Thirty minutes of this bullshit before I’m shoved into the cruiser, ducking to not hit my head. All I want is to get out of here, to get away before Vandy realizes what’s happening and tries to intervene. I led her into trouble once before, I won’t do it again, even if it means I have to take the fall for something I didn’t do.
37
Vandy
A sharp rap on my bedroom door jolts me awake. In a panic, I reach for Reyn, but remember that he’s gone, having snuck out the window approximately—I glance at my clock—an hour ago.
“Vandy, open up,” Dad calls.
“One sec,” I call, scrambling out of bed. I grab a sweatshirt and pull it hastily over my pajamas. I take a quick, nervous glance around the room to see if anything is out of place. Nothing seems to overtly say ‘your daughter got high on painkillers last night, had a boy sleeping in her bed, and then had amazing sex with him’, but I do another circuit, just in case.
Smoothing down my hair, I yank open the door. My father’s standing in the hall, and behind him are two uniformed officers.
I peer at them with wide eyes. “What’s going on?” My mind is instantly a rush of presumptions. Did they find out about the prank? That we broke into the school and did all those things? That we ruined the dance and the fundraiser? Dad’s expression is more concerned than angry, but that’s a weak comfort. I glance down the hall. Emory’s door is still closed. “Dad?”
“These two deputies need to check your room.” He steps aside and lets the two officers enter, so I’m guessing I don’t have a say. Again, my eyes skim the room, differently this time. Did I leave my bra on the back of my desk chair? What about my dirty laundry? Then, I’m seized by a totally different realization.
The pills.
My eyes jump frantically over my bed, but I don’t see them. They were gone last night, when I slid beneath the covers with Reyn. Had he taken them? Had he flushed them? God, did he just stash them somewhere? Will these guys find them?
My heart pounds erratically.
The deputies casually inspect my room, static from their radios echoing harshly off my walls. They note my laptop on my desk, the jewelry scattered on top of my dresser. My phone is charging next to the bed. “Miss? Have you noticed anything missing or out of place?” one of them asks.
The other man walks over to the window, and I watch him fretfully. “N-no.” He lifts the shade and opens the window, eyeing the latch carefully. I turn to my dad. “Did something happen?”
He opens his mouth to speak but then looks down the hall. Emory comes into view, his hair sticking up from sleep and a dark, violet bruise swelling under his eye. Dad’s jaw drops. “What happened to your face?” he asks at the same time Emory says, “What’s going on here?”
“Pick-up game got rowdy,” Emory says first, waving it off. Our eyes meet. It wasn’t a pick-up game and we both know it.
Dad, distracted by the police, nods in blind acceptance before saying, “Reyn was caught this morning outside our house. Jerry says he was climbing off the roof outside Vandy’s window.”
“Jerry?” I ask in a hoarse voice. “He caught Reyn?”
Dad frowns. “He had some lockpicks and some other, uh, contraband on his person.”
Contraband.
The heavy thing that’s been wedged in my throat finally drops. I press my fists into my stomach, begging Emory with my eyes to help.
I stutter out, “Well he wasn’t in here. And I’ve certainly never seen him with drugs.” I hope my voice sounds calm, confident. “You know Jerry is obsessed with him. He stopped him that day when we had our football party. Claimed he was trespassing.”
“V’s right about that,” Emory says, surprising me. “He’s always following Reyn around, busting his balls for nothing.”
Dad makes a face at the word ‘balls’ but doesn’t argue. Jerry’s harassment of Reyn in particular is pretty well known.
“There are scratch marks on the window lock over there,” the officer says, walking over. “The kind consistent with being tampered with.” He takes a few photos with his phone and stashes it in his pocket. “You sure you haven’t noticed anything missing?”
“No.” I shake my head rapidly, stomach aflame with nerves. “Nothing.”
“Well, contact us if you can think of anything,” the deputy says, nodding at the other officer to leave.
“What’s going to happen to Reyn?” I ask. “If nothing is missing, he should be okay, right?”
He makes a sharp, amused sound. “Not with the quantity of drugs he had on him. That’ll be a possession with intent to distribute charge. That’s a felony in this state.”
“Reyn’s in a lot of trouble, sweetheart,” my dad says, wrapping his arm around me to give me a tight squeeze. I remain silent and frozen. This has to be a nightmare. “I know we all thought he’d made a lot of progress, but it doesn’t seem like it. Hopefully he can get the help he needs.” He walks the officers to the door, and I feel like a statue. Like all my blood has been drained from my body and replaced with something rigid and cold.