Vigilante

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The three girls stared at me. I thought maybe they thought I was crazy or paranoid. Zoe spoke first. “You followed him alone?”

I nodded. “To the door, yeah.”

Her face flushed, and I didn’t think it was because she was too warm. “Are you mental? So all that stuff about traveling in groups doesn’t apply to you? Are you, like, Wonder Woman or something? What if he had grabbed you?”

I frowned at her. “I would’ve punched him in the throat.”

She shook her head. “You should’ve taken one of us with you.”

“I didn’t think of it, okay? I’m not used... It’s been a little while since anyone has cared what I do.”

The three of them exchanged glances. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure if they pitied me or thought I was lying.

“Don’t do it again, okay?” Zoe gave me a beseeching look. “If you don’t want to take one of us with you, at least let us know where you’re going so we can find you if you don’t come back right away.”

I nodded. “Okay. We’ll make a deal right now that whenever we’re together we’ll stay together.” But really, how often would we be together? It wasn’t like we were best friends. No one could replace Mags.

The girls smiled, and the heaviness inside me lightened a little. I wasn’t sure how to feel. Responsibility to another person was something I hadn’t had for months. And wasn’t Magda going off on her own one of the things that upset me so much? If she had told me where she was going, maybe I would’ve been able to help her. Instead I’d gone looking for her too late and found her in a bedroom, passed out with her panties wrapped around one ankle and condom wrappers on the floor.

I didn’t want anyone to ever find me that way.

I stuck close to my new friends after that. We all stuck together, moving as a group. I met a few more people who I didn’t really know that well and talked to some that I did. It felt weird, being social. Zoe told every girl we talked to about the self-defense course. A few of them seemed interested, though a couple wrinkled their noses at the idea of violence. I didn’t bother trying to convince them that the class was about protecting yourself rather than hurting someone. They obviously didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to them. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them they were wrong.

Shortly before midnight I realized two things: one—Gabriel had obviously come to his senses and decided not to crash the party, and two—Jason had gone missing.

I glanced around the room, mentally counting female heads to see if anyone was absent. It was impossible to tell as the party took up most of the house.

Where was he? At least Drew and Adam were still visible. That didn’t mean that Jason and Brody weren’t raping a girl somewhere while they waited for their buddies to show up.

It made me anxious. I turned to Anna, who stood next to me, and yelled above the music, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She nodded, then leaned closer to me. “There’s one upstairs. Use that. Someone puked in the one on this floor. If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’ll come looking for you.”

I smiled. It didn’t matter that I could probably take out one or two guys on my own. The three of them had decided that they were my protectors and that the four of us would protect each other. It was as comforting as it was annoying. I didn’t need to be fussed over. I didn’t want to be a girl who needed protection. I wanted to be the girl who kicked ass.

I took my soda with me out of paranoia. I moved through the crowd, which had gotten bigger in the last hour and made my way out to the foyer. As I climbed the stairs to the second floor, I couldn’t help but feel even more out of place. How did people get this wealthy? It was ridiculous.

My heart thumped against my ribs as I climbed. The house wasn’t evil, and it couldn’t hurt me, but every step I took away from the heart of the party, the more anxious I became. Would anyone hear me scream up here?

Every door on that floor was shut, except for one. I walked down the corridor toward it, my gaze traveling over paintings and framed photographs that hung on the walls. Some of the paintings looked old, and they had little gold tags at the bottom of their frames that had their names engraved on them. Every one of them I looked at was a Bentley.

I reached the partially open door and pushed it open. As soon as I looked inside, I knew it wasn’t the bathroom. It was a bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, and I could clearly see posters on the walls and a guitar in the corner.

I could also see Jason passed out on the bed.

There’s a moment—and I believe everyone’s had it—when you have to make a decision whether to act or retreat. I could back out of the room and continue my search for the restroom, or I could close the door behind me and take advantage of the fact that Jason was unconscious.

I knew that most people, decent people, would leave. A good person didn’t take advantage of someone who was too drunk to fight back. But Jason had already proved that he wasn’t a decent person. He and his friends had purposely drugged Magda so they could assault her.

I wasn’t a decent person.

I closed the door and locked it. I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I planned to do it. What if he woke up? Cautiously, I moved toward him. He was on his back, limbs splayed. I reached out with my left hand, keeping my right free in case I needed to hit him, and poked him hard in the leg. He didn’t even make a sound.

His cell phone was on the bed by his hand. I picked it up and pressed the button to wake it up. It didn’t ask for a password, but for a fingerprint. I knew Jason was left-handed from being in class with him, so I took his hand and turned it so that I could press his index finger to the right spot on the phone. Just like that, the phone was unlocked.

I scrolled through his pictures—there were a lot of photos of girls. One of them made my heart thump hard against my ribs and then fall still. Magda. It was a portrait of her, taken at school. I don’t think she knew he’d taken it, because she didn’t look self-conscious. The sight of her, smiling and happy, hurt to the point of physical pain. He’d taken that smile from her, just as he’d taken this photograph without her consent, and he’d been allowed to get away with both.

I stared at him through a veil of scorching tears. There had to be something I could do to make him pay, even just a little bit.

I couldn’t rape him. Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t. That kind of violation would make me as bad as him, and it would make him a victim. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him. I wanted them to mock him and say the kinds of things to him that people had said to Magda after photos and video of her attack had gotten around. I wanted people to see him for what he was.

In my purse I had one of Magda’s lipsticks. Her skin was darker than mine, and she’d been able to wear some rich berry colors I envied. The one in my bag was a deep raspberry. I took it out and removed the cap.

I hovered over Jason for a moment, considering my next action. Chickening out wasn’t an option. I turned the lipstick and bent down. In block letters I wrote RAPIST on his forehead. I put the lipstick back in my bag and took out my phone. I removed the case first, because I didn’t want it to be identifiable. I brought up a Facebook photo of Magda and put my phone in Jason’s limp fingers. Then I picked up his phone and switched it to camera mode. I took a photo of him lying there, with his title on his forehead, and Magda’s photo right there, so everyone would know exactly who he had hurt. Then I uploaded the photo I’d taken to Jason’s social media with the hashtags #rapist #NoJusticeForMagda #GotAwayWithIt and #CarterHigh.

I wiped his phone down before putting it on the bed beside him, then I took back my own and went to the door. I peeked into the hall to make sure no one was there before stepping outside.

Another door down the hall was open, and the light on inside allowed me to see that it was the bathroom. I slipped in and did my business. My legs trembled as I washed my hands. I wasn’t sure what I’d just done, or what the consequences would be, but there was no taking it back now.

I dried my hands and opened the door. “Shit!” I cried when I saw someone standing there. I pulled back my fist, but a familiar voice said my name before I lashed out. It was Zoe. Behind her were Anna and Caitlin. They were wide-eyed as they stared at me.

“Have I been gone ten minutes?” I asked, embarrassed to be so on edge.

Anna blushed. “No, but I got worried.”

I smiled. “There was someone in here when I came up. I had to wait. Thank you for worrying.”

“It wasn’t all about you,” Zoe remarked with a grin. “I have to pee too.”

While we waited outside for her to finish, Caitlin fished her phone out of her purse. I watched as she tapped the screen with her finger, my pulse beating wildly.

“Oh my God!”

Anna whirled toward her. “What?” Caitlin showed her the screen, and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”

If I didn’t ask it would be weird, and I was already pushing it by having been upstairs when the picture was taken. “What is it?”

Anna couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to laugh or cheer as Caitlin showed me the photo. It was the one I’d taken just minutes before.

I didn’t have to fake the laughter that poured out of me. The adrenaline of what I’d done hit hard, making me light-headed and giddy. “Was that taken tonight?” I asked.

Caitlin shrugged. “How should I know? I guess so.”

Anna’s gaze was bright as it met mine. “Who cares? It’s fabulous. Now everyone will know what he did.” It was exactly what I wanted to hear. “Whoever took it even left Magda’s picture beside him.”

On the other side of the door Zoe shouted, “What are you laughing at?” Then the toilet flushed, and we heard running water at the sink. A few seconds later the door opened. Zoe was still drying her hands.

“Check your phone,” Caitlin said.

Anna was looking at her own. “I got it too.”

Zoe’s reaction was the best. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and then she started to cackle—like a witch who had just performed the perfect spell. “Oh, this is awesome.” She began tapping at the screen. “Not only am I loving this, but I’m going to share it.”

We went back downstairs to join the party. When we got there, I couldn’t believe the number of people who were looking at their phones, exchanging startled glances, or acting like it was awesome. A few were pissed, but who cared about the douche bags? I’d known the photo would get noticed, it just hadn’t occurred to me how quickly.

I found myself looking for Drew, Brody and Adam. The three of them were together in the kitchen, staring at their phones with expressions that were somewhat amused, but mostly pissed. Drew seemed especially angry. I braced myself, waiting for one of them to look at me and point his finger. Surely, they had to know it had been me.

“What the fuck?” Drew demanded. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrow. “Who the fuck did this?”

Not one of them looked at me—at least not for any length of time. They looked around the room at the laughing crowd, glaring at everyone who met their collective gaze. I realized then that they were looking for a guy. It didn’t occur to them that a girl might do something like this. Did they not think we had the balls to pull such a prank? Did they think a guy would just randomly have lipstick in his pocket? I didn’t care which it was, because I’d gotten away with it.

That was the moment I realized what I had to do—for Magda and for myself. I had to get revenge. On all of them.

One down.

Three to go.

Last Year

“Do you have a costume yet?” Magda asked. We were in her kitchen making pizza while Gabe and one of his friends sat at the dining-room table discussing some project for their senior history class. I had a perfect view of his profile from where I stood. God, he was pretty.

“A costume for what?” I asked, slapping pepperoni slices on top of the sauce.

“Drew Carson’s Halloween party. He invited us, remember?”

Ugh. She didn’t really want to go to that, did she? One look at her face and I could tell she did. And she wanted me to go with her. I hated going to rich-kid parties—they always made me feel like trash. My family wasn’t poor, but we didn’t have a lot of disposable income.

I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t going—not for her, not for anyone. And then she said, “Gabe said he’d drop us off. He might even stay for a bit.”

“Fine,” I said. “But only because you and your brother will be the only people there worth hanging out with.”

“I’m going as Cleopatra,” she announced. “I hope Drew notices me.”

Her little smile was so cute I couldn’t bring myself to warn her off Drew again. She wouldn’t listen anyway. She was going to get her heart broken when Drew hooked up with someone not so obviously virginal as she was.

“He’d be blind not to,” I said instead, dumping a handful of grated cheese on the pizza. When she turned that grin on me, I smiled back. “Of course he’ll notice you.”

I had no idea how much I’d regret saying that.

* * *

I woke up Sunday morning feeling better than I had in months. Even though I knew what I’d done to Jason was wrong, I couldn’t deny the happiness it gave me. Maybe happiness was the wrong word. I felt like I had accomplished something, or taken a step to fix a problem.

And was it really wrong to label someone a criminal when you knew they’d done the crime?

Regardless, I felt good. I got up, showered and went downstairs for breakfast. My mother smiled when I kissed her cheek. I hadn’t realized how much I’d changed until I saw the surprise on her face. When you’re drowning in grief it’s hard to see all the people who are trying to save you. And she had her own problems with my father. I thought she was weak to stay with him, but I also understood that this house would be a lot harder to run without his income.

After breakfast, I rode my bike to the cemetery. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I wanted to talk to Magda, but not about how angry or sad I was, or even how much I missed her. I wanted to talk to her about what I had done. When I got there, church had just let out. Magda’s mother, Gabriel and his little sister Teresa walked the gravel path from the church into the cemetery. My heart stuttered at the sight of them. For a moment I contemplated running away, so Mrs. Torres’s sadness couldn’t diminish my sense of accomplishment. I didn’t run. In the end, my love for these people won.

Mrs. Torres was an older version of Magda, only a little shorter. She was in her forties, and very pretty. Her husband had walked out on them a few years ago, and the last I’d heard was living in Miami with a twenty-three-year-old. He had nothing to do with the kids, and they had nothing to do with him. Magda had acted like he didn’t even exist. I remembered him, but I couldn’t remember if I ever even liked him. I certainly didn’t like him after he abandoned his family. It made the reality of my own family situation even more bitter. What the fuck was wrong with men? Weren’t there any good ones in the world? So far, Gabe seemed to be the only one.

Magda’s mother smiled when she saw me, even though she had tears in her eyes. She cried a lot. In a way I envied that she was able to get her grief out in a way that didn’t require punching someone in the face. She held out her arms, and I stepped into her hug as she told me how good it was to see me.

“It’s been too long,” she said. “You must come for dinner some night. How does tomorrow sound?”

“I’ll check with Mom, but it should be okay.”

Mrs. Torres released me. “Come after school. We’ll visit. You can help me cook like Magda used to.”

My throat was tight as I swallowed. “Okay. I’ll check with Mom and call you later.” Then I was distracted by Teresa, who also wanted a hug. She was thirteen, and losing her big sister had been very hard on her. Gabriel had told me she was afraid of boys. I didn’t know how to help with that, because I had to be honest—I was afraid of them too.

I hung back when Mrs. Torres and Teresa went to the grave. Their grief was a private thing. And I was still clinging to that fading sense of accomplishment I’d woken up with.

Gabriel stayed with me. I should’ve known it wasn’t because he enjoyed my company so much.

“A friend of mine forwarded me an interesting Instagram post this morning,” he said, looking down at me.

My heart gave a hard thump. I raised my gaze to his. “The picture of Jason Bentley?” If I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, he’d know for sure I’d been behind it. “Yeah, I saw that too.” It wasn’t a lie. Zoe had forwarded the photo to me last night.

“Whoever did that to him must’ve really had it in for him.”

I didn’t even blink. “I really didn’t think about it. But it’s the wallpaper on my phone now.”

He smiled—just a small tilt of his lips. “Mine too.”

I grinned. “I wonder if he’ll show his face at school tomorrow.”

“He will. They’ll make it some kind of smear campaign. It’ll take more than this to hurt those four for long.”

There went my sense of accomplishment.

“Though this will sting. Whoever did it took a photo from Magda’s Facebook page. Makes me think they did this in retaliation for her more than to out Bentley as a rapist.”