TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 42

“Bailey, you need to tell Detective Powell everything. Do you understand? Your cooperation in this situation is critical.” Mr. Giovanni said.

Cooperation with what situation? Bailey wished they’d get to the damn point. “I already told you. Meg didn’t threaten anybody.”

“That’s not what that little video says. You accused her and she admitted it.” Mr. Giovanni shook his head.

Oh, God! She was only mad. Why was everyone making such a BFD out of it? “No. She didn’t mean that. We were fighting and—”

“Fighting?” Detective Powell walked back into the room. She reminded Bailey of Steven Seagall with C-cups. “About a boy.”

“Yeah.” Bailey shrugged. “I was mad at her.” She twisted a curl. “That’s it.”

Ms. Christiansen’s head jerked up. “This isn’t a game, Miss Grant. Did you read the stuff your friends, your classmates, are saying? They’re worried. Their parents are worried. Mr. Giovanni is worried. We’re worried. The only one who’s not worried, is you.”

“Because there’s nothing to worry about. It was a fight — just a stupid fight.”

“Okay. Why don’t you tell us what the fight was about,” the detective demanded.

“I already told you. Meg wouldn’t butt out of my friendship with Ryder.”

“Oh, right. Ryder West.” She flipped through the pages in small black notebook.

Nicole looked at her sharply. “Who’s Ryder West?”

Bailey shot her a look. Really, Mom? Bailey had been talking about Ryder West for weeks and this is the first time she actually heard his name? “Ryder’s the guy I like.”

“Where did you meet?” Powell asked.

“Online.”

“Where online?”

“Xbox. We played Call of Duty together.”

“And what do you and Ryder do when you hang out?”

Bailey examined her fingernails. “Um. Play video games. Text. Chat on Facebook. Work on my game.”

“Your game.”

“Yes. My video game.”

“What does that mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s means I’m creating a video game. He’s helping me.”

“Why would he do that?”

If there was a point anywhere in all these questions, she really hoped they’d get to it soon. She was starving and nobody would let her eat.

“Bailey, answer the question.”

Oh, now it’s okay to talk? Bailey blew a curl from her eyes. “Uh, because he likes me? He’s trying to impress me.”

“Trying to impress you by texting and chatting and playing video games. Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it. I told you this already.”

“Okay, Bailey. Tell us where Ryder West lives.”

Bailey’s eyes dropped. “I can’t.”

Powell’s eyebrows went up. “Miss Grant, I wasn’t asking.”

“I heard what you said and I can’t. I don’t know where he lives.”

“You’ve never been to his house?”

“No.”

“Where did you meet him.”

Bailey flung out her arms. “I told you! Online.”

Powell angled her head, her pen poised over her notes. “Wait a minute. Are you telling us you’ve never physically met this boy?”

Nicole’s eyes snapped to hers and Bailey’s shoulders sagged. “Bailey?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Oh, my God. You’ve been carrying on with a boy you aren’t even sure is a boy?”

“Oh, my God, Mom!” Bailey echoed. “Now you sound just like Meg. Why can’t you be happy that I finally met a guy who likes me — I mean, really likes me?”

The detective put up her hand. “Wait. What do you mean, ‘just like Meg’?”

Bailey tensed in her hard metal chair. “Meg wouldn’t leave it alone. She kept nagging and warning and ordering me not to trust Ryder. Every time he made an excuse to not meet in person, she was convinced he had to be some sixty-year-old sex offender living in a trailer park with nothing but beer and cigarettes! I kept telling her she was wrong but she wouldn’t shut up and when she started texting him herself—”

“Megan Farrell texted your boyfriend?”

“Yes!” She punctuated the word with an emphatic nod of her head because Detective Powell sounded like she understood. “She threatened him, told him to back off, and even told him my most embarrassing story ever — all so he’d stop liking me.”

“She threatened him how, exactly?”

Bailey crossed her arms. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because I’m asking you,” Detective Powell shot back.

“That’s enough.” Nicole put up her hand. “My daughter answered your questions. I’m taking her home.” She stood up, so Bailey stood, too.

The woman frowned. “We’re not done here.” She pointed at the hard metal chairs.

Nicole crossed her arms and glared. “Are you arresting her?”

Detective Powell returned the glare. “Not yet.”

Nicole smiled once. “Then we’re going home.” She led Bailey out of the office.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

The sudden shout had everyone’s heads whipping toward the double doors that led to the main corridor. They burst open and two security guards shoved Simon Kane through. His designer clothes were wrinkled and his face was blotchy with outrage. As soon as he saw Bailey, he clamped his mouth shut and just stared. Bailey stared back. What was he doing here?

Detective Powell walked over to one of the guards holding Simon’s elbows and took a sheet of paper from him. Bailey squirmed under the weight of Simon’s stare.

“Well, Miss Grant, you may find this interesting.” Powell waved the paper. “Mr. Kane, I’ll give you a chance to tell her before I do.”

Tell me what, Bailey wondered. It’s not like Simon posted that video or the called the principal or —

“Bailey,” he said and looked at the floor. “I’m so sorry, Bailey.”

“Three seconds, Mr. Kane.”

“Okay! I’ll tell her!” Simon swallowed once. “It’s me, Bailey. I’m Ryder. I made him up.”

NO! She covered her ears and shook her head. She would not listen to this. If she didn’t listen, she couldn’t hear. If she couldn’t hear him, then she couldn’t get her heart broken. If she couldn’t hear him, then she wouldn’t have to admit Meg was right.

Tears dripped down her cheeks and someone kept pulling her by the arm. It wasn’t true! Ryder was funny and talented and seriously loyal and — and liked her. He really liked her.

A motion captured her attention. Meg stood in the door of the vice-principal’s office.

Bailey hated to look, knowing — dreading — what she’d see on Meg’s face: the look that would just scream See? I told you so. But Meg only cried. And that — oh, that was so much worse. 

Bailey didn’t even wait for Nicole. She ran.