The following Monday Emmy surprised me by being the one who knocked on my door in the morning.

“Where’s Edouard?” I asked as I shouldered my backpack.

“He is not driving us today,” Emmy replied with an impish grin.

“What? How’d you get here, then?”

“Look!” Emmy said, pointing in the direction of the parking lot.

There it was. A brand new Mini Cooper, in a creamy off-white with black roof and racing stripes.

“Oh. My. God. You got it after all! Jeeze, Emmy, it’s beautiful!” I gushed as we walked up to her new car.

I did a quick walk around it to admire the details. The first thing I noticed is how dark the windows were tinted. “Is it legal to tint the windows that dark?” I asked.

“I believe so,” Emmy responded, with just a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “All of our family’s cars are like that.”

Running my hand along the little spoiler in back, I asked “How is it to drive?”

“I think you should find out for yourself,” Emmy replied, handing me the keys.

“Are you sure?” I asked, amazed.

“You do have a license to drive, no?”

“Well, yeah, sure. But this is your brand new car! What if I wreck it or something?

“I am not worried. It can always be fixed,” Emmy said, with reassuring calm.

“O.K. then. If you’re sure,” I answered, climbing in the driver’s seat. The inside was stunning. Charcoal grey leather seats, big round gauges on the dash, huge moon roof… Wow. Just wow.

“Emmy, this is my dream car. Really. No joke. I am in love with your car,” I said, running my fingers along the carbon fiber inserts on the door panel.

She just laughed and turned on the satellite radio to some kind of Euro-Dance type station.

“Oh! Scooter! I love them,” Emmy squealed when she heard the music. She turned it up and started bopping in her seat as I pulled out of the parking lot, extra, extra careful with Emmy’s Mini.

Emmy’s excitement and enthusiasm were contagious, though, and I soon found myself singing along with Emmy during the refrain. By the time I pulled into the drive through at the coffee hut we were both laughing and bouncing around in our seats.

The barista took one look at us and said “I don’t think you girls need any more coffee this morning.” This got us both laughing again, so I explained “No, we’re just in a good mood. My friend here just got this new car, and it’s freaking sweet!”

When we pulled into the school’s lot we had the windows down blasting “Better, Faster, Harder” by Daft Punk. We made quite a spectacle, and drew more than our fair share of attention. As soon as we parked and got out, a small crowd gathered to check out Emmy’s new ride. I was amazed at how willing she was to let people sit in the car and admire it. I wouldn’t have been nearly so open to that if it had been my car, that’s for sure.

At lunchtime I told Courtney, Allie and Tom to come out to the parking lot to check it out. Tom kept pointing out all the carbon fiber stuff, like the mirrors, spoiler, and so on. Finally Allie had to tell him to knock it off. “We get it already. Really, we do. Now shut up, will you?”

As we walked to the parking lot after last period we saw a group of people looking at Emmy’s car. Some of them glanced up and saw us coming and fell silent. By the time we got there, all talking had ceased.

“Oh, Emmy,” said Janice Weaver, who was in our AP Chemistry class. “Look at what they did to your new car. I can’t believe anybody would do something like that.”

My reaction was one of shock and disbelief. Emmy, though, did the totally unexpected- she broke out laughing.

“Oh, that is precious! I love it!” she said, looking at what had happened to her Mini.

“What?” Janice asked, stunned. “Your window gets busted in and your car keyed and you just laugh? You think this is funny?

“The boy who did this is just so stupid,” Emmy explained, “that he cannot even spell his racist words properly. ‘Niger’ (she pronounced it ‘nee zher’) is the name of a country in Africa, not a racist insult. It is amazing he even knows how to walk and breathe at the same time!”

She got some nervous and sympathetic chuckles at that, but I didn’t think the whole thing was funny at all, and neither did Janice.

“He? Who do you think did this? Do you have any idea?” she demanded.

“I believe I do know, but I am not completely certain,” Emmy said, as she looked around the parking lot. “I think it was Jake, over there,” she said, pointing across the lot at a boy standing by his pickup truck.

When she pointed at Jake Merrick and everybody looked over at him he quickly turned away, acting as if he hadn’t been very interested in what was happening at our end of the parking lot.

“I am going to talk to him. Please stay here,” she told me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” cautioned Janice, echoing my thoughts.

“Look, Emmy,” I said. “Jake Merrick has been to juvie a couple of times that I know of. He got suspended last year for beating up a kid for being gay. Don’t go near him. He’s just plain bad news.”

“Stay here,” Emmy commanded, as she gently peeled Janice’s hand from her arm. “I will be O.K.”

In disbelief I watched as she strode over to where Jake was standing by his truck.

“Shit!” exclaimed Ted Stevens. “She’s got a lot more balls than I do, that’s for damned sure. Jake scares the shit outta me.”

We watched as Emmy spoke to Jake, making him jump. He hadn’t heard her coming, and had been conspicuously facing away. He turned and said something back but we were just too far away to hear what the two of them were saying. Emmy said one more thing to Jake, then turned on her heel and came back, leaving him looking really pissed off behind her.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” remarked Ted. The rest of us nodded and murmured agreement.

“What did he say?” asked Janice.

“He said he had no idea what I was talking about. Come on,” Emmy said to me. “Let us go.”

We got in the car and left, but instead of turning right on Mission Street, Emmy turned left. “Will you come with me to the car dealer?” asked Emmy. “I need to get this repaired.”

“Um, I guess so. What are you going to do?”

“I am going to have the car fixed tonight. When we arrive at school tomorrow he will see that he can do nothing,” Emmy said.

“Do you think Jake did it?”

“Yes, he did it. There is no doubt.”

“What did you say to him? He looked super mad when you walked away,” I asked.

“I told Jake Merrick that he should never play any games he is not prepared to lose,” said Emmy, with a bite in her voice I’d never heard before. “Because, I told him, he will lose this one more badly than any other he has played before.” Her voice was hard and intense, but I saw no sign of tension in the way she gripped the wheel or in the set of her shoulders.

We didn’t talk any more during the half hour it took to get to the dealership. I found myself thinking about Jake Merrick, and how believable it was that he was the culprit. He was just that kind of asshole. I’d known him since elementary school, and he’d always been a complete jerk and a mean bully, too. I could totally see him trashing Emmy’s fancy new car out of spite.

At the dealership Emmy pulled right up to the service department. When we walked in the service manager looked up, surprise on his face when he saw Emmy coming through the door.

Recovering quickly, he said “Ah, Miss Lascaux. What can I do for you today?”

At first I was amazed he knew who she was, but then I realized she had just gotten her car there, and presumably the service department had done the custom modifications she’d wanted.

“Hi, Mr. Wilson!” Emmy chirped, all smiles for the man. “My car needs some repairs. Let me show you.” It really blew me away how cheery she’d sounded, as if it were just an oil change she needed, or maybe getting her tires rotated.

Mr. Wilson, the service manager, followed Emmy outside to where her car was parked. Trailing along behind, I saw the look of shock and horror on his face when he got a good look at the vandalism done to the Mini Cooper.

“Oh, my god” he exclaimed. “You weren’t hurt, were you? How did it happen? Are you O.K.?” The words poured out of his mouth.

I decided I liked the guy. His reaction was so instantly protective and so genuine that it seemed to me he honestly did care more that Emmy was not hurt than anything else.

“I am fine, thank you. It happened while we were in class,” Emmy reassured the man.

“Come on back inside. Let me write this up. Did you report this to the police?” he asked. When Emmy told him no, he said “Well, we’ll take photographs and document the damage. It may be important for legal reasons.” He hustled Emmy and me back inside, clearly not wanting to look at the damage any more than absolutely necessary.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said. “We’ll get right on it. I’ll get you a loaner car while it’s being fixed.”

“How long will it take?” Asked Emmy. “I need it for school tomorrow.”

“Well, don’t worry about that. Of course, you can keep the loaner as long as you need to. Want me to see if I can get you a Z4?”

“No, you do not understand. It is very important to me to have my own car to drive to school. I want the boy who did it to not have the satisfaction of denying me anything.”

“Well, it’ll be a few days. We have to repair the bodywork where it’s been dented, then sand, prime, sand, paint and so on. It all takes time. I’m sure we could have it done by Friday, though,” he explained.

“It must be ready in time for school tomorrow. This is not something I can allow to take any longer at all.” That edge, that steeliness I’d heard in her voice earlier came back again.

“But Miss Lascaux! Even if my body shop guys start work on it right this minute and work all through the night it still might not be ready in the morning! Besides the time the work takes, there’s drying time between coats. It just isn’t enough time!” Looking at him, I realized Mr. Wilson looked really pained. He was in a very uncomfortable position. I understood that he didn’t want to piss off a customer, and Emmy was being unreasonable, but it wasn’t clear to me why he was taking it to heart so badly.

“It just isn’t possible! I wish we could do it- I’d stay late and work on it myself if it would help, but we just can’t get it done in that short amount of time! It would take less time to customize a new one just like yours than it to fix the damage to your car.” He seemed really stressed.

“Oh, that is an excellent idea!” Emmy actually clapped her hands in excitement and happiness at the thought. “That is wonderful, Mr. Wilson! Thank you very much!” And just like that she was back to her cheerful self again. “How soon can it be ready? Should we wait?”

“Ummm…” Mr. Wilson stammered, caught flat-footed by the way Emmy seized that offhand remark as if it were a viable option. “I have to see if we have a pepper white John Cooper available with the same features. If we do, it’ll take four hours or so to do the work…” he trailed off, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into.

It took me a moment to do the math. Sure, the dealership is probably open until ten PM or so, but service departments normally close at five or thereabouts. It was almost four by the time we got there, so whoever was going to do the work was going to be on overtime. Assuming it would be more than one guy, we were talking about hundreds of dollars in extra labor costs just so Emmy could make a point.

Of course, there was also the fact that Mr. Wilson apparently just gave Emmy a brand new car. I just couldn’t see how this could possibly be a good deal for the dealership, even trading in her old car with its low mileage.

“Four hours?” asked Emmy. “Could you please have someone give us a ride back to Fallbrook?”

“Of course. Let me make a call,” said Mr. Wilson, picking up the phone. It couldn’t have been a minute later when a young man in a suit approached.

“Miss Lascaux? I’m Walter James. Where can I drive you to?” He hardly spared me a glance.

“Mr. James, this is my friend Leah. We will be going to her house,” Emmy replied.

He led us out to a big BMW sedan like the one Emmy used to come to school in. I was surprised, though, that it wasn’t as nice inside. The leather seats were not of the same quality, and the car wasn’t nearly as quiet, either.

Once on the road, Emmy took out her phone and called someone. A brief conversation in French ensued, my name the only words I recognized.

“Edouard,” Emmy explained when she hung up. “He will pick me up at your house.”

“When is he coming?”

“He might already be there by the time we arrive.”

The rest of the drive we spent in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, I had to ask. “What just happened back there, at the dealership?”

“What do you mean?” asked Emmy.

“It sounded like the service manager just gave you a new car. That isn’t normal customer service!”

“Well, you see, I am not a normal customer,” said Emmy with a mischievous little smile.

I saw that Mr. James, whom I took for a sales guy, was listening to our conversation. In fact, he actually nodded a little to himself when Emmy said she wasn’t normal.

Just then we turned off the freeway, so I gave him directions to my apartment. When we stopped he almost jumped out to get Emmy’s door. This guy was clearly sucking up, and it was arousing my curiosity. My door opened while I was watching the Mr. James/Emmy dance, making me jump.

It was Edouard, who gave me a little bow. “Miss Farmer. Always a pleasure,” he said in his thick Parisian accent. When Mr. James looked up and saw Edouard, he was visibly surprised. “Uh, is Mr. Lascaux here?” he asked.

“No, he is not here. But I will tell him that you went above the call of duty to bring Miss Farmer and his daughter back from Escondido,” assured Edouard.

“His name is Mr. James,” Emmy told the scary blond driver.

She turned to the car salesman and thanked him politely. He got the message and climbed back into the sedan, leaving quickly with a mixture of relief and anxiety on his face.

The next morning, Emmy came to my place to give me a ride to school, same as always. The new car did look exactly the same as the old. The same dark tinted windows, the same soft dark gray leather seats. When I commented on it, Emmy agreed. “Yes, they did an excellent job. The only thing they could not duplicate was my bumper sticker,” she said. “I feel a little bit terrible for being so mean to Mr. Wilson at the dealership,” Emmy continued. “I will have to give him a nice present for Christmas. Mr. James, though is just a toady. He was very rude to you. I do not like him much at all. Trying to… what is the phrase? ‘Kiss ass’ like that.” Emmy said.

“Wait- you still haven’t told me what the deal is. Why were they all falling over themselves like that? How can a service manager just give a car away? I mean, what’s going on?” I demanded.

Emmy smiled as if she were going to tell me a joke. “Oh, Leah! I thought I’d mentioned it before. My father bought that dealership a month ago. That’s why I feel a bit guilty. They are worried that they might lose their jobs if they don’t jump to attention when I say so.”

“Your dad bought the car dealership?” I asked, stunned.

“Yes. He wants to become more integrated into the local business community, and he liked the dealership when he went in as a customer. So he bought it.”

As we pulled into the school parking lot, Emmy changed the subject. “Does your phone record video?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not great quality, though. Why?”

“Jake is already here, and there might be a confrontation. I want you to record it, but be careful. I do not want him to see you filming,” Emmy explained.

She slowly circled the lot while I got my phone out and ready to shoot video. I couldn’t help but notice that she slowed even more when we passed where Jake was standing by his truck, making sure he got a good view of the unblemished side of the Mini Cooper.

‘Might be a confrontation,’ I thought. Yeah, I suspect there might be, all right. She’s antagonizing a guy who’s known to be unstable and prone to violence. Great.

Emmy picked a parking spot that was close (but not too close) to where Jake was glowering at us. Well, glowering at Emmy, anyway. He didn’t spare me a second glance as we got out of Emmy’s car, for which I was grateful. I used this lack of attention to move to a spot where I could watch but hopefully not be noticed and got ready to record events.

As soon as we parked, Emmy got out of the car and walked straight up to Jake. Looking around, I saw that a few others had noticed what was happening (or about to happen, anyway) and had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene develop.

Emmy said something to Jake that I couldn’t hear, but whatever it was it made him visibly angry. Well, angrier, I should say- he was already clearly pissed off.

Soon he was yelling. Emmy’s voice was quiet, too quiet to hear even when I snuck up closer. Jake’s, though, was plenty loud. I could clearly hear him shout “You fucking little bitch! I should have done even more to your fucking gay little rich bitch car! I should have lit it on fucking fire with you in it, you little fucking nigger bitch!” I’m pretty sure half the school heard it. He was worked up, and completely out of control.

And then it happened. Emmy looked over at me, panic in her eyes. As she glanced away from Jake, he pulled back his fist. She looked back at him just in time to get his big meaty fist right in the face, as he punched her hard.

People talk about seeing things in slow motion, and now I totally understand what they mean. It all seemed to take forever, but I knew it could only have been a couple of seconds at the most.

I almost had to close my eyes as his fist came down hard on her face. Emmy was a very petite girl and Jake was a big football player, so when he hit her, the force really knocked her back. She just slammed into the car parked behind her and fell to the ground, her scream of fear and pain cut short as she got knocked senseless against the sheet metal and glass.

Jake was just about to kick her as she lay crumpled on the ground when a couple of the other jocks from the football team grabbed him and dragged him away.

“What the fuck, man?” I heard Jordan Runyon yell as he and Blake Moore threw Jake to the ground, keeping him from getting up. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Jordan demanded, as some more people came running.

I ran over to Emmy, but Andy Temple got to her before I did and was helping her sit upright. Emmy was crying, a bruise already swelling her cheek. Her nose was bleeding, too, the red blood on her charcoal colored skin shocking in its intensity.

I didn’t have any idea what to do and Andy seemed to be much calmer than I felt, so I just tried to stay out of his way.

He checked to see if her nose had been broken, surprisingly gentle for the school’s star linebacker. I mean, here was a boy who made All State as a junior for his ability to tear through offensive lines, and yet he was holding Emmy as if she were the most fragile thing he’d ever touched.

When it became obvious that Emmy didn’t have a concussion or anything like that, Andy picked her up in his arms as easily as if she were a little kitten. “Let’s take her to the nurse’s office,” he said to me.

Emmy just buried her face in his shoulder, her sobbing gradually subsiding as we neared the school office. I went ahead to open the door for Andy, but by then news of the altercation had spread and the school secretary was holding the door open for us.

“Oh, my god!” said Mrs. Bradley. “What happened?”

As Andy carried Emmy into the nurse’s office, I explained what had happened to the secretary, the vice principal, and even the janitor- at least that’s how it felt.

Andy backed me up on a lot of the details after he left Emmy with the school nurse.

Just when it seemed everything was calming down, Edouard opened the door and Emmy’s mom strode in. I’m not sure anybody in the office had ever seen Emmy’s parents, but I am sure they all knew exactly who she was the moment she walked in the door.

Mrs. Lascaux was even more intimidating than she’d seemed the night I had dinner over at Emmy’s house. She was wearing an obviously very expensive dark burgundy suit, the waves of her very long, dark auburn hair pulled back and tied with a ribbon of the same color as the suit. A pearl choker and matching earrings contrasted starkly with her midnight black skin. Her high heels gave her the extra inches to tower over all the ladies in the office. In fact, somehow she gave the impression of towering over Andy, too, but I’m sure that wasn’t really the case.

Mrs. Lascaux’s piercing, scary dark blue eyes swept the room, before settling on Principal Spencer as the authority in charge.

“Mr. Spencer, where is my daughter?” She spoke in a polite tone, and her musical French accent was still there, but there was no mistaking it. She was in command, and was accustomed to people doing exactly what she wanted.

“She’s… she’s in the nurse’s office, ma’am” stammered Mr. Spencer. “Right this way.”

As he led Mrs. Lascaux to where Emmy was recovering, nobody said a word until Spencer, Emmy’s mom, and Edouard all disappeared down the hallway. Once they’d gone from sight it was as if everyone let out the breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Holy shit! That’s Emmy’s mom?” whispered Andy. “Who’s the guy?”

“Yeah, that’s her mom. The guy is her driver. And maybe her bodyguard. I’m not too sure” I whispered back.

“He looks like a bodyguard,” responded Andy, still whispering, even though there was no sign of Mrs. Lascaux or Edouard. “I bet he’s strapped. I bet he’s got a gun on him. That guy looks totally bad-ass.”

“You think he’s scary, you should see Emmy’s dad.” I was still whispering, too, I realized.

“I thought Emmy was the darkest skinned person I’d ever seen in my life, but her mom’s even darker,” marveled Andy, still in a quiet voice. “What’s her dad look like?”

“Just the same. That same super black skin and dark hair. His eyes, though, aren’t blue like hers. They’re black- or at least so dark you can’t see any color.” Just then our whispered conversation came to a halt as Mrs. Lascaux and Edouard returned from the nurse’s office. I hadn’t noticed, but Principal Spencer had returned earlier, and was quietly talking to the vice principal.

She walked up to the two of them and announced “My daughter wishes to attend classes for the rest of the day, rather than coming home with me now.”

Principal Spencer started to object, stammering something about the zero tolerance school policy requiring kids who get in a fight to be sent home.

“Nonsense. My daughter did not get in a fight. She was attacked by a young man known to be violent. My daughter did no fighting.”

“In fact, it is her desire to attend the rest of the school day to show that she will not be bullied, even in the face of violence. I expect you will honor her feelings in this matter.” Again, it was clear that this wasn’t open for debate. It was a command, and Emmy’s mom expected it would be followed.

Clearly done with the school officials, she turned to us. Andy and I jumped up from where we’d been sitting- Andy looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

Her tone was much softer when she took my hands and said “Dearest Leah. I am so sorry you got mixed up in this terrible affair. My daughter greatly values your friendship, and I am very pleased the two of you have become so close. Thank you for being here for her.”

Turning to Andy, she asked “You are Andrew Temple? Thank you for coming to my daughter’s aid. It was very gallant of you. You look like a fine young man, and I am pleased to find such quality individuals in our new home community.”

Andy really had no idea how to respond, so the best he could do was “Um… thanks. Mrs. Lascaux, Emmy isn’t hurt too badly, is she? I mean…” and he trailed off.

“No, not too badly. Minor injuries only, thankfully. It is a good thing that you and your friends were there to stop this boy from doing more harm. Please thank the others for me, if you will.”

Turning back to me again, she said “Leah, my dear. It is always a pleasure to see you. I am sorry it had to happen under these terrible circumstances.” Then to Andy, she said “It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again sometime soon.” With that, she left, just as precipitously and as imperiously as she’d arrived.

The nurse wanted to keep Emmy a little longer and Andy and I had missed most of first period, so we went to the quad to kill some time until the bell rang.

“She did seem like some kind of royalty, didn’t she?” Andy asked. “I couldn’t freakin’ believe it, the way she bossed everyone around. I don’t think Mr. Spencer got in two words. He was about ready to wet himself!”

I laughed along with him, because it was so true. “Hell,” Andy laughed, “ I just about lost bladder control myself!”

“Wait until you meet Emmy’s dad. That guy is scary as hell. Very nice and polite, but he seems like somebody who would just kill you without a second thought if you pissed him off,” I said to Andy. “Emmy showed me a tiger skin in their house. I guess her dad went into the jungle in Borneo or someplace like that. He went into the jungle with a knife one night and killed a tiger that had been terrorizing some villagers. She showed me a picture of him with the village elders and the dead tiger.”

“A knife?” Andy asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, a big curved knife. It’s on a shelf in his office. He killed an eight hundred pound tiger. At night. In the jungle. With a knife.” I added, voicing my concern, “I’m telling you, if Jake goes missing tonight I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”

“No shit,” Andy agreed, looking more than just a little bit overwhelmed. “A knife. Killed a fucking tiger with a knife,” he murmured to himself. “How badass is that?”

Switching subjects, he suddenly asked “What’s their house like? I guess they have money, right?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ve got money,” I said. “It’s a huge mansion. I had no idea that there were any houses like that around here. It’s like something from a book or magazine, or something. It’s so beautiful. Emmy’s room is bigger than our apartment. It’s got an enormous pool, and a tennis court, stables…” I realized I was just talking to fill up space, so I shut up. “Yeah, it’s really amazing,” I finished, lamely.

Andy got up from the bench. “Well, see you around.”

I just sat there for a few more minutes. Our next class was close, and I knew Emmy would have to walk this way to get there from the office. I wanted to talk to her before she had to face the crowd that I was sure had had plenty of time to hear all about this morning’s events.

“How are you feeling?” I asked when she walked up. Her cheek was swollen, her eye was bloodshot and she was walking as if it hurt, so maybe it was a ridiculous question. Still, I didn’t know what else to say or do.

Looking up at the sound of my voice, she smiled. “Leah! You waited for me! Thank you!”

Surprised by the upbeat tone of her voice. I asked “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Emmy admitted. “It does hurt a bit.”

“A bit? Just a bit? Jake hit you as hard as he could!” I exploded. I guess I was a bit angry at her for getting herself into this mess the way she did, and it showed in my voice. “What were you thinking?” I demanded. “You knew Jake was violent. You could see he was getting more and more pissed off! You should have just walked away,” I finished, my anger deflating.

“Oh, Leah,” she sighed, taking my hand. “I am sorry I made you so upset. I did not mean to do so.” She pulled me into a hug. Her invasion of my personal space bothered me, but she’d just been through a lot, so I just let it slide and didn’t push her away.

Letting me go after a few seconds, she took my hands and looked me straight in the eyes, suddenly very serious. “What happened with Jake this morning? It was necessary. Unpleasant, yes, but it had to be done.”

Just then the bell rang and a moment later the door behind me opened and kids started pouring out. A few gave us quizzical looks and I realized Emmy was still holding my hands. Pulling away, I said to her “It’s time for class.” I was still a bit angry, but I wasn’t too sure why. After all, she’d been the victim, right? Blaming the victim? Really? What was I doing?

By lunchtime pretty much the whole school knew the story. In fact, Stephanie and her stupid friend Candace asked me in art class if I’d heard the news. Their version was a bit exaggerated, but less than you might expect for such a juicy item for the gossip mill.

“I was there,” I told them. “I was with Emmy this morning when it all happened.”

“You two are really hanging out together a lot these day,” sneered Candace, with that snotty attitude of hers. “Are you like her pet or something now?” Stephanie laughed a little at her friend’s wit, but didn’t seem too committed to it. “Did she buy you with all that money she’s got?” Candace continued.

“Shut the fuck up, Candace. Don’t be such a bitch,” said Randy, from the seat next to the window. Quietly, so the teacher wouldn’t hear, he continued “You’re just jealous. Emmy’s richer than you, and better looking, too. You’re yesterday’s news,” he finished harshly.

With an exaggerated sneer, Candace turned her back on Randy, but then realized that meant facing me. She turned again so she wouldn’t have to look at either of us.

Stephanie followed suit, which surprised me a little. Usually it worked the other way around. Stephanie led, and Candace (and the other cheerleaders) followed. I guess it was just bitchy solidarity that caused Stephanie to go along with one of her minions in this case.

Anyway, at lunch a lot of people came over to our table to offer sympathy. The comments were all pretty much the same. “I can’t believe he did that!” “It’s so brave of you to stand up to a racist pig like that!” “Jake’s an asshole.” And so on.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but when Andy brought over half the football team I really started to understand what had happened this morning. “Me and the guys had a talk, and we decided that Jake is off the team, if he even comes back to school. In fact, some of us think he should get the shit beaten out of him, just so he learns.” A few of the guys looked a little uncomfortable with this, but a lot nodded in agreement with Andy.

“I really do appreciate that you would do that, but I do not think that would be a very good idea,” Emmy replied. “It is best to let the police do what is required. Thank you very much, though.” With this, she got up and gave Andy a big hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for being there this morning.”

After lunch, when we were walking to Bio, I pulled Emmy aside. “Can I ask you something?” I had my suspicions, and I wanted to know.

“Of course you can! What a silly question.” she laughed.

“You’re taking advantage of this situation, aren’t you? That’s why you didn’t want to go home. You wanted everybody in school to know Jake beat you up, didn’t you?” I demanded.

She looked at me like a teacher whose student finally gets the answer right. “But of course. Would you, if you were in my position?”

“Um… What position is that? And no, I wouldn’t have put myself in the position to get beaten up in the first place!” I realized that at some level I was still mad at Emmy, and my tone of voice made it clear to her as well.

“I am an outsider. I am an unknown. Few care to know me,” Emmy explained, and despite her words I could hear no trace of bitterness in her voice. “But I will not be ignored. An event like this, although painful, will cause it so nobody at this school thinks I am weak. No one will dare to threaten me again.”

“But Jake beat you up! He punched you!” I was nearly shouting, exasperated.

“Yes, he hit me. But who has beaten whom? I do not think it was Jake Merrick that won. He has lost far, far more than he could have realized this morning. Wait and see.” The tone of her voice was hard, but I didn’t get the impression her anger was directed at me. Maybe what I’d said to Andy about Jake disappearing might come true after all, I thought for a moment.

“He will go to jail,” Emmy stated, as if explaining a math problem. “Many witnesses saw him hit me, and everybody heard his racist language. It will be prosecuted as a hate crime, which means that he will be treated harshly by the criminal justice system. He is eighteen years old, so he will go in with the adults, in to the state prison. He will find very few friends in there. He will forever be branded as a violent felon. His life is ruined.” She said this all with a matter-of-factness that was more than just a tiny bit chilling.

“But enough of that. Jake Merrick is no more than an unpleasant memory. There is no more need to discuss him. It is over.” With this, Emmy’s smile returned. How she could turn her emotions on and off like that I could not understand, but I was willing to pretend that I could forget all about the incident, just as she was doing.

Later that evening, as I was telling Mom all about it, a thought occurred to me. I downloaded the video I’d shot onto my computer so I could watch it on the larger screen just to make sure, and my suspicions might well have been correct. Emmy actually saw Jake’s fist rise before she turned to look at me. The look of panic I thought I’d seen that morning might actually have been her checking to make sure I was recording it all. She looked a bit calmer on the video than I thought she had at the time. The more I watched and rewound and watched the video again, the more convinced I became that she knew he was about to hit her, and did nothing to prevent it. In fact, I became reasonably sure that she had known all along that violence might happen, and that’s why she wanted me to record it.

I had a hard time believing that anybody could be so calculating, so committed to revenge, but there it was. Emmy had played Jake, and now he was going to pay.