Chapter 1 - Brooke Turned The Camera Around
I knew exactly how I wanted the video to begin.
Not with the cake.
Not with me walking across the lawn.
Not with Brooke asking, quietly, “Are you sure?”
The useful version would begin with Rachel Carter coming toward me angry.
Maybe shoving me.
Better if she swung.
Best if she lost control in front of fifty students and two campus security officers who were already somewhere on the east quad.
That was the version I intended to keep.
Rachel sat at the picnic table with twenty-two candles burning in cheap white frosting.
Her friends had drifted toward the volleyball lawn.
Perfect.
I walked up.
Rachel saw me.
Her expression changed.
“Vanessa.”
I grabbed the cake.
Brooke was filming from six feet away.
Rachel had just enough time to lift one hand.
Then I smashed the entire cake into her face and chest.
Frosting burst across her shirt.
The cardboard base bent.
Rachel jerked backward on the bench.
Someone nearby shouted.
I leaned toward her.
“Come on. Hit me.”
Rachel wiped frosting from her eyes.
She didn't.
That annoyed me.
I had spent three days preparing for angry Rachel.
Calm Rachel was harder to edit.
She stood.
I grabbed her collar and shoved her against the edge of the picnic table.
That did it.
Rachel twisted out and shoved me hard.
I stumbled backward until my lower back hit the bench behind me.
Pain shot through my spine.
I looked immediately at Brooke.
Phone up.
Still recording.
Good.
Rachel saw me look.
Something changed in her face.
“That's what this is?”
I pushed away from the bench.
“What?”
“You want the video.”
I slapped her.
Hard.
Rachel hit me back.
Her fist caught my cheek and spun me sideways.
For a second the whole lawn tilted.
Then I saw Brooke's phone.
Still there.
A laugh nearly escaped me.
There.
That was the clip.
Rachel Carter punching Vanessa Cole at her own birthday picnic.
I rushed her again because one hit wasn't enough.
If Rachel threw me down, even better.
She caught my arm, turned with my momentum, and I hit the grass flat on my back.
The air left me.
Rachel stood over me.
I looked past her.
At Brooke.
“Send it.”
Brooke didn't move.
I pushed myself up.
Two campus security officers were coming fast across the lawn.
Exactly on time.
I pointed at Rachel.
“She attacked me.”
Rachel stared.
“You're insane.”
Security was fifteen yards away.
I expected Brooke to step beside me.
She always stepped beside me.
Instead she lowered the phone.
Walked between us.
Then turned the camera toward me.
My stomach tightened.
“Brooke.”
She kept recording.
“What are you doing?”
The officers slowed several steps behind her.
Brooke looked at me through the screen.
“They were never watching Rachel.”
For the first time that afternoon, I forgot about my cheek.
“Who?”
Brooke said nothing.
One of the officers told everyone to stay where they were.
Students had their phones out now.
Rachel wiped frosting from her mouth.
I looked at Brooke.
“Turn it off.”
“No.”
“Brooke.”
Her face had gone strangely calm.
“You wanted a clean clip.”
I stared.
“What did you send?”
She did not answer.
The officer nearest us said:
“Ms. Cole, put your hands where we can see them.”
I almost laughed.
“You're talking to me?”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked equally confused.
Brooke’s phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
Four short vibrations.
She glanced at the screen.
I saw only the top edge.
Four viewer icons.
Private stream.
My pulse changed.
“You've been live?”
Brooke looked at me.
“For seven minutes.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who is watching?”
She lowered the phone slightly.
Not enough for me to read the names.
Then she said:
“People who wanted to see whether you'd do it again.”
That sentence hit harder than Rachel had.
Again.
May you like
I stared at my best friend.
And understood that whatever Brooke had planned for my birthday trap, she had started planning it long before Rachel’s cake was delivered.
