“I’d surely hope you didn’t come all this way to talk about that,” she replied.

I took a long, deep breath. “I spoke to David.” My father stiffened, and Mom was surprisingly quiet. Good signs. “He told me about Molly Simmons and Blaine Fitzgerald and what happened last summer—what will happen this summer.”

“Avery…”

“No,” I said, cutting Mom off before she could say anything else that would surely piss me off. “I haven’t broken the agreement. I’ve kept my mouth shut all these years. I’ve done exactly what you two told me I should do.”

Mom drew herself up. “David had no right to call you—”

“Why not?” I demanded. “Is it against the law to let me know that Blaine raped another girl, just like he had raped me?”

Dad sucked in a shrill breath, but Mom, she got whiter if that was possible. “There is no reason to put that out there so crudely,” she said, crossing her arms. “We know what you said—”

“What I told you that night at the hospital is the same thing I told the police. Blaine had raped me. It was you two that decided I should drop the charges, which made everyone think that I had lied.”

“Avery,” my father began.

I didn’t let him get any further. “The reason why I even came here is because I need to let go of what happened to me and the only way I can do that is by telling you two what I should’ve said then.” I took a breath, one I didn’t need. “You two were wrong. You were so unbelievably wrong in what you decided.”

Mom stepped forward. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I stood, my hands balling into fists. “You should’ve told his parents to go fuck themselves. You should’ve told them to get the hell out of your house. You should’ve gone to the police and told then what his parents were trying to do, which was to bribe your daughter into silence. And for what? So you wouldn’t have to go to court? So that no one would ask questions? And you all could still go to the club and things wouldn’t be awkward? Meanwhile, I was labeled a lying whore by everyone? And Blaine was free to do it again to another person? How culpable are we? You should’ve stood beside me and believed me! You should’ve gotten me help. I’m your daughter. You should’ve been thinking about me.”

Dad looked away, and I could understand why. Maybe he’d always suspected the truth. I would be ashamed, too.