Game of Fear

by Kabongo, Glede Browne

  “Okay,” he murmurs and leaves.

  I slam the locker door with such force that I almost dislocate my arm. I want to curl up in a corner somewhere and die. I mean it this time. Just die, so I won’t feel anything.

  He did it on purpose, payback for keeping the truth from him. He knows how I feel about Sidney, and he did it anyway. That’s just hateful.

  “Is Abbie having a bad day? Well, I have some news that might cheer you up.”

  I turn around and glare at her. “Yeah, yeah, you slept with Christian. Don’t care. Now, go away.”

  I can see the let down on her face. My preemptive strike worked. Thank you, Trevor. The longer she lingers, the closer I come to falling apart. Sidney was practically frothing at the mouth in her eagerness to tell me what happened between her and Christian moments ago, her only goal my complete humiliation. But because of what I know, I struggle to see her simply as the vindictive girl she’s proven to be time and time again. I see someone who suffers in silence because the people who are supposed to help her betrayed her. Tragic. Yet, I also have to remember that I’m fighting for my future.

  “What else do you want, Sidney? Do you want to make another threat? Go ahead. I’m standing right here. You don’t have to hide behind anonymous calls anymore.”

  She folds her arms and backs up a couple of steps. “Are you serious? Someone is stalking you? I thought you made up that story.”

  “You know full well it started back in the fall. Cut it out. Just tell whoever you’re working with to stop it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I get more desperate by the second. I see my future turning to dust right before me. I try again, in the hopes that a miracle will occur and free me.

  “Look, we have dirt on each other. We’re even. Let’s just call off this nonsense.”

  “Dirt?”

  “Don’t play innocent.”

  “You’re flipping out again, Abbie.”

  “I am flipping out. I’m asking you—no, begging you—please, if you know anything at all about who’s been stalking me, tell me. You’re hurting. I get it. But you can get better, Sidney. A gap year is a good idea. It will give you a chance to put some distance between you and what he did. You have to take back your life. You can’t let him win. Trying to punish me won’t help you heal. Can’t you see that?”

  She backs up even further, desperate to get away from me. “How do you know all that stuff about me?”

  I wasn’t prepared for that question because I’ve been preoccupied with her heartbreaking story and getting her to admit she’s been harassing me. Oh, boy. How do I remove my foot from my mouth?

  “Never mind about that. Our information isn’t as safe as we think. The important thing is we end this now.”

  “We’ll end it for sure. I’m going to destroy you. I’m going to call my dad and have him and his friends at the NSA, CIA, and FBI cause major problems for you and your family. You’ll be living under a bridge, eating out of a can for the rest of your miserable lives.”

  “The same dad who allowed a grown man to violate you in the most heinous way possible, and he was too weak and selfish to do anything about it? That dad? He should be prosecuted right along with the creep who raped you. So should your narcissistic mother.”

  The minute the words leave my mouth, I know it was a mistake. I not only confirmed that I had violated her privacy, but I also took a deeply personal tragedy and stuck a knife in the wound. When Sidney starts tearing up, I follow suit. “I’m sorry, Sidney, I didn’t mean it. The past few months have been draining.”

  I reach out to comfort her, and she slaps my hand away. “You’re going down, Abbie Cooper. You messed with the wrong girl.”

  CHAPTER 35

  I skip dinner, so I can stay in my bedroom and boohoo in private. If Sidney isn’t behind the plot to ruin me, who is? And why? When I looked into her eyes earlier today, something inside me stirred. She was telling the truth. I left a note in the Safe Box in English lit class. All I said was that Sidney needed help because something terrible had happened to her. That only makes me feel a little better. If Dr. Campbell approaches Sidney, she’ll know I was the one who informed on her. Oh, well, that’s the least of my troubles. I have to find out who wants to take me down before it’s too late.

  A knock on my bedroom door spurs me into action. I jump up from the floor and wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my T-shirt.

  “Abbie, it’s Mom. Open up.”

  I let her in. Something heavy is on her mind. She parks herself on the bed and signals for me to join her.

  “What’s going on? You’ve been distant, and I walk in here to find you in tears. I suspect your odd behavior has to do with the meeting in Dr. Kellogg’s office. Who is the girl in the picture, Abbie?”

  I stare at the wall. It’s time to stop running and stop lying. “Me.”

  I turn to look at her. That’s the thing about my mom. She never yells, not even when my brother and I deserve it. It’s because of her rough childhood and a mother who beat on her every day.

  “Care to explain yourself?” she asks, calmly.

  “It happened while you were in jail two years ago. They were going to expel me because I wasn’t keeping up with my schoolwork. I flunked a couple of major exams and was in danger of the same thing happening in other classes. Plus, I was missing a bunch of homework assignments.”

  Mom gets up from the bed. Her hands are clasped loosely behind her back as she paces. “Go on.”

  “I heard about Adderall from some kids at school, and they told me the person who could get it for me. So I bought some to help me study longer, so I could get my grades back to where they used to be.”

  “How long did this go on for?”

  “A couple of weeks. Then I stopped because I didn’t feel right. I knew it was wrong, and you and Dad would be ashamed of me.”

  “So somebody found out, and that’s what the picture is about?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I know it looks like I was about to use cocaine, but it wasn’t. I swear it was Adderall.”

  “You crushed the pills.”

  “Yes.”

  Mom rubs her neck and shuts her eyes tight. When she opens them, they convey her true feelings: how could you?

  But those aren’t the words that come out of her mouth. “This is bad, Abbie, she says. “Do you realize this person could send the picture with your face clearly in view for everyone to see? There could be hundreds of pictures like this floating around out there. You’re four months away from graduation, and you could get kicked out of school before you get your diploma. There are legal ramifications if this happens. Your father will fight the school, trying to prove it’s not you in the photo, regardless of whether or not they can confirm its origin.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what else to say. I made a mistake, and I tried to cover it up.”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Abbie. I raised you better than that.”

  I can’t stop the tears. Next thing I know, I’m in a full-on ugly cry. It gets louder and louder, like a hungry baby demanding to be fed. Then Mom starts bawling too. She stops her pacing and comes to sit next to me on the bed. She hugs me tight.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, sweetie. What you did was wrong and dangerous. But I think you were punished enough when I was in jail, so it doesn’t make sense to visit that idea.”

  We break apart and wipe our tears. “Your father will be devastated. The most important thing right now is for us to come up with a strategy before this turns into a disaster that will take you years to salvage.”

  The next morning, at precisely 7:36 a.m., I receive a text message that will profoundly change my life.

  FRANCES:

  Sidney is dead.

  Shock, grief, confusion, and despair conspire to suffocate us as we shuffle into the auditorium. Dr. Kellogg called an emergency meeting of the entire school. Somehow, my friends have found me among the four hundred plus students
. We hold hands and say nothing. Some around us weep quiet tears while others are more vocal in their grief. No questions are asked about what happened, when or how. It’s up to the school leadership to deliver the grim details.

  Our Headmaster looks like he has aged since I saw him yesterday. He takes the stage and signals for us to take our seats. The school chaplain stands to his left, and the Assistant Head of School to his right. He adjusts the microphone.

  “Today will go down as one of the most difficult days in the history of Saint Matthews Academy, certainly the most difficult day in my tenure as Head of School. I’ve been tasked with delivering heartbreaking news to you all. Early this morning, we lost a beloved member of our community. Sidney Bailey Shepard, a friend, mentor, and classmate was found dead at the bottom of the bell tower.”

  A collective gasp erupts from the auditorium. Loud wailing starts up again. Dr. Kellogg is prevented from stumbling and falling by Mr. Collins, the Assistant Head of School, who grabs his arm in time.

  She went the cottage cheese route. Sidney said she wanted to look good on her way out. I don’t know why this diary entry pops into my head. Perhaps it’s a numbing mechanism because the alternative is too painful to consider, that I may have pushed her from the bell tower because of our discussion yesterday. The note I left didn’t make a difference. That was only twenty-four hours ago. Maybe Dr. Campbell didn’t have time to act. I can’t believe Sidney did it. The girl I spoke to yesterday was the same as always. There were no signs to indicate she would jump only hours later. I start to hiccup. Callie squeezes my arm.

  “Sidney was full of life and had a promising future ahead of her,” Dr. Kellogg says. “She had much to offer the world, and her light was extinguished too soon. Her family has been informed of this tragic event and will be here shortly. Details of a memorial service will be forthcoming.”

  He moves away from the microphone, and the school chaplain, Pastor Reynolds, takes over. “I’m available for grief and spiritual counseling. My door is wide open. Please walk through it.”

  The girls and I leave the chapel with our arms around each other’s waists. On the way out, I spot Christian leaning up against the wall beside the main door. I tell the girls I’ll catch up with them later. His face is red and swollen, his hair a wild mess and his clothes disheveled.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, Abbie.”

  We stand there like that for a few beats, awkward, raw, unguarded, not knowing what to say. I do the only thing I can do, the only thing that makes sense. I pull him into my arms and hug him tight.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone, Abbie,” he says.

  “Me, neither. I just saw her yesterday.”

  “Why? I don’t understand why she would do this,” he says.

  “I’m sure she had her reasons, Christian. Reasons none of us understands.”

  At least she went out on her own terms, right or wrong, I want to add. Instead, I hold him tighter. When we separate, I take another look at him.

  “You’re too skinny.” It comes out more like an accusation instead of an observation.

  He serves up a weak smile. “Maybe I should eat more.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  More awkwardness. “Well, I should be going,” I say. “It’s a tough day for everybody.”

  He grabs my arm. “Abbie, about the way things—”

  “It’s in the past,” I say, hastily.

  “I acted like a jerk. I should have supported you and tried to understand what was going on with you. I regret that. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  “Your reaction came from an honest place. There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “Some kids were talking about holding a candlelight vigil at the bell tower. Will you come? It’s tonight.”

  “I don’t know if Sidney would approve. You know how she liked to call me a hypocrite.”

  A genuine smile appears on his lips. “She really hated you, didn’t she?”

  “As only Sidney could. There was a certain flair in her contempt for me. I admired that in a warped kind of way. Even when she gave me the finger, it was dramatic.”

  “Can I call you or text you?” he asks.

  “That’s a bad idea, Christian. We should just leave it alone.”

  “I don’t want to,” he insists, determination springing from him. “I miss you. I don’t ever miss anybody, Abbie. The minute I walked away from your locker that day, I knew it was a mistake. When I tried to fix it, to fix us, you wanted nothing to do with me. You avoided me at school and wouldn’t return my calls or texts. Your friends stopped talking to me. Callie gives me the silent treatment, and Frances just looks at me like I’m dead to her.”

  A soft giggle escapes me. My girls always have my back. But I can’t forget what he did, although to bring it up now would make me seem petty. Still, I have to call a thing, a thing.

  “You missed me so much, wanted to fix us so badly, that your answer was to sleep with Sidney?”

  He winces and then glances at the big exit sign over the double doors. “I was trying to forget us,” he says, his voice weak. “Being reckless was the only way I could make it from one day to the next. That way I didn’t have to feel anything. It didn’t work, obviously. I want things to go back to the way they were. I don’t care about that photo.”

  I edge closer to him and turn his face toward me, forcing him to look at me. “You can’t keep punishing yourself. We both handled it poorly. You don’t have a monopoly on guilt and stupidity.”

  “Did you ever find out who took that picture of you?”

  “Let’s not talk about that today of all days,” I say.

  He looks at me confused, but I offer no further explanation.

  Callie, Frances, and I decide to spend lunch period in the student lounge. The cafeteria is a ghost town anyway. A few other souls are seated around the TV set, watching a movie.

  “It doesn’t seem like Sidney to commit suicide,” Callie says. “She liked living too much. Mostly to torment other people.”

  “Maybe it was the drugs,” Frances says. “She took too much, and it rewired her brain.”

  “I know why she did it,” I say.

  Two pairs of inquisitive eyes focus on me. I tell them the sordid story of what Sidney was going through, the real reason she wanted Christian so badly, and how indifferent her parents were to her pain and struggle. I ended with our final confrontation yesterday at my locker. I wish I could take it back.

  “You couldn’t have known she would do it,” Frances says. “Her problems were bigger than you. Than any of us.”

  “She wanted to escape. To go someplace where it didn’t hurt so much,” I say. “Guilt is eating me up. She didn’t share this with anyone except her psychiatrist. I violated her privacy, thinking it would free me from the threat hanging over my head. Now that she’s gone, I don’t know.”

  “This is not your fault, Abbie,” Callie says.

  “What did Christian say?” Frances asks.

  “He’s in shock as we all are. He apologized for the way things ended between us, said he was wrong.”

  “It’s about time he acknowledged he acted like a douchebag,” Frances says.

  “So it’s really over? We can go back to our normal lives?” Callie asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t have to worry about having your life trashed because of that picture. Sidney is gone. If she had an accomplice as we suspected, she might back off too. Game over.”

  “Game not over. I don’t think Sidney was The Avenger.”

  Frances and Callie stare at me, speechless.

  “What are you saying, Abbie?” Frances asks.

  “We don’t have any proof pointing directly to her. Everything we’ve done so far has been for nothing.” I start to hiccup again.

  “It’s the guilt talking, that’s all,” Callie says, rubbing my shoulder. “You feel sorry about what happened to Sidney, and now she’s dead. You don’t have to
feel guilty, Abbie. You couldn’t have known.”

  “If Sidney wasn’t The Avenger, then who is?” Frances asks.

  “That’s the scariest question of all,” I say.

  Part Eight

  IVY LEAGUE SWAGGER

  CHAPTER 36

  I haven’t heard from The Avenger since Sidney died. No threats, no demands for money, and no feeling like my world will blow up at any moment. I decided not to attend the Platinum Ball this year. I can’t think about partying when there’s a chance I may not even graduate from Saint Matthews. A lot could happen in what little time we have left of high school. The girls stand in solidarity with me, even though I insisted they should attend the ball. Christian and I have eased back into our relationship. He even started coming to the house again. I think Sidney will always be a part of us, no matter how we try to deny it.

  I sit at my homework desk and boot up my laptop. The remaining schools I applied to for regular decision sent out their emails this afternoon. The pressure is off now. Even if I receive only one acceptance letter, it will still be a great school. Ty was right. Princeton wasn’t the end of the line for me.

  At the very top of my email inbox is a message from Brown University Admissions. The subject line says Decision Made. My heart begins to hammer in my chest. My hands freeze, afraid to click on the email. I’m seconds away from learning my fate. I remove my sweater and keep the tank top on. I pace from one end of the bedroom to the next. My nerves hurt if that’s even possible. My eyes settle on my sock and underwear drawers.

  I fold and refold every item in the three drawers. When I’m finished, I sit on my bed, hugging my body, rocking back and forth. I then decide I’ve had enough fear to last me a lifetime. I scramble off the bed and hover over the desk, staring at the computer screen. The email stares back, daring me to take the next step.

  I double click on the mouse.

  There’s a brief note that a decision has been made and a link to login to my application status portal. I can barely type in my username and password.