We Know It Was You Page 12

  “Wildcat’s been glaring at me for fifteen minutes,” Virginia said, nodding toward the bench under the magnolia tree. Benny saw the scruffy brown cat hunched in the shadows under the bench, looking cranky. Poor Wildcat, Benny thought. He had probably been a nice, normal cat at some point but had grown violent and prone to hiding after years of being chased and smothered by gleeful sixth-graders. Now he was practically feral and wasn’t allowed inside anymore. They had created a brute, and then punished him for behaving like one.

  “Did you know Wildcat sleeps in the Boarders sometimes? On Zaire Bollo’s bed?”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Benny said.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it either, but I saw it. Oh, and look what I got.” Virginia handed Benny a piece of paper. It had a phone number and a pink puckered kiss mark on it. “It’s that lady’s number. Serena or Ruby or whichever one was sucking Gottfried’s face. I stole it from him while he was sleeping. We should call her when she’s sober and ask about Choi.”

  Benny examined the paper. “You should have copied the number and then put it back, so Gottfried wouldn’t notice it was gone.”

  “Oh . . . I didn’t think of that.”

  For a moment they sat there not talking. Virginia ate the last bite of her banana and tossed the peel in the bushes.

  Benny frowned at her. “There’s a trash can right over there.”

  “It’s organic matter,” Virginia snapped at him. “It’s good for the earth. Will you stop criticizing everything I do? You’re so annoying.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Benny said, standing up.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Virginia sighed. “I just have a headache.”

  “The bell’s about to ring,” he said lamely. “See ya.” He took the long way around the fountain so he didn’t have to cross in front of Virginia. As he passed the bench, Wildcat hissed and lunged at him. “Wildcat, leave me alone,” he snapped, but then he felt bad. “Sorry,” he said, turning back. But Wildcat just hissed again and ran.

  Room 300, 11:30 a.m.

  “I feel eyes on me all the time. Even in an empty room.”

  “In the locker room, we all change in the bathroom stalls now. It’s like the age of innocence is over.”

  Virginia rubbed her temples, wishing she could go back to the Boarders and get into bed. She was so sick of watching PSAs about predatory teachers and listening to the cheerleaders moan about the sanctity of their boobs. Winship always went overboard with this stuff. Like in the eighth grade when FCA tried to convert Benny to Christianity, and the principal reacted by making the whole student body watch School Ties and read The Chosen, which was supposed to make them learn acceptance but had pretty much doomed Benny forever.

  Virginia noticed Zaire Bollo sliding a note across her desk. Virginia picked it up and unfolded it. Right away she noticed a Smythson watermark on the paper. That was so Zaire, to write notes in class on expensive British stationery.

  You OK? You were pretty demented last night. Btw I didn’t know you and Gottfried were drinking buddies. Invite me next time!

  Virginia crumpled the note, but the paper was so thick it was difficult. Was Zaire trying to get her expelled? If a teacher saw that note, they’d all be done for. She put it in her backpack to rip up later. Then she got a regular piece of notebook paper and wrote:

  I did invite you.

  Zaire looked at the note and quickly wrote back:

  I thought you were going with Benny.

  I did go with Benny.

  Then why did you come home with Gottfried? Just asking cuz I’m confused.

  Because home is the dorm where we both live. Obviously. Where did you expect us to go?

  Zaire frowned, folded up the note, and stared ahead. Evidently the conversation was over.

  Mrs. Turner was turning on the classroom TV. “This video is called Crossing the Line,” she said. “Young girls make easy targets for sexual predators, because you haven’t learned boundaries and can be easily confused. This video will outline what is appropriate versus inappropriate behavior, and how to ask for help when someone crosses the line.”

  Virginia felt annoyed. They shouldn’t be learning how to ask for help; they should be learning to help themselves. She raised her hand to say as much, but Mrs. Turner pretended not to see her. Mrs. Turner always pretended not to see her, because it made her lame job easier.

  Virginia looked out the window. There was a police car parked in the driveway right outside. She didn’t know how long it had been there.

  “That janitor? He just CROSSED THE LINE.” The video boomed.

  Virginia squinted at the car. There was a cop in the passenger seat staring vacantly out the windshield. Don’t people realize how dumb they look when they sit there doing nothing? Virginia thought. But some people just didn’t seem to care if they looked dumb. They didn’t care what anybody thought about them at all. Which was disgusting and low class, in Virginia’s opinion.

  “That tennis instructor? He just CROSSED THE LINE.”

  Then the cop got out and opened the back door of the car. A second cop was approaching, with his arm around a kid’s shoulder. She couldn’t tell if the kid had handcuffs on or not. She couldn’t even tell who it was, because the cop was in the way. But then he stepped aside to open the car door, and Virginia saw his face. Oh my God.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d seen it.

  “Whoa, did you see that?” someone was asking.

  “Are they arresting Gerard?”

  “The water boy? They’re arresting the water boy?”

  Everyone got up from their desks and pressed against the window to watch. The cop had placed his hand on Gerard’s head to push him into the backseat, just like cops on TV.

  “That ice cream truck driver? He just CROSSED THE LINE.”

  “Everyone sit back down!” Mrs. Turner said. “Please, I’m sure there will be an explanation.”

  Virginia pushed away from the window. Obviously she had to find Benny immediately. She was pretty sure he had a free period right now, which he usually spent in the library.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she called back to Mrs. Turner. But she didn’t get far. In the hallway there was a tall man in a suit and tie wearing a severe look and standing next to Principal Baron. The principal was pointing at her.

  “That’s the girl you want. That’s Virginia Leeds.”

  The principal’s office, 11:30 a.m.

  STUD DATA SOFT.

  Benny clicked. It took a few seconds for the program to load, which was just enough time for Benny to go into a full-blown panic. What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

  He was in the principal’s office. He’d been walking past the administrative annex when he saw Principal Baron step into the conference room with a formidable-looking man in a dark suit. The secretary must have been at lunch, because her desk was empty. And the door to the principal’s office was wide open. Without thinking about the possible consequences, Benny had slipped inside.

  Leeds, Virginia, Benny entered into the search field. He scanned the file. A phone number, an address in Boca Raton. A transcript from an elementary school in Jacksonville, Florida. Immunizations. Medical records.

  Personal background.

  He clicked. The little hourglass icon turned over and over as the page loaded. Benny looked up from the computer and glanced at the door. His face was hot, and he could feel his heart slamming in his chest. What did he think he was doing? Logging into the principal’s computer? Rifling through private student data? He’d be expelled in a second if he were caught. And what did he expect to find, anyway? Boyfriend records? An answer to whether or not Virginia showed Zaire the video? It was absurd.

  Will you stop criticizing everything I do? Benny kept hearing Virginia’s voice snapping at him in his mind. Did he really do that? Criticize everything? He didn’t mean to, necessarily, it just seemed like Virginia didn’t think things through half the time. What was he supposed to do, just
let her overrun his investigation with bad ideas and clumsy follow-through so he didn’t hurt her feelings?

  Except it wasn’t Virginia’s feelings that were smarting right now, if Benny was being honest. You’re so annoying. Virginia was calling him annoying? Annoying people found other people annoying? The idea was baffling. It made him feel agitated and uncertain of himself. Which was doubly annoying because Virginia was the one he hardly knew anything about. He should have been feeling insecure about her, not himself. Yet here he was in the principal’s office searching her student records . . . why? To get back at her in some meaningless, oblique way?

  He clicked on a thumbnail of a legal document in Virginia’s file, dated July two years ago. Virginia must have been thirteen. Benny scanned it, reading so fast he realized he wasn’t absorbing any of it. He scrolled to the top and started reading again.

  Notice of Hearing and Court Order. In the matter of Virginia Leeds, minor(s), it is represented that Stephen Kroll, in the petition for Personal Protection from the state of Florida regarding the minor(s) listed above, which is necessary in the best interest of the minor due to ongoing harassment and repeated attempts on the part of the petitioner

  Benny stopped reading. It was a restraining order.

  Virginia has a stalker? Benny thought, his heart pounding. How could she not have mentioned that? Virginia was famous for not being able to keep a secret. But apparently she could, as long as it was her own. Virginia had a secret. It creeped Benny out, but more than that, it impressed him.

  He scrolled through the rest of the court order, reading it as fast as he could. But it started to get confusing. The legalese was convoluted and a little over his head. He went back to the beginning again and read more carefully.

  On behalf of the petitioner . . . in immediate and present danger of further harassment on the part of the adverse party . . . a person who commits a felony in violation of the Order of Protection shall be punished by imprisonment, or in the case of the minor(s) directed to a juvenile detention center at the discretion of the state. . . .

  “Wait . . . ,” Benny said out loud. Who was the petitioner here, Virginia or the other guy? Was the restraining order against . . . her? He read it again. Why did they make this stuff so impossible to understand?

  “I’ll grab a student worker to find Ben Flax,” Principal Baron’s voice boomed suddenly in the hall.

  Benny froze. Had he just heard his own name? Frantically he clicked out of the data program. The little hourglass spun around. “Oh my God, close,” he hissed at the screen.

  “Caroline?” Principal Baron was calling.

  The program finally closed, and Benny lunged toward the door. At the last second he grabbed a random piece of paper from a stack on the principal’s desk. He slid out the door just as Principal Baron was making his way in.

  “Ben!” the principal said. “Just the man I was looking for. What are you . . . doing in my office?”

  Benny held up the paper. “Sorry, sir. I just needed an excused absence form.” He held up the paper.

  The principal looked at it. “Well this is a course transfer form. And you ask Caroline for those things—you don’t just barge on in.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.” The paper was getting moist from his sweaty hand.

  Behind Principal Baron was the man in the suit, leaning against the doorway and looking at Benny with a pair of cool, expressionless eyes. His suit was crisp but not tailored—clearly off the rack. The jacket was loose and unbuttoned, ideal for concealing a holstered gun. He held a slim tape recorder under his left arm. He was a detective, it was suddenly obvious. A real-life, adult detective from the police department. And the way he stared Benny down, it was like he could read every thought he’d ever had.

  The library conference room, 12:00 p.m.

  I chowed a great wad of pizza sauce. No one saw me chomp the wad of prawns.

  Virginia frowned. She was pretty sure she couldn’t read lips. She squinted at Benny’s face through the small gap in the blinds. He was sitting at the immense conference table across from Detective Disco. Detective Disco—that was actually his name. Virginia wondered how often he knocked on people’s doors and they thought he was a male stripper. She imagined him peering through a comically huge magnifying glass at some bachelorette’s boobs, declaring, Aha! A clue! Then “Funkytown” would start playing, and he’d rip his clothes off. Through the window, Virginia gave the detective a once-over, wondering what he would look like naked. Probably pretty good, she decided, though the thought wasn’t especially titillating. She’d seen a Lifetime movie about male strippers once and found all their bulging and gyrating to be pretty ridiculous. That was the thing about trying to objectify men—it just didn’t work for some reason.

  “Virginia, could you stand over here with me please?” said Principal Baron, who was waiting with her in the library. Virginia knew what he was doing. She wasn’t being allowed to see Benny or communicate with him in any way, so they had no time to get their stories straight. She didn’t even know what was going on. Were she and Benny suspects now? Suspects of what? Maybe someone had reported her underage drinking at the Sapphire Lounge, and now she and Benny were about to be expelled. The thought made her cheeks flush with panic. Where would she even go if she got expelled? Who would she call? Her stepdad’s phone had been dead for weeks; she was pretty sure he’d moved to Cuba. And there was no one else she’d want to call in a million years.

  The door opened, and Virginia could hear the detective’s voice. “Thank you, Benny. We’ll let you know if we have any further questions.”

  Benny emerged from the room, head down. As he passed Detective Disco, he shot Virginia the quickest look, mouthing a single word: Go. Or was it don’t? Virginia couldn’t tell. And now Benny had looked back down and was walking away, and the detective was saying, “Virginia Leeds? If you would join me?”

  “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. He was towering in the doorway, and Virginia slinked past him. She felt so overpowered by his authority all of a sudden, it was like being five years old again, back when adults seemed actually scary, and not just like pathetic old people.

  She pulled out the chair and saw a piece of paper on the seat. She started to brush it onto the floor, but then she stopped. She sat down, quickly crumpling the paper in her fist and looking up at Detective Disco to see if he’d noticed. If he had, he didn’t show it. He stared at her, leaning back in his chair. Virginia unclenched her fist and glanced down at the paper in her hand. There was writing in Benny’s sloppy handwriting, but she couldn’t look down long enough to read it without being conspicuous.

  “See that?” Detective Disco was pointing to something behind her. Virginia twisted in her chair, still clutching the note. On the wall there was one of those READ posters, this one featuring Queen Latifah reading a novelization of Ice Age. The frame had a huge crack in the glass, and there was a brown stain running down the wall.

  “Gerard Cole threw a Coke at the wall. Give a guy a nice can of Coke, and he throws it at the wall. Don’t you think that’s a little rude? Don’t you think that’s a little crazy?”

  Virginia nodded.

  “If I gave you a Coke,” the detective said, “would you throw it at the wall, or would you drink it like a normal, mature young lady?”

  “I’d drink it,” she said.

  “Promise?” It almost could have been flirtatious, but it wasn’t. His gaze was stony, and his voice was flat.

  Virginia nodded.

  Detective Disco leaned back in his chair and banged on the beige door of the conference room. “Gimme a Coke!” he boomed. Seconds later Principal Baron opened the door a crack and passed the detective a Coke. It was weird to see the principal being bossed around like that. But Detective Disco seemed like the kind of guy who could boss anyone around.

  He slid the Coke across the table. Virginia grabbed it with one hand and opened it awkwardly, not wanting to show the paper held tight in her other h
and. She took three long gulps in a row, watching the detective watching her, their eyes locked on each other. Then, lowering the can from her lips, she made a quick motion as if she were about to fling it across the room.

  “Just kidding,” she said, smiling and setting the can down.

  Detective Disco smiled too, and the smile transformed his face so completely that Virginia was startled by it.

  “I think it should be a crime to throw a Coke in this city,” Virginia said casually.

  “I agree,” Detective Disco said. “Don’t throw a Coke in the ATL.”

  “I mean, throw a Pepsi for Christ’s sake,” Virginia said, and Detective Disco laughed. Where am I getting this banter? Virginia thought. She was freaking herself out a little. Then she realized—she was being the Virginia from the Sapphire Lounge. It was weird to discover she could do it even without the miniskirt and sexy sweater.

  “Ha! You’re damn right—throw a Pepsi.”

  Virginia took another sip, slowly, giving herself time to come up with something clever to say next. But the detective spoke first.

  “So. Let’s talk about Gerard.”

  “Must we?” Virginia said coquettishly. But it was immediately apparent that the flirting was over. Detective Disco’s face was expressionless again.

  “Gerard tells me you have a video? A video I should see?”

  Virginia felt her eyes go wide, and immediately tried to readjust her face to be inscrutable. But she knew it was too late. She remembered the paper in her hand, and wished the detective would stop watching her so intently so she could read it. She picked up her Coke and took a sloppy sip so that just enough spilled on her front, giving her an excuse to look down.

  “Ah damn,” she said.

  “Need a napkin?” The detective offered.

  “No, it’s okay,” she said, dabbing at the spot with her sleeve. With her other hand she quickly scanned the note. The words were hard to read and crooked, like Benny had written it without looking where he was writing.