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,