The Fifteenth Minute

by Sarina Bowen

  The gutsy leather-clad sister circles the room away from her father, approaching the dean at the front. “Listen, it’s my fault that this happened. I really want to tell you why.”

  “All right,” the dean says. “Please sit here.” She motions toward the chair where DJ is seated beside her. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a look at him all gussied up in his suit. I’d say he looks terrific except for his ashen skin. When Caroline approaches, DJ leaps out of the chair and walks back to sit beside his family.

  Caroline takes his seat and crosses her legs. “Okay, I stayed in Annie’s room the night of April eleventh. And I saw her in the morning when she came back downstairs.”

  “Hush!” her father shouts. “This is none of your business.”

  His younger daughter shakes her head. “Not true. Your brainwashing bullshit is absolutely my business. You made her do this.” She points at Annie in her seat.

  That’s all her father can take. He jumps from his chair and lurches over to his daughter, almost too angry to walk. He grabs Caroline’s arm and tugs her out of the chair.

  I’m watching with my mouth hanging open when someone puts a hand on my shoulder, causing me to leap into the air. When I whirl around, I find two uniformed security guards. “Excuse me,” one of them says.

  I duck out of the way, my heart flailing from panic. But the guard disregards me, entering the room. By the time I’ve resumed my spying position, Mr. Stevens has unhanded his daughter and is receiving a stern warning from the security guard. They convince him to sit down, but he’s still wearing a snarl. “You cannot interrogate my daughter. She’s just a child.”

  “I’m eighteen!” Caroline says quickly. “Ask me anything.”

  The dean is unflusterable, I have to give her that. “Please tell us your full name and your birthdate. Then I’d like to hear all that you remember of April eleventh and twelfth.”

  Caroline leans forward and gives the introductory information. Then she says, “But I heard Daniel’s name before April eleventh. Over the midterm break last year, my sister told me how much she liked him.” She turns her chin toward her sister. “Sorry. But you know it’s relevant.”

  Annie’s face is downcast, and I felt my first real wave of empathy for her. Liking DJ is something I can certainly relate to.

  “So, she said she didn’t know how to get his attention. And that was always Annie’s problem. She’s too quiet. So I said, look, you can just kiss him. Boys are a little slow on the uptake.” She turns in DJ’s direction. “Sorry.”

  Half the people in the room chuckle, probably desperate for even a shred of levity.

  “I told her to just go for it. That it might not work, but then at least she’d know if there was any potential. And you can’t ignore a kiss. When I came to campus in April I asked her if she’d taken my advice, and she said, ‘Maybe I’ll try it tonight.’”

  “None of this is relevant!” her father shouts.

  “One more word Mr. Stevens,” the dean snaps. “And you’re gone.”

  “I wasn’t at the party,” Caroline continues. “And when I let myself into Annie’s room later, she wasn’t there. I went to sleep. She woke me up about six when she came back.”

  “What did she say about her night?” the dean asks.

  Caroline looks at her sister while I hold my breath. “She said it was the best night of her life.”

  “No it wasn’t!” her father yells, leaping from his chair. “You lying little whore! Both of you!”

  The security guards have had it with him. They step forward and yank him out of the chair. “Let’s go. You can wait in the foyer.”

  “Hands off me!” he protests. But they march toward the door and I jump out of the way. That door is about to swing open and reveal me.

  So I turn and go, my heart pounding. I shouldn’t have been snooping, anyway. But I can’t say I’m sorry I did.

  30

  Good News

  DJ

  It’s over. It’s really over. And I’m off the hook.

  My family isn’t exactly rejoicing, though. We’re all kind of freaked out by everything we just learned.

  And me? I’m just limp with relief.

  It’s quiet on the walk to Orsen’s house, where I’m to pick up my stuff before driving back to Long Island with my family. “I need a few minutes,” I say after I unlock the door. Immediately I head into my room. I open my laptop so I can text Lianne on the full keyboard. Because this won’t be easy to explain in just a few words.

  Good news, I say first. The college dropped the case.

  My fingers hover over the keyboard while I try to find the best way to explain what happened. Even though I’m happy to be cleared, I feel sick about that meeting, because I’m pretty sure that Annie’s troubles aren’t over. I begin fumbling through my explanation.

  Turns out Annie’s father overheard his daughters talking about me over the summer. And Annie wasn’t wearing her purity ring anymore. (Do you know what that is? I didn’t until Vi explained it to me a few minutes ago.) The dad freaked.

  I stop typing for a second just imagining the scene at their house. From what I can gather, after he heard their conversation he was verbally abusive. Like, awful. He said either she was guilty of a major crime, or I was. So after a while she broke down and chose me. After screaming at her for a week or so, he handed her the phone and stood over her while she reported to the college that it wasn’t consensual.

  Maybe she even believed it, too, by the time he was through with her. I still have no idea what was going through her head. Yet it’s a lot easier to forgive her than it was a few hours ago. Anyway—her sister showed up to tell the dean that Annie was not unhappy after spending the night in my room. I read that last sentence a few times before hitting send. It’s hard to talk to Lianne about this. Texting is probably the chicken way out. I was right about one thing, though, I add. She was upset that I didn’t want to start dating. That’s what she told her sister, and that’s when their dad overheard.

  In other words, if I’d been more careful with her feelings, it’s entirely possible that I could have avoided the whole mess.

  While I’m thinking this over, Lianne texts. I’m just happy that you’re okay. Can I call you in five mins?

  Of course.

  I carry my duffel bag into the living room. I leave the boxes I’d packed behind—turns out I’m going to need that stuff to finish the semester. Maybe I should be giddy about that, but I’m too emotionally drained to celebrate.

  “That poor girl,” my mother says. “Imagine growing up with people who equate religion with shame.”

  “That poor girl almost stole your son’s future,” my father returns. But that sounds dramatic, even to me.

  “Hey, Dad?” Vi asks, and I can tell from her tone that she’s going to tease him. “How come I never got a purity ring? I like gold jewelry. I mean, it’s a little weird to wear your hymen on your finger. But bling is bling.”

  My dad looks up from his phone. “If you stop dating losers, I’ll buy you one.”

  Leo snorts and high fives our father. “Wait—is it that lacrosse player who says ‘yo’ every third word?”

  “It’s not every third word,” Vi argues.

  “He could at least drop it at the dinner table,” my father grumbles. “Yo, pass the carrots.”

  “Leo should talk.” Vi pouts. “Amy is the worst.”

  “She’s okay,” Leo grumbles, which is hardly a ringing endorsement.

  Vi’s gaze cuts to me, and she smiles. “You know who’s having the best luck in the dating pool right now?” I give her a warning look, but it’s no good. “Danny is.”

  All the parental eyes in the room turn to me, while Leo and Vi smirk.

  “The girl from the picture?” my father asks.

  “What picture?” my mother asks.

  Fine. I guess we’re doing this now. “Her name is Lianne. And I want to ask her to visit over the midterm break.”

  My mom
’s eyebrows shoot up. “All right,” she says. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

  “It’s new,” I say at the same moment Vi says, “He’s keeping her a secret.”

  Thanks, sis. Thanks a lot. I tug on her ponytail in retribution. But it really doesn’t matter, of course. Before today I didn’t know some of my classmates had families where this sort of announcement would be like dropping a bomb.

  That’s when my phone rings, of course. And I’m definitely answering, because it’s Lianne on the line. “Excuse me,” I say, while Vi giggles and yells after me to say hi for her.

  “Hey, smalls,” I say into the phone. Then I close my eyes so I can hear her better. I can hardly believe it’s really over. Lianne and I can have pizza wherever we want to.

  Or have other things.

  “Hi,” she breathes. “Are you headed out of town?”

  “Yeah. But only for a week. And I want to see you anyway. What are you doing for the break?”

  She clears her throat. “Well, I’m staying here. But I’ve been summoned to New York on Wednesday night.”

  “For that premier?”

  “No, I’m skipping that. But my manager is coming to town for it, and he asked me to meet up for drinks. He knows I’m on break, so I don’t have an excuse. And I’m hoping he’ll finally listen to me about the Scottish play.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I offer. “I mean, if I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “Really?” she squeals. “I’d love that.”

  “Why don’t you come to Long Island before that? Monday or Tuesday. Hell—come right now if you want.”

  “Won’t I be in the way?”

  “Not a chance. I already told my mom I wanted to invite you.”

  “Wow. How about this—I’ll finish my Brecht paper this weekend, then come down on Monday. If it’s really okay.”

  “It’s better than okay.” I catch myself smiling into my phone. “If you take a car service to the ferry in Bridgeport, I’ll pick you up in Huntington.”

  “Wow, okay. I can’t wait.”

  “DJ!” my brother yells from the living room. “Let’s go!”

  “I heard that.” Lianne sighs. “Call me tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When I go back into the living room, my sister is tapping her foot. “Well? Is she visiting.”

  “Yeah, Monday.”

  Violet squeals. “This is awesome. My friends will die.”

  “Why?” my mother asks, bewildered.

  “I have a little picture to show you,” Vi says, scrolling through her phone as she and my mother head for the front door. “See if you can identify this girl…”

  “Oh my goodness,” Mom says. “Isn’t that…Princess Vindi?”

  “Yes it is!”

  Leo just shakes his head and follows them.

  My dad waits for me to shoulder my bag. “Feeling better, D?”

  “Hell yes.”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry we’ve had a rough time, you and me.” He holds the door.

  “Me too, Dad.”

  “I wasn’t ever giving up on you, though.”

  “I know,” I say, and find that it’s true.

  Then I get in the car with my family.

  31

  Our Little Secret

  Lianne

  I’ve just had a manicure while drinking a cappuccino from Starbucks. Violet and her two friends took me out for nail treatments and gossip. It was like Sex and the City, but without the liquor.

  Really, life could be worse.

  Now we’re in the car again, heading back to the house. I’m riding shotgun because the girls treat me like visiting royalty.

  “Lianne is not a show pony,” DJ had warned his sister. “Maybe she doesn’t want to hang out with your friends.”

  “I kind of need a manicure,” I’d said to put him at ease. “It will be fun.”

  And really, it was. The girls grilled me about Kevin Mung, his famous singer girlfriend and the Sorceress set, of course. But then they’d moved on to other topics, like what to wear to their upcoming prom.

  The three of them are so comfortable with each other that it’s adorable. “We’ve known each other since kindergarten,” Vi’s friend Jenny said earlier. I never had those friendships, and it seems so nice.

  “What kind of a car do you drive, Lianne?” Vi asks, bringing me out of my reverie. The topic has switched again, and I’ve failed to notice. “Wait, let me guess. A Mini Cooper.”

  “What did I say about short jokes?” I complain, and they all laugh.

  “I didn’t mean it like that!” Vi protests. “Fine. You drive a Hummer.”

  More laughter.

  “A Porsche,” Jenny guesses.

  “A Mercedes E-class,” guesses the one they call Jazz.

  “You are all wrong,” I tease. “Because I don’t drive.”

  “Wait, ever?”

  “Nope. Don’t know how. Never got around to learning,” I explain. When you’re shooting in Australia half the time and traveling with your fickle mom on three continents, driving lessons just aren’t practical.

  “Wow.” A hush falls over the car, as if I’ve just revealed an important failing. Jenny pipes up eventually, “DJ could teach you. He’s a good driver.”

  Now there’s an interesting idea. “I wouldn’t want to scare him.” Driving with me might not be a ton of fun.

  The car makes a quick turn as Violet steers into what looks like a church parking lot. “Who needs him? Men always think they understand driving better than women. It’s ridic.” She comes to a full stop. “You can have your first lesson right now.”

  “What?” What?

  There’s a squeal from the backseat. “This is so cool. Princess Vindi drives on Long Island.”

  I start to sweat. “We can’t, Vi. What if something goes wrong?” Just what I need is to dent my new boyfriend’s parents’ car. That ought to cement the status of our relationship.

  “It won’t.” She gives my elbow a poke. “Gotta start somewhere. Everybody drives.”

  This is true. And three girls are waiting to see what I’ll do. So even though my hands are starting to sweat, I get out of the car and walk around to the other side.

  Vi climbs over the gearbox and plops into my seat. “Okay. Put your foot on the brake to start.”

  “Which pedal is it?”

  There’s a squeal of laughter from the backseat.

  “The big one,” Vi says calmly. “Makes sense, right?”

  It does. But my toe barely grazes it. “Um…”

  Vi grins. Then she leans over my body and pushes a knob forward, and my seat begins to advance toward the steering wheel.

  “Okay. That’s better.” I depress the brake as far as it will go.

  “Now, use this to put the car in D for drive.” She points at the gear selector, and I do as she asks. “Great. When you let up on the brake, the car will idle forward. We’ve got some space here, so you can touch the gas, and then maybe turn right to drive toward that corner of the lot.” She points.

  Seems simple enough. So I let up on the brake, and the car slowly inches forward.

  “Okay, good,” Vi says encouragingly. “Now a little gas.”

  I move my foot to the other pedal and we leap ahead. The sudden motion freaks me right out so I slam on the brake again, and all our bodies lurch forward. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly.

  “That happens to everyone,” Vi says, pushing the hair out of her face. “Not so much heat this time, okay?”

  Shit. I’ve just learned two things. 1) Driving is harder than it looks. 2) Vi is a saint. “Okay,” I promise. “Or we could just quit while we’re ahead.”

  “You can do better,” she insists.

  Well then. I let up on the brake again and just let the car idle for a few moments. Then I apply gentle pressure to the gas, and lo, an easy forward movement.

  “Awesome,” Vi says. “Slow down just a smidgen and turn.”
<
br />   I let off the gas and just touch the brake. Then I turn the wheel to the right. I’m driving! I mean—I’m still scared. The car still feels like a giant metal beast that might run away from me at any time. But I’m doing it. Just like normal people.

  “Ready to turn again?” she prompts as we approach the end of the lot.

  I turn the wheel and execute the turn. And things are going so well that I tap the gas again. I think I could really get the hang of this.

  “Deer!” Jenny shrieks.

  And she’s not lying. From the shady area at the end of the lot, a doe has stepped out on the asphalt, and I’m heading straight for her. Panicking, I jab my foot forward. But I miss the brake and clip the gas pedal instead. The car lurches forward, and the deer is just twenty feet away.

  That’s when Violet grabs the wheel and turns us away from Bambi, while I search for and eventually locate the brake pedal. We come to a rapid stop, but my heart is about to explode.

  “Well,” Vi says eventually. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. Sorry.”

  From the backseat comes a hiccup and then a gut-bursting honk of laughter. Followed by howls.

  Vi turns her big eyes on me, and I watch her lips twitch. And then she bursts out laughing, too. “Oh, God. Wouldn’t that have been awful to have to explain?” She puts her face in her hands. “Fuck. That was close.”

  I’m shaking, but I feel a hysterical giggle coming on. “DJ is not going to like this story,” I say, my voice wobbling.

  “We are NOT telling him,” Violet insists. “This is going to be our little secret.”

  “Really? Okay.”

  We switch seats again. And the last giggles don’t stop until we’re back in the Trevi family driveway.

  Luckily I’m able to calm down, though, because DJ’s mom is in the kitchen of their generous colonial when we enter through the garage. “Hey Mom!” Violet calls and then marches right past.

  But I can see that Mrs. Trevi is making dinner by herself. “Can I help you with that?”

  She looks up from where she’s dicing an onion into perfect tiny cubes. “How are your knife skills?”