Jake

Monday morning, the sound of Mom’s phone ringing wakes me. Stretching in a patch of sunlight, I feel calm inside, as if I’ve landed on my feet and can’t spin away. Dad didn’t abandon us; he didn’t give up. He just didn’t win his last fight. I guess none of us do.

Mom knocks on my door.

“Yeah.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes with one hand and reaching for a T-shirt to throw on with the other.

She enters my room, pale and shaking. “That was Detective Underwood. She needs to speak to us right away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Something’s happened and we have an appointment at ten. Mr. Cline will meet us there. Oh, Jake…what if—”

“Hey,” I say, hugging her. “It’s going to be okay.”

I’m not talking about the appointment, and I think she knows that. No matter what happens, I think I’m going to be okay.

At ten o’ clock, a cop escorts Mom and me to the same cold interrogation room as before. I gave Cole a huge hug before school today because I don’t know if I’m coming home or getting arrested.

My lawyer, Mr. Cline, is pacing when we enter the room, and I calculate how much this is costing my mom, at three hundred bucks an hour. He spots us and he’s excited. “Jake! Mona!”

I smile. Was he expecting some other mother-and-son duo?

We sit, and Mr. Cline inhales a deep breath and closes his eyes, seeming to gather his thoughts.

I can’t stand the waiting. “What’s going on? Did Tegan wake up?”

The lawyer answers. “No, she didn’t. I don’t know where to begin.” He places his hands delicately on the table between us. “First, the police captured Shawna’s boyfriend last night. I don’t have all the details, but Marcus is cutting a deal. He’s confessing to some things that could be very good for you, Jake.”

“Like putting Tegan in that bench or killing Shawna?”

Mr. Cline frowns. “No, not that.”

I curl my hands around my head. “Then how is this good for me?”

“Detective Underwood will explain everything. You have Jessica to thank for this break in the case.” Mr. Cline meets my confused gaze. “After abandoning his cave at Blind Beach, Marcus holed up on an illegal cannabis farm in Mendocino County. But last night, Jessica lured him to the sandwich shop where she works, trapped him inside, and called the police.”

“What?”

“She’s safe now, don’t worry, but I’ll be honest with you. They were each injured in the altercation. They were treated and released, but his injuries are worse. Jessica broke his wrist.”

Fury and terror roar up from my gut and mix sickeningly in my chest. I imagine Jess battling Marcus, a man bigger than her, stronger than her, meaner than her—and I know she did it for me. “I need to see her.”

“She’s home safe. Ah, here’s Detective Underwood.”

When Detective Underwood and Officer Lee enter, Underwood offers each of us a cup of coffee, and her tone has completely changed since the last time I saw her. She’s humble, like my dog Otis after a scolding. Officer Lee winks at me, a friendly, almost conspiratorial gesture that I can’t interpret.

“Is the room too hot or too cold?” Underwood asks. She’s never cared about my comfort before, and I shake my head.

“Let’s begin, then.” She doesn’t read me my rights or record the interview, and that also sets me at ease. “Jake, you probably heard that Jessica Sanchez’s actions led to the arrest of Daniel Marcus Lancaster, who goes by his middle name, ‘Marcus,’” Underwood says with an undertone of grudging respect.

“He broke probation for a prior conviction in Nevada, which is why he’s been hiding from us, but now he’s cooperating as much as his lawyer will allow. Between Marcus’s statements, the discovery of some new evidence, and some creative detective work”—she points at Lee—“we’ve come to view Tegan’s party in a new light. What happened there is layers deep, Jake. Layers deep.” She pinches the skin between her eyes as if weary of the whole thing. “We’ve informed Mr. Cline as to the basics, and Officer Lee will take over from here.”

Crystal Cove’s ex-cheerleader sits taller in her chair and smiles warmly. “Thanks for coming in today,” she says, showing more confidence in front of Underwood than she has in the past. “I want to show you something.” She turns a laptop around so my mom, Mr. Cline, and I can see the screen. “I’d like you to watch these clips I’ve singled out.”

Lee touches the play button, and then Mom and I are transported back in time to Tegan’s party.

“Big house,” Mom comments as her eyes scan the screen.

The first clip shows me by the keg in the kitchen with Jess where I fill my cup with beer, and subsequent clips show us separating, then Manny and me playing pool. Lee taps on her pad of paper. “It took you thirty-two minutes to finish your first drink.”

I blow out a breath and glance at my lawyer. “Is this an intervention or something?”

Officer Lee answers. “Nothing like that. Bear with me, okay?”

I nod and shift my gaze back to the laptop and the next clip, which is of me drinking a second beer and playing another round of pool. Then the time stamp jumps to over an hour later. I’m by the swimming pool, arguing with Jess. I gulp my third beer and slam it down. She leaves, angry. “I told Jess she wasn’t any fun,” I explain to Mom.

She frowns at me.

The following clip shows Tegan approaching me with two shot glasses, and I start to squirm. “Do we have to watch this? I was there. I remember this part.”

“I’d like you to watch, Jake. It’s important.” Lee’s eyes plead with me to give her a chance.

I cross my arms behind my head. Fuck it, I can face what I did, but I don’t know why my mom and lawyer need to see this. Tegan’s swimming pool glitters on the tiny laptop screen, taking me back to that night. The Jake on camera is oblivious to how badly he’s about to fuck up his life. I watch myself toss back the small shot glass that reads Drink Me.

“This is where things get interesting,” says Lee. “After that shot, you dance for forty-three minutes, but watch how your demeanor changes.”

I study the screen. Before the shot of alcohol, I was standoffish—my arms crossed, my eyes scanning around for Jess. Twenty minutes after the shot, I’m wide open, letting girls get close, stroking their skin, grinding against their bodies, including Tegan’s—especially Tegan’s.

Sitting beside my mother at the police station, my cheeks flush with heat because this—this isn’t me. I don’t flirt when I have a girlfriend, not even when I’m drunk. “What the fuck?” I whisper.

Lee forwards to the last clip. “This is when you follow Tegan into her bedroom.”

My eyes dart to my mother’s face, which is twitching but expressionless.

On-screen, Tegan and I check upstairs for Jessica and then arrive at Tegan’s door. She hovers behind me, her lips smiling. Then we disappear into her bedroom. Watching it makes me sick. I wave my hand. “Can we stop? I already admitted I got wasted.”

“Please let her finish,” says Mr. Cline.

“That’s the thing, Jake—you didn’t get wasted,” says Lee, her gaze triumphant. “The family’s home security system covers almost every inch of their house. Until we lost coverage at two forty-two a.m., we could see everything. I’ve watched the footage half a dozen times, and you’re never out of sight until you and Tegan enter her bedroom.”

She consults her notes. “You drank a total of three beers and one shot of tequila over a two-and-a-half-hour period. Given your height and weight, our medical expert doesn’t believe you consumed nearly enough alcohol to black out and still be sick and hungover the next morning. What I found interesting is that you grew more intoxicated after you ceased drinking, and the evidence shows you didn’t accept any drugs offered at the party.”

Lee watches my reaction and continues. “I began to develop a theory about what happened to you, Jake. And now—thanks to the quick thinking of your girlfriend—we’ve apprehended Marcus. After confronting him with my theory last night and doing some more digging, I’ve confirmed it. The truth is, Tegan Sheffield drugged you.”

Mom’s hands begin to shake. “You’re saying my son was roofied?”

“This changes everything,” says Mr. Cline.

Lee nods. “Marcus sold Tegan what he referred to as a ‘love potion’ for Jake’s drink. But then someone drugged her too, and that was not part of the plan.”

My stomach drops. “Why would she do that to me?”

Underwood grimaces. “To win the bet. According to Marcus, Tegan told Shawna she was very worried you would refuse the kiss, so she bought the potion from him to spike your drink.”

“Holy mother of God,” Mom says, crossing herself.

My lawyer smiles encouragingly at me as Underwood continues. “When Officer Lee visited the evidence locker last week, she located all the shot glasses labeled Drink Me and had them tested. Two glasses, not one, contained trace elements of illegal substances. The fingerprints and saliva on those glasses matched your and Tegan’s profiles.

“The reason you don’t remember anything, Jake, is because Tegan laced your drink with GHB and liquid ecstasy. Everything you experienced afterward is consistent with the effects of these powerful drugs. GHB causes memory loss and compliance, and the stimulant in ecstasy enhances libido and sex drive, ensuring your ability to…perform.”

Lee clears her throat. “What we don’t know yet is who drugged Tegan and whether or not she set up the camera and synced it to the TV. There’s no evidence that Tegan planned to record herself or authorized any of her friends to do so. We believe that whoever drugged her thought it would be funny to watch her lose control. Overall, this appears to be a double cross against Tegan that went horribly wrong.”

Mom pales. “A double cross?”

“I’m sorry,” Officer Lee says. “I know this is hard.”

Underwood produces a notebook from her packet of papers and shows us the opened page. “Ms. Moore found Shawna’s diary after Friday’s vigil. We believe this line—‘If Jake knew the truth…he would kill us all’—refers to the spiked drink. And this line—‘I should turn him in’—refers to her drug-dealer boyfriend who sold the chemicals.”

“But who drugged Tegan?” I ask.

“We’re still looking into that and into Shawna’s death.” Lee glances at me, saddened and curious, and I can’t believe any of this.

Underwood releases a loud sigh and nods at Lee. “Our wunderkind officer didn’t solve every mystery, and that includes who put Tegan in the storage bench. It wasn’t Marcus. He left the party at one-forty a.m. and showed up on casino CCTV footage at two-thirty a.m. He stayed until about five Sunday morning, playing blackjack, and then drove home. Also, the missing camera is still at large. Marcus told Jessica he had it, but he lied. The one he brought to the sandwich shop was a fake. Tegan’s attacker is still at large.”

I start to fidget. “How do you know it’s not me?”

“We don’t,” says Underwood, folding her big hands in her lap. “My theory remains that you and your girlfriend colluded to seek revenge for the video.”

I laugh at that, and Mom shakes her dark hair, her body vibrating with emotions. “My son would not hurt any girl.”

Mr. Cline nods vehemently. “If this goes to court, it will be a very tough case for a prosecutor to win.” He stabs the table with his finger. “My medical expert will argue that Jake can’t be held responsible for his actions while drugged, and I will prove that Tegan Sheffield is a predator. She stalked and harassed my client online, dosed him with mind-altering chemicals that lowered his inhibitions and induced amnesia, and then seduced him. While her assault may have backfired against her, Tegan planned a dangerous attack against Jake that could have ended in his death. If my client had to fight his way out of that bedroom, it was self-defense.” Mr. Cline trembles with fervor. “Tell Jake about the blood.”

Underwood deflates. “The blood on your T-shirt doesn’t belong to Tegan. It’s yours, Jake. You must have wiped your injured foot with it. And we swept the storage bench for fingerprints. None of them are yours.”

“Tell him about Shawna,” says Mr. Cline.

“The DNA beneath her nails did not match yours, Jake.”

“Unbelievable.” Mom rocks in her chair, shaking her head. “So you don’t have any evidence against him?”

Underwood bristles. “What we have are two students, Jake and Jessica, who lied to the police and hid Tegan’s cell phone from us, Ms. Healy.”

Mom stands up. “No, what you have are two kids who got scared and can’t see around corners. You have put my son through hell, you know that?”

The taller woman flushes. “That was not my intention.”

Lee pours each of us a cup of water and clears her throat. “I want to assure you both that if we have enough evidence for a conviction, the DA will prosecute Tegan for what she did to Jake.”

My guts twist. “But after she drugged me, someone drugged her. How can she be held responsible if I can’t?”

Lee nods. “That’s a good question, but Tegan was of sound mind when she purchased the drugs from Marcus, plotted to seduce you, and possibly set up the camera. We don’t believe she intended anything more than the kiss, but that doesn’t reduce the criminality of her actions.”

Next Officer Lee slides a pamphlet across the table titled Drug-Assisted Sexual Assault. I stare at it, stunned, and then it hits me—all of it.

I was drugged and raped.

Suddenly I can’t breathe. The veins in my arms bulge as I clench and unclench my hands. “No!” I shove the pamphlet off the table. “No, no, no.” The room spins. My chest tightens. I reel out of my chair.

Everyone stands up; the fluorescent bulbs hum. “Jake, you’re okay. Put your head down and take deep, slow breaths,” Lee says.

I prop myself against the wall, warn them to stay away with my hands. I’m not going to let these people baby me, and I’m not going to pass out. I count to one hundred and get myself under control. The room is so quiet, I hear the wall clock ticking.

Officer Lee’s voice fills the silence. “What happened isn’t your fault.”

Tears blur my vision and I point to the laptop. “But—I—she didn’t force me. I saw the video.”

My mom reaches for the tissues, crying silently.

Lee leans closer. “Jake, please hear me, truly hear me. She overcame your defenses with chemicals. It was an attack as real as a physical attack. Your mom tells me you’ve been very emotional since the party. You’re not going to heal from this until you accept the truth.”

The truth. I squeeze shut my eyes as my heart thumps in my chest. Then fresh understanding floods me. I didn’t betray Jessica. The horrible thing that happened—that’s been plaguing me—it wasn’t something I did. It was something horrible that was done to me. Deep tremors roll through my body.

Mom guides me back to my chair, her hands gentle on my shoulders.

My brain continues to whirl. I didn’t cheat, but to accept that, I must face the disgusting truth that I was drugged and manipulated for the sick pleasure of someone else. I must face the fact that I was used—completely and helplessly against my will while my classmates watched—that I am a victim.

My soul darkens and my anger rises like smoke. I manage to speak without yelling. “So, I couldn’t have done anything to stop it?”

“No, Jake, you couldn’t,” says Officer Lee.

Fury chomps at me like the waves of the Pacific, heartless and cold and relentless, taunting me, threatening me, but leaving me only half drowned, and I groan from the weight of it. I want to run or hide or explode, but I can’t do anything. It happened.

Victim. I reject the word even as it sets me free.

“What now?” Mom asks. “What about the missing camera with the footage of Jake?”

Underwood closes her yellow folder. “It’s a mystery. We’ll continue doing our jobs, processing evidence, and unraveling the lies from that night until we understand everything. As soon as she wakes up and her doctors and lawyers allow it, we’ll interview Tegan.”

Officer Lee turns to me. “The offer for counseling stands, Jake. Please let us know if we can be of assistance.”

I shake my head at them, feeling whiplashed by the meeting. They called Tegan a predator, called me a victim. They’d still like to arrest me, but they also want to offer me counseling. I turn to my mom. “Let’s go.”

We walk out of the police station and into the sunshine. Mom grabs me and hugs me so tight that we both start to cry. “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too.” A coiled and ugly burden unfolds and lifts from my chest. I didn’t betray my girlfriend. After inhaling deeply, I release a breath that flows toward the sea, fresh and free, like the wind. As Mom and I walk to the minivan, I feel lighter. I feel redeemed.

I am the man I thought I was.