Modern Monsters (Entangled Teen) (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A
utumn shoos me out early in the morning so she can get the house clean for her parents’ return. I text Brett to see if I can come over, feeling slightly sheepish given that I hung up on him last night. He responds simply
Sure
, so I ask Autumn to drive me to his place. I get out and watch her drive away before trotting up to Brett’s door and letting myself in with the key Mrs. Mason gave me my second night here.

Brett is sprawled on the couch filling out college applications on his laptop, a bowl of cereal in his hands. He glances over as I come in and begin trying to make a spot for myself amid the papers on the other side of the couch. He doesn’t say hello, simply fixes his gaze back onto the television playing a marathon of
The Walking Dead.
When a few minutes pass and he more or less ignores my existence, I say, “Good morning?”

He frowns a little, chews the cereal in his mouth, swallows. “Does Dad know you were hanging out with her?”

I cast him a sidelong glance. “No. P-probably not. Don’t see why it matters.”

After setting his bowl on the table, Brett slowly turns to stare at me. “Because she’s the best friend of the girl who’s accusing you of raping her. That’s sort of a big deal.”

“She isn’t accusing me anymore.”

“Even if Callie isn’t pushing it, her parents could be.”

The panic bubbling up in my chest is promptly shoved back down. “They’re looking for someone else now. Callie’s c-coming back to school tomorrow.”

That sufficiently distracts him and he straightens up, blinking. “Seriously? Autumn said that?”

I scratch a nervous hand through my hair. “No…Callie did.”

“You saw Callie.”

“B-briefly.”

He runs a hand over his face and sinks back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “You sure know how to put yourself in the line of fire. If you say anything that could incriminate yourself…”

“How can I incriminate m-myself when I’m innocent?”

Brett takes a long, deep breath, and his voice is gentler this time. “Dad and I are just trying to look out for you, Vic. If you get too wrapped up in a pretty girl, you’re going to end up arrested, and that’s not a problem I can fix for you.”

Guilt envelops me like a cold blanket. It’s true that Brett has had to step in a lot during my life. To help salvage my grades, to protect me from teasing and beatings, and when I desperately needed to get away from home. He and his parents are the ones responsible for teaching me independence and caring, what it is to be a normal family.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Brett sighs again. “Don’t apologize. As long as you’re careful. Did you sleep with her?”

I contemplate crawling between the cushions to disappear. “No
.
”

“Then what did you guys do for two days?”

More like thirty-six hours, but whatever. “S-stuff. We talked. Ate. Went shopping, watched some movies…”

“That’s a long date.” He smiles a little, trying to turn the topic into something lighter. “I’m happy for you.”

That was all I’d wanted to hear to begin with, but even if it’s belated, it takes some of the tension off my shoulders. “Th-thanks. What’s all this stuff?”

He begins picking up his assortment of forms and organizing them. “Applications and instructions for essays I need to write. Whoever said senior year is a breeze obviously has never tried to get into a decent college at the last minute.”

I’m both envious and pitying of him. I wouldn’t know what to do with all this stuff, let alone the pressure, but at the same time…it’d be nice to be smart enough to get into any of the colleges he has a chance of getting into. Originally I thought Brett would’ve been content skipping the big-name schools—he applied for local colleges ages ago, until Mr. Mason insisted he was too smart to waste his time at someplace mediocre. I think it hurt his chances, since he got a late start at applying for the Ivy League. “You’ll do fine,” I offer. “You got this far. This should be cake.”

“Hopefully.” He stacks papers into neat piles on the coffee table. “So Callie’s coming back but they still have no idea who their next suspect is?”

“N-not that I know of. I mean, I doubt she could tell me even if they had a lead.” I consider telling him about the list Autumn and I made and decide now really isn’t the time to drag him into my issues when he obviously has enough on his plate.

Papers organized, he slouches forward, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled before him. “Is it bad I feel like Aaron knows more than he’s letting on?”

I frown. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know, man. Just…his reaction to everything. You know how he and I met, right? Because we shared a class with Callie last year. That was how they met and started dating.”

My full attention snaps to him. “Th-they
dated
?”

“They kept it quiet,” Brett admits. “Only a handful of people knew because her family doesn’t believe in dating until you’re eighteen. Didn’t Autumn tell you this? She had to have known.”

Saying she didn’t tell me feels like admitting defeat. “Sh-she probably thought I already knew.” I look down at my hands.

Brett doesn’t push it. “Well, yeah. Anyway. She dumped him after two months, so it’s not like they were this forever thing, but…”

“But makes it look kind of suspicious on his part that she comes to his party and ends up attacked.”

“Exactly.”

Does Callie suspect him, I wonder? “D-did you tell the police this?”

He snorts. “Of course I did. I’m not going to get in trouble for withholding information.”

No wonder Aaron was so pissed off at me. I don’t know whether he had anything to do with it or not, but even if he didn’t, it’s probably that he still cares about Callie and the idea that someone hurt her… “I don’t think he did it. Why come after me if he’s guilty?”

“Don’t know. To throw people off? To put more pressure on you?” He shrugs. “Besides, I didn’t say he did it. I said I think he knows more than he’s saying. Maybe he’s covering up for one of his or his brother’s friends.”

That seems more likely. “So w-what do we do about it? Ask him?”

“He’s not going to admit to anything. We’d have to find proof.”

We both sit back and stare straight ahead, frowning at the television while we think. Brett’s mind is undoubtedly racing while mine is more like a hamster scrambling along on a rusty wheel, but I’m trying my best. What evidence would there be that the police wouldn’t have found? I think of the names on Autumn’s list, of the friends of Aaron’s who were present, of Patrick, who was on the stairs right next to me…

Brett says, “What about the cameras?”

“The what?”

“The cameras. Didn’t you see them? Aaron had disposable cameras lying around that everyone was using to take pictures at the party.”

I remember them. Or rather, I remember seeing people posing for pictures, but hadn’t realized it was with actual cameras rather than digital ones. “I’m s-sure the police confiscated all of those.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did. But what about everyone’s phones? Aaron’s brother just put out the cameras because he thought it’d be cool to develop them afterward and see people acting like idiots, but plenty of people were snapping pics with their cells. There were, like, seventy people at that party. There’s no way the police could’ve confiscated
every
one’s phones, right?”

“They went through mine,” I point out.

“You were a primary suspect. They didn’t check mine; I’m willing to bet they didn’t check Aaron’s or his brother’s.”

Good point. I worry at my lower lip. Aaron wouldn’t be dumb enough to have taken any incriminating photos and kept them on his phone, would he?

Brett sighs. “Not that I have any idea how to go through his stuff without him noticing, and it’s not like the cops are just going to issue a search warrant based off of something we say.”

Very slowly, the rust is falling off the hamster wheel and it’s moving a little faster as I begin to formulate the first solid plan since Autumn and I decided to solve this. “Leave it to me. I think I got this.”

Chapter Fifteen

I say nothing more about Aaron or his phone. While I’m not expecting to find anything like pictures on it, I think if he is covering for someone or if he did it himself, he might have something that he keeps with him. A text message, a note, a letter—anything that might point us in the right direction.

This is information I keep to myself when we arrive at school Monday morning and run into Callie and Autumn. Callie’s normal skirts and tank tops are absent and instead she’s in jeans and a flannel over a T-shirt, like she wants to protect herself. She holds herself straight-backed and chin up, but I can tell by the way she keeps flickering her gaze to the ground that she’s aware people are watching her and murmuring.
That’s the girl who was raped at that party.

“Welcome back, Callie,” Brett says.

She turns her smile to him. “Thanks.”

Autumn links her arm with mine despite that I’m trying to walk to my locker and she’s shuffling backward as I shuffle forward. “It was boring without you last night. Maybe I should sneak you into my house and have you live in my closet.”

“There are so many jokes I could make about coming out of the closet,” Brett teases, but his attention is still worriedly on Callie. “Do you want me to walk you to class?”

Callie glances at Autumn and me and says, “Sure, that’d be nice.” She doesn’t sound like she thinks it’d be nice, but she’s trying to be casual, like this is no big deal.

When she and Brett are out of earshot, I ask, “How is sh-she doing?”

“Better than I thought she would, actually.” Autumn releases me so I can get into my locker. “A little nervous, but I think she’ll be okay.”

I nod. “D-did you know she and Aaron Biggs used to date?”

“Of course.” Her head tips. “You didn’t? It was only for a few months. It never got serious.”

“So you don’t think he…?”

“Do I think Aaron raped her?” Autumn sighs. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but ultimately…no. I don’t think so. He’s a bad actor and an even worse liar.”

“But do you think he could know something about who d-did?”

That makes her pause. She leans into the lockers, worrying at her lower lip. “I don’t know. It’s possible. He might cover for one of his friends, maybe.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Or rather, what Brett was thinking, and I’m inclined to agree the more I dwell on it. “C-come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

Even as we fall into step down the hall, her eyes are glued to my face. “What’re you planning, Vic?”

Simple enough: “To go through his stuff and s-see what I can find. If I can figure out how.”

Autumn quiets until we round the corner, and then keeps her voice down so no one overhears. “He has gym right after lunch.”

Gym. That’s right; during gym, it’ll be the one time he’s without his phone and backpack because they’ll be in his gym locker. But— “How do I get past his lock?”

“I don’t know about you guys, but hardly any of the girls in my gym class bother with locks in gym. It could be worth a shot.”

That’s true. Brett always used his lock, but I didn’t because I could never remember the combination or which way to spin the dial. There’s also the issue of not knowing which locker is Aaron’s. We aren’t assigned gym lockers because no one leaves their things there all the time. You go into the locker room, pick one to use for the day, and make sure not to leave anything in it for the next class to find.

“Okay,” I say slowly, stopping outside of Autumn’s classroom. She peers at me.

“Please don’t get yourself into trouble.”

The sincerity in which she says this is both warming and amusing. “Hey, I’m only in t-trouble if I get caught.”

Autumn and Callie join me for lunch. Which is nice, because I would’ve been eating alone otherwise. I had assured Brett he should go eat with some of his other friends because I wasn’t feeling particularly social.

Callie looks tired but digs into her food. If anyone is picking lethargically at their meal, it’s me. Mainly because the butterflies in my stomach have stolen my appetite. For as confident as I’m trying to play it off, there are about two hundred ways my plan could backfire in my face.

I don’t say anything about it in front of Callie. I don’t want her involved. If we find something, I’m not sure I want her there to see it immediately. If we don’t…well, I don’t want her discouraged. So I just glance at Autumn a few times and return the smiles she gives me while Callie chats aimlessly about her top picks for college, and when I’ve had enough of pretending to eat, I dump the rest of my food and tell the table I have to get to class early to talk to my teacher.

No sooner have I stepped into the empty hall, though, than Autumn follows me right out. “I’m coming with you.”

I glance back. “What about Callie?”

“She promised me she’d be okay getting to her next class.”

I don’t have time to stop and talk this out with her. I’m on a timeline that requires me to do this carefully because if I don’t, I’m ten times more likely to do something stupid and ruin it. “It’s t-too dangerous. I’ve got it.”

She latches hold of my hand and draws me to a halt, determined annoyance on her face. “Uh, excuse me? I’m not going to let you risk yourself for
my
best friend while I sit back and twiddle my thumbs. Besides, we can search through things faster if there are two of us.”

There really isn’t time to argue. I need to be at the boys’ locker room before the end of lunch bell rings, so— “Okay, okay.”

For some reason that I’m not going to question, Autumn doesn’t let go of my hand. I quickly tug her along and we slip outside, across the quad and past the library to the gym. Mr. Mackey is the boys’ gym teacher and we make it a point to duck down and inch beneath his office window so we aren’t seen. When we get to the door, I whisper for Autumn to wait while I make sure no one is inside.

Thank God junior year was the last time I had to take gym. I did not miss the musty, stale smell of a sweaty locker room or feeling obligated to shower in front of a bunch of other guys. Either that, or risk being made fun of for putting clothes on while still sweaty from running laps.

I take a quick walk around, peering between all the rows of lockers and checking the bathroom stalls. Then I poke my head back into the hall to say, “All clear,” and Autumn slips inside with me.

“Ugh, it smells like something died in here,” she whispers.

We crowd into one of two enclosed bathroom stalls and shut the door. Autumn makes a face, but without complaint sits on the back of the toilet with her feet on the seat while I stand. Here, I can get a bit of a view of the locker room. Maybe I won’t be able to tell exactly what locker Aaron uses, but I can at least see which aisle he’s in and that should narrow it down.

Assuming we don’t get caught first.

The final lunch bell rings, which means it’s only a few seconds longer before the locker room door bursts open and guys start pouring in. The sudden influx of voices and laughter puts me right on edge. This is a horrible idea. What’s worse is that I dragged Autumn into this mess with me.

She nudges me in the back with her foot and I glance at her. She just smiles in a way that simply says,
Too late to back out now.

I twist back around and peer between the small gap where the wall of the stall meets the door, and squint in my search for Aaron, praying no one calls me out for being a pervert or something.

He’s a bit late, but I spot Aaron coming through the door and making his way toward the back of the locker room with Patrick. I catch only a sliver of a glimpse of the general area of their lockers and decide that’ll have to be good enough. I pull back and look to Autumn with a thumbs-up.

Now it’s a waiting game. Again. Waiting for everyone to get dressed. Waiting for them to file back out of the room and into the gym. Even then I give it another extra minute to ensure there aren’t any stragglers before slowly, cautiously, opening the door and peering out. Quiet and empty, I think.

“See if the door locks,” I whisper. Autumn darts to the door and begins messing with the push bar. I know there’s a way to latch it, but hell if I know how.

Meanwhile, I make my way toward the last row of lockers and scan them. Three with locks. Three without. I start at the end and make my way down, opening each of the unlocked ones long enough to see if I recognize Aaron’s neon-orange backpack. When I reach the last door and still haven’t found Aaron’s, I swear under my breath.

Autumn comes up behind me. “What is it?”

“It’s one of these, but they’re locked.”

She narrows her eyes, goes to the first lock, and begins spinning the combination dial.

“W-what are you doing?”

No answer. She inputs a combination that, of course, doesn’t work, and moves to the last locker. No point in bothering with the second one since it’s a key lock. This time when she puts in the combo, it clicks open with ease.

I stare. “How…?”

Autumn smiles sheepishly at me. “He’s in first-period computers with me. He carries his lock in the outside mesh pocket of his backpack, and it looks just like mine, so I figured if he did use it, we’d know the combination to get in.”

I examine the lock she hands me. It is, in fact, a generic silver-and-black combo lock. Probably 75 percent of the student body uses them. I could kiss her for being so smart and sneaky.

She opens the door and drags out the orange backpack. I reach back in to check the pockets of his jeans, making a slight face. When was the last time he washed these?

“Here’s his phone.” Autumn tosses the cell to me and, thankfully, it doesn’t require a password to get in. I take a seat and start swiping through his text messages, skimming over pointless conversations in search of something meaningful. When that yields nothing, I switch to his pictures, scrolling through dozens he’s taken in the last few weeks. He’s definitely not someone who skimps on taking photos, which could be a very good thing for us. They’re all organized by folder:
bb game, lake, school, kev’s bday, lakehouse…

“Ugh, he hoards candy wrappers like they’re going out of style,” Autumn mutters, pulling out his binder to flip through it. “Anything?”

“Not yet.” But as I open the folder titled
parties
and see the collection of pictures Aaron took the night of the party, my stomach starts to turn.

Most of the photos are slightly blurry, thanks to crappy indoor lighting and shaky, drunk hands. Some of them are screenshots with captions that I’m guessing he received from other people and saved, images of screen grabs of Snapchats. There’s a picture of Brett holding the phone and taking a selfie of Aaron, himself, and two guys I don’t recognize. Probably college kids.

The only picture that gives me pause is of a crowd near the stairs, and in the background, barely visible, is me. Scaling the steps with Callie sagging against me. It’s blurry enough that it could be called into question who the two people are, but come on. I recognize the shirt I was wearing, and how many other guys helped drunk girls to a room that night?

Discouraged, I’m about to give up until I get to the end of the photo reel and my heart stops in my chest. I nearly drop the phone.

Autumn jerks her head up, quickly leaning over to see. “What is it?”

Her hand immediately goes to her mouth.

We’re staring at a dark photo, but it’s very evident that the set of long legs we’re looking at belongs to Callie Wheeler.

Callie, lying on the bed where I left her.

The picture doesn’t show her face, but there’s no mistaking that it’s her. You can even see the wastebasket I left at her bedside in the corner of the photo.

“Oh my God,” Autumn whispers.

I can’t even manage that much. Thankfully, Autumn’s brain is still functioning. She whips out her own phone and takes a picture of Aaron’s, showing his cell with the picture of Callie on it. Her hands are trembling and it takes three tries before she gets one that isn’t out of focus.

“What d-do we do?” I ask.

Autumn opens her mouth to try to say something and the words won’t come. She shakes her head, turns, and runs out of the locker room.

I make quick work of shoving everything back into Aaron’s bag and locker, phone included. We have the evidence we need to do…whatever it is we’re going to do, but that isn’t on my mind just yet. Autumn looked three seconds away from crying or screaming and I need to make sure she’s okay.

It doesn’t dawn on me until I’m jogging outside onto the empty basketball courts after her that I still have her lock in my hand. Aaron is going to notice that. Of course, he’d also notice if he went to unlock it and his combination wasn’t working on Autumn’s lock, so this seems like the lesser of two evils.

Autumn is seated out on the bleachers facing the football field, head bowed, hands clasped behind her neck. I approach slowly, cautiously taking a seat on the bench below where her feet are rested so that I can look up into her face.

“Autumn?”

“Sorry,” she murmurs, not opening her eyes. “It just…caught me off guard, I guess. I mean, I was prepared for it but I wasn’t, you know?”

“To b-be fair, neither of us was anticipating
that
.” We had figured that if we found anything, it would be incriminating texts or something. Not a picture of Callie taken likely moments before she was raped.

When worded that way, it makes my stomach heave. No wonder Autumn needed to sit down.

“I don’t know what to tell Callie.” She sits up straight and draws in a ragged breath. She isn’t all-out crying, but there are tears in her lashes and it makes my chest tighten.

“I’m n-not sure. The truth?”

Autumn groans. “That her ex-boyfriend is guilty? It’s going to break her heart.”

I sit back a little and turn on my phone to look at the picture again, holding the screen at an angle so she doesn’t have to see it. “M-maybe someone else took it?”

“Are you saying that because you believe it or because you’re trying to make me feel better?”

“Anything is possible.” I try to smile but it comes out weak. There’s nothing about the picture that would indicate it isn’t one Aaron took. Why would anyone else have his phone? Why would anyone else send this to him if they took it? Or rather—why would he
keep
it if someone had sent it?