My eyebrows shoot up. “How?”

She pauses, and for a second I wonder if she’ll tell me. Then she whispers, “A video on his phone.”

Oh shit. I lean over and look at the shoes of the crying girl I’m giving horrible advice to. Sparkly black flats, probably stupid expensive.

“Marissa?” I ask.

The silence in the bathroom is thick, charged.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asks, her voice deep, no longer the sniveling weak girl I thought I was talking to. I sit still, frozen, as the girl slams open her stall door and stands in front of me, tapping her stupid sparkling shoe.

Slowly, I open my own stall door, a shy smile on my face. “Hi there,” I say, a little nervous but mostly wanting to laugh.

This would only happen to me.

Her face fades from anger to surprise as she registers who I am. “How did you know?” she asks, her face blank.

I shrug. “I heard you talking about your boyfriend in that bathroom once, remember? Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

I know a jacked-up relationship when I see one. At least, now I do. I’ve been there too many times now.

She takes a step back, almost stumbling like she’s too tired to keep fighting. “You’re the only one. I’ve been practically begging someone else to figure it out, one of my friends to tell me what to do.”

“Guess I tend to see guys for the assholes they really are.”

She leans onto the porcelain sink. “You got probably the only nice guy in the school.”

“Got? No, I never got him, and if I did, it didn’t take me long to lose him.”

“Really?” She looks up, her eyes still bloodshot.

I nod. “But it’s not me that needs the help now. What can we do about this douche bag boyfriend of yours?” Maybe I can’t change my own past or fix myself, but if I can stop something bad from happening to someone else, I’m going to try. I won’t be weak anymore.

“I don’t know…” she whispers. “I’ve tried getting my hands on his phone, but he won’t let me near it. Not like that would matter. He has it saved on his computer, too.”

“Has he sent it to anyone?”

She shakes her head. “He likes to keep all the power himself. He shows his friends sometimes, though.”

“That’s good. We only have two places we need to get to, then. It’s not impossible.”

“How? I’ve thought of everything. I even thought about telling his mom, but he’s told me he’d send it to everyone he knows if I ever tell.”

“We’ll just have to do both at once.” I say it before I even really think about it. Truth is, I’m happy to have something to distract me. Something important.

She blinks.

I’ve known too many guys like Brandon, and I won’t let them keep winning. This time, it’s my turn.

“I’ve got an idea.”

I know I only have a minute or two before the bell rings to end lunch, so I’ve got to work quickly. I rush into the cafeteria, and I swear a hundred sets of eyes turn to watch me. That’s not awkward or anything.

Jackson watches as I run excitedly to Alex and Jen.

They’re sitting there awkwardly, Jen flipping through a textbook and Alex picking at one of her fingernails. Have they been like this since I left?

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” Alex says, looking up when I reach the table like I pulled her from something riveting.

“I need your help with something.”

Both of them look at me expectantly but say nothing.

“It’s going to sound crazy, but trust me, okay?”

“All right,” Alex says. “Enough cryptic setup. What is it?”

I smile. “We’re going to help Marissa.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

The only time I see Jackson the next week is when I come by the art room to work on the Eiffel Tower mural. I’ve tried to time my visits with his schedule so that we’re never in the room at the same time, but he must have gotten excused from class, because this time he’s inside.

And he sees me.

I spin around to leave, but it’s too late.

“Anna,” he says.

I turn around and look at him. I want to tell him about Marissa, because I wish he were in on it with us, but a part of me knows it’s better this way.

After another few minutes of silence, I guess he can’t take it anymore.

“Are we ever going to be friends again?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice soft and broken.

I want to say something to make it better. Want him to look at me like he used to. But I know there isn’t anything else I can say. Even if any words could take this back, no words should.

My mom is surprised when I tell her I’m going with my girlfriends and not Jackson, but she doesn’t push it.

Dad, of course, is happy to hear the bad news.

“In the end, you’ll see this was the right decision,” he says.

Yeah. If he had his way, I wouldn’t go at all. He’s probably looking forward to me having a terrible time, coming home sad, and ready to never, ever do something like this again.

So screw it. I’m going to have fun tonight.

Jen, Alex, and I get ready in my room, doing one another’s hair and makeup. Even Zara hangs out with us, watching as we goof around and joke about how to give each other the best makeovers.

Alex keeps trying to convince me to get a nose ring or cut my hair into a pixie cut, but Jen is actually beautiful when she’s done with her. She pins her hair into a gentle updo, and after some serious peer pressure, Jen lets Alex take actual scissors to her and give her a side bang. She’s softer this way, less plain. After a little mascara, eye shadow, and lipstick, Jen’s ready to break some hearts. She looks happy, really happy, since the first time I’ve met her.

Homecoming might not be what I was hoping it would be, but this is pretty great, too. I have friends, and I’m helping someone have a little more power. And maybe, just maybe, help me keep a little of my own. As long as they’re around, the janitor can’t afford to show himself.

I just hope we can actually pull this off.

Once we’re all dressed, Alex in her tight black dress with feathers hanging off the bottom, Jen in a long light blue A-cut dress, and me in my black strapless with the pink-and-black zigzag pattern at the top, we sit down to go over the plan.

I thought Jen might be hesitant to go along with this. But if nothing else, my plan brings a confidence into her that I’ve never seen her have. She doesn’t want to hurt Brandon. She’s sweet like that, desperate to not hurt even the bad guys who hurt her.

But she also won’t stand by if she has a chance to stop him from hurting someone else. I just hope this helps her feel like she doesn’t have to live in fear anymore. I hope this lets her know she still has the choice I never had.

Marissa can’t be here because that would tip off Brandon, so Alex texts her to let her know the plan is on. Honestly, we’re not asking much from her. She’s to act normal. Do what she usually does, so Brandon won’t know something is up.

Finally, my mom knocks on the door, tired of waiting for us to finish our powwow and way too eager to take pictures. When we leave the room, I feel like we’re spies or something. This secret, it feels exciting, and I can tell the other girls feel the same.

Mom spends way longer than necessary, pulling us to five different places around the house, getting shots of us all together and each by ourselves, saying she’s sure Jen’s and Alex’s parents will want some, too.

Even my dad stands behind her, watching. Quiet, seething, and always watching. He must be thrilled to see us having a good time, so I put on a big smile and laugh with my friends.

“It’s too bad that boy couldn’t be here,” Mom says. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

I groan.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Rodriguez,” Alex says. “She won’t even tell us.” She sticks her tongue out at me.