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So of course they couldn’t send them out to everyone—only people that they can trust not to say anything!

There was a pause while she digested this.

Until prom.

I don’t know Lacey—maybe not even then.

Think about it—it really is evidence.

And if someone, a grown-up, found out about it, he’d be in just as much trouble as you.

Worse. Like, jail-trouble.

What about my locker?

I flew through the images in my mind.

That’s like the only photo that wouldn’t get him busted.

And he already posted that one to ZB. No one cared about it, remember?

They just thought you were thirsty.

But if they can’t share them—then why threaten me?

Because they’re assholes?

Or because they were scared you’d go to the cops.

Because I scared them they had to re-scare me?

I don’t know Lacey. I only know what I saw.

I swear to you, I got all of the pictures I found.

And like 98% of them aren’t really slideshow safe, if they want to stay out of jail.

OK

followed by an even longer pause.

It’s not perfect. But it’s better than nothing. Definitely.

I fell back onto my bed in something like but not quite relief. Darius had been right. I’d have to let him know tomorrow.

The next morning Allie and I had our standard eggs vs Eggos fight, and this time I just let her win. She mistrusted this, it was unlike me—but I was too wrung out after everything that’d happened yesterday. My head still hurt and all I could think about were those other boys. Which ones were they? Was there any way for Lacey to know? How many people had they showed or talked to? It was like the photos were some sort of virus, far worse than the flu or mono, and who knew how far it’d spread?

I got Allie out and then went outside myself, hoping I’d see Darius. But what I saw was a hundred—no, a thousand—times better: Lacey’s blue Impala. She pulled up beside me, rolled the passenger window down, and said: “Want a ride?”

“Yes. So very yes,” I said, and hopped inside. The sun’d already been up long enough to make the vinyl of the passengerseat hot. I got inside and twisted over to hug her. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I know how much you hate the bus.”

I grinned at her. That was true, but—it was seeing her, here, in the flesh again, living proof against all the stagnant pictures in my mind. If I concentrated on her, I’d blot them all out eventually, I knew it. “Are you sure you’re ready to go back?”

“Mrs. Ellis called my mom. It’s either attend or repeat tenth grade. One more year in that hell hole? I don’t think so,” she said, and put her car into drive just as the bus pulled by.

Was Darius…intending on picking me up again? Or not? I didn’t know—if he was—I reached into my bag and touched my phone and tried to sound like I wasn’t assuming anything.