Mistrust (17 page)

I squint my eyes at her, and resolve to bury this awful event. Bury it so deep, push it so far into a darkened corner that I’ll never be able to reach it.

“Girls, get ready for dinner.” Mom opens the door and smiles at us. “I’m making tacos. Can one of you set the table please and the other take out the trash.” The question is rhetorical, because she isn’t expecting us to say no.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say to Sam, already starting the process of banishing my secret to the furthest corner of my mind.

“Okay,” she responds, transfixed by my words. “Okay.” Sam nods her head and stands to leave my room. She puts her hand on the doorknob to open it, but she stills her hand and in a steely voice whispers, “For now.”

Over the next hour, Sam and I set the table and then I take the trash outside. Dad gets home and has a quick shower before we sit for dinner.

“How was school today, girls?” Dad asks as we settle into dinner.

“They split the entire school up. The girls in the gym and the boys out on the back field, and they had three female detectives for us, and Taylor said there were three male detectives for the boys and they gave us a talk about staying safe.”

“Is that right?” Dad asks. “That’s a great idea, splitting the kids in girls and guys. If there are any questions, then there’s less chance of embarrassment.”

“It is a great idea,” Mom adds. “How long did the talk go for?”

“It went from after lunch until the last bell,” I say.

Dad picks his taco up and takes a huge bite out of it. Half the filling falls on his t-shirt, and some more lands on his plate. “Well that didn’t work out so well.” Dad smiles at us, and we all laugh.

“Your father and I have some bad news,” Mom says. Questions about the talk the police officers gave at school are pushed aside.

“Oh, what?” both Sam and I chorus together.

“We can’t go to Canada. Jamie got chicken pox about a week and a half ago and Alyssa has been showing signs of it, too.”

“Oh man. Really? I was looking forward to it,” I say. I can’t tell Mom and Dad why. But I was hoping to use the time away from here to bury the past, and come back to a fresh new start.

“But, your mom and I have decided, considering I’ve already got those two weeks off from work, there’s no need to waste them. I’ve cut it down to one week, and we’re going camping.” Dad’s face lights up with an eager smile.

I look to Mom and she’s just as happy as Dad. Looking to Sam, I widen my eyes and give her a small look. Mom and Dad look delighted they’re taking us camping, the least we can do is pretend we are too. “Yay! That’s awesome.”

“It is?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” I grit my teeth toward her and try to kick her under the table, but I miss her and get Mom instead.

Mom and Dad are trying, and I suppose camping might be fun. “Hey,” Mom protests. “Kick your sister next time, not me.”

Dad chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Did you kick Mom?” Sam snickers from behind her taco.

“I was trying to kick you.”

“Well you missed and got me instead.” Mom looks at me, and I can’t help it, I burst into laughter. “Yeah laugh now, ‘cause you’re stacking the dishwasher,” Mom says with mirth in her voice.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just like when you girls were little,” Dad says. He walks over into the kitchen and comes back with a fork. “It’s not making it into my mouth any other way.” He points to all the taco filling sitting on his plate. “Just think, we’ll have s’mores, and share a tent, and go swimming in the lake.”

“It’ll be fun,” Sam finally concedes. “I’m in.”

“Yeah, me too,” I add. “It’ll be heaps of fun.”

Dad and Mom smile triumphantly. Mom looks at Dad with so much love in her eyes. Dad works as an engineer for a steel company, working long hours and sometimes six days a week. This camping trip is more for Dad to unwind than anything else. I’m sure it’ll bring us closer together as a family.

Lying on my bed, listening to the soft tunes on the radio, my eyes drift shut. I try not to fall asleep because it’s still early, but the rhythm of the song currently playing is relaxing.

“Dakota!” Sam bursts into my room.

“Oh my God, what?” I startle out of my relaxed state.

Sam’s phone is in her hand, her face is ghostly white, and her eyes are huge and round. I know, by her appearance, whatever it is, isn’t good.

“Look at this. Taylor told me to go to his page and have a look. I opened the app, and I, along with a bunch of other people have been tagged in a photo. A photo of you, on the night of your prom, and you’re . . .” She swallows so loudly I hear her as she down casts her eyes.

“I’m what?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Look.” She thrusts her phone toward me. Taking it out of her outstretched hand, I swipe at the screen to reveal a picture of me. I’m on the grass, like the other picture, with my eyes closed but I’m holding my dress up showing my panties to everyone.

“Shit,” I whisper as tears start falling freely. “Who posted it?” I click on the picture and the name above it, but an error message comes up. “What is happening?” I yell at the phone. I go to the home page, and scroll the newsfeed trying to find the picture. “Where is it?” I keep looking. My shaking hands are making it difficult to touch the screen, and the whirling of my mind is making it even harder to focus.

“Let me.” Sam grabs the phone out of my hand, and looks for the picture. “It’s gone,” she says after a few incredibly long and drawn out seconds.

I grab my phone, and open the same social media app. I’ve been avoiding going on social media since that night, afraid of what could be on there.

My nightmare becomes real.

Countless messages, over ninety-nine notifications and numerous friend requests all light the top of the screen in big, bold red numbers. I hastily look through my newsfeed, but I can’t see any pictures anywhere. “I don’t have anything,” I say while I frantically keep scrolling.

Sam’s on her phone desperately immersed in the seriousness of this moment. “I can’t find it anywhere. It’s in my notifications saying a Lauren White tagged me in it, but when I look for it it’s disappeared, and so has this Lauren White’s profile. I don’t know what’s happening here, Dakota,” Sam’s voice is frazzled, as is my brain.

We both sit on my bed and keep looking for the picture, thankfully after what seems like hours neither of us can find it. “What if someone other than Taylor saw it?” I ask. “Oh God.” The beating of my heart hasn’t stopped thrumming wildly inside my chest. My own pulse is hammering in my ears, and my breath seems to have stopped.

“It’s not there,” Sam whispers and puts her hand over mine, stopping me from searching for it.

“Someone posted it, which means people saw it.”

“If it’s a fake account, which I bet it is, then that means they wouldn’t have had friends, only the people they could tag. And I think you can only tag a certain amount of people, meaning not everyone would be on at the same time.” I flick a look to Sam. One that screams, ‘are you kidding me.’ “I know, what teenager isn’t on their phones. But maybe just maybe not everyone saw it.”

Trying to push the boulder-size lump in my throat down, I keep swallowing; but my mouth is dry and my stomach is knotting in nervous anticipation of what else I might come across.

Suddenly my phone vibrates in my hand and Reece’s name comes up on the screen. I don’t want to answer it, but I have this gut feeling that if I don’t, he’s going to continue calling.

“Hello,” I answer in a shaky and frightened voice.

“What the hell is going on, Dakota? I just got tagged in a photo by some chick called Lauren White. The damn picture is of you. What the hell is going on?” Reece’s voice is laden with worry and concern.

“I don’t know,” I admit in a sigh.

“What do you mean you don’t know? I saw the damn thing with my own eyes. It was you, Dakota. In your prom dress, but this time you were lying in a different position. Explain this to me, please.”

“I can’t, Reece. I can’t tell you anything. Please, don’t call me again.” I press the end call button, and hang up on Reece. Looking at Sam, she’s sitting on my bed, clearly distressed. Her hair is a mess from where she’s been running her hands through it, and her eyes are red and puffy.

Worrying my lip between my teeth, I walk over to Sam and hand her my phone. She looks at it, then back at me, blankly.

“I can’t deal with this, Sam. You keep it for a while.” She nods her head then slowly extends her hand to take it. “I’m so sorry to put all this pressure on you. I should
never
have put you in this position.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

I nod my head, and collapse on my bed. Bringing my knees up, I lean my head down and hold on to the sliver of dignity I have. “Can you leave me, please?” I struggle to ask Sam through my strained voice.

“Okay,” she concedes. I feel the bed shift, and she stands to leave.

When she’s gone, I crawl into bed and cry.

And cry.

And cry.

My bedroom door opens, and in my shock, I try hold in my sobs. My bed cover gets pulled away from me, and the bed dips. “We’re in this together,” Sam whispers and lies down behind me.

Closing my eyes, I finally manage to stem the tears. My head is pounding and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to let up anytime soon.
If ever.

Listening to Sam’s breathing, I finally match my breath with hers and my tired eyes close as my body begins to drift.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you real good.”

I startle out of my sleep and sit up in bed, trying to blink the blackness away. Sam’s out of it, lying on her back with her mouth open and slightly snoring.

I climb over the top of her and go to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, I look in the mirror and cringe at the revolting girl looking back at me. I’m not entirely sure if I’ll ever be able to look at her again.

The last day of school has gone by without a hitch. It’s the last class of the year, and it’s English. Our teacher, Mrs. Walker, has brought some food and laid it out on her desk. When I walk in and see the spread, it immediately takes me back to when I was in elementary school. Our teachers would do this, bringing party foods for the last day of the school year.

And Mrs. Walker has done the same thing. She looks at us all eagerly as we enter the class. Everyone likes her. She’s always got the clunkiest shoes and lipstick on her teeth. But she’s nice.

“Hey, you getting excited for Canada?” Reece asks as he comes and sits beside me.

Suspiciously I cast a wary eye over him, taking in the cautious vibe he’s giving. “We’re not going anymore,” I curtly reply. I don’t want to be rude to Reece, but it’s best I keep him as far away from me as possible. Last night he called, questioning the ‘photo’ he was tagged in, and I simply won’t give him an answer.

“Dakota,” he starts as he leans in to me.

Automatically I move back, not wanting him in my personal space.

Reece’s shoulders slump down and he moves back, clearly noticing the obvious reaction I’m having to him. “Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Reece.” I cut him off, and look away. The more I can isolate myself from him, from everyone, the better it will be. Because I won’t run the risk of anyone finding out.

“You and I both know, that’s a load of crap.” I sneak a peek back at him, and his eyebrows lift in defiance. I turn my gaze away from his, not wanting to engage in conversation. I hear the scrape of a chair being moved and involuntarily look up. Reece drags the chair in front of me toward my desk, turned it around so it’s backward, and sits. His arms are crossed on the back of the chair, and he looks at me with an eyebrow raised . . . waiting for me to say something.

“What do you want from me?” My jaw locks and my teeth grind together. Through my peripheral vision I notice I’ve caught the attention of Levi and Lindsey. He’s whispering something in her ear and both sets of eyes are locked on me. “I can’t tell you anything, so you can go ahead and form your own opinion and leave me the hell alone.”