I look through the people I’ve messaged before. I don’t have Chase’s information. I don’t have the information for anyone at FHS who might know Lindsey, or anyone who’s close to the Darlings except Dixie.
And one more person.
Mr. D.
I type in his name, and our conversation fills the screen, the lines of blocky green text on the black background from the last time I filled him in, when I told him I was a Swan. I stare at the screen for a long time. There’s one truth I never told him. The one secret that is exactly what he needs—the one that could bring down the Dolces.
BadApple: Can u get a msg 2 Lindsey?
I wait for all of two minutes before I’m too wound up to sit there waiting. Damn it, why is no one answering when I need them? I pace, then head to the kitchen, opening and closing the cabinets. I wonder if they’re at Lindsey’s yet, wherever that is. I remember the mayhem at her fancy house. I wonder how much food was wasted in the food fight. I open the fridge and close it again. I think of that steak that Royal bought me at Cliff’s, how it melted in my mouth. I wonder how many groceries we could have bought, how much longer that money would have lasted, and I feel instantly guilty that I took that food, that I took anything from the Dolces at all. They’re not just messed up kids. They’re evil.
I get out a packet of flavored drink and mix it into a glass of water. It’s the generic brand stuff that you have to keep stirring constantly or it all settles to the bottom, so the top tastes like watery ass and the bottom is so sweet it melts your teeth. When I return to the living room, there’s a message.
MrD: Why?
BadApple: She’s in trouble. The Dolces r going 2 hurt her 2 get 2 Preston. Can u warn her?
MrD: I could try.
MrD: Or you could go along… See what they do.
BadApple: I thought u were her father. Shouldn’t u b freaking out?
MrD: What made you think that?
BadApple: r u?
MrD: I might be.
BadApple: we both already kno wut they do 2 girls. They’ll do the same as they did 2 me but prob worse. They’re not going 2 let me video it. It’ll be my word n hers, if she’ll testify, against theirs. N we know who will win.
MrD: So, what are you going to do about that?
BadApple: Wut r u going 2 do?
MrD: Depends on what you tell me.
BadApple: …
I sit there for a long minute. No fucking way will I go along and watch them gang rape a girl. Not even for Mr. D. Not even for a twenty-thousand-dollar scholarship.
But there’s something I can do that might stop them. If I can get her to hide, to lay low, until after the shit hits the fan…
Well, they’ll probably forget all about her then.
I have what Mr. D needs. It’s at the ends of my fingertips. I wasn’t going to tell him. I planned to take what Gloria said to my grave. It’s too personal, too terrible, to share with a stranger, even one who wants the same thing I do.
But it’s the key. I know it is. That’s why I feel sick just thinking about it. Because I know it’s a weapon as terrible as anything the Dolces themselves would use.
I stir my drink and take a swallow. The sugar hits my empty stomach, turning it sour.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Can I really do this to Royal? I think of the fallout. How it will ruin him at school. How it might ruin his family in this town. A scandal like that…
Would it really be so bad, though, if he wasn’t king of Willow Heights? It wouldn’t be bad for the school, I know that for damn sure. People could live without the constant fear of being targeted. Girls wouldn’t have to be their slaves, carrying their trays or answering their booty calls because they’re not allowed to refuse. And the Dolces have plenty of money. They can pack up and leave town, start over somewhere else, like they made those Darling families do. Faulkner won’t hurt much in their absence. They’ll lose some money, but from what I’ve heard, most of that money is the corrupt kind, anyway—bribes and favors under the table.
Maybe Royal will even be able to stop what he’s doing. He’ll graduate soon and leave his father’s house.