Chapter 5 - Rachel Wasn’t Trying To Get Me Expelled
Rachel agreed to meet me because Brooke refused to.
That irritated me enough to go.
We met in a crowded dining hall.
No cakes.
Rachel had a bruise forming along one cheek where I slapped her.
I had one from her punch.
She looked at mine.
“Good.”
I almost smiled.
“Same.”
We sat.
I said:
“You know Lena.”
“Yes.”
“You've known for a year.”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
“I didn't know there was anything to ask.”
Rachel stared.
“You really believe that.”
I hated how she said it.
“What do you want from me?”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“To leave me alone.”
“Before today.”
She took a sip of water.
“I wanted you to correct one story.”
“North Hall.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Lena still gets asked about it.”
“By who?”
“People who know both of you.”
“She left two years ago.”
“She came back.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Not as a student.”
Lena had been working part-time with a city youth nonprofit partnered with the university.
Three afternoons a week.
On campus.
For months.
I had not seen her.
Or she had seen me first.
“What story?”
Rachel looked at me.
“That she walked into your room and attacked you.”
“She grabbed me.”
“After you blocked the door.”
I said nothing.
Rachel continued:
“She doesn't need you to say she was perfect.”
“She wasn't.”
“I know.”
“She screamed at me. Called me names. Grabbed my wrist.”
“Yes.”
“Then what exactly does she want?”
Rachel looked down at her tray.
“To stop being introduced as the girl who assaulted Vanessa Cole.”
That was smaller than I expected.
“Who introduces her that way?”
“People.”
“That's vague.”
“Social circles are vague.”
Fair.
I leaned back.
“So you wanted an apology.”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“I wanted you to say the clip was incomplete.”
“Publicly.”
“If somebody asked.”
“You wanted me to humiliate myself.”
Rachel laughed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You make correction and humiliation the same thing.”
I stared.
She continued.
“I asked you privately twice.”
“Then you talked to Brooke.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Lena told me Brooke had the original.”
“You were trying to get it.”
“Yes.”
“To post.”
“No.”
I didn't believe her.
Rachel saw.
“I wanted to see it.”
“Why?”
“Because Lena remembered blocking the door differently.”
“What does that mean?”
“She thought you stepped in front of her. Brooke thought you locked the door.”
My pulse shifted.
“Did I?”
Rachel shrugged.
“I don't know.”
That mattered.
Nobody had the clean full memory.
Not even the original video necessarily.
Rachel continued:
“I wanted to know what actually happened before I decided whether I was going to keep defending Lena's version.”
That irritated me.
“You doubt her.”
“I doubt everybody after two years.”
Better answer than loyalty.
I looked at her bruise.
“Why did you come to the birthday picnic after I told you not to?”
Rachel stared.
“It was my birthday picnic.”
Right.
Again.
I rubbed my forehead.
She almost smiled.
Then:
“You sent me that message yesterday.”
I froze.
“What message?”
Rachel took out her phone.
A screenshot.
COME TO THE EAST QUAD AT 3. WE END THIS TODAY.
From my number.
I had sent it.
I remembered.
“You came because of that.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was planning something?”
“I assumed you wanted to argue.”
“Brooke didn't warn you?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
Rachel continued:
“She asked if I would be on the quad. I said yes.”
“That's it?”
“Yes.”
Brooke had not recruited Rachel.
Good.
Or worse.
“What does Brooke want?”
Rachel looked toward the windows.
“I think she wants to stop being the person behind your camera.”
That sentence landed differently.
“She's blaming me.”
“No.”
Rachel looked back.
“She keeps saying she did it too.”
I said nothing.
Then Rachel asked:
“Why did you need me to hit you?”
I almost gave her the easy answer.
Because you were going to expose me.
Because Lena was back.
Because Brooke was drifting away.
Instead I heard myself say:
“Because if you hit me, I knew what the room would think.”
Rachel waited.
“And if you didn't?”
I looked away.
“I'd have to keep talking to you.”
That was apparently worse.
Rachel stood.
“We're done.”
I looked up.
“One thing.”
She stopped.
“Are you filing against me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because security saw it.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Rachel looked tired.
“I don't need to make everything that happens to you happen personally.”
Then she left.
My phone vibrated again.
A short video had been posted by an anonymous campus gossip account.
Six seconds.
Rachel punching me.
Nothing before.
Nothing after.
Exactly the clip I had wanted.
May you like
Comments were already turning against her.
And I was the only person in that dining hall who knew how easily I could stop it.
