Page 55 of What Boys Learn

“Then why, Benjamin?”

I risked glancing over but it didn’t help. He was staring hard over his right shoulder, out the window.

“To keep Manny off my ass. He knew I had a copy in several places. Izzy wasn’t even embarrassed when that photo got passed around school. She was proud of her body. She liked to show off her tits.”

“Benjamin—”

“And she was smart. She knew it was a good way to deal with assholes. Tell them you don’t care and they’ll find someone weaker to take down.”

I muttered, “Easier said than done, speaking as a girl. So what happened with Manny?”

“He had a heart attack. He threatened everyone with what he’d do if they didn’t delete it. He tried threatening me and I told him the whole point was I wouldn’t delete it. I’d only forward it to more people if he tried to beat me up.”

I nodded, digesting.

“I saw your face just now,” Benjamin said. “I tell you Manny thought he fucking owned Izzy and you’re like,Okay, hmmm, and I tell you that Manny wanted to beat me up over a girl and you’re like,Yeah, that makes sense, and I tell you Izzy liked to show off her tits and you freaked out. But they’re just tits, Mom. They’re tits!”

“They’re breasts. On a girl who is now dead.”

Red light. When it turned green, I said, “I guess if you delete the photo, they’d still find it—if they get a warrant for your phone.”

“Guess so,” he said, sounding curiously unbothered.

I cleared my throat. “Well, I hope some of this has taught you a lesson.”

He laughed under his breath. “Hell, yeah. Be careful what you put on your phone.”

“Oh, Benjamin.” I risked another glance in time to see a smirk flit across his face. I felt sick. “That’s what you learned? Really?”

“But it was still good advice to keep the photo.”

“Good advice from who?” I asked.

This time, he didn’t answer.

When my phone rang, I looked for a spot on the shoulder where I could pull over.

“What are you doing?” Benjamin asked.

“Phone call.”

“You never pull over.” He looked behind us. “This isn’t even safe. You could have found a parking lot, at least.”

“This could be your lawyer. I’m not waiting.”

But I’d already seen it was Curtis. I waited for the call to go to voicemail, then I started texting.

On the way home with Benj sooner than I thought.

“Like you tell me? ‘Texting and cars don’t mix’?”

“It’s the psychologist we met at the pool. My old professor. I told him the police held you overnight.”

Benjamin sounded disgusted. “Why did you tell him?”

“The same reason I called the lawyer. For backup.”

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