from Rickie’s dad and Rickie’s new lawyer and explaining it all to me.
I guess she doesn’t hate me after all.
“Daphne, are you okay?” she repeats. “What did the dean say?”
“She was floored. But she listened. Now she has to go and dig her way through that mess.”
“Not your fault,” my sister says firmly. “Where are you?”
“In the parking lot. Can I come to you and Rickie?”
“Honey, his dad took him home. He needs to get a doctor to look at his broken nose.”
“Oh.” My heart drops. “I have his car.”
“I know, girly. You’re going to have to drive it home. Are you okay to drive? Do you need some food, first?”
I open my mouth to refuse her help. And then I think better of it. “Let’s get some food,” I agree. “And coffee. My treat. And then I’ll let you get back to your life.”
“Sounds nice,” she says.
“I love you,” I choke out. “Thank you for this.”
“I love you, too,” May says. “Now pick a place. I’m starved. Drama makes me hungry.”
So I pick a pizza joint that I used to love.
But not as much as I love May and Rickie.
Forty-Four
Rickie
"I just want you to know that I'm sorry,” my father says, both his hands on the wheel.
"You said, Dad. It's okay." Actually, he's said so about a million times in the last forty-eight hours.
It's Saturday, and my dad is driving me back to Moo U. I'd gone home with him after my dramatic court appearance—after I'd rolled the dice on a not-guilty plea.
The fact that it had worked, and worked immediately, is still hard to get my head around. My lawyer had been right when he'd guessed that the Halsey family didn’t want a trial. That Reardon had too much to lose.
But I still feel raw—like it was a horribly close call. It's as if I almost got into a serious car accident, and can't stop hearing the squeal of the brakes in my head, and can't stop seeing the terror in the other driver's eyes.
I’m not over it.
And now my father can't stop apologizing to me. And my mother can’t stop fussing. When I'd told them what really happened to me—and Paul—they’d been horrified. "I'm glad you sued them! They should pay for letting an animal run wild in a venerable institution." That's his new tune. Like I’m some kind of hero.
I don't feel like one, though. I feel like a loser. He'd wanted to drive me straight to the nearest hospital to have my nose looked at. "And you should sue the cop, too!”
But I'd turned down both those suggestions. I'd asked Dad to take me home instead, to my parents’ house, where I hadn't been since Christmas. I'd just wanted a shower and a bed.
My mother had cried over me. The broken nose didn’t help. I’d felt terrible for making her worry. But after my shower and a great meal and a full night's sleep, I let her take me to a doctor.
He'd pronounced my nose broken, and said to ice it. Quelle surprise.
But I'd stayed two nights with my parents, who were overjoyed. It seems they love me more now that there's a new villain in my story. I hadn’t fallen off a wall and wrecked myself. It was someone else’s fault. They adore this change in the narrative.
But I'm still the same old wreck who's sneaking back into town when Daphne won't be home. I don't know how to process all the harm I brought her. I haven’t spoken to her because she has my car, and therefore my phone charger. My phone died forty-eight hours ago.
And because I'm a damn coward.
But now I open the glove box of my dad’s car, and I find an old charger of mine in there. So finally I plug that sucker in. After ten minutes of driving, my phone reboots. I watch the apple glow on the lock screen as my phone wakes up and remembers itself.
I'm honestly afraid to look at my messages. It's hard to say how widely the inglorious news of my arrest may have spread.
And sure enough, my texts are brimming over with messages—most of them from people named Shipley. I see a text from Daphne, of course. My stomach actually rolls with the sight of her name. But there are messages from Dylan, too, and May. And even Ruth, and Grandpa.
That's the one I open first, because the stakes are low.
August Shipley: I heard you clocked Daphne's ex. I also heard he