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“Yeah, I do.” Tears trickled down his cheeks as he cried. “I’m not your boyfriend, Claire Biggs, and I’m not your friend.”
“Gerard!”
Familiar voices filled the air then, and I could hear Johnny calling out Gerard’s name in a frantic tone of voice.
“No, Gerard,” I started to say, but he had already taken off running. “Wait!” I cried, clutching my head in my hands. “Oh my god.”
“Gibs!” When Johnny came thundering around the corner, he veered straight for me. “Claire? Where is he?” His breathing was hard and ragged as he looked around the empty courtyard. “Where’s Gibs?”
“Claire,” Shannon called out a moment later, as she came running toward me with the skirt of her beautiful white gown hitched up to her knees. “Oh my god, Claire!”
“I messed up, Shan,” I cried out hoarsely. “I messed everything up.”
“It’s okay.” With sympathetic eyes, she quickly moved for me, not stopping until I was wrapped up in her arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Shh. Shh. It’s okay.”
“Talk to me,” Johnny begged, watching on helplessly. “Please fucking talk to me, girls.”
Keeping one arm wrapped around me, Shannon reached into her bra and retrieved the letter. Holding it up, she looked to me for permission. Slumping against her, I nodded weakly. “Claire found this in Gibsie’s room tonight.” Sniffling, she handed her boyfriend the note and then used her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek.
Wordlessly, Johnny unfolded the note and then, because it was too dark outside to read it, he reached into his pocket for his phone. Unlocking the screen of the phone, he held it over the letter as his eyes tracked every awful word.
His breath hitched and he dropped his phone, but instead of taking his eyes off the page, he slowly sank to the ground and felt around for it with a trembling hand. “Fuck…” His voice cracked and I watched as this huge boy, with limitless popularity and pull, broke down in front of us. “Fuck!” Head bowed, he clutched at his hair and continued to stare at the letter. “Fuck, Gibs.” A pained cry escaped him. “Not you, lad.” His big shoulders racked with shudders. “Not fucking you, Gibs!”
“Johnny,” Shannon sobbed, shuffling us closer to him so that she could place a hand on his head.
“I know, baby.” Almost instinctively, his hand shot out to clutch her leg. “I know.”
77
I Don’t Want to Be Your Friend Anymore
CLAIRE
“It’s going to be okay.” With one arm wrapped around my waist, Shannon led me back to the common room. “Johnny is going to find him.”
“I should have gone with him,” I replied, numb. “It’s my fault.”
“No, Claire, it’s not. None of this is your fault, I promise.” She stopped in front of the door and turned to look at me. “And you’re in no condition to go running around town looking for him. Joey’s not drinking. He’ll drive us back to your house and we’ll be there when Johnny brings him home. Because he will find him, Shan. He won’t stop until he does.”
“I can’t deal with Lizzie right now, Shan,” I admitted, gesturing to the closed door. “I can’t.” Sniffling, I batted a tear off my cheek. “Because if she says another word about Gerard, I think I might snap.”
“Then wait out here, okay?” Shannon replied. “I’ll go inside and get my brother.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a hiccup, not trusting myself to be anywhere near our other friend in this moment.
When Shannon opened the door a moment later and tried to slip inconspicuously inside, Lizzie’s voice boomed through the air. “I don’t care what she says. He’s clearly after getting into her head and twisting everything around,” she was screaming. “She’s making all of this up to cover for him.”
That was it.
That was all I could take.
Losing every ounce of self-control left inside of my body, I slammed my palm against the semi-closed door and pushed it back open.
“Making it up?” My voice was deathly cold as I stood in the doorway, eyes trained on the willowy blond. “Making it up?”
“Why would you do that?” Lizzie cried, turning to face me. “Why would you lie about my sister like that?”
“I didn’t lie,” I heard myself respond, knowing that the only thing I had left to lose had already bolted. “And I didn’t make anything up.” Narrowing my eyes, I gritted out the words, “Mark didn’t rape your sister.”
