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I guess maybe it’s because even though I thought everything was so confusing then, I’ve realized that compared to now, it was way, way simpler.
The following evening, the doorbell rings and I answer it to find a uniformed police officer and a guy in a jacket holding up a badge.
Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg.
“Hi, is your mother home?” Badge Guy asks.
Relief. Maybe he’s after Mom for a speeding ticket or something. She has this problem where she thinks she’s that race car driver Danica Patrick.
“Yeah. I’ll go get her.”
I leave them standing on the doorstep and run into the kitchen.
“Mom! There are two cops at the door. They want to talk to you.”
My mother drops the paring knife she’s holding and puts her hands on the counter, her head bowed and eyes closed. She takes a loud, deep breath and then straightens up and says, “Did they say what it’s about?”
“No. They just asked if you were home and said they want to talk to you.”
“If they ask you anything about that Christian thing, you say nothing,” Mom says. “Do you understand? Nothing.”
Wait. Is she telling me to lie to the police?
“But, Mom …”
“Nothing. I want you to keep your mouth shut. For once in your life, Brea
She goes to the door and I wait in the kitchen, freaking out. Hoping that this is about her, and not me. Or maybe, I think, maybe someone else saw Liam lurking around in the tree fort at night and got scared and reported him. Maybe that’s it. I don’t know what to do if it’s not about those things. I’m supposed to obey my mother, but lying to the police? I’ve watched enough Law & Order reruns to know that’s Serious Business.
Mom comes back in the kitchen, grim-faced.
“They want to speak to you, Brea
This was just supposed to be a prank to teach Lara a lesson. It was never supposed to get this serious. Not hospitals. Not suicide attempts. And definitely not the police.
Mom makes a zip-it gesture as I walk past her. All my life, I’ve been brought up to believe the police are the good guys. So if I lie to them, does that make me one of the bad guys?
But on the other hand, I don’t want to end up in juvie over a stupid joke. I’m not the kind of girl who goes to juvie. Isn’t juvie for really screwed-up bad kids? Definitely not for girls like me.
Badge Guy introduces himself as Detective Souther. Uniform Guy is Officer Timm.
“We’re looking into the Lara Kelley incident,” the detective says.
“Oh, I know, isn’t that terrible?” Mom says. “That poor girl.”
It strikes me then what a seriously awesome liar my mother is. I guess maybe that’s a quality she needs to be the real estate queen of Lake Hills. “Everything I touch turns to sold.”
Maybe that’s why she’s so disappointed with me. Everything I touch seems to turn to dog crap.
“The two of you were close friends at one time,” he says to me.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “In middle school.”
“Speak up, Bree,” Mom snaps.
“In middle school,” I repeat more loudly. “Not so much now.”
“Was there a specific fight, or did you just drift apart?” Officer Timm asks.
“They drifted apart,” Mom says. “Poor Lara has always been … troubled. It became a little too much for Bree, having to act as therapist as well as friend. She needed to have a life of her own.”
“Understandable,” Detective Souther says. “How long ago was that, would you say?”
I open my mouth to say a little over a year ago, when we started high school, but Mom is there first.
“They started drifting apart the summer before high school. And of course once Bree got to high school, there were so many new faces, it was only natural she’d want to spread her wings and make other friends.”
These guys are going to think I can’t speak for myself. Mom couldn’t make it more obvious if she tried that she doesn’t trust me to say the right thing.
“I have a teenage daughter,” Officer Timm says. “These things happen. One minute they’re best friends forever, the next week it turns out ‘forever’ meant until they had a fight.”
“We didn’t fight,” I say. “It wasn’t like that. It was more … just … gradual.”
“So has there been any antagonism between you and Lara Kelley at the present time?” Detective Souther asks.
What is this, the PSAT or something? Antagonism?
“No, we weren’t pissed off at each other, if that’s what you mean.”
Mom gives me a look and I get it. Cut the attitude, Brea
“Do you know a young man by the name of Christian DeWitt?” the detective asks.
I’ve never actually been punched in the stomach, but I imagine this is how it feels. Like all the air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs and there’s a second of total panic because you can’t breathe and you wonder if this is it and you’re going to die before you pull yourself together and manage to inhale.
I stand on the edge of the cliff, poised — this is the moment where I either listen to Mom and lie to the police, or I tell the truth.
I only hesitate for a moment before I decide to jump into the chasm. Because despite the fact I’m fifteen years old, and I’m supposed to be learning how to become my own person, when have I not done what my mom tells me?
“No,” I say, but I can’t help the slight tremor in my voice. “Never heard of him.”
“Are you sure?” the detective asks, looking me straight in the eye.
I know if I look away, he’ll think I’m lying, so as much as it’s wigging me out to maintain eye contact, I do.
“Totally sure,” I say.
I am going to burn for eternity for this. But I obeyed my mother, and honoring my mother is one of the Ten Commandments, so does that give me points for something?
Even though it’s not that hot in the living room, I feel myself start to sweat in the brief, awkward silence that follows. I surreptitiously rub my hands against the side of my jeans, but don’t break eye contact, determined to win the game of blink.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Officer Timm says. He takes a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and opens it up. Then he walks over and holds it out in front of me. “Because you were friends with him on Facebook.”
It’s a printout of Christian’s friend list. And there, among them, with a big red circle around it, is my profile picture.
But I deleted his profile! He’s not there anymore. How did they get that? And now what do I do?
I stare up at Officer Timm, tongue-tied with panic.
My mother doesn’t miss a beat.
“You know how these kids are,” she says, her voice as calm and smooth as a lake on a still summer’s day. “They all friend people they don’t know. I’ve warned Bree and Liam about it more times than I can count, but they still do it.”
Mom looks at me sternly.
“I’m sure Bree didn’t even remember she’d friended him. She has so many friends on that site. I’ll have to go through them with her and make sure she cuts back.” She smiles at the policemen, shaking her head. “You can’t be too careful these days, can you?”
Wow. I take it back when I said Mom was a good liar. She’s a FREAKING EPIC LIAR. Like, Super Liar of the Universe.
Just then, her cell phone rings. She looks at the number.
“Excuse me, I have to answer. These clients are about to make an offer on a big property. Let me see if I can call them back.”
She answers with her “Everything I touch turns to sold” voice.
“Mary Jo Co
Mom presses Mute and says, “I have to take this now. I’ll be out in the hall. It won’t take long.”