“He said you sold him the acid we all took at The Party.”
“I did,” Jack said. “I got it from my cousin.”
Emily turned her head to look at him again. He hadn’t been avoiding her because things were tense. He had been hiding something. “Were you there, Jack? Did you see something?”
“No, I promise. I would’ve told you.” Jack turned to look at her, too. “Nardo made me leave before anybody got there. But after it happened, Clay was really upset. He told me that you got really mad at him at The Party. He saw you through those big windows that overlook the pool. You were outside, and you had taken your dress off. He made you put it back on. It was really cold. And you started screaming at him.”
“About what?”
“He couldn’t tell why you were so mad. He said you were hysterical. All he could do was go find Nardo.”
Emily conjured the scene in her head, not from memory but as a sort of projection of what could be the truth. Her standing naked by the pool, Clay rushing out to dress her. No—that was too chivalrous. He’d wanted to know what happened. He would’ve made some joke about her nudity. And then he would’ve gotten annoyed because she was overwrought, but she had been overwrought because someone had raped her.
She asked, “What did Clay tell you happened next?”
“They were all too fucked up to drive you home.” Jack used his arm to wipe blood from his face. “Nardo called Mr. Wexler because he knew Wexler would shut up about it. They didn’t know what else to do. You were out of your mind. Blake had to give you a couple of bennies to calm you down. You were still yelling at Clay when Wexler and Nardo dragged you into the car.”
Emily looked away from him. She hadn’t only been on acid. Her friends had given her a psychoactive drug that was prescribed to prevent anxiety and seizures. And then they had handed her over to ghastly Dean Wexler so he could be alone with her in his car.
She asked, “Do you think Clay was telling the truth?”
“I don’t know. He’s a liar, but they’re all liars.” Jack had started to weep again. “I’m sorry, Emily. I should’ve told you all of this before. I was ashamed, and I didn’t know how to explain why Clay had confided in me without telling you about—about what I am.”
“I know what it’s like to be judged by people,” Emily told him. “I’m not going to judge you, Jack. It’s none of my business.”
Jack took a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Emily could not let him spiral into self-hatred. She knew there was literally no bottom to the darkness. “How did Nardo find out about you and Clay?”
Jack shrugged, but said, “The only time I can think of was when Clay and I were in my dad’s hunting truck. We took it to the logging road off the farm property. The one that comes out close to downtown.”
Emily knew the road. The old farm property belonged to Gram. She had created a trust so that one day it would pass to Emily.
She asked, “Does Clay know that Nardo saw you?”
Jack nodded, but asked, “What are you thinking?”
Emily wished that she had her Columbo Investigation, but she always kept it in her purse because that was the only place her parents would not look.
She told Jack, “It’s odd that Nardo has kept a secret from everybody else.”
Jack’s lips parted in surprise. “You think Clay knows something about Nardo?”
“Maybe.” Emily thought it made sense, but then a lot of theories had made sense at various times. “Nardo would never turn on Clay. He’s terrified of being alone. He needs someone to prop him up, tell him what to do, who to be. And Clay could turn the whole school against Nardo. No one would believe that he’s—”
“Queer,” Jack finished. The word sounded dirty in his mouth. “You’re right. They’d end up turning on Nardo. And lots of kids are going to Penn. That kind of stink would follow Nardo all the way to college. He’d keep his mouth shut no matter what.”
Emily sighed, because she had reached the same conclusion. “I feel like there’s a wheel in my head, and it spins round and round trying to point to the right person. Sometimes it’s Clay, then Nardo, then Blake, then—”
“Me?”
“I never believed that,” Emily said. “Unless I was telling myself that you’re the best possible person it could be.”
“I do love you, Emily,” Jack said. “I could marry you. So long as you know what I am. I can’t change it. I’ve tried so hard.”
“I love you, too, Jack, but you deserve someone who loves you the way you want to be loved.” Emily added, “We both do.”
He covered his face with his hands. His life had been so difficult. She had always known he was lonely, but she had not realized until now that he’d been utterly alone.