I tense as a dark foreboding fills me. There’s only one reason that Caleb would be here.
“Where is she?” My voice is hard. Cold. Controlled.
“At home.”
“Is she okay?” The question is clearly unnecessary. She’s not okay; otherwise, Caleb wouldn’t be here. Otherwise, she would have come herself.
“No.” His hands clench into fists, and he looks so angry that I almost flinch.
“What happened?”
“It was Reed.”
I freeze. I don’t understand. And at the same time, I’m afraid I know exactly what he means.
“What?”
“It was Reed,” he says again, desperately. His voice is shaking, and the meaning of his words registers. I understand them, but—Fuck!
“Whatdid Reed do?” Rage boils up, burning in every cell of my body, and swallows me whole. He has to say it very clearly. I need to hear it. Even if I don’t want to.
“Reed...” Caleb gasps for breath. “Reed was the one who raped Zoe. That’s why you have to come with me now and—” he breaks off as I whirl around and run.
Reed raped her.
I’m going to kill that bastard.
* * *
Caleb catches up with me as I’m running across campus. He’s faster than me, which is probably unsurprising, considering he’s still afootball player. He grabs my shoulder and yanks me around so hard I stumble.
“You won’t be able to find him,” he says. “He ran away. I have no idea where he is.”
I pull away from him with a jerk. My heart is pounding so hard against my ribs that it hurts. “I really don’t give a shit right now. I don’t want to see Reed.”
Caleb’s shoulders slump. “You want to see Zoe.”
I don’t bother to respond, because he knows it’s true.
“Come on.” He puts a hand on my back and leads me toward the parking lot.
His parents’ car is parked right at the entrance, diagonally across two parking spaces. But I know Caleb wouldn’t give a shit even if there were someone else here to complain.
We get in the car, and he silently leaves the parking lot and guides the car into the Saturday evening Boston traffic.
“How... how did you find out?” I say, breaking the silence.
Caleb shrugs, his eyes on the road ahead of us. “It was a dumb coincidence. Zoe heard Reed and Charlotte talking in the theater. They were arguing about it. I don’t know any more than that. She... she didn’t say much, and...” he falters, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“And what?” I say, because it’s clear a piece is missing.
“She was hiding. In the theater. I have no idea how long. I called her about something else, and she was... having a panic attack.”
This is all so unbelievably wrong. It makes me sick. She was hiding in the theater while I was there. Shit, I was right there, and I didn’t find her. I must not have been looking hard enough.
Why didn’t I keep searching for her? Why couldn’t I have found her?
My head is spinning.
