My mom dabs her eyes. She hasn’t cried yet, but she’s going to. My mom cries a lot. I hate crying. I hate when I do it, and I hate when other people do it. It makes me uncomfortable. Some primal thing in me labels it as weakness. Maybe that sounds cruel, but to me it just feels like a private thing. Even when my mom’s tears are genuine, they feel like manipulation. We can go toe to toe, but as soon asshe sheds a tear, I bend to her will, because who wants to be the asshole who makes their mom cry?
“Is there anything you’d like to share with me?” asks Sheriff Bell. “Anything about where you were last night?”
I look to my mom. Still with the dabbing.Seriously.And then to Keith. His lips are pressed together.
“No, sir,” I say. There’s no way he has proof. I recite it to myself over and over again.There’s no way he has proof. There’s no way he has proof. There’s no way he has proof.
“Well, your parents here—”
“My mom and my stepdad,” I correct him. “Keith is just my stepdad.” I don’t look, but I hope that made Keith flinch. I feel like a cornered cat, and my claws are out. “My real dad isn’t here right now.”
“Well, you better believe I’ve called him,” says my mom, her voice shrill and shaking. “He is very disappointed in you, as am I. We never had problems like this with Claudia.”
I roll my eyes. Claudia practically came out of the womb balancing a checkbook. That’s how angelically responsible she is. Mama comparing us is nothing new, but it’s a game I’ll never win.
Sheriff Bell folds his hands on the table. “Listen,” he tells me. “That gym on Jackson Avenue was trashed last night. Broken glass everywhere. Rotten eggs. Toilet paper. Damaged equipment. I’m pretty sure I know who did this, and I’m pretty sure you do, too. And if you’re thinking of playing cat and mouse here with me, I’m just gonna put itout there and tell you the whole thing is on camera.”
My heart pounds, and the kitchen is so quiet that I’m scared everyone else can hear it, too. I try not to react to this news. I don’t want to do anything to further incriminate myself.
“I can’t make out much,” he continues, “but I got a head count. And by the looks of it, the whole bunch of ’em were girls. I also happen to know that the gym was the primary sponsor for the dance team until very recently. Ya putting things together here with me, girly?”
I open my mouth to—I don’t know? Deny?
He holds a hand up. “How long have you had that necklace, Callie?”
I tilt my head to the side and press my fingers to theCpendant. My nerves fizzle out for a moment. “Years. It was a thirteenth-birthday present from my dad.”
Sheriff Bell nods. “And you’ve never let anyone borrow it?”
“No. Never,” I say, realizing all too soon that I’ve given myself away.
“Jared,” says Keith. “Say Callie was there and she can tell you who else was with her.”
His head dips down a little as he says, “Well, here’s the deal. We know you were there, Callie. But you’re the only one we can identify, and you shouldn’t have to pay this price alone.”
My mom says, “He’s right, baby.” It’s the first inkling of nondisappointment I’ve gotten from her yet.
This is a sinking ship. Hell. Iamthe sinking ship. ButI won’t bring down the rest of the team. I remember Sam and what she said at practice today. I normally don’t fall for all that fluffy BS, but the Shamrocks are my life. If that’s not a sisterhood—a really dysfunctional sisterhood—then what is? “I was there,” I say in a sweet voice. “But it was so dark, Sheriff. I wouldn’t have the faintest clue who else was with me.”
Sheriff Bell holds my gaze for a long moment, and I can tell this is my last chance.
The sound of my mom bursting into tears pierces the silence in the kitchen. Yup, right on cue.
I groan and cover my face with both my hands, not bothering to be careful of my makeup.
All the things I stand to lose stack up like a pile of dirty laundry. The team. State. Nationals. And then—my God—what if I’m arrested? My weekend job at Sweet 16. Time with Bryce. My standing on the social food chain. What if I have a criminal record? Can I even get into college?
“What do you need from me?” I finally ask.
Sheriff Bell clears his throat. “Well, I’ll be speaking to the owner to see if they’d like to press charges. And of course we’ll have to speak with the city attorney.”
“Do we need a lawyer?” asks Keith.
My mama lets out another yelp.
“It’s not like I killed someone,” I say. “It was just a joke that got out of hand.”
“A joke that’s going to cost a pretty penny to repair,” says Sheriff Bell sternly. “And as far as a lawyer goes... well, they’re not my favorite sort of people, but it wouldn’thurt to have one in the wings.”
