“Guess not,” I say. Lurid pictures of Ryan and Lori run around in my head. My stomach roils.
“You mad at me?” Ryan asks. “Because you act mad.”
“Did you catch up your grades?”
“Mostly. Still a little heat in math.”
“But not in world history, I'll bet.”
He gives me a funny look. “I do all right.”
I'll bet you do, I think. I want to spew angry words at him. I want him to know that what he's doing is horrible. I want him to know how he's crushed me, how bad I'm hurting. I say nothing.
Joel comes off the porch. “Got to run, Ry.”
Ryan hangs back. “I can walk home from here.”
“No,” I say. “Go on. I've got stuff to do.”
He looks surprised. Probably never remembers a time I haven't begged him to stay. “Okay. I'll see you around.”
I watch them drive away. I don't know how long I stand staring into space, but at some point I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look down at Cory. He reaches up and touches my cheek, pulls his hand away and stares at his finger. “Wet,” he says.
I wipe my face. I've been crying without realizing it. I take the ball from his other hand and smash it hard into the ground.
Three days later I make up my mind. I know exactly what I'm going to do.
Ryan
We have a substitute teacher in world history today. I knew about her ahead of time because Lori called my cell last night and said she didn't feel good and was taking a sick day. I thought about cutting class, but I have a test next period, so what good will an hour of not being here get me? I sit and doodle on my notebook cover and wait for the bell to ring.
The door of the classroom opens and Mr. Sampson, our assistant principal, steps inside. Everyone looks up because it must be important if Sampson comes into a classroom. “May I help you?” the sub asks.
“Ryan Piccoli,” Sampson says.
I bolt upright. Me? He wants me?
The guy in the seat behind me pokes me in the shoulder. “What did you do, man?”
“Ryan?” the sub asks, glancing around the room because she doesn't know who's who.
I stand. “Yes,” I say.
“Come with me,” Sampson says.
“What's up?” I ask the second we're in the hall.
“Mrs. Dexter's office” is all he tells me.
I'm racking my brain, trying to figure out what I did to get called to the office. A scary thought suddenly hits me. “Is it my dad? Did something happen—”
“Nothing like that,” he says.
I feel momentary relief and then we're at the office and Sampson's taking me into Dexter's inner sanctum. She's there along with a man and a woman. I know in my gut that they're cops.
Dexter points to a chair. “Ryan, please sit down.”
I ease into the chair and she introduces the two as Detectives Cole and Sanchez. Everyone's staring at me.
“Your father's out of town?” Dexter asks.
“Until tomorrow.”
“Is there anyone you can stay with?”
“Why?”
“We want you in protective custody.”
My brain's spinning. “Why?”
She opens a manila folder on her desk and hands me a single sheet of paper from a thick stack. I read the first few words and right away I know what's going on. They've found out about me and Lori. My stomach heaves and I start to sweat. I'm scared.
“These detectives are going to arrest her, Ryan. She's going to jail.”
“But—”
I struggle to stand, but one cop, Sanchez, I think, puts his hand on my shoulder. “Stay put, son.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“You're not in trouble, but she's perpetrated a crime,” Sanchez says.
My head's spinning and all I want to do is run. “No crime. I—I wanted to be with her.”
“She's a predator, Ryan. A sexual predator.” Dexter's face looks pale. “She's taken terrible advantage of you. And you're not the first young man she has a sexual history with, either. Not the first, but if I can help it, you'll be the last.”
Ryan
The people in Dexter's office keep talking to me. I see their lips moving, but I'm not listening. All I hear over and over is Dexter's voice: “… And you're not the first young man she has a sexual history with, either.” I think about all the times Lori's said she loves me. I thought I was special, the first.
At some point I ask, “Can I go get my stuff from my class?”
“I'll go with you,” Sampson says.
I don't argue, just try to figure a way to lose him. We head down the hall and I catch a break when the bell rings and the hall fills up. Since he isn't holding on to me, I duck and slither between groups of jabbering girls.
“Hey!” he yells.
Startled, the girls look at Sampson and stop walking. Without meaning to, they block him and I break away. I dash down a hallway to where Joel's next class is meeting and catch him at the door. “Keys,” I say.
“What's the matter?”
“Now!”
He hands over his car keys. “What's—”
I hear nothing more because I'm hitting an exit door and running to the parking lot.
I pound on Lori's door and when she opens it, I shove my way inside.
“Ryan! What's wrong?”
“They know about us.”
“What?” All the color leaves her face.
“Dexter dragged me into her office and there were cops, too.”
“But how—”
“She had a whole stack of e-mails. The ones we sent each other.”
“You didn't erase them?”
“I filed them,” I say. “Password-protected everything. I don't know how this happened.” I go into her kitchen. There are a big pot boiling on the stove and chopped vegetables lying on a cutting board.
“Oh my God.” She sags against the counter. “You should have erased them. Why did you save them?”
The tone of her voice is like a hard slap—a teacher's voice scolding me. “Don't put this on me. I liked to read them to be nearer to you.”
“I'm sorry, baby. I—I didn't mean to yell at you. This is terrible. Really bad.”
I cut her off. “Dexter said there were others. Like me. Other guys.”
