Chapter 5: The Girl Behind the Screen
I read the sentence twice.
“What was this for?”
Stacy looked at Emma.
“You promised not to show that.”
“No,” Emma said.
“You told me not to.”
“It was a joke.”
“Explain it to me,” I said.
“What part was funny?”
Stacy pulled out a chair but didn’t sit.
“I was making a before-and-after post.
That picture, then the car.”
“With me as the fool who always gives in?”
“I didn’t call you a fool.”
“You didn’t need to.”
My husband placed the phone on the table.
“You photographed your mother without permission, broadcast us without permission, and planned to use the gift for attention.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“You haven’t said that once,” I replied.
Stacy opened her mouth, then closed it.
Emma moved toward the door.
“I should go.”
“No,” Stacy said.
“You wanted to expose me.
Stay and enjoy it.”
Emma’s hand dropped from the doorknob.
“You think I enjoy this?”
“You always act better than everyone.”
“I defended you on the porch.”
“After making me sound horrible.”
“You did that yourself.”
Stacy’s chair scraped across the floor as she stood.
“Get out.”
“Stacy,” I warned.
Emma’s eyes filled, but she stayed where she was.
“Tell her about the driving-test fee.”
Stacy went still.
“What fee?” I asked.
Emma looked at me.
“My dad’s hours were cut last month.
I was going to cancel my test and use the money for groceries.”
“Emma, don’t.”
“She paid the fee.”
I turned to Stacy.
“You did?”
“It was forty dollars.”
“It was money she’d saved for her birthday dinner,” Emma said.
“She made me promise not to tell anyone.”
My husband pulled out the chair beside him.
“Sit down, Stacy.”
She sank into it.
“Why would you help Emma privately and humiliate her publicly?”
“I didn’t humiliate her.”
“You laughed when she said she had to earn half her car.”
“I was trying to fit in.”
“With Madison and Chloe?”
“You make it sound stupid.”
“It sounds expensive,” my husband said.
“It has cost you your honesty, your friend, and nearly your relationship with your mother.”
Stacy’s face crumpled for a second, but she forced it still.
“You don’t know what they’re like at school.”
Emma nodded.
“Then tell them.”
“No.”
“Tell them what happened last spring.”
Stacy shot to her feet.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this.”
I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.
“What happened last spring?”
Stacy looked at Emma, then at me.
“Ask your perfect little witness.”
Emma shook her head.
“No.
This truth has to come from you.”
Stacy’s phone buzzed again.
May you like
She read the message on the screen and went pale.
The school principal wanted to see all four girls—and their parents—at eight the next morning.
