Backlash

“Daddy, I don’t want to go to school. I don’t feel well.”

“Here’s the thing, honey: You made a big mistake. You did something that was pretty stupid and very wrong. And now there are consequences.” He looks at me with such sadness and disappointment in his eyes that it’s much worse than if he were shouting. “I wish you’d taken a little time to stop and think about the consequences before you did what you did, but you didn’t.”

He sighs. “And neither did your mother, unfortunately.” He reaches over and pats my leg. “Be strong, Breenut. You’ll get through this.” He pauses. “We all will. Somehow.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, as well as me, which tells me how totally screwed I am just as we pull into the school parking lot. My stomach turns over and I’m afraid the Cheerios I had for breakfast are about to come up in a totally uncheery way.

“Please … can’t I just come to work with you? I can help in the stockroom or something.”

Dad pulls up next to the curb and puts the car in park. “Honey, no problem, big or small, gets solved by ru

He reaches over, pulls my head toward him, and kisses the top of my hair, despite my reluctance. “Hang in there. See you later, alligator.”

I get out and slam the car door. I have this half-regurgitated-Cheerio feeling that meeting mistakes head-on is how people end up with brain damage.

Marci and Je

I think about going around the long way and sneaking in the gym entrance to avoid finding out. But then Je

“It’s Bree Co

I swallow the Cheerios back into my stomach with relief. I guess the police haven’t spoken to her yet. And I should have figured that Marci would think being the bestie of a nationwide TV story was a better gig than ragging on me. She puts her arm around me.

“How are you doing, Bree?” she asks. “Are you, like, totally freaking?”

“It’s not a whole lot of fun at the moment,” I admit.

“Can you believe that video of Lara’s dad losing it on your front lawn in his pj’s?” Marci says. “I was dying!”

“It was pretty surreal,” I say. “Especially when the cops showed up.”

“Maybe that’s where Lara gets it from,” Marci says. “Being crazy, I mean.”

Je

“I don’t blame him,” she says. “I’d go crazy, too, if you and your mom did what you did to my kid. If I had a kid, that is.”

“Who are you, getting so judgmental all of a sudden?” Marci asks.

Je

Je

“Of … course … it bothers me. I … never expected her … to, like … try to kill herself.”

“What did you expect, exactly?”

“Jeez, Je

Je

“Wow, what got into her?” Marci says. “It must be that time of the month or something.”

I don’t respond, because deep down I’m pretty sure Je

When I see Je

“Bree … have you heard your outgoing voice mail message?” she asks.

There’s a strange look on her face that makes me get that unCheerio feeling again. “Um … no. Why would I? I don’t call my own cell,” I say.

Je

Hearing her say that brings a lump to my throat.

“You were honest,” I tell her. “But … thanks. I didn’t get your message yet. I leave my phone off in class.”

“Then I think you better hear this,” she says.

She dials my cell number and hands me her phone, her face creased with concern. Instead of my usual “Hi, it’s Bree, you know what to do, so do it after the beep,” my outgoing message says something else. Something that makes my blood run cold.

It says, “I’m Brea

My hands are trembling as I hand the phone back to Je

“No, Bree! You have to keep it for the police!”

I know she’s right, but I don’t want to carry my phone around with that on it. It’s so scary. What if it’s true? What if someone’s really out there, waiting and watching, wanting to hurt me for what I did to Lara?

By the third message, I’m crying. By the fifth one, I’m completely hysterical.

“Don’t listen to any more of them, Bree,” Je

She puts her arm around me and helps me walk down to the office. My legs are shaking so bad I can hardly walk, and it’s hard to see through my tears, but Je

I don’t believe for a second that everything is going to be okay, but I need to hear her say the words. I don’t believe her, because if they can find out my cell number and figure out how to change my outgoing message to tell people to leave me death threats, how can I ever be really safe again?

I WANTED Mom to drive me to school today, but of course she had to stay with Lara, who didn’t sleep well last night because of the press attention, and Mom doesn’t want Dad to drive me like he did yesterday because he almost punched out a photographer who tried to take a picture of us. He has to keep away from the press in case he does something stupid and messes up her campaign even more.