Page 42

FORTY-ONE

Even after all these years, it doesn’t feel right arguing with Nadia. I believe she’s a liability. I believe she’s made a series of choices to bring her where she is today. And yet, I can’t stop thinking about the choice we made as teens, and everything that followed after.

I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room. The place was cold and sterile, a constant murmur from the vending machine in the corner. Police officers kept walking up and down the hallways, making small talk as they sipped from their Styrofoam coffee cups. More than once, I ran to the bathroom, thinking I might throw up, but there wasn’t enough of anything inside me to come out. All I kept thinking about was what Nadia and I had done to my father’s liquor stash. I was responsible…

“Hey.” Coach Phillips squeezed my shoulder. He’d stayed with me the entire time I was at the hospital, refusing to leave my side. “Everything is going to be okay.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat felt raw every time I tried. My guilty conscience urged me to tell someone my father hadn’t been at fault for the accident. How could I admit the truth to Coach Phillips? That I’d played a part in all this. Sure, my father was a drunk with poor impulse control, but if I hadn’t laced his alcohol with sleeping pills and snuck out of the house, the accident wouldn’t have happened.

“I know it’s scary,” Coach Phillips said. “But you’re not alone. I’m here with you.”

As terrifying as this was, I found peace in that. Normally, Nadia was the person I turned to during times of need, but where had that gotten me?

A doctor in light-teal scrubs came into the waiting room, a face mask hanging around his neck. Even though he was there to inform me of my father’s condition, he directed his words to Coach Phillips, explaining that my father had come out of surgery and was expected to make a full recovery, at which point he’d be taken to the county jail.

“I told you. It’s going to be okay,” Coach Phillips said, patting my back, as if it was good news.

“What about the other family?” I stepped forward, calling after the doctor before he was able to walk away.

“Minor bumps and scratches,” he said. “They’re very lucky.”

Relief came rushing through my body, the feeling so intense I had to sit down. I’d never been more grateful for anything in my life. It was bad enough knowing my mistake had landed my father in jail, but I couldn’t handle the guilt of knowing I’d hurt innocent people. Before I knew it, warm tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Cass?” I turned around to see Nadia standing in the waiting room. Her cheeks, like mine, were red and tear-stained. “I just heard about what happened. I came as soon as I could.”

I looked at Coach Phillips. “Can we have a minute alone?”

He nodded, ambling down the hallway to get a cup of coffee. Once alone, I looked at Nadia, and said, “This is all your fault.”

“I know it is,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Cass?—”

“My father could have died! Innocent people could have died.”

Nadia’s face looked so young in that moment. “I never thought he’d actually try to leave the house. If I’d known, we could have thought of something else.”

“That’s the problem! All your ideas are bad. You’re the one who convinced me to steal. You pressured me to drug my own father when what I should have done is accept my punishment.”

“I did it to help you,” she said. “I didn’t want you to miss the game.”

Nadia was the only person who knew the truth about my father’s accident. In some ways I resented her for her involvement, and in other ways I thanked her. I believed she was only trying to help me, but at what cost?

“I don’t think we should be friends,” I say. “Being your friend is too risky.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said, fresh tears springing in her eyes. “We’ve always been there for each other.”

“I can’t follow your lead anymore, Nadia. It’s all too destructive,” I say, looking around the hospital, the reality of the situation setting in. “This isn’t the person I want to be.”

Nadia left me alone in the waiting room. I was crying uncontrollably when Coach Phillips returned.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “You can stay at my place tonight.”

And I did. From that night until I graduated high school, I lived with Coach Phillips. With my father being sent to prison, my only other option was to enter state care, but Coach wouldn’t let that happen. He went through the process of becoming a foster parent, and he became my legal guardian for the remainder of my teenage years.

I carried guilt over where my father ended up, but it’s not like my actions alone put him there. The main reason he received such a lengthy sentence was because he’d been in trouble so many times before. After the shock wore off, I realized it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Never again would I endure beatings at the hands of someone I loved. Never again would I have to worry about my safety or where my next meal would come from. As time passed, I realized my father was sick. Even if he wasn’t solely at fault for the accident, he needed help, and I hoped he’d be able to get that in prison.

For the first time in my life, I could focus solely on what I loved. Basketball.

Coach Phillips remained the head coach, helping me improve my skills in any way he could. He made sure I improved my grades, too. When it came time to apply for colleges, he ensured I stayed on top of my applications, even escorted me to different campuses for visits. And of course, he oversaw the scholarship process, making sure every offering school gave me a fair deal. Sometimes I felt like I’d never be able to repay him for everything he’d given me. Other times, I thought having me in his life helped him, too. It gave him a second chance at fatherhood, something he felt he’d fumbled the first time around.

My chance at a better life meant I had to give up my friendship with Nadia, something that never felt completely fair. What we did put lives at risk, but she’d only been trying to help me. When I passed her in the hallway at school, I’d turn the other way, but I couldn’t avoid her entirely. The sadness in her eyes haunted me, the rejection. Still, I had to keep going; it was the only way I could embrace the new person I was trying to become.

As time went on, the longer I stayed away from Nadia and other reminders of my old life, I found it easier to live with what I’d done.

I try my best to shoo these memories away as I approach Mr. Lake’s office door. I imagine he wants to discuss the team meeting. He’s probably upset I reached out to the police without first going to him. In my drunken haze, I hadn’t even thought of involving him. All I wanted to do was get the information about Kyle to Detective Fields in the hopes it would lead us to Evie.

When I step inside his office, he’s standing behind his desk. Without looking at me, he tells me to sit. Unlike earlier in the week, there’s something demanding about his tone. I sit immediately.

“If you want to talk about Kyle,” I begin, “you need to know?—”

“We got the rest of the security camera footage back,” he says, cutting me off.

My stomach sinks. “More?”

“We have all of it now.”

This is what I’ve been waiting for, dreading. Mr. Lake knows I lied about my whereabouts that night. He knows I opened the computer lab door.

“There’s a couple of pieces of footage I’d like us to go through together,” he says.

“Mr. Lake, I can explain?—”

“Let’s just watch the tapes,” he says, cutting me off again. He turns his computer screen to face me, just as he did yesterday with Coach Reynolds in the room. This time, however, it’s just the two of us, the enormity of my anxiety and guilt enough to swallow me whole.

The video begins to play, but instead of the six small screens that were present yesterday, Mr. Lake has already zoomed into one screen: the back parking lot.

In the bottom left corner, I can see the time and date from when the footage was taken. It’s close to midnight when a shadowy figure appears. It’s me, confidently opening the door. I poke my head from left to right before bending down and grabbing a small rock. I prop the door open and, just as quickly, leave again.

Mr. Lake halts the video and looks at me.

“Can you tell me what that was about?”

“I…I don’t know,” I say.

“We’ve discussed your whereabouts at length,” he says. “You never mentioned you opened one of the doors to the school.”

“I don’t remember.” I try to make my voice strong and confident, but it’s not working. Beneath his desk, my fingers begin to shake.

“One of the two chaperones present the night of the lock-in deliberately opened one of the exterior doors a couple of hours before one of our students went missing,” he says, plainly. “That’s a big deal.”

I bite my bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. I don’t have a convincing story. Even if I did, I’m not sure I could use it now. I’m so tired of lying.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Evie.”

“I’ve been convinced we weren’t getting the whole story since that night,” he says. “But I didn’t think the lies were coming from you.”

“I’m not lying!”

“And weren’t you there when the video footage was contaminated?”

“Yes, but Joanna?—”

I realize how useless that sounds. He’s already suspicious of me, and nothing I say will change that.

“The police are already reviewing the footage. I feel sure they’ll be in contact with you soon,” he says. “That’s all for now.”

I shoot up to a standing position. “Mr. Lake, please. You need to listen?—”

He holds up his hand, silencing me. “I think it’s best you talk directly to the police from here on out. I know you’re fond of reaching out to them instead of me, anyway.”

I turn slowly and exit the room.