me a sidelong glance. “Those are very nice. I love her hair. She looks beautiful. Do you have any of your date?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, I do.” I scan the photos. A few of them are blurry, but I finally come to one of Chris and me dancing. “See?”
She arches an eyebrow. “Indeed, I do. I’m glad you had fun.”
“It was the best.”
She crosses her arms. “And you stayed with Pete all night?”
Skirting around her, I remove my jacket and open the coat closet. I can’t look her in the eyes. It’s always been difficult to lie to my mom. “Yeah. We just hung around, a few of us. You know, pizza and movies and stuff.”
She clears her throat. “Interesting. When did you meet him there? His tires were slashed in the parking lot last night, and we had to call a tow truck and fill out an incident report. It was after midnight when his parents picked him up.”
Oh, shit. Why the hell hadn’t Bridges messaged me?
My eyes narrow as I look at my phone. I’d turned it off. As I restart the device, I hang my head. There are four messages from Pete telling me he can’t be my alibi. God, I’m so dead.
Heat flares across my cheeks. “Um...”
She sighs. “Sit for a minute, son. We need to talk.” As we settle upon the couch, she pats my knee. “I’m not so naïve that I believe teenagers remain innocent until they become adults. God knows we were pretty crazy in the ‘80’s.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping you’re smart enough to be safe. I’m aware Michael and Julia have been gone all weekend, and it doesn’t take much to put two and two together. But if your dad knew where you were all night...”
Shock floods through me. My father wouldn’t hesitate to ground me for the rest of the school year. “Oh, God, Mom, please don’t tell him.”
She squeezes my hands. “I won’t. But promise me you’ll be careful, Lucas. Don’t get yourself into trouble, okay? You have a lot of life to live without being tied down with responsibilities you aren’t ready for.”
I press my lips together. I’m somewhere between embarrassed and ashamed as I mumble, “I swear we used protection.”
“That’s all I need to hear. I trust you, son. However, you lied to us, and I can’t let that go. You’re grounded this week. Nothing but school and swimming. And the overnight thing?” I glance at her formidable gaze. She shakes her head. “Never again. At least until you leave for college.” Giving me a wink, she stands. “Would you do me a favor and check on Penny? I’m worried about her.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Mom.” Shock and awe flood through me as I stand and tread up the stairs to my room.
Wow. Just a basic grounding. And she didn’t take my phone. I was expecting more. That wasn’t exactly the lecture I thought I’d hear from my mother about being sexually responsible either, especially since I’d been gone all night. It just proves how cool Caroline Donovan can be.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I send Penny a quick text. An influx of notifications from a variety of sources swamp my phone telling me to check out the most recent trash posted on MySpace.
I roll my eyes. I hate this bullshit more than anything. The whole social networking thing is a waste of time. I wouldn’t have bothered signing up for it, but Christy started a page for me, and now my circle has expanded to almost seven hundred people. I only agreed to it because I can keep up with Colt at college. Not that Colt worries about social media, either. He hardly posts a thing.
Sitting at my computer, I sign into my account. A long scroll of disgusting comments swamps my feed. “What the hell is this?”
“Doesn’t surprise me she’s a slut just like her alkie mother...”
“O.M.G. did you have to ruin my breakfast?”
“Where the hell is this girl’s parents?”
“I love BBW girls. Save some for me, honey.”
“Poor Luke...”
Dread scrapes my insides as I scroll further. The nasty remarks are swelling. Finally, they stop. Heat ricochets across the back of my neck, bile ascending my throat.
A slide show with pictures of Penny in compromising positions has been uploaded to her page, and I’ve been tagged. They’re captioned with lewd comments about her being ready and willing to give it all to her date since her crush doesn’t want her. One of the pictures shows a close-up of her in a white cotton bra that leaves little to the imagination. In a few of them, she’s practically naked. Scanned pages from a journal accompany the grotesque photos.
My blood throbs through my veins like a freight train. “Jesus, are people even allowed to post shit like this on MySpace?”
The final slide is a shot of her at the Homecoming parade in her little skirt standing next to me. My face has been blurred out, but the caption reads like a journal entry, revealing her secret crush.
On me.
No fucking way! Anger rips through me like a prize fighter on steroids. There is no way in hell Penny uploaded this herself. I slam my fists on my desk. Standing, I go to the window and pull back the curtains. The squad car is still at the Ramsay house. What the hell happened to her?
I fly down the stairs. “Mom!”
Holding a cup of coffee, she emerges from the dining room, blinking rapidly. “What’s the matter?”
My hands are shaking. I’m hardly holding it together as I croak out, “It’s Pen. Something’s very wrong.”
Going to her laptop sitting upon the table, I load up my MySpace account. As I scroll through to the end of the garbage, hoping she doesn’t see the horrible comments, I click on the slideshow link.
The whites of Mom’s eyes swallow her brown pupils. She claps a hand over her mouth and gasps. “Oh, dear Lord. I knew she was having issues, but why would she do something like this?”
Tears gather in her eyes, and I stare at my mother incredulously. Does anyone know Penny? “Are you seriously kidding me? You think the shyest girl at our school—and the smartest—would put herself out there like this? Pen would never do it! Someone hacked her account. It’s gotta be that bastard that took her to Homecoming.”
“Luke!”
Shaking my head, I clutch the edge of the table. In a few seconds, I’m going to lose it. “I’m not apologizing for my language. And he’s going to pay.”
Placing her hands on my shoulders, she sighs. “Take it easy. We don’t know anything yet.”
Tears wobble at my eyelids as I slam my fists on the table. “Look at this! Look at what he did to her. He humiliated her! How would you feel if these awful things were—”
All of a sudden, the computer screen goes blank. I refresh it and try to access Penny’s profile. The server issues a warning that the link can no longer be found. Reloading my page, I search for Penny’s name, but the site doesn’t recognize her. Her entire account is gone.
“Shit!”
“Alright, enough of that.” My mother shuts her laptop. Rubbing her temples, she says, “Now we know why the police car is down the street. Did you text Penny?”
I look at my phone. “She hasn’t gotten back to me. She hasn’t seen the message, either.”
Mom worries her lip between her teeth. “I’ll call your father.” She places a hand on my arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash. I know you’re angry and that you feel protective of her, but the last thing we need is you getting into a fight. Just let me handle this, okay?”
My stomach hurts. The last time I let my mother deal with Penny’s bully, the girl got a slap on the wrists.
Fucking Hannah Sparks. She’s gotta be in on this.
Why would someone do this? Penny is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. Sure, she’s had a rough time settling into high school. Who doesn’t? But this kind of bullying is completely out of line.
I sink into the dining room chair. “It’s my fault.” Shit, I should have seen it coming. Chris and I invited Penny to that stupid party, but we never showed.
Worse, I’d promised Colt I’d protect his sister at all costs, but when she really needed me, I wasn’t there for her.
With my head in my hands, I try to eradicate those horrible images of her from my mind. But I can’t unsee it.
Pen was violated.
Unfortunately, what started as the best day of my life has ended up being the worst.
*****
This is the private journal of Penny Elaine Ramsay. Do not read!!
NOVEMBER 5, 2007
I’m not sure how I’ll get through this entry without crying. It’s been a week since Homecoming. Every day is a struggle. But my therapist wants me to write everything down so maybe I’ll remember what happened.
After my panic attack at the hospital, they kept me overnight, only for me to return home to a nightmare. Not only had my date raped me, but he’d also—or whomever—humiliated me by sharing horribly explicit photos that they’d taken of me while I was unconscious.
Hannah had to have been in on it. I can’t prove it, but someone hacked my MySpace account and posted everything for the world to see, including a few of my journal entries. Since she’s the one who stole my journal, I’m blaming her, too.
Kennedy Harper reported it. When she found out I was in the hospital, she messaged the MySpace moderators to have my page removed. I didn’t know anything about it until three days after it happened.
Then Mrs. Donovan called me. She had my phone. A janitor found my handbag abandoned in the bathroom at the dance and returned it to her. I’m not sure if she saw the pictures online, but she wanted me to know she was working with the police on finding the culprit responsible for my assault. Her words.
She doesn’t know I was raped. Nobody does.
I gave my report to the police after I was released, and they questioned Brandon. He claims he’s innocent. He insists he dropped me off at my house at around ten, and his older brother confirmed that Brandon arrived home a little after ten-thirty. The school cameras show him waiting for me outside the bathroom about nine-thirty. Even though I don’t remember it, I walked into the hall, and he gave me my coat. After he escorted me out the front doors, he helped me into his car. That’s all the evidence they have.
Except Mr. Sparks found me on his lawn half-naked.
Hannah denies having anything to do with it, either. She claims she stayed with Addison all night after the dance and has no idea what I was doing on her property because we aren’t friends. Addy backed her up, of course. According to Kennedy, Hannah told everyone I was just looking for attention because of my so-called crush on Luke Donovan.
Luke was the only one that stood up for me. And Christy, believe it or not. They told the police that Hannah had invited them to her house, and Christy had asked Brandon and me to join them. Unfortunately, nobody could prove that any of us were at Hannah’s because Luke and Christy never showed up.
I sure as heck didn’t go to that party alone.
According to the doctor, I was drugged. With the blood on my thighs and my hymen broken, I was most likely raped, but there was no admissible DNA besides my own. My mother tried to fight it, but her track record with the police isn’t good. And since they found no incriminating evidence, they dismissed the case.
And the rumor that I’m an attention-seeking whore, just a fat girl crying out, is well and alive. Why would anyone believe anything I say? There is no evidence proving any of it.
Until this morning. A video of the entire incident was released on an anonymous YouTube channel. Kennedy called me and told me about it.
It’s hard to tell where it took place because the lighting was too low. Everything was black except for a spotlight shining directly on me. There were at least four people there, all dressed in black robes and wearing these ridiculous animal masks. Three of them surrounded the full-sized bed they’d placed me on. Like witnesses to some horrible ritualistic killing, they observed while I was poked. Prodded.
Assaulted.
I was unconscious the whole time.
I watched the video. And you know what? Nothing but blankness registered. I felt like a spectator at some strange voyeur show. I can’t believe it was me lying there as they did all that awful stuff to me... pinching my breasts, teasing me because of my weight, making fun of my extra-large panties and bra. They touched me everywhere. Not with their hands. The tall one dressed in a donkey mask used some sort of long stick to poke at my body.
The only thing the video doesn’t show is them actually raping me. Apparently, they aren’t that stupid. But there is no doubt in my mind I was set up.
Brandon had to have been the one in the donkey mask, although, I doubt he was the mastermind behind the horrid prank. Only I know that Hannah Sparks had stolen my journal. She and her minions had planned everything to humiliate me.
And Christy Mefford is the reason. Again, I have no proof. But I feel it deep down. I’m being persecuted because I have a crush on her boyfriend... the one who doesn’t know I’m alive.
One thing is for certain. Hannah and her followers got everything they wanted. If it’s up to me, I’ll never go back to RHHS.
I hope they’re happy. They’ve ruined my short, pathetic life.
Forget the countdown. I’ll never be free.