FOR THE SECOND TIME in less than twenty-four hours, the police had to come to our house. They took photos of the graffiti, and they asked my dad a lot of questions. A bunch of our neighbors came outside to see what was going on, which I admit made me super-squirmy, because now it felt like the whole wide world knew my dad was gay. It wasn’t just the graffiti; Michael showed up and held my dad in front of everyone. Most of the neighbors were really sympathetic, but the Burgesses from two houses down didn’t hide their looks of disapproval, and we’re pretty sure they’re the ones who slipped a piece of paper under my dad’s door a few days later with the word Repent written on it.

When the police were done questioning my dad, they talked to me and Stewart. We all sat in the dining room, including Mom, Dad, and Leonard. “We understand you had a party that got out of control last night,” one of the policemen said. “Any idea who might have spray-painted your dad’s house?”

I’m not proud of what I did next, okay? But in my defense, I already knew that school was going to be a total nightmare when we went back. Ratting Jared out would only make things worse.

So I shook my head. “No. I can’t think of anyone.”

Stewart looked at me across the table with total one hundred percent absolute disgust. Then he turned to the cops. “I can,” he said. “I know exactly who did it. His name is Jared Mitchell.” He told the cops about what Jared had done at his old school. Then he told them everything that had happened the night before. And I mean everything.

Mom started to cry when he told the police about the photos Jared had taken. “That little shit,” she said, which was harsh for her because she never swears. Dad and Leonard looked shaken, too. I just sat silently, my face crimson red.

I couldn’t make eye contact with my dad. I felt completely one hundred percent totally ashamed, on so many different levels. Why hadn’t I stopped seeing Jared weeks ago when he’d first acted creepy? Why did I have to let Stewart be the one to say Jared’s name, even though I was the one who should be standing up for my dad? I still couldn’t quite believe that Jared had betrayed me in so many different and horrible ways.

The police took a lot of notes. They asked if any of the photos were in circulation, because if so, they might be able to press charges. Stewart told them about the bus. They commended him on his quick thinking, but they also said that without any evidence, there wasn’t much they could do. “That was so brave of you, Stewart,” my mom said, and she gave him a huge hug.

No one hugged me.

We found out later that the police did question Jared about the graffiti. I know because Jared’s dad called our house the next night. Leonard spoke to him. Jared’s dad shouted that there was no proof his son had done anything wrong. We could all hear him even though Leonard had the phone to his ear. Leonard very calmly told him that he should have his son assessed for behavioral issues, at which point Jared’s dad hung up. The next day a letter was couriered to our front door. It was from the Mitchells’ lawyer, telling us to “cease and desist with slanderous accusations” or they would press charges.

Leonard looked like he was going to explode. He tapped out an angry response on his laptop that included the line: If your son comes anywhere near my stepdaughter, you will have me to contend with.

What on earth would you do? I thought. Put on your fencing gear, shout “en garde,” and challenge him to a duel? But it felt really good to have Leonard on my side. I didn’t even mind that he’d called me his stepdaughter. I helped him Google the Mitchells’ postal code; then we walked together to the mailbox with the letter. Mom tried to talk us out of it, but we mailed it anyway.

I dreaded going back to school. I tried to call Lauren to see what she’d heard, but my calls just went to her voice mail, which was weird.

I spent the last few days of the Christmas holidays holed up in my bedroom and feeling like crap. Mom and Leonard were arguing a lot about small things. A couple of months ago, this might have made me happy, but now it just made me feel worse than I already did. On the weekend I helped Dad and Michael paint over the horrible word, and I swear I could feel Michael’s disappointment in me. Even though he never said it, I was sure he wondered why I hadn’t done more to stand up for my dad. In fact, I was sure that all the adults in my life felt like I’d personally let them down.

Even Stewart was in a terrible mood. I felt awful that Shock Plug was missing. I’d grown to love that ugly beast. But when he wasn’t out searching for him, Stewart spent all his time in his room under that stupid afghan. It wasn’t healthy. When I tried to suggest he get out from under it and stop moping, he flipped out and said some very hurtful things, which I guess I deserved.

Then it was Monday, and we had to go back to school. Within the first five minutes, things went from bad to worse. ’Cause the first person I saw when I stepped through the main doors was Jared.

And he had his arm around Lauren.