The rest of the day was fairly uneventful until her last period, where she ran into Troy Stillwell, Deon Stillwell and Vicky’s friend, Alicia’s, son. Troy was good-looking and he knew it. There was something off-putting about his attitude toward the girls who were embarrassingly interested in catching his eye. She’d seen it before. The cool guy who knew he was cool, who enjoyed the adoration of the girls, but regarded them as pawns in his life.
But she didn’t know him. It was too early to make such a damning assessment.
Just because you don’t like his father doesn’t mean the son shares the same bad behavior.
Yet Troy looked enough like Deon to bring back that dreadful night when he’d grabbed her crotch and Emma had been attacked. And his behavior around his classmates did not bode well for indicating what kind of person he was.
You were there, too, the girl in her first-period class had said to Tyler Stapleton, and he’d responded, Try Troy and Greer. . . .
Where had the boys been and when?
Her mind went to whomever had scared Marissa. Could that be what the girl had been referring to? Were the boys involved? Had they taken a joke too far and now wanted to act like it hadn’t happened? Already Vicky was putting space between that event and her son. Maybe it wasn’t what it was all about . . . but maybe it was.
After school, Jamie gathered up her belongings. She hadn’t heard yet whether she would be on for another day, but she thought she might be. It was good to be working, bringing in some income.
She was outside, walking by the gym, intending to meet up with Harley at her car, when one of the gym’s double doors were flung open and a boy stomped out with Robbie Padilla on his heels. “Where are you going?” Robbie demanded.
“Home,” the boy snarled. Troy Stillwell.
“I told you, your father’s coming here,” Robbie reminded him.
“I don’t give a shit.” Troy locked eyes with Jamie. “What are you looking at?”
Jamie had dealt with teen aggression before, but she felt ill-equipped this time, being that Troy was Deon Stillwell and Alicia’s son.
She looked past him to Robbie, whose anger had reddened his face. Troy swept past Jamie and crossed the parking lot, breaking into a half-run.
“What happened?” Jamie asked, knowing full well Robbie had no reason to talk to her about anything if he didn’t want to.
Robbie angrily shook his head, then said, “Jamie,” as if belatedly realizing who’d spoken up. “That was . . .” He stopped himself, flapped a hand, and muttered, “I just get tired of all the knuckleheaded behavior,” before retreating back inside and closing the door behind him.
When Harley showed up with Marissa, both of them were inordinately quiet. Jamie dove right in. “Okay, which boys came to the Ryersons’ on Saturday night?”
Immediately, both girls looked taken aback, then outraged. “What are you talking about?” Harley demanded.
“You don’t think I was attacked?” Marissa cried at the same moment.
“I’m guessing Troy and Greer.”
Harley’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. Marissa sputtered a couple of times, then she snapped her jaw shut. The corners of her mouth dipped downward and tears filled her eyes.
Jamie sighed. “Oh, Marissa. We only want to help. No one’s going to blame you.”
“Oh yes they are!” Marissa was sure about that as she started to sob. “He came after me! It wasn’t the boys. It was him. He wanted to hurt me!” she wailed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie saw Laura Haynes marching her way. Oh, no. This was all she needed. Another chance to dig a deeper grave with Cooper’s ex.
“I believe you,” Jamie assured her. “I’m glad you’re okay. The boys were there, though. They’re not keeping it a secret. The senior class is wise to it. And Mr. Padilla knows, too.” Jamie was extrapolating, but she figured she was close enough to the truth.
It was at that moment that a silver Dodge Charger sped into the lot, stopping with a screech of brakes. Deon Stillwell stepped from the car. Heavier, but she could tell it was him by the shape of his head. She hadn’t realized she’d committed that aspect of him to memory after he’d sexually assaulted her. Her stomach clenched.
“Mom . . .” Harley murmured, pained.
“Don’t say anything to my mom,” Marissa begged Jamie, eyes huge.
“You need to tell her,” Jamie said, dropping her voice as Laura neared.
“I’ll tell my dad about the guys. I’m not talking to her.”
Deon Stillwell glanced Jamie’s way. Did a classic double take. Though he was across the lot near the gym door, she could see him stop short and hear him ask in surprise, “Emma?”
At that moment, Laura reached them, capturing Jamie’s attention as she sent a scathing look across Harley and Marissa that landed fully on Jamie. “What are you keeping from me?” she demanded.
Jamie resented always being on her heels around this woman. She shot a look Deon’s way, but his back was to her now as he charged up the steps to the gym door, yanked it open, and stepped inside. “Talk to your daughter,” she said shortly to Laura, then touched Harley’s arm and added, “Time to go.”
“You and Cooper and everyone else seem to think I don’t deserve to know what’s going on with my own child,” Laura leveled at her.
“Everyone deserves to know about their own children.” Jamie wanted to grab Harley, who seemed rooted to the spot, and bodily shove her into the Camry, but she didn’t touch her.
“What did you tell her?” she demanded of Marissa.
“I don’t know! Leave me alone!” She turned as if to run off, but Laura snagged her arm. “Marissa,” she said in a warning tone.
“I’m talking to Dad. Not you. Not anyone else!” She jerked her arm free and trudged away, head down.
“Mom . . .” Harley said again. She was now by the passenger door and looking
