CHAPTER 1
The Photo
I wake up.
My bed is drenched in sweat. My body is shaking. The dream feels as real as if it just happened yesterday. It always does. I should be jumping out of bed, eager to enjoy a holiday from school. I should be drooling over the smell of bacon coming from my aunt's kitchen for breakfast. I should be looking forward to turkey and gravy for Thanksgiving dinner.
Instead, I can't move.
I dreamed I got to the party in time to save Kenzie.
But that isn't how things went down.
I lie with the covers over my head. They block out the light that streams through the window in my aunt's spare room. I replay the dream in my head.
Almost everything in the dream is true. My brother and his Grade Twelve buddies were competing to see who could have sex with the most Grade Nine girls. They called them newbie nines. The only reason they didn't invite grade eights is that sex with girls that much younger than them makes it rape. As if it wasn't rape anyway!
Well, it wasn't for Bree. She admitted she knew what she was getting herself into. She went to the party and took Kenzie anyway. She didn't care about the contest. She didn't care about hurting her best friend.
Kenzie had no clue that the party was all about a contest. She thought it was cool that older guys invited her to a party. She liked that they were paying attention to her. I'm sure that made it easier for Cam to lure her to a room.
Two years ago, full of panic, I ran through the house, searching for Kenzie. I couldn't find her anywhere.
In real life, I didn't get to Kenzie in time.
My pulse races as memories from that night come flooding back. I feel my hands curl into fists. They slam the mattress over and over again.
Kenzie and I had been dating for a month when the party invitation came. And Kenzie chose the party. She chose older guys over coming to a movie with me. She had no idea that the party was a scam. But I did. I bailed on my friends and I failed them.
That night ranks as the worst of my life. Cam took advantage of Kenzie at the party. Mom came home alone that night from Whistler. She had caught Dad cheating on her with a younger woman from work. Seth thinks I called Mom to stop the party. Since then, my brother's hatred for me has notched up. Now it has epic status, and I have the bruises to prove it.
Mom feels betrayed because I should have warned her about the party. Kenzie feels betrayed because it was my brother's party and I didn't stop it. My folks are divorced, and Seth blames me for that.
For two years I've tried to tell Kenzie I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I sent a text to warn her, but it came too late. I had been upset with Kenzie for calling me a loser when I asked her to come with me instead of going to the party. So I didn't tell her and Bree about my brother's plans. By the time I realized I didn't want Kenzie to be hurt, it was too late.
Mom's voice cuts through my thoughts. She hollers up the stairs, "Jared, your breakfast is getting cold."
"I'll be down in a minute." Fuel might help get my body moving. I have a Socials test to study for. I'll have time on the ferry ride back to Vancouver, but I should put in some time after breakfast.
I roll out of bed. I grab my cellphone and head to the bathroom. I wet down my mop of bedhead, but some strands still stick out at weird angles. I scroll through my messages.
"Shit!"
I drop my phone.
Panic lurches my body forward. I grab the phone off the floor and look at the screen. The picture is still there. It's a Snapchat photo of Kenzie. It must have been taken at the party that night two years ago. Kenzie's eyes are closed.
She's completely naked.
My hands are sweaty, making it hard to hang onto the phone. I know what I should do. For Kenzie. To make sure that bastard Cam pays this time. I should take a screenshot of the photo. But I hesitate. I never want to see Kenzie this way. Vulnerable and alone. My fingers hover over the photo. Just as I am about to hit delete, the Snapchat image disappears.
As I make my way downstairs, my chest feels tight. A blistering headache squeezes my brain. I still don't understand why Kenzie never told anyone about what happened. Why did she let Cam get away with what he did? Cam wasn't called out for his actions. He got to finish playing rugby for the rest of the season. He graduated as if nothing happened.
But now, maybe that can change. If Kenzie saw the photo, she could take a screenshot and save it. She can use it to prove to everyone what Cam did. And what my brother did, because he planned the contest and the party. And I know the contest isn't over. Seth and his twisted buddies still tally points for getting Grade Nine girls to have sex with them, and for photos they get their "girlfriends" to post. Of course, Seth is at the top of the list. He has been since the party.
I hope Kenzie uses the photo to take down Cam. And I'd love to see Seth crash and burn. Then maybe we can all move forward. And who knows, maybe Kenzie and I might be friends again?
There's just one problem with that plan. Kenzie has avoided me for two years.
CHAPTER 2
Confrontation
I help Mom with the dishes while Aunt Sylvia stuffs the turkey.
"Jared." Mom uses her I have something serious to share with you voice.
She hesitates. "You know how I said living here in Nanaimo was temporary? That I'd move back to the mainland when things settled?"
I nod and grab our dirty plates from the table.
"Well," Mom continues, "I met someone. He's wonderful. Not anything like your Dad ... Sorry," she says as she puts the clean cups in the cupboard. "I don't mean your Dad's a bad person. I just ..."
"I know," I say. I remember their last argument. Dad tried to convince Mom that men need variety and spontaneity. He said she shouldn't take it personally. He reminded her that he always came home to her.
I shared the story with my buddy, Mooney. We both loved my Mom's reply: "I'm not a Stepford Wife." We watched the movie about a whole town of men who were totally controlling of women. It's not hard to see where Seth gets it.
Mom has been living with her sister ever since.
I had been holding out hope that Mom would move back to Vancouver. I could spend time at her place and not have to deal with Seth.
She doesn't know how Seth treats me. She's not there to see the bruises on my arms. She doesn't know how hard it's been to sleep. And now she won't be home to help me work out what to do about Kenzie. I'm on my own.
* * *
I sit on the ferry, heading home from Nanaimo. I have only one thought. How do I check to see if Kenzie knows about the photo? The picture came to me via a username I didn't know. Why would someone send the photo now, two years later?
While I wolf down a takeout White Spot burger and a chocolate shake, I stress over what I should do. What must it be like for Kenzie, living this?
Thinking about Kenzie makes me realize how much I miss spending time with her. Kenzie always laughed at my jokes. She was always ... just Kenzie.
Then things changed.
Before Grade Nine, Kenzie mostly wore jeans and t-shirts. Then she switched to short skirts and low-cut tops. I could see she was copying Bree's style. I don't know where Kenzie got the money. She and her sister have always been on a tight budget.
It pissed me off seeing her act like Bree. I was into Kenzie just the way she was — easy-going, not trying to flaunt her body.
Since the party, Kenzie seems to dress in sweatpants and loose sweaters all the time. Not that I would know for sure. She's rarely at school. When she is there, she avoids me. I think she avoids everyone.
I decide to call Mooney. Maybe he'll have some ideas about how to tell Kenzie about the photo.
I pull out my cellphone. My thumbs punch out a text message.
Me: Did u see?
Mooney: If you mean the highly suspect photo, yes.
Me: Why would he send it now?
Mooney: U mean Cam?
Me: Yup.
Mooney: I thought Kenzie was copying Bree. I thought she sent the photo.
Me: Nope. It was Cam.
I wish I was as sure as I sounded. Bree sends us all nude photos of herself all the time. She's become a trading sensation, a hot commodity. She keeps my stupid brother at the top of the contest. He's number one — number one asshole, I say. I look back at my screen. There is a pause with no text. My thumbs roll over the keys.
Me: So, what should I do? I need to help Kenzie.
Mooney: Kenzie's not the only 1 compromised in the pic? U r 2.
Me: Shit!
My fist pounds the table and my empty cup falls to the ground. As I bend to pick it up, I catch a couple staring at me. Their little son blasts me with his toy laser gun. It's weeks before Halloween, but he's dressed as Superman. I bet he still thinks he can save Lois Lane.
I jump out of my seat. I feel like I have to move or I will hit someone. I wish my brother were here right now. I'd squeeze my hands around his thick neck.
I think about how dazed I was when the party ended. Mom took it all in with eyes already red and puffy. She began yelling for everyone to get out. It was a frenzy as people tripped over each other to leave. There was puke everywhere. The coffee table was broken. Seth was boiling mad that Mom had come home early.
But the worst part was that I couldn't leave to check on Kenzie. I had to clean things up. When Dad arrived from Whistler (his girlfriend Laurel gave him a ride) our house turned into a shouting match. I hit the sack at 4 a.m. Everything was a blur. It never dawned on me that someone had been using my room.
But Mooney is right. I think about the Snapchat photo. Kenzie was on my bed. Anyone who enlarges the picture will be able to tell. Hanging above my bed is my stupid Tech Award from Grade Seven with my name, Jared Archer, in bold letters.
I head for the outer deck of the ferry. There is a spot where the wind is so fierce you can hardly move forward. I stand with the cold air blasting me. Water is streaming down my cheeks. It must be the wind.
When I go back inside the ferry, I feel better. I have a plan. I will send Kenzie a text saying that we should talk, and that I am her friend. If she responds, I'll figure out what to say next.
I try to study for the last part of the trip home but I can't focus. I'm supposed to call my dad to pick me up. But if he's busy with Laurel, he'll send Seth. I can't deal with my brother right now. So I catch the bus. It takes an hour and a half to get home. Like the long ride I took two years ago, it gives me way too much time to think.
At home, I dart in the back way. I take the stairs three at a time to the rec room in the basement.
Seth's music is blaring. He probably has Bree with him. She has no clue. Since the party, I've seen Seth bring home a parade of girls. There are probably loads more I don't see.
I bang on his door. "Seth, you bastard! Show your ugly face!"
The door swings open. Seth places a huge hand on each side of the doorframe. It works. One, it keeps me from seeing who is in his room with him. Two, it gives the impression of power. No, it actually gives him power.
I shrink back a few steps. What brilliant comment had I planned to make? "Why the hell did you do it?" I finally spit out. "Why didn't you just invite girls your age? And where is your jerk friend, Cam?"
"What are you blubbering about now?"
"I'm not ... I just ... Shit!" I really want to lay into him. But as usual, I freeze.
Seth drops one hand from the doorframe and places it on my shoulder. He squeezes hard. I feel my eyes water. "For two years you've kept your mouth shut about the contest," he says. "So no one can call out me, Cam, or the other guys. And you know the girls wanted us. So, keep quiet and I'll let you off easy ... this time."
Before I can respond, Seth slams the door in my face. It nearly takes my nose off. I push my shirt collar aside and look at my shoulder where his hand was. The skin is red. There will be another bruise. I shuffle upstairs.
I crawl under the covers and take my cell from the nightstand. I punch out a quick message to Kenzie:
I care about you. Text me back.
I try to relax. But my mind is full of images of Kenzie struggling to fend off Cam in my bed — this bed. I feel sick to my stomach. I take my blanket and pillow to the living room and crash on the couch.
It's after 2 a.m. when I finally close my eyes.
CHAPTER 3
Breaking In
Tuesday morning and I'm at school. I want to turn around and go back home. My head is killing me from lack of sleep. As the bell rings, I text Kenzie. She didn't respond to my message yesterday. I don't know if she has even seen the photo.
I walk down the hall toward the science lab. I have this creeped-out feeling, like people are staring at me. What the hell? I turn to one guy who is grinning. "What's your problem?"
"No problem, dude. Your girlfriend is hot."
I guess he saw the picture of Kenzie. There are probably a hundred things I should say to the jerk. But all I reply is, "She's not my girlfriend."
In Biology, a girl named Sam moves her chair away from me. Later, I see her scrawling words across her lab book: Asshole. Perv. Prick.
So now the school thinks I did that to Kenzie? Do they have short memories? Half of them were at the stupid party. If they weren't, the rumour mill should have given them the message it was Seth, Cam and the other jerks. I had nothing to do with the contest. But I guess they now know it was my room. It seems like that changes everything.
I wish Kenzie had told the cops, or anyone, what had happened that night. My brother and Cam might have been charged for having the contest. They would have been called out for holding the party. Then Kenzie could have moved on.
But she isn't at school today. Even if she were here, she would be like a zombie. I know this has affected her. But, it doesn't have to be this way. Kenzie found out Bree knew what was going to happen. Bree took her best friend along anyway. Kenzie doesn't hang with her anymore. Kenzie should make new friends who have her back. She should get on with her life.
Maybe then she could forgive me.
But Kenzie has shut me out. Now all those people who think I had something to do with what happened that night will feel justified. All the proof they need is in the photo.
I know what I need to do.
I skip the last block before lunch. Kenzie's sister Callie will be at work. She can't keep me from seeing Kenzie like she has for the past two years. If Kenzie doesn't answer the door, I know where they used to keep the spare key. Breaking in isn't my usual M.O., but I will if I have to. I need to see Kenzie. We need to talk.
I run most of the way to her house. I bang on the door. I can see how my anger about the party and the photo might make it hard for Kenzie to hear me out. So I take a few deep breaths. I try to calm my pounding heart.
There is no answer to my knock. I bolt to the rear of the house and hammer on the back door. I wait. Again, no answer.
Their barbecue is off to the side of the deck. I reach under the black cover to the low platform where the propane tank sits. I find a silver key.
I hesitate. Maybe this is the wrong way to handle things. But then my anger flares again. I bang on the door, giving Kenzie another chance to open it up.
After what seems like a half hour, I push the key into the door handle. It turns and I open the door. I don't enter right away. Instead, I call out to Kenzie. There's something other than anger in my voice now, but I'm not sure what it is.
I wait several moments before I venture into the house. It is just like I remember it. The house belongs to Kenzie's grandma, who passed away when Kenzie was two. Callie pays the bills and keeps an eye on Kenzie. Kenzie's mom bailed on them when Kenzie was thirteen, choosing some guy she barely knew over her daughters. I always wondered how she could forget to be a mom. And Kenzie never knew her dad. We figure he went back to live on the reserve in Kamloops.
I head into the kitchen. I recall how we used to make grilled cheese sandwiches and root beer floats. I smile at all the fun we had back in Grade School. It was so much easier when we were young. Suddenly, a piercing scream rips through the house. I freeze. My hands are behind me, clenching the kitchen sink. Kenzie is in pajamas, standing in the hallway. She is staring at me.
"Jesus, Jared," she says. "You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I step toward her, but she backs up against the wall.
Her eyes dart sideways, like she's planning her escape route.
I step back and lower my hands. I pretend I'm talking to the ten-year-old version of Kenzie. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to talk."
