“I don’t know if you remember me, but Rhys and I were…”
It’s hard to find the right words. ‘Old school friends’ would be the simplest, but it feels wrong. Rhys hardly ever came to school. Most days, he wagged to play PlayStation at home while his mum worked. We hung out whenever he did turn up, but he was hard to talk to most of the time. We got along best when we were playingWorld of Warcraftonline. Still, he gave me my first cigarette and introduced me to Brand New, the band thatstill defines my teen years. He meant something to me, and I want Betty to know that, but I don’t want to dress it up in Jenny Wallis puke pastels just because he’s gone. I give up on a defining label.
“I’m not sure if Rhys ever talked about me,” I say. “But we used to hang out.”
A flicker of a smile touches Betty’s crimson lips. “I remember.”
The statement does nothing to reassure me that this is going to go well. I swallow, desperately craving tequila. “I’m not gonna pretend we were super close or anything, but he was good to me at school when no one else was, and I’m really fucking sorry about what happened.”
Betty exhales slowly. “Thanks. For being honest.”
I wonder how many people fed her trite bullshit once Rhys did what he did. If she came here expecting another round of it from me. I grasp for what to say next. “You seem like you’re doing okay? From social media, I mean?”
She gives me a tired smile.
“Sorry. I’m terrible at this. Talking. Especially when it matters.”
“It’s not that. You just… remind me of him.”
My dry throat contracts. “You too. Your eyes.”
We sit in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the man who isn’t here.
“It was fucking brutal,” Betty mutters. “The way it happened and the way everyone acted after. All these people saying they really liked Rhys. Acting like they cared. It was awful.”
“I believe it.”
“So, why’d you want to talk to me? Really?”
My respect for her climbs another rung. I shove my trembling hands under the table. “I was thinking about doing… something to the people who fucked with me and Rhys back then. You know the ones.”
Her gaze sharpens. “Why?”
“Because I fucking hate that they got away with it.” The words come out too shrill and too fast. The voice of an angry teenage girl. I drive my fingernails intomy thighs. “It wasn’t just kid shit. Some of it was actual crimes, assaults, harassment, things that should’ve gone to the cops. The school knew, and they ignored it.”
Betty lifts her chin. “So why am I here?”
“I’ve got records.” I pick up the manila folder from the seat beside me and slide it across the table. “Emails, DMs, old Facebook messages. Threats and lots of references to stuff that happened in real life. It’s probably too late to press charges, but I was thinking I could email a ZIP file to everyone at the reunion or something.”
Betty opens the folder and flips through a few pages, her expression unreadable. “I can’t look through Rhys’s old accounts for you. I wiped his inboxes after he died. My mum kept going through everything. Looking for answers. I didn’t want her doing that to herself.”
“Shit. Sorry. But yeah, that makes total sense. Of course.”
Betty stares at me as if she’s assessing the state of my soul. I get the feeling she’ll be disappointed.
“You can go if you want?” I offer. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Did you know Rhys was bipolar?”
Fucking hell…I drive my nails harder into my skin. “No, but I’m Autistic. I always felt like me and him… understood we weren’t wired like everyone else.”
“So why do all this now? After all this time?”
“Because I’m here, I guess?”
It sounds lame, even to me.
Betty smiles coldly. “That’s right. You left. Before school ended?”
