A/N: Let's play a game. Document the first things that run through your head as you're reading this chapter—comment as much as you want (as long as it relates to the chapter haha)! Let's see how crazy they can get XD
{Also, pictured above is Cassidy heading to tennis practice.}
021. The Mystery Man
At Aquino High, you never really know anyone.
I don't mention anything about the tape to Liam until Monday. He texts me Friday night to tell me that his date with Celia went really well and that they're going out again the next day, so over the weekend I let him stay in his haze of infatuation. I figure he should be able to enjoy love without it being tainted by the Post-It note system.
Instead, I spend the weekend focusing on myself. It's an interesting change, working to be the best I can be instead of simply better than someone else. I take a ball machine out to the tennis courts in our neighborhood and slam forehands until I get the stroke just right; then I do the same for my backhands. I'm sweating but don't let myself stop until I've been out there for two hours.
Then, I collapse on the bench at the side of the court and guzzle down water, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat. It's freezing outside but the sun is peeking out through the clouds, and I tip my face back to absorb the light. It slowly works its way into my skin, easing my numbing muscles and warming me.
When I'm not too busy working, I sit and replay the six-second clip of Taylor's voice. He sounds ominous and foreboding, nothing like the gentle voice that had reassured me that we belonged together. I remember how he'd told me that I wasn't good enough for someone like Spencer, that we deserved each other because we were both so messed up. I'd bought into the lie because I'd believed it about myself: I'd never truly thought that I was powerful or perfect. The lies I fed myself were just attempts to make myself feel better.
I am Erika Soto. I try it out in my brain, letting it rattle in my skull before I let it go. It doesn't help me anymore.
Monday morning, I show up at school early. My locker doesn't have a Post-It note on it, which surprises me because I'd distinctly heard Spencer call dibs on me at the meeting Friday. As I'm wondering what happened, I catch Spencer's eye across the hallway and he heads my way.
"I took the liberty of throwing out the Post-It note," he says, scanning the empty face of the locker. "That's okay, right?"
"Definitely." I think that maybe I'll put something else on the front of my locker: some stickers or a poster. Something that defines me more than a piece of paper with a number on it.
Spencer is staring down at his hands as if they're the most fascinating thing in the world. "I'm sorry about losing the recording," he says. When I look up at him I see the bruise under his eye is almost gone; there's just a trace of blue encircling his cheekbone. I shrug. "You tried. Losing it isn't the worst that could happen. Trust me, I've done a lot worse."
He hesitantly cracks a smile and I return it, hoping that the wordless exchange counts both as an apology and as forgiveness.
"We're going to take this system down," he says. "Got it?"
I curl my hand into a fist and he bumps it, grinning. Then I turn and look down the hallway. Post-It notes still pepper the lockers in the senior hallway, a sprinkle of red, blue, and yellow. I wish I could run up and down the hallway tearing them all off before I crumpled them into one big ball of paper and threw them away. Some of the Post-Its are decorated, with hearts or smiley faces or initials—I can't believe girls are actually endorsing this system.
I can't believe that, once upon a time, I used to be that girl.
*
I don't have the chance to talk with Liam in private until Physics class. Celia clings to his side for most of the day, staring up at him adoringly while he keeps one arm wrapped securely around her waist. Usually displays of affection like this would annoy me, but it starts a warm glow in my chest to see Liam and Celia this happy. They deserve each other.
"So give me all the juicy details from this weekend," I say as Mr. Shapiro sets us up in pairs to do a lab. The lab itself isn't difficult: we're working with acceleration vectors and writing up a lab report that we'll turn in later this week. For once, Liam is carrying his fair share of the work: he's obediently measuring weights on a scale while I jot down the results.
He smiles, and the dimple on one side of his cheek protrudes. "Well, I took her to an Italian restaurant, because Italian restaurants are the most romantic place to go, right?"
"I guess. Keep going."
"She loved the roses. We had a great dinner and afterwards we sat outside—the restaurant had a little courtyard with string lights and everything—and talked for a while. I missed really talking to her."
I nod slowly. I can't remember Liam and Celia ever being that close, even before last summer, but I figure there are things about each other that not all of us know. I don't think anybody else ever really knew about me and Spencer; it was one of those secrets I'd clung to a little too tightly.
"She had such a good time that she wanted to know if I was free Saturday, and I'd been planning on playing football with the guys but I decided I'd rather spend time with her. So we went for a really long walk in the park and she brought a picnic and we talked some more."
"That's good," I say. "Anything else?"
He shrugs and takes the weights off of the scale. "Not really. You told me not to be too forward so I didn't try to kiss her or anything. Next time I will."
I wonder how many times Liam has kissed someone and meant it—really, truly meant it. I've only ever kissed Spencer and Taylor that way, and I regret ever meaning my kisses with Taylor. At the time they had felt so right, and that worried me. Did I really have no radar for danger?
Liam is writing down notes so dutifully in his Physics notebook, like now that he's been given a chance with the girl of his dreams he's turned into a model citizen. It's like he wants to pay back the world for what it's done for him. I want to be with someone who will change me like that, who will turn me into the kind of selfless, ridiculously happy person Liam is now.
"I'm happy for you two," I say, copying his notes. There's silence for a few moments, and all I can hear is the scratching of our pencils and the murmuring from the other lab tables. Then I ask, "Have you thought about what happened Friday?"
"At the Post-It meeting? Yeah. Is that what you meant when you asked me if I would help you? When you told me I'd ruin my social life and I agreed?"
I erase a calculation. "Sort of. I didn't know I'd be doing that, exactly. Just that I needed to do something to take down the system."
"You wanted to get back at Taylor."
He says this like it's the complete, entire truth, like there's not even a shadow of a doubt in his mind. There are no words to describe how inaccurate he is. "Definitely not," I try, but the words come out half-formed. "I wanted to take down the system because it's stupid, cruel, and unfair. I hated it before I even knew that Taylor ran it."
His light eyebrows are furrowed close together, like he's thinking really hard. Then he says, "I guess you're right. It never made much sense."
"Why did you even do it?"
"Will you hate me if I say it's because I wanted to fit in? Because I wanted to belong to something? It was like this inside joke, this secret we all had."
Chewing at the inside of my cheek, I set down my pencil to look at him. Liam Alvarado is the king of Aquino High. I never would have expected that he'd want to belong to something. And yet just like the rest of us, he's not as confident and self-assured as he seems. Just like the rest of us, he's got another side of him hidden, deep beneath drunkenness and flirtations and empty promises.
At Aquino High, you never really know anyone. And I really want that to change.
"I don't hate you," I say, picking up my pencil again. I copy the numbers from my calculator onto my paper, but my mind isn't on the lab at all. "Would you hate me if I asked for your help finishing what I started?"
"No. You shouldn't go into this alone."
"I'm not alone," I say, smiling. "Everyone's helping. Everyone except Taylor, of course. Spencer and Cassidy and Brynn and Allison and even Celia."
He runs his hand through his hair, spiking his perfect blond curls at the top. "Wow. I guess I've found something new to belong to."
"You always did belong, Liam. Maybe you're just finally realizing it."
He shoots me a quiet smile, the half-hidden kind that mean so much more than what's on the surface. Then he ducks his head and keeps writing, but I can't erase the image of his bright eyes from my mind. Why did I never discover the power that kindness has on people before? Simple kindness, stopping just long enough to care about someone other than myself, changes my day as much as it changes theirs.
I've missed out on eighteen years of my life, but I vow to not waste another second not caring.
Physics class races by. Liam and I finish the lab in record time and then sit rolling our pencils back and forth on our lab table, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Slowly the topic makes its way back to the Post-It system.
"What do you want me to do about it?" he asks, pushing his pencil with his pointer finger so that it almost rolls off the desk. "You seem like you have all the help you need."
"We recorded a voice memo of the meeting last Friday," I explain. "It was on Spencer's phone, and Taylor deleted it and replaced it with an empty recording. I'm really hoping you can recover it."
"I don't call myself a computer hacker for nothing." His face grows more serious, and then he says, "I'll do my best. I can't guarantee anything, though. Can I work on it after school?"
"Yeah. I'll text Spencer and tell him to meet us in the commons."
By three ten, we're all sitting in the commons. I'm perched on the arm of a chair with Liam on the cushion, his laptop propped up on his lap. Everyone watches eagerly as he connects Spencer's phone to his computer and pulls up the files.
"Hope you don't mind me digging through the inner workings of your phone, Spencer," Liam says as he clicks a few buttons rapidly. "No hidden text messages, right? Any secrets you want to tell us before we get started?"
Spencer rolls his eyes, but there's a ghost of a smile. "Just find the recording, Alvarado."
"Haven't I told you guys?" pipes up Celia. "It's Avocado now. Liam Avocado."
I snort. "I can't believe we never thought of that before."
Liam doesn't comment and chooses instead to continue placidly exploring Spencer's phone. We all sit and watch for about five minutes before I start to get bored.
"How long is this supposed to take?" I ask, stretching my arms so that they touch the top of the couch Cassidy and Brynn are sprawled across.
"It can take over an hour. Sometimes—"
Liam's words fall dead on his lips as he looks up at the entrance to the common room. I glance over and see Taylor leaning against the column, arms crossed as he watches us with beady dark eyes.
"Nobody say anything about what we're doing," I mutter under my breath as Taylor walks closer.
"Having a party without me?" he asks once he's reached us.
I see Liam closing windows on his computer at breakneck speed as I stand. "Of course we're having a party without you. You're the one who gave me this—" I point down to the red mark still indented into my arm— "And Spencer that." I tilt my head in the direction of Spencer's bruise.
"No harm, no foul," says Taylor, lifting his hands in surrender.
"I think there was harm done," Brynn interjects coolly. "As usual, your logic is flawed."
Taylor opens his mouth to say something but Brynn says, "Let me tell you what you have become so fond of telling all of us. Get out."
Something sparks in Taylor's eyes: maybe regret, or maybe even hurt. But he backs away, his face still open and showcasing that mysterious emotion. I figure that he must be upset, now that all his friends have turned against him. But in reality, we weren't the ones to betray him. He did that to us, one by one, stretched out over time. He started with Brynn and he finished with me. And we've finally had enough.
Liam starts opening windows on his computer again as Taylor disappears around the corner, as silently as he came. As I sit back down on the arm of the chair he says, "You guys should go. It's going to take me a while to finish this up. I'll send you all recordings of the file if I find it." He unplugs Spencer's phone and hands it to him. "I'm all finished with this."
"Want to go hit some balls on the court?" Cassidy asks me. "Tryouts are only a little while away."
I nod. "I'll go get my bag."
Cassidy and I pass over an hour out on the court, sweating through several bottles of water. When we stop to take another break, our phones buzz simultaneously with a text from Liam.
"He got it," I say, my eyes wide as I scan the text. "Quick, do you have your laptop with you?"
She lugs it out of her backpack and flips open the screen before clicking the link. Seconds later a thirty-five minute sound file has loaded.
"Skip to the part after we got kicked out," I say, leaning forward.
Her finger jams the volume button, cranking up the volume until it's almost at its max. Then she skips to about fifteen minutes in and presses the play button.
"...got that nerd out of here." It's Taylor, and I can only assume he's talking about Luke because of the spiteful tone to his voice. He's met by raucous laughter from the guys on the bleachers before he says, "Let's keep moving. Brett?"
Just like that, the meeting continues in seamless order. Occasionally the guys get into an argument, but more frequently the clinical procedure is peppered by commentary about the girls that the guys choose. Almost every other boy stops to launch into an explanation about his decision, usually using either the girls' body or face to strengthen his claim."
Cassidy presses the pause button. "This is sickening," she says. "I'm so glad we got all this on tape."
"We also caught Taylor being a jerk to us and Luke on tape, too. That has to make Mr. Denham angry."
Nodding, she resumes the recording. We listen for a little while longer before everything falls dead silent.
"Spencer?" Taylor's voice rings out like a gunshot. "Can I see your phone?"
"Why do you need my—"
He's silenced and all I hear is his sharp inhale, as if he's been punched in the gut. More quiet, except for quiet murmuring from the bleachers. I think about the bruise on Spencer's cheekbone and bite my lip.
"I'm going to hold on to this until the end of the meeting," Taylor says. I wish I had a video, so I could see his leering face, so that I had something to glare at instead of the music note on the computer screen. "You're okay with that, aren't you?"
"No, I'm—"
Another inhale. The muttering on the bleachers grows louder, accented by some laughter. I don't realize my fists are clenched until I feel my nails digging into my palms, forming angry red crescents.
"Good." It's Taylor again. "Let's resume, then." Just like that, he starts calling out names again, and the process continues. Cassidy and I listen until the end, when Taylor has everybody take a vow of secrecy before dismissing them. My heart is pounding so loudly that I'm positive Cassidy can hear it.
As she closes out of the window and shuts her computer lid, she says, "I feel like I've just listened to some kind of cult meeting."
"Me, too." A shudder runs through me, starting at the top of my head and sending goosebumps over my skin. "This is all kinds of wrong. We have to do something about this right away."
"We will. Let's let everyone else see it and then we'll make a decision."
I shoot Liam a text thanking him for recovering the file, but when Cassidy asks me if I want to go back to playing tennis I shake my head. I feel overwhelmed, like I've been thrown too much information and I can't process it all. I'm reeling with an unmanageable combination of anger, fear, confusion, and sadness. Why would anybody ever start something like this? And do all those guys on the bleachers feel trapped just like Liam did: trapped between escape and being a part of something they thought was special?
That meeting didn't seem special. It seemed angry and hateful. I wonder if they could see that, too, if I could replay the recording for them and show them what they're doing. I wish I could let the whole school listen to this recording, so everyone knows the damage that's been done and what needs to be prevented in the future. Mr. Denham cracking down won't be enough: the boys will find another meeting place and another way to carry out their system. The only way to undermine this is to start with the boys on the bleachers and the girls they're talking about: the boys who are acting like mindless puppets and the girls who are letting their names be dragged in the dirt just for a high rating.
I don't care how long I have to kick and scream and fight for this. I'll do it, because nobody should live oblivious anymore. Everyone, in every social circle and every layer of the pyramid, needs to know. I couldn't care less now if I fall along the way. I'd rather not be on the top at all than share that position with someone as greedy and despicable as Taylor.
Fire is running through my mind, fusing my thoughts together and forming a plan. I can do this.
And I know exactly how.
A/N: Shoutout to my Liam Avocado squad ;)