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But Mrs. Trout corroborated my story. “She came tearing out of the house like a cat on fire,” she told him, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
An hour later, as Cory stood on the sidewalk and watched to make sure Mrs. Trout and Dashiell got back to their house okay, I did some quick math. Twenty-five hundred dollars a day for twelve days would get me $30,000.
Cory returned and sat next to me, taking my hand. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Nate’s made some questionable decisions in the past, but I never thought he’d do something like this to me.”
I forced myself to count to three before pulling away. “He told me if I didn’t sleep with him, he was going to convince you I’d targeted you somehow. He even told me he would tell you that I’d lied about my background. That no one in Grass Valley knew who I was. He’s insanely jealous of you.” I could practically feel the satisfied vibration passing through Cory. “Nate wants what you have,” I went on. “He wants the house, the success, the relationship. He’s always wanted to be you.”
Later that night, I listened in on Cory’s side of the conversation. Whatever Nate was telling him, it wasn’t working. “She told me you’d say that. That you’d try to convince me she was a fraud.” I held my breath, hoping that I’d fed Cory just enough of Nate’s story to convince him that I was the one telling the truth. Finally, Cory said, “We’ve been friends a long time. You’ve always been there for me. But this crosses a line. I need you to stay away from Meg. Stay away from the house.” Another pause, as Nate most likely tried to plead his case. “I mean it, Nate. Next time, we’re filing a police report.”
That night, when Cory reached for me in bed, I pulled away. “I can’t,” I said. “I can still feel his hands on me, grabbing me.” I turned my back and pulled myself into a tight ball.
Finally, he said, “You’re safe, Meg. He won’t come back.”
I nodded and pressed my lips together. Twelve days, I reminded myself.
***
Time seemed to slow down. Over the next twelve days, I woke before Cory and stayed awake long after he’d gone to sleep. I stopped going to work and class, claiming I was afraid to leave the house, worried Nate would follow me. Cory suggested a restraining order, and I told him I’d think about it. But the minute he left for the day, I got to work.
I began every day with a trip to the ATM, withdrawing the maximum amount per day. By the time I left town, the household account would be nearly empty, and I’d have a large amount of cash, a new car, a laptop, and some very marketable web design skills, according to the community college website.
I submitted a change of address to the DMV, requesting a copy of the title be sent to the new PO box I’d set up. And always, I kept an eye out for Nate. Checking the street before I left, looking in parked cars, making sure he wasn’t waiting to confront me again. It was exhausting, and I fell into bed every night, fatigued from holding myself together all day.
I spent a hurried hour in the college computer lab, scanning the photos of Cory and Kristen, checking over my shoulder as I printed three copies of each and put them into three separate envelopes along with the emails between Cory and Stacy I’d printed. I kept everything hidden in my computer bag, which I took with me everywhere.
Multiple calls from Cal went unanswered. Then the texts started. Why aren’t you showing up for your shifts? You need to answer your phone.
A few days before my departure, I hid in the bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet, my hands shaking as I typed my response.
You need to stop calling me.
As expected, my phone rang again.
I blew the hair from my forehead before I picked up. “You don’t follow directions very well, do you?”
Cal’s voice was laced with concern, nearly breaking my resolve. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
I thought of all I’d lost. My mother. My home. Why couldn’t I keep this one thing?
“I think our friendship has run its course,” I finally said. “I need a fresh start. A new beginning.”
“I never thought you’d be the kind of person who dumped her friends the minute she got a boyfriend.”
My finger traced the edges of the white tiles surrounding the tub. Cal should know by now that I was the kind of person who did whatever she had to do to save herself. “Please don’t call me again.”
***
I had no idea where I would go, but I thought it best to leave California. Maybe Arizona or Nevada. Or maybe I’d keep driving east until I found a place where I felt like I could rewrite who I was and what I’d done to get there.
I bought a large metal toolbox with a padlock and kept it in my trunk. Every day, I put another $2,500 in it. The last thing I did was make copies of Kristen’s settlement agreement, including her victim statement, and slid those into the three envelopes as well before addressing one to the school board president, one to the Los Angeles Times, and a third one with the name of the math department chair—Cory’s nemesis, Dr. Craig Michaelson. I hid the original photos of Cory and Kristen in the back of his desk drawer, knowing Cory was unlikely to notice them but that, eventually, the police would.
And when the twelve days were up, I was ready. I waited for a Saturday, when Cory liked to go into school and catch up on paperwork, and invited myself along. “I won’t get in the way,” I told him. “I just want to be near you.”
Even though it was early May, the mornings were still chilly. I put on a pair of running tights and a large coat with deep inner pockets. Into one of them, I tucked the envelope for Dr. Michaelson.
When we arrived, I waited while Cory unlocked the administration building and punched his code into the alarm. “Is the bathroom open?” I asked.
“Yep. Just down that hall,” he said, flipping on the lights. I looked to where he pointed, past a long counter, behind which were a cluster of desks. Along the far wall were the teacher mailboxes.
