“Parker. Mel. Issa.” I was going to point her out, but when I hear her raising her voice, insistent someone let her go upstairs to check on her purses, I decide against it.
“Yourname?” Mr. Detective Thatcher helpfully clarifies.
“Oh. Ha ha. Lee. Haven Lee.” I realize I’m wringing my hands, and quickly shove them behind my back. The deputy glances up, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“Haven Lee,” he repeats suspiciously. “TheHaven Lee?”
Why does this suddenly feel like an interrogation?
I glare at him. “Depends. Which Haven Lee you lookin’ for, exactly?”
“The one from the Rain Dance.”
“Like, half the school was there.”
He gives me a rueful smile. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Miss Lee. Just fact checking.”
I shift my weight again and force down another burp as I consider my options, nearly puking.Blerk.Chocolate booze tastes good going down, but not so good coming back up.
Oh, yeah. Options.
I got none. Everyone saw me. But years of Riversider conditioning makes admitting anything to this cop feel like I’m peeling off my skin.
“I wasin factat the Rain Dance,” I say reluctantly.
“So itwasyou,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing slightly. “Didn’t recognize you without your body paint. Is there any particular reason you haven’t filed an assault charge against Ezra Jordan?”
My eyes snap back to Thatcher.
Deny, deny, deny.
“What? Why?”
Thatcher’s eyes narrow.
Whoops.
“I mean, who?”
This goes way past conditioning. Riversiders have acode. Snitches get stitches. And since you only go to the hospital if you’re ringing Death’s fucking doorbell, it’s more like snitches get infections and severe scarring.
“I was informed by a—” Thatcher flips back a page or two in his notebook “—Kai Jordan that his brother assaulted you. I then verified this information with several other parties.”
Kaisaidthat?
To acop?
What parallel universe did I wake up in?
“Don’t know any Kai.”
Deny, deny, deny.
“Kai Jordan,” Thatcher repeats, like the booze is making me dumb.
I shake my head.
“Kai? From the NEX fraternity down the road?” Thatcher prompts.
