Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“It doesn’t make sense,” Laura says. “Not if he loves her like he says he does. And then, to add insult to our injury, he makes that video. That damn video. It’s all over school. Do you know he wants to be a writer? Isn’t that convenient? He makes a video that everyone is talking about. It’s just a story to him. I think—”
Scott steps forward and whispers something into Laura’s ear.
“I’m almost done,” she says to him. “Just a minute.”
Someone shouts, “Let her finish.”
But Laura doesn’t need any encouragement. “He wants to be a writer. That’s what he always talks about. Do you think he wants to write a book about Chloe? Do you think he wants this video to go viral or whatever and then write a book about her?”
The murmurs grow louder. More faces turn, more eyes burn into me like lasers. I feel like a rabbit with the blades of a lawn mower churning my way. I want to run. But something keeps me frozen in place.
“I think he knows more than he’s letting on,” Laura says. “A lot more. I think the police need to sit him down again and get him to talk. He’s the boyfriend. The boyfriend always knows.”
“He’s here!”
This voice is close. Very close. A guy in a flannel shirt and a Tennessee Titans cap points my way. I’ve never seen him before. He’s got to be close to forty, maybe somebody’s parent. He points at me, his hand rising above the crowd because he’s so much taller than almost everyone else.
“He’s here,” the man says again.
“Easy, man,” Chad says to the guy.
And I don’t want Chad to get into a fight with the guy over me. Unlike me—and my other friends—Chad isn’t opposed to fighting. It’s only happened twice since I’ve known him, and only when he thinks he’s been disrespected.
The murmurs from the crowd on the field turn to shouts. And now it seems like every face is looking my way. Not just a few.
Everyone.
You could sear a steak on my face, it’s so hot with embarrassment and fear. And, yes, anger.
I told the police everything I knew.
Don’t they know how much I want to remember? How desperate I feel? That for Chloe’s sake I want to remember everything from that night?
Dad is next to me. He has his hand on my upper arm, his grip like steel bands.
“Let’s go,” he says, his words clipped.
“Bullshit, Dad. I want to tell them the truth. I want to go up there—”
“We’re going.”
Chad jerks his head toward the parking lot.
Dad physically moves me away from the crowd. As we head off toward the car, people are hissing and booing and shouting things.