He’s always been the only one.
I have never wanted to be with anyone else, and knowing I’m getting ready to lose him because of Alec and his horrible friends and all the stupid lies we’ve told, makes me want to scream. To scream and keep screaming until the world shatters and I can try to make something new with the pieces.
“Listen,” Alec says in a harsh whisper, overcompensating for my shout. “You need to pull it together. I’ve been charged as an accessory to a felony and you don’t see me losing my shit.”
“You know you’re not going to jail,” I say, voice rough. “It’s like the lawyers said, the prosecutor will never be able to prove you had anything to do with it.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Alec says, but for the first time in months I hear uncertainty in his voice. “You know that, Sam. You know I passed out on the couch after the ball dropped. I have no clue what happened after.”
“If you say so.” I cross my arms over my chest, cold despite the eighty-degree heat of the May afternoon.
“I do because it’s the truth.” Alec steps closer, eyes narrowing on my face. “From here on out, I’m going to be telling nothing but the truth. I’m already in trouble with the police for lying, and I would have been charged with perjury if I’d been called to testify for the grand jury. I have to look out for number one, Sam. I can’t protect you anymore.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The only thing Alec has been protecting is his own ass. The lawyer representing him was certain the fact that Deidre was dead would guarantee the case would be dismissed. It was convenient for Alec and the others to let my lie live on, but now they’ll all be telling “the truth,” and I know their truth will bear little resemblance to mine. It’s going to come down to their word against the word of the girl who started the rumor that led to Deidre Jones’s suicide. The word of four of the wealthiest boys at SU—two of them legacies, one the son of a celebrity, and all of them well-connected in the Los Angeles community—against the daughter of a Maui geologist.
I wear designer clothes and rent an apartment in a posh neighborhood because my stepmother is rich, but I don’t have a trust fund. I have six thousand dollars in savings I’ve earned teaching surf lessons every summer and working part time as a math tutor, but I already know that won’t be enough to pay for a good lawyer.
I’ve done enough late night Internet trolling to know I can’t be charged with manslaughter in California for unintentionally driving someone to take their own life, but if the police want to talk to me, I’m going to need good representation by my side. I’ve lied to an investigating officer and withheld evidence. That’s enough to get me into some serious trouble, even if they believe I never meant to hurt anyone.
And talking to the police is just the first step. Then they’ll want me to talk to the prosecuting attorney, and eventually I’ll be called to the stand in a courtroom and have to tell my story to a room full of strangers, while the boys who ruined my life watch. And the whole time they will be insisting that they’re innocent, that this is my fault, and at least some of the people on the jury will believe them.
Because that’s how cases like this work.
Just thinking about how horrible it’s all going to be is enough to make me feel like I’m going to be sick all over Alec’s five-hundred-dollar shoes.
Instead, I cover my mouth with my hand, close my eyes, and take deep breaths in and out through my nose. I can’t fall apart right now. Not in front of Alec, not in the middle of the quad where everyone can see.
“Do you want to call Mom and your dad together?” Alec asks, sympathy in his voice. “We could get a study room in the library and put them on speaker phone.”
I shake my head. I can’t imagine telling my dad and Penny the truth, let alone with Alec sitting right next to me.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and force my eyes open. “No thanks,” I say, my mouth so dry I can barely get the words out. “I’m going to wait. I want to know what’s happening first.”
“I don’t think you’ll be charged with anything, but you should get a lawyer just in case,” he says, echoing my thoughts from a moment before. “You can’t be too careful. Mom’s paying for my lawyer, I know she won’t mind—”