CODY
Everyone in the hall stopped and stared when I walked through the double doors. They no longer saw the wrestler, the guy who’d been unceremoniously tossed from the inner circle. I’d been given a new label—the guy who dated Donnie Wyld’s daughter.
I strode down the hall, head high, shoulders straight. No one approached me, but the whispered questions floated through the air.
“Do you think he met her dad?”
“I heard he got to play Donnie’s guitar.”
That one almost made me smile. I was pretty sure Skylar’s dad would gladly remove my appendage if I touched his precious Fender.
The whispers stopped, and I looked up to see why. Lindsay was at her locker, a rare sight, pulling out textbooks. She had enough in her arms to avoid coming back there the rest of the day.
I closed the distance before she could run away. “Did you tell them?”
The sigh from her was deafening. She wasn’t shaking or crying. She didn’t even look rattled. Her movements were robotic, her shoulders slumped. She was a girl who’d given up.
Lindsay shut her locker. “Yes. I told them.”
“And what did they say?”
“They argued.” She looked up at me with empty eyes. “My mom said I needed to toughen up. That I was being too sensitive and that it couldn’t be that bad. Then she accused my father of babying me. Said it was his fault I didn’t have a stronger backbone. It’s what they do, Cody, fight, and all I did was give them more ammunition.”
Stunned silence engulfed me. She had to have been cryptic when she told. “Did you tell them everything? Did you show them the Twitter feed?”
She jutted her chin, her lips trembled. “No. I didn’t show them that I’ve been labeled ‘slut Barbie,’ nor that fourteen guys talked about what my body looks like naked while they supposedly had sex with me. No, Cody, I didn’t tell them everything.”
I lowered my voice. “What did you tell them?”
Lindsay’s eyes darted around, never making contact too long with the people who tortured her. “Just that some kids were saying mean things about me and spreading lies. I told them that Blake had been cruel, and how I’ve gotten a few prank calls.” She coughed out a sad, defeated laugh. “My mom actually asked me what I did to make him hate me. Told me to try and get him back.”
A second bell rang, and I clutched her arm to keep her from bolting. “Lindsay…” It was a plea and an apology in one.
Then the dam burst. She was a mess. A puddle of sobs so broken and gut wrenching, I wanted to burn my own soul for pushing too hard.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, cradling her to my chest. “We’ll tell someone else.”
“No.” She pushed away, and her face returned to that terrible mask of coldness, her eyes holding as much emotion as a corpse. “I’m done. I’m done with all of this. I’m sorry.” She walked away before I could find a response significant enough to change her mind.
I stood there, frustrated and helpless, and wished for once, I could catch a break.
Skylar’s abandoned locker stood out like a beacon of light. Maybe she was right. Maybe all of this was to force me to do the impossible.
If Lindsay wouldn’t tell her story, maybe it was time to tell mine.
*
I sat at an empty picnic table and furiously wrote out the fifth page of my confession. Only ten minutes left until lunch ended, and I was determined to cleanse my system of every horrific deed. I’d written the details of the two years I was bullied, including my nightmare on the locker room floor. I was too humiliated to give specifics, but recounted enough to hopefully put protection in place for others. I recorded every aggression I’d witnessed against Lindsay and what I knew about the Torments List.
The last page hurt almost more than the others. It disclosed all the pranks I’d participated in last year and this year. There was enough information on these sheets of wide-ruled paper to ruin me. But somehow, nothing seemed to matter more than telling the truth.
An overpowering scent of peaches and honey stopped my scribbling. Jill was at my side, seated, her back against the table I was using. I flipped the pages over.
“I’m busy,” I said, sliding away. She hadn’t even left an inch between our hips when she sat.
“I can see that.” She relaxed against the table and extended her long legs, crossing them at her ankles. “But I have something to say to you.”
Of course she did. And it probably included some slam about Skylar.
“You know, Blake has envied you since the beginning of junior year. I’d go so far to say he’s afraid of you.”
That got my attention. “You think Blake’s afraid of me?” I snorted. Nothing in our history together implied fear.
Jill faced me, propped her elbow up on the table and nervously played with her hair. “I do. That’s why you’ve always been kind of on the fringe. An outsider within the inner circle. He knew one day you’d break free. He knew you were the only one strong enough to do it.”
I shook my head, feeling the weight of my failure in every word I’d written. “A lot of good it’s done.”
Her eyes burned a hole through me. “That’s where you’re wrong. It takes people a while, but eventually they recognize a true leader. Even when his words hurt.”
She reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of blue paper. “I should have stopped Tom that day. And I should have been a better friend to Lindsay.” With that, the paper was in my hand, and Jill stood to leave. “Consider this my apology.”
The blue note crinkled in my fist while I watched her walk away. In that moment, I actually felt a twinge of respect. Maybe even forgiveness.
Slowly, I opened Jill’s apology and a rush of adrenaline pulsed through me. She’d just handed me the key: Her login and password along with the new URL for the Torments List. Two seconds later, I was past the firewall and staring at my name in bold black. A strange power engulfed me. I felt no compulsion to read the comments because, for the first time in my life, their opinion didn’t matter.
I packed up and walked, no, ran to the front office. I wouldn’t wait this time. I wouldn’t give Blake one second to figure it out.
Our school secretary, Mrs. Johnson, stepped around her oak desk to meet me at the counter. “Cody, you’re making a habit of being in here. What is it this time?”
“I’d like to see Principal Rayburn. It’s critical.”
She lifted a receiver hidden behind the counter and touched some buttons. “Cody James is here. Do you have minute to meet with him?” She eyed me chewing my nail, and I dropped my hand. “Seems important.”
Mrs. Johnson placed the receiver down and tilted her head toward the office.
I took off so fast, I was halfway to the back before I muttered a thank you.
“Come on in, Mr. James.” Principal Rayburn said through his open door.
I walked directly to his desk and slammed down the five pages I had written, the login ID sheet, and Jill’s note. “It’s all here. Everything you need.”
He slid over his half-empty Tupperware and spread out the pages, his eyes darting back and forth as he quickly read through them.
I took a breath. “There’s a website called the Torments List.” With that, I handed him my phone already set to the page.
He zoomed and clicked; his brow furrowed and released several times. He met my eyes, and I saw something in there that confirmed I’d done the right thing. Respect. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on this website for six years.”
I dropped into the chair, stunned. “You already knew about it?”
He pulled my sheet of login IDs from the bottom of the stack. “Rumors. Confessions from punished students, but none were ever able to back it up.” He tapped the page. “Nothing like this.”
“That’s because the Madison elite probably sent them a painful message right after they moved the URL and reset the passwords.”
He stared at me and I stared back. Neither of us said it, but somehow I think he knew I wanted to tell the truth months ago.
“Thank you.” His words were so sincere I had to swallow and find something else to look at.
He handed back my phone. “A lot of this will end up being your word against theirs. But it will enable to me to put some fear into the offenders. Fear is a very powerful tool.”
Didn’t I know it. I’d spent years cowering in fear. I leaned my elbows on my knees. “What happens to me?”
He rubbed his chin. “I could kick you off the wrestling team for this stuff.”
I hung my head. “I know.”
“But I won’t.”
My eyes lifted to his, my heart pounding against my chest. This was the same man who was determined to show me his authority just weeks ago.
“I’m sorry about the Super 32. I think that punishment will suffice.”
A two hundred pound weight lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in months, it felt like I wasn’t fighting the battle alone.
*
By Friday, six of the ten people on my login list had been suspended. The other four, including Henry, were given in-school suspension for this being their first offense. The Torments List held all the proof Principal Rayburn needed, and even though it disappeared after the first suspension, there was a measurable change at Madison.
A stillness settled in the halls. A recognition that, for once, Blake didn’t have all the power.