"I think he raped someone."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, stop." If John werethatkind of guy, he'd had himself a nice, easy target last night. But all he'd given me was his coat and a little bit of grief.
Mackenzie was looking insulted now. "I'm serious."
I sighed. "All right, fine. What makes you say that?"
"Because, you know Brad? He was in the parking lot when they shoved him into the police car. And apparently, John kept saying, "She's a freaking liar." Mackenzie lowered her voice. "Except he didn't say 'freaking.'"
At the image, I almost wanted to cry.
Last night, I'd spent almost two hours in that stupid ditch. Without John's coat, I might've frozen to death. Or more likely, I would'vehadto get up and keep walking for warmth.
But walking would've boosted the odds of being seen.
I hadn't wanted to be seen – especially by someone who would've blabbed to my mom, or even worse, to Gordon, my godawful stepdad.
For the last few years, I'd been working hard to keep a low profile. I didn't date. I didn't cause trouble. And, unlike John, I sure as heck didn't get shoved into police cars.
Selfishly, there was a teeny part of me that was stupidly glad that no one had seen the two of us together last night. I felt sorry for him. Really, I did. But the last thing I needed now wasthatkind of attention.
Gordon would flip.
And my mom? She'd be no help at all.
As usual.
As the day progressed, I tried not to think about it. And yet it was all I could think about. In spite of my intentions to not get involved, I started to wonder if there might be something I could do to help.
After all, he'd helpedme, right?
But it wasn't until the end of the school day, when I opened the trunk of my car, that I began to see things in a scary new light.
