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Some of them still pretend they are, but when I walk into the room, they all stop talking, and change the subject to something like sports or schoolwork.
What hurts the most is no one bothers to ask me, is it true? And give me a chance to explain.
They just call me names behind my back, and whisper lies about me.
April 23
Dad asked me if I’m being bullied at school. Oh, Daddy… I could never tell you what’s going on. It would break your heart. Mom’s too. I wish I could tell you, though. I wish I could tell someone that I don’t understand why the world’s gone insane and they’re taking it out on me.
Alana came by today. I’m ashamed to look her in the eye. I’m sure she’s heard what everyone calls me, but she’s never said a word. Not to me. She’s so sweet… I can’t look at her without wondering what she knows and isn’t telling me.
Wish she’d stop coming. It’s only making it worse. I’d rather be left alone. Two more months until summer vacation, then one more year in this hell.
I’m not gonna make it. I can’t.
April 27
I entered the chem lab today and everyone stopped talking, except for Rennie and Richard. Then someone whispered, “Shush, the slut’s here.”
This will never end. I don’t know what they were saying. I stopped wanting to find out. Why can’t they just say it to my face? Why can’t I get the right to defend myself?
Slut. That’s all I am now to everyone who used to be my friend.
I can’t stand it anymore.
Wish I was dead. Then it would be over.
The SUV stopped abruptly, and Kay raised her eyes from the tear-stained, cream-colored pages filled with neat cursive handwriting. She closed the diary and tucked it into the unsealed evidence bag.
“Why would these kids call Jenna a whore behind her back?” Kay asked, a frown wrinkling her brow as she looked at Elliot. Tapping on the closed diary in her lap with an accusing finger, she added, “She was a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl, for crying out loud.”
Elliot cut the engine, then pointed at the small house with petunia flowerbeds on both sides of the entrance. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
They were almost on the porch when the door swung open, and a teenage girl stepped outside. She wore a sleeveless shirt with a floral pattern and white shorts. Her long blonde hair was tucked behind her ears. She was smiling at them, a shy hand raised in a tentative greeting.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” she said. “Kids are texting, saying cops are talking to people who knew Jenna. I was her best friend,” she announced, undertones of sadness in her voice.
Where were those texting kids getting their information from?Kay wondered. They’d only just started with Mackenzie. Some smartass kid might’ve given himself airs stating the logical and obvious. Of course, cops were going to talk to people who knew Jenna.
They stopped on the concrete path, and Elliot showed his badge. “We have a few questions, yes.”
The girl continued to grin nervously, twisting a strand of her hair with long nervous fingers, annoying Kay just a little bit with her indecisiveness. Mackenzie didn’t budge from the porch; she didn’t seem to want to invite them in. The color of her hair might’ve matched the two fibers Doc Whitmore had found on Jenna’s body, but Mackenzie’s hair fell in loose curls almost to her waist. Too long to be a match.
Kay smiled encouragingly. “May we come inside?”
A flicker of a frown clouded her eyes. “Um, sure,” she said, still hesitant, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s messy, you know.”
A battle seemed to take place inside Mackenzie’s mind. Eventually, she opened the door, holding the knob as they walked through, and closing it behind them. Then she led them to her bedroom.
“My folks aren’t at home, and they said people shouldn’t come when they’re out.” Her smile turned into an anxious giggle. “But I guess you’re all right.”
“I’d like to think so,” Elliot replied, smiling and touching the brim of his hat.
Mackenzie’s bedroom was all about vampire romance, mainlyTwilight, represented generously with large-size movie pictures for all the installments. A bookcase flanked a small desk, filled with vampire books.
Kay looked around, taking a quick inventory of the items and how they portrayed her witness. The furniture was inexpensive, but neat and clean. Just like the house, this room spoke of a family life with simple values, lived in harmony, and frugally. “You prefer books to movies?”
“I like both,” she replied, standing uncomfortably, stepping with one foot over the other. She was instinctively minimizing her footprint, indicative of deep-set insecurity and shyness. “But with books, you can spend more time with the stories,” she chuckled, letting go of the hair strand she was twisting and proceeding to torture her long, thin fingers, kneading them together.
