Page 17 of One of Our Own

I lifted up the mattress to see if he’d tucked anything underneath it, since that was one of my favorite hiding spots when I was a teenager. There was nothing. I moved to his nightstand and rifled through the drawer. It was practically empty except for a box of condoms and gum wrappers. I walked over to his dresser and pulled out each drawer, rifling through them one by one, being careful not to mess up his folded and color-coded clothes. I came up empty-handed there, too.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in his room. No clues. But that didn’t make me feel any better. What I really needed was to get into his phone again. I’d only skimmed things the other morning when I was looking for the video. I hadn’t delved into anything deeply, hadn’t looked for any hidden apps. How was it possible that had only been two nights ago?

I walked over to his closet and opened the door. This was his only messy place: out of sight and out of mind. It reminded me of Monica’s hallway closet onFriends. His backpacks and shoes cluttered the floor, you couldn’t even see the carpet. The kid had so many shoes it was ridiculous. Clothes were stuffed everywhere, especially in the back. He was really good about doing all of his chores except laundry: he’d wait until he was on his last pair of clean socks before he did it. I’d stopped doing his clothes for him a few years back—in addition to needing his help around the house, I wasn’t raising a man who expected people to take care of him. He was going to be a man that carried his load of household responsibilities if I had anything to do with it.

I rifled through all the stuff, cleaning and organizing as I went. I hung his backpacks on their hooks. Put his shoes in their places. He wouldn’t be mad about me being in his room if I was helping out by cleaning the closet, right? Dirty clothes were mixed in with the clean ones, and I separated them, cringing when I grabbed a pair of his ex-girlfriend’s tiny white underwear. I hurriedly tossed them in the hamper with the other dirty clothes. I’d always wondered if they were having sex, but I didn’t need to wonder anymore. I hoped he used the condoms in the drawer. There was a shoebox I didn’t recognize next to his red Jordans and I was surprised to discover it held all the sentimental things from their relationship—all the monthly anniversary cards she sent him, her favorite T-shirt, the teddybear she gave him after he got his wisdom teeth pulled, and their formal Christmas pictures she’d forced him to get done. I shook my head. He told me he’d given her back all her stuff and thrown everything else out. He swore their breakup didn’t bother him, but maybe he was just embarrassed to admit that he was missing her and hurting over it. Could Marissa have something to do with this?

They’d only been together for five months, but it seemed like an intense five months. The two of them had been practically inseparable, to the point where he started neglecting hanging out with his other friends, and even studying less. I was afraid she was one of those girls who’d attach themselves to a Division 1 athlete, since that’s where he was headed, except he wouldn’t be going anywhere if he let a relationship derail his focus. But just when I started getting worried and toying with the idea of approaching him about it, they abruptly broke up. I overheard a few screaming matches over FaceTime, and then nothing. He’d said she was done and gone, that he was over it. He’d even said having a girlfriend in high school was stupid, and I’d agreed.

Was she the girl he and Shai fought about? I hung up the last few jackets, then grabbed the basket to take downstairs to the laundry room and shut the door. I took one last glance at his room behind me.

Everything was in its place. You couldn’t tell I’d even been in there except for the organized closet, which now matched the rest of the room. I rested my hand on the doorknob. Maybe it was finally over. The girl was going to tell her parents, and it was just a weird coincidence that Hunter was at the same party. It seemed like he could be lying to me about his ex-girlfriend, so he might’ve been equally embarrassed about whatever happened that night. Maybe I’d done all I could for both of them, and it was time tofinally let it go, like Stan suggested. Get back to my own life again. I shut the door behind me, feeling peaceful for the first time in three days. I thought about taking a break from the call center until I regained my bearings. This had all been so much to process, and I might need some time to find normal again. But my peace of mind didn’t last for long.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Turn on Sky News right now!!!Stan texted me just as I was getting ready to leave for the office after working from home most of the morning. I headed right back inside the house, hurrying to the living room. I turned on the TV above the mantel and pulled up the guide to find the channel, since I rarely watched the local news.

Miguel and Rachel had been doing the morning show for the last twenty years. Hunter and I made fun of their bad plastic surgery on the rare occasions when we did watch. Rural Wisconsin didn’t have the best plastic surgeons, and I always told him I’d go somewhere else to get work done if I were them. They looked like cartoon characters with their shiny, botoxed foreheads and ridiculously plump lips. Eyebrows off-kilter and crooked. This morning they were joking around, bantering back and forth as they returned from the commercial break. The camera focused in on them while they got ready to introduce the next segment.

“And now, for our next story,” Rachel said, turning to Miguel. “Why don’t you tell everyone what we have next?”

Miguel nodded enthusiastically, then his face turned serious. “The Danes say a terrible assault occurred three weeks ago when their freshman daughter was at a local party. The assailants recorded a video of the girl that’s now being passed around school.The parents are asking for your help in identifying the people involved in the attack, and bringing their daughter justice. They’re here with us today to talk about the incident, and they’re asking for anyone with information about the video or the party where it was recorded to come forward.”

I froze in front of the TV. Everything stilled. I could barely swallow. It’d been two days since I’d heard from the girl—I’d replied to our last text chain a couple times to see how she was doing, and if she’d told her parents, but she hadn’t responded. I’d taken it as “no news is good news” and hoped she didn’t need me anymore because they were helping her. That was the point in making her tell them, and I thought it had worked. This was all supposed to be over.

A separate window with a video popped up on the TV screen. Mr. and Mrs. Danes sat together on a sofa in what I assumed was their living room. Mrs. Danes looked distraught. Her eyes were red and puffy. She’d probably been crying since she found out. Mr. Danes looked angry. She leaned into him for support, and he sat tall like a stiff board. His lips were pressed in a straight line. A vein throbbed in his jaw while he anxiously worked it, desperately trying to keep it together.

“Mr. and Mrs. Danes, thank you so much for being here today. I know this must be incredibly hard for you,” Rachel opened. “Can you tell us a little bit more about what happened to your daughter?”

“Absolutely.” Mr. Danes stared directly into the camera. His deep brown eyes seared into the audience. “The community needs to know we have predators in our midst. Our daughter, Chloe, came to us a few nights ago and let us know she’d been raped and assaulted by a group of boys while she was at a party.” He spoke like even the words tasted bad. Like he was spitting them out.“This is TV, and there might be children watching, so I’ll spare you the details, but they brutalized my daughter. The things they did to her…” His voice cracked. Mrs. Danes gripped his hand while he struggled to gain control of his emotions. “And as if that wasn’t enough, those monsters recorded her. They made a video, and it’s been circulating on social media for almost a week.”

Miguel’s and Rachel’s faces filled with concern. Both of them were parents, too. Miguel spoke first. “Before we go any further, I just want to say I’m so sorry that happened to your daughter. She—”

“Chloe.” Mr. Danes interrupted him and stared into the camera. “Her name is Chloe. She’s not just some anonymous girl in a video that you can trash-talk online. She’s a real girl with hopes and dreams. One that has parents and siblings that love her. Who plays volleyball and runs track in the spring. She’s an innocent little girl, and she has a name.” He reached beside him and grabbed something—a framed photo—that he held up to the camera for all of us to see. “This is Chloe. You see her?” He leaned over and shoved the picture even closer to the camera, pointing to it with his other hand. “That’s who she is. She’s a real person, you monsters.”

I didn’t know her name. Her identity. She’d been just this anonymous voice on the phone. And then suddenly, there she was, right in front of my face. They used one of her school photos from Buckley, and I recognized the navy blue polo shirt with the white letters. The same one Hunter donned every day. I’d helped him find a clean one this morning. She was young—really young. Hazel eyes sparkling with light. Her smile was wide, exposing a set of braces like any other ninth grader’s. A dash of freckles sprinkled across her nose. A tiny mole on her cheek underneath her eye.

Chloe Danes.

That was her name. Having a name and a face made it so much more personal.

Miguel and Rachel were both caught off guard, too. Neither of them had expected the photo. That ripped Chloe’s anonymity wide open, and she was a minor. Had she given her consent to this interview? Did she know it was happening? My thoughts tumbled over each other, trying to make sense of it all.

“We’ve spent lots of time discussing the dehumanization and bullying that happens on social media, especially among young people. What is it you’d like to say to people today?” Rachel asked, quickly recovering from the shock of the unexpected photo—it was live TV, she had no other choice. She couldn’t just end the interview.

“First, stop sharing the video and stop watching it. Please. You’re no better than the monsters who recorded it, and you’re breaking the law since she’s a minor. All you’re doing by watching that trash is further victimizing her. Stop.” Mrs. Danes started silently weeping next to her husband. She buried her face in his shoulder while she cried. I could feel her pain through the screen. “Our daughter was drugged while attending a party at a local student’s house, and we’re going after everyone involved. The parents who hosted the party. The people that gave her the drugs. Whoever sold the drugs to those guys in the first place. We’re going to find every single person involved in hurting our daughter, and we’re going to make sure there are serious consequences for what they did to her.”

“Has an official report been filed with the police?” Rachel asked.

“Of course. It’s the first thing we did once we found out, and the police are working hand in hand with us to bring those monsters to justice. This is what happens when you let grown men attend high school. They werementhat attacked my daughter.” Mr. Danes furiously shook his head.

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I’m following you.”

The more he talked, the angrier he got, while his wife curled more and more into herself like she wanted to disappear from the entire moment. “It was an upperclassman party that she got invited to. Do you know how many seniors at Buckley are actually nineteen and even twenty years old? You let your boys be held back so they can play sports and develop advantages, then put them in class with children? We’re going after every single one of them.”

“Are you saying that she knew her attackers? They were her classmates?”

Mr. Dane shook his head. “Like I said, she was drugged, so she’s having a difficult time identifying who they were, but I know those boys were there. It’s why we didn’t allow her to go to the party in the first place. It’s why we keep her away from all that. Our young girls should not have to go to school with grown men.”

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