Naked (19 page)

I check the phone, but no word from Alex yet.

Brandon already seems to be sweating this, running his hands through his hair and looking anywhere but at Jen. I take a step in front of Marissa, because I don’t want him to see her watching. Then again, he’d probably think she’s just jealous.

Jen looks at us over his shoulder and winks. We both stifle a laugh.

The phone in my hand vibrates with a message from Alex.

Talking to his mom now.

All of this is riding on Alex’s ability to convince Brandon’s mom of the sex tape on his computer and letting her in to delete it. We have a plan B, but I’d much rather not get into that one.

I make sure Brandon can’t see me, and then I hold up the phone and wave it at her. She nods and pulls him out of the gym, and they walk down the hall to the nearest door outside. Marissa and I sneak down the hall after them.

“Keep out of sight,” I whisper-yell at her. “Don’t let him see you!”

“Shut up. I know what I’m doing!” she whisper-yells back.

Is this what they mean by frenemies? I ignore her defensiveness. That’s just our dynamic. She knows the risks. She’ll be careful.

We reach the end of the hall and stand next to the cracked door and listen to Jen and Brandon.

“Wow. It’s so cold out here,” she says.

“You kidding? It’s blazing inside, this feels good.”

“Give me your jacket then,” she says playfully. I sneak a peek through the crack and watch him place his jacket over her shoulders.

“So what are you doing after the dance?” he asks her.

She casually reaches into the pockets of the jacket but comes away empty-handed. Strike one.

“Going home,” she says, her voice flat. She’s rocking back on her heels now, and I wonder if she’s getting nervous.

“Can I come?” he asks.

Marissa pretends to stick her finger down her throat. I wonder if this is getting to her. Deep down, does she still care about Brandon? Does it sting every time he cheats on her?

It has to hurt. Maybe she’d still be with him if she had a choice. But there’s no worse feeling in the world than feeling like someone’s taken that choice away from you.

Tonight, we have to make this work and give her choice back to her. Back to Jen. Back to anyone Brandon would ever take that choice away from.

It’s too quiet on the other side of the door. My heart pounds. I want to see what’s going on, but I’m scared. I can’t tell if he’s still looking the other way.

But I have to take the risk, so I step over and peek through the cracked door. Brandon is leaning over her, pushing her toward the wall.

Not good. I know it’s part of the plan, but it’s all I can do not to run over and shove him off her.

“I know you’re lying about the pregnancy thing. You just wanted to get close to me again, didn’t you?” he says into her hair.

Damn. Telling him she’s pregnant? That was pretty genius. But now what?

“No,” she stammers, stumbling back, all confidence gone. “I’m telling the truth… I…you…”

He shrugs and leans into her, and when his back turns to me, I see it. His phone, tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.

Bingo.

I take a step forward. Enough of this. Time for a little improvisation. He won’t make her feel weak again, not while I’m around.

“Hey, Jen, don’t keep him all to yourself,” I say with a light, flirty voice.

He looks up, interested. “The slut wants a piece?” He steps past Jen.

Good boy.

Just a few steps closer, buddy.

Perfect.

He’s just inches from me now, and I stare up at his handsome face and smile. “Want to know what we do with guys like you in New York?” I ask him, still flirtatious. He raises his eyebrows, and I place my hands on his shoulders—

And with one quick motion, I push down as I thrust my knee up to his groin.

He groans and bends over. “You bitch,” he says.

While he’s bent over, struggling to contain the pain, I grab the phone from his pocket. I hold on to the phone for dear life and then grab Marissa by the hand and sprint down the hall and into the gym. We should be able to lose him long enough to delete the video before he finds us here.

Jen barely catches up before we push into the crowd of dancers and wonder what took her so long.

We push our way through the room and circle around the phone.

“Hurry,” I say, then pull out Jen’s phone and type a text message.

We have the phone. How’s it going with you?

“I can’t believe we did it,” Marissa says triumphantly. “How’s it going on their end? Did Alex do it?”

Only a few seconds pass before a reply finally comes from Alex, but it feels like forever.

His mom wants to hear it from Marissa.

I show the message to Marissa, who groans.

“I don’t want anyone to know,” she says.

What do I tell her? I had the same problem, and I chose to say nothing.

“What do you want to do?” I say.

She looks back and forth, then at me. “Let’s do it. I won’t be able to live with myself if he gets away with it. What if he does this to someone else?”

She starts forward, but I stand there, her words a heavy weight over me.

She turns back to me and says, “Come on.”

I walk closer to her. The music is thumping so loud it’s hard to talk to each other, let alone on the phone.

We’ll have to find a way outside without Brandon finding us. That means splitting up, just for a minute. Long enough for him to be too busy with me to notice what they’re doing.

“You and Jen go, I’ll find him and distract him,” I say.

I rush out of the gym, first hoping to catch sight of Brandon. He sees me, fire in his eyes, and I run down the hall, toward the door to the parking lot, hoping he’ll follow me so Jen and Marissa can slip past and reach the lobby to make the call.

When I hear the heavy footsteps behind me, I rush faster, outside and into the parking lot.

The second I feel the cool air, I know I made a mistake. It’s dark. I’m alone.

Even if it’s just Brandon behind me, it’s not like I’m exactly safe. So I keep rushing forward until I reach the brightest spot of the lot. All the kids are still inside, having the time of their lives. I should be inside.

I shouldn’t be out here. But if I go back inside now, Brandon might reach Marissa before she can talk to his mom.

I stop to catch my breath, my chest heaving much harder than it should for how much I ran.

Screw this.

I turn—

And see a large figure in the shadows of the parking lot.

“Brandon?” I ask, my heart pounding. Hoping it’s him and not someone else.

But I can’t make out his face. Is it just me, or is that not a suit he’s wearing? I’m imagining the ugly blue uniform, right?

The figure is tall. Brandon’s tall, right? It’s probably just him. Just Brandon. I can handle Brandon.

Then he calls my name, and a chill of the worst kind rushes through me. The kind that feels like a scream trapped inside.

Everything stops. Frozen.

That’s not Brandon.

He comes forward, and I have nowhere to go but backward. Do I run and hide behind the cars? How long until he finds me? My feet feel cemented to their spot.

Now is not the time to panic, Anna!

“Exquisite,” he says, slurring the name and making it sound even more disgusting than it already was.

“What do you want?” I spit.

“I told you I wasn’t through with you. No one can keep me away from you. Not Luis. Not your new boyfriend.” He tilts his head like a damn puppy dog, but I know he’s anything but. Calling him a rat would be too kind to him and too mean to the rat.

“It’s not a school night anymore, Sweet Pea.”

I shake my head. “You won’t have me again,” I say. I wish I felt as confident as I sound.

He laughs. “Oh, I will. You’ve been a bad girl, Exquisite. But don’t worry.” He glances back to the school. “They’ll all know your real name soon enough.”

“What?” I ask.

“Unless you’d prefer to keep it between us.” He grins. “But you have to stop running from the truth. It’s who you are. No more pretending.”

I shake my head. “It’s not who I am anymore.”

He laughs, like I’m a little child, then lunges at me.

I spin away, but he’s too fast. His body slams into mine, and we both fall to the ground. Pain ricochets up my arm and head, making me dizzy, but I manage a scream. Not just a yell, but an animalistic scream that I swear should shatter the glass of the school. It doesn’t.

My scream does nothing.

No one is coming.

He grabs my arms and pins them against the ground. Pins me.

“You can run from the cops,” he says breathlessly. “You can run from your pimp, but you can’t run from me.”

“No!” I cry out. I can’t go with him, I won’t. I’d rather die now.

I claw at his face, tearing at anything I can get my nails into. Warm blood drips onto my face, but he doesn’t stop pulling at my dress, doesn’t even scream or groan.

Is this part of what he likes? Causing me pain? Forcing me to do what he wants?

Then I see the lights, hear the siren. I don’t know how cops could be here so fast. How they could know I need help. A spotlight shines from the car and onto us. The janitor pauses. Through the bright light, a cop comes toward us.

Will they understand what happened? Or will it be like always? Will they blame me? Tell me I was asking for it?

The janitor’s grip on my arm weakens a little as he looks up, surprised, and I manage to rip my arm free and push the base of my palm up to his nose. I hear a crack, a scream, and his blood splashes onto my arm. I spin away, but he grabs me.

“You tell them nothing. I have more. More I can tell them.”

The cop comes to a stop in front of us. His face is obscured by the bright light.

“Step away from the girl.”

I know that voice. He speaks with such confidence, such certainty, that a pulse of strength rushes through me.

“Officer, we were just—”

The figure doesn’t let him finish. He punches the john in the face, which gives me a free moment, and I’m able to get away from him and stand beside my hero.

He’s not a cop. It’s Jackson.

“Get the hell out of here,” he says.

He must have brought his father’s cop car close and turned the siren on when he saw what was happening to me.

I take a few steps back, but I don’t want to leave Jackson with the janitor.

The janitor chuckles as he realizes Jackson’s real identity. “How cute, your boyfriend came to the rescue. Even after I told him the truth.”

“Jackson, let’s run. We can get away,” I whisper, hoping he’ll listen.

“No, I’m not letting him get away.”

“Don’t be stupid, boy.” The janitor stands tall. “You can’t compete with me.”

He steps forward, and I know he’s too big, too strong. I’m scared. Scared that he’ll hurt Jackson. Scared he’ll force me to admit to Jackson more than a hint of the truth. Scared that Jackson won’t win this fight.

The janitor lunges at Jackson, and I yell, a desperate scream.

What do I do? Run for help? Join Jackson and fight the janitor?

Jackson takes a hit across his jaw, but he bounces back and tackles the janitor to the ground. They roll over each other, and then the janitor is on top of Jackson and raising his fist—

Someone reaches down and pulls the janitor off Jackson with more power and anger than I’ve ever seen, even from pimps. It’s a man in a blue uniform. And not just any cop. It’s Jackson’s father.

“Get off my son!” He flings the janitor off Jackson, then pins him to the ground.

There are more red and blue lights, more cars, more men in uniforms. Everything happens so fast. Three men struggle with the janitor, and another rushes to help Jackson, who’s bleeding from his lip but seems fine.

Then there’s a crowd, kids from the dance filing out into the parking lot to watch the excitement.

“We had a deal, Exquisite! You owe me!” the janitor yells as he’s wrestled and cuffed.

Two officers pull him toward a cop car.

Another to the side says, “You have the right to remain silent—”

“She’s a whore!” the janitor yells. “I was just getting what I paid for!” He starts laughing as the cops shut the door on him.

I shiver and then collapse onto the ground, unable to stop the tears as they drift down my cheeks.

The police eventually come over to me, give me a blanket and ask if I’m okay, who they should call for me.

“My mom,” I manage to squeak out.

Alex, Jen, and Marissa are the only faces I recognize in the crowd around me. I thought I understood them, but I can’t read their expressions. After everything we went through together… Shit, was that just a little bit ago? I’d love to think my past doesn’t make them hate me.

All I know is that everyone now sees me for who I really am.

I don’t expect them to understand. How could they?

Jackson stands beside me the entire time, and I can’t even thank him for what he did, because I can barely keep up with the police questions. I’m not sure even I understand what I tell the police, but Jackson helps me to explain as much as he knows, and I guess what I say about the janitor makes enough sense, because finally they tell me it’s okay. We’re done for now. We can talk more later.

Jackson’s dad doesn’t seem too happy. His face is like cold stone, and then he rushes toward Jackson, and I almost leap forward to come between them, tell his father that it’s not his fault. I can’t stand him getting into trouble because of me.

But I find myself staring, surprised when Jackson’s father wraps his arms around his son.

Finally, my parents come to pick me up and take me home. I wonder if they’ll ever let me out of the house again after this. Guess I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t.

When we drive out of the school parking lot, there’s still a crowd of about a hundred people, some parents, but mostly kids still in their homecoming finest. I see them whispering, some of them sad, some shocked, some excited, probably that they got to see something so dramatic in real life or that they’ll have the best drama to talk about in school on Monday.