Vigilante

CHAPTER 3

I had Aikido class that night, in a strip mall located on West Main Street. The instructor was a great big guy named José, who was very strong, and surprisingly light on his feet. He smiled a lot, which made him look completely unthreatening. I liked him. I’d started taking his class a couple of years ago. It was one of the few things Magda and I hadn’t done together. She tried it, but just didn’t like it. She didn’t like hurting people—or getting hurt.

“We have a special guest tonight,” José said. “Detective Diane Davies from our local police station. She’s going to talk to you all about how you can use aikido to protect yourself from an attacker.”

Detective Davies was tall. She wore a T-shirt and sweatpants, and I could see muscle definition in her arms. She’d seemed nice at the time, like she really wanted to help. But in the end, she’d let Magda down too.

“I need someone to help me demonstrate these moves,” Detective Davies said. “Would anyone like to volunteer?”

I put up my hand before I could stop myself. It wasn’t that I wanted to be helpful, but that I was hoping to have the chance to punch her in the face. Not a particularly sane thought, but I was just so angry. Angry that Magda was gone. Angry that Jason Bentley hadn’t known who I was. Angry that everybody was just going about their regular lives like nothing terrible had happened. My best friend was dead, and she had been for months. My life hadn’t been the same since she was attacked, and it never would be. I was always going to wonder what Magda could’ve been, what she could’ve achieved, and about the fact that four assholes had made certain she’d never do any of it.

So yeah, the chance to unload a little violence—with no ramifications—on one of the people who had let Magda down was too tempting to pass up.

And maybe she’d land a couple of strikes on me, and I could let the pain inside me go somewhere else. Take the punishment I deserved.

Detective Davies met my gaze as I approached the front of the dojo. When we stood face-to-face she smiled at me, and said, “I know you. It’s Hadley, right?”

So she did remember. “Yes.”

Her smile faded a little. Good. I hope she remembered Magda, and that she felt at least a little guilt standing there with me.

“First I want you to come at me,” she instructed. “I’ll defend myself against you, then we’ll break down the moves, and then you’ll use them on me.”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

She moved a few feet away from me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I didn’t run toward her, or lunge. But I quickly closed the distance between us and aimed a kick I had learned in tae kwon do at her sternum. She was fast, way faster than I anticipated. She grabbed my leg, using my momentum to throw me off balance and facedown on the floor.

I sucked in a deep breath to replace what had been knocked out of me, and pushed myself to my feet. She was good. And I was pissed at myself for not being at least as good.

The detective addressed the class. “You all know that aikido is about displacing the energy of an attack. I didn’t have to strike out, and I avoided being hit simply by using Hadley’s momentum to my own advantage and against her. Now, Hadley, would you mind helping me break the moves down so that everyone can see before you use it against me?”

I walked back to the center of the mat with her. We went through the movements again, this time in slow motion. I paid close attention to how she grabbed my leg and twisted her own body. This time when I hit the mat it was with barely any force at all, and I was able to catch myself.

“Now,” Diane said. “I will attack you.”

Obviously she knew other martial arts as well, because she came at me fast with a confident kick aimed at my midsection. Remembering her moves, I grabbed her leg and with a sharp pivot of my body, brought her crashing to the mat. I hoped she found it as hard to breathe as I had.

I offered her my hand to help her to her feet. She took it. As she rose to her feet she gave me an odd look, like she knew what was going on in my head. It made me uncomfortable.

“Very good,” she told me. “Why don’t the rest of you pair off and take turns practicing on your partners?”

Not everyone had shown up for class that night, so I was left without a partner. Normally I wouldn’t have cared, because it would’ve meant I got to spar with José. This time, however, it left me with the cop.

“You’re very good,” she told me. “Though I don’t believe aikido is meant to be used with such anger.” She actually smiled when she said it.

I wanted to tell her off, but even I wasn’t that ballsy. “Sorry.”

She laughed. “Don’t apologize. If you’re ever attacked, I want you to be angry about it.”

I looked her in the eyes. “I’m angry if any woman gets attacked.”

Her smile slid from her face. “That’s where I know you from. You were Magda Torres’s friend.”

“I still am her friend. The fact that she’s dead doesn’t change that.”

“No,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t think that it did.” She watched me like I was something potentially dangerous, as though she wasn’t quite sure that I was safe to be around.

“Sorry,” I said, even though I didn’t mean it. “Today was the first day of senior year. Magda and I had a lot of plans, and today I realized that none of them were ever going to happen.” Saying that out loud made my throat tight and my eyes burn. I blinked fast to clear them. This woman was not going to see me cry.

“I wish I could say I don’t know what you’re going through. But unfortunately I have too good an idea. When I was in college, a good friend of mine was raped on campus. She didn’t take her own life, but she carried the trauma with her for years afterward. She still does. They never caught the guy who did it. She’s the reason I became a cop.”

“Do you know who he was?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Everyone knows who raped Magda.” Maybe I was just stupid, or maybe I just didn’t care what the consequences were, but I stepped close to her and stared directly into her eyes. “And you weren’t able to catch them, either. Maybe you should consider another career choice.”

She didn’t even blink. “Believe me, I considered it. But I have to believe that I can make more of a difference as a police officer than I could outside the law.”

“Good luck with that.” I turned away from her and walked over to where José stood going over some paperwork. “Will you spar with me?” I asked.

He looked up, his friendly face looking bewildered. “I thought you’d want to learn from Detective Davies.”

“I don’t think she can teach me anything helpful.”

I used to think that some girl rolling her eyes at me, or sneering at me, was the worst expression in the world. Contempt—even hatred—those are things I don’t mind seeing in somebody’s face anymore. What I hate is pity—that moment when someone looks at you and you can see it in their eyes, that they feel so badly for you, like you’re a puppy that just got kicked.

“Give her a chance,” he suggested. “I think the two of you might be able to help each other.”

I knew better than to argue. José didn’t get angry; he never raised his voice. Once you were in his class for a couple of sessions, you realized that he meant whatever came out of his mouth, and no amount of urging, begging or even threats could persuade him otherwise.

I stepped back to where Diane Davies stood. She was checking her phone.

“José made you come back, did he?” She didn’t even glance up from her screen.

“Yes.” I said it through clenched teeth.

She looked me in the eye. “I’m very aware of how much I let Magda Torres and her loved ones down. How much the system let them down. I would give just about anything to go back and change that, but I think you and I both know you can’t go back.”

“No, you can’t. If we could, I would have never let her out of my sight at that party. I would’ve stopped her from taking those pills.”

“But you can’t do either of those things. No one can. I know something you can do.”

“What?” I could practically taste the bitterness and mockery in my tone.

“José and I have been talking about starting a self-defense course for girls. I would like for you to be a part of it if you’re interested. Help us teach other girls to protect themselves, so that what happened to Magda maybe won’t happen to one of them.”

I stared at her. Was she serious? She did know that Magda had been drugged, right? Being able to throw a punch wouldn’t have helped her. “Why me?”

“Because I think helping other girls might give you a place to channel all that anger.”

“I’m not angry.”

Instead of laughing like I expected her to, she gave me an understanding look. “No, you’re heartbroken.”

Maybe she understood a little better than I thought. “This class, are you going to teach them to actually fight, or will it just be things like blowing whistles and sticking people with keys?” Because Magda had taken one of those classes, and it had done her absolutely no fucking good.

“There might be a little bit of whistles and keys. But we’ll be teaching them to fight, and to fight dirty. We’re talking forcing testicles to retract, that kind of fighting.”

For the first time in months, a genuine smile curved my lips. “I’m in.”

* * *

“You should eat something.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, I looked up at my mother. She had that pinched expression on her face that I’d seen a lot since Magda died. It was an expression I understood to mean that while she was worried about me, she was also annoyed with me. I think she thought that I should be over it by now.

But did we ever get over losing someone we cared about? I mean, it wasn’t like Magda had moved to another city, or had gone away to school. She was gone. Forever. Three-quarters of my life had been spent with her and then, during the space of a few hours, she’d stopped being. How did you just “get over” that?”

“I’m not all that hungry.”

Mom spooned some scrambled eggs onto my plate. “At least eat these. You need the protein.”

She was right. I wasn’t one of those kids who thought my parents were wrong all the time. Usually they were right. Well, Mom usually was. My father pretty much just pissed me off whenever I saw him.

Then again, it didn’t take much to upset me these days.

I didn’t argue about the eggs. I ate them on autopilot, not really tasting them. I couldn’t live the rest of my life like this—numb except for bouts of rage. I knew it was part of the grieving process, but it was also exhausting.

“You’ve gotten so thin.”

I ate another mouthful of eggs as a response. I hadn’t really lost much weight. After the funeral I did lose about ten pounds, but some of those had come back. The difference was that I had been working out like mad. Aikido was the third martial arts class I had taken since I was thirteen. It hadn’t started out as me just wanting to hit or kick something. I signed up for martial arts because I wanted to be fit, and it was really the only thing I found fun enough to stick with. And now it was the only thing that calmed me down.

Magda hadn’t been into the kicking and punching. She liked to run and had been on the school track team. The muscles in her legs had been like granite. I ran with her once in a while, but I could never keep up.

Regardless, I was working out more, turning the soft parts of my body into something hard and strong.

“The police officer that was at class last night asked me to help her with a self-defense class for girls.”

Mom look surprised at this. “Really? Why would she do that?”

I shrugged. “She thinks I’m good. And she knew Magda.”

There was that pinched look again. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Hadley.”

“I do.” And it wasn’t until that moment when she opposed it that I realized I had already made up my mind about it. “I’m good at it, Mom. And if I can help even one girl escape what happened to Magda, it will be worth it.”

She sighed. “I suppose if I say no you’ll only do it anyway.”

“Why are you making it sound like I want to go out and do something reckless? Or something that might get me hurt or in trouble? Jesus, Mom.” I shook my head. “I just want to do something good.”

She looked pained, like I was doing this deliberately to hurt her. I had no idea why she was so opposed to this. I had no idea what was going through her head. It was almost like she blamed Magda for my emotional state. It didn’t make sense, but I was sure it was true.

“Fine. Help at the class. If your grades start to suffer, you will quit.”

I nodded. “Sure.” But I only made the promise so she’d stop talking about it.

Mom wasn’t done. “Your father isn’t going to like this.”

It was so tempting to say that I didn’t care if Dad liked it or not. I wanted to ask why she was so worried about his opinion anyway. It wasn’t like he was ever around. He was always working or... Whatever.

“I’ll tell him,” I said. “He’ll be okay with it when I tell him that I think it would be good for me—help me work out the guilt I feel for Magda being raped.”

My mother winced. The R word always made her intensely uncomfortable. “It wasn’t your fault. You know how much I liked Magda, but she ought to have known better than to be drinking at a party with that many boys around.”

My fingers tightened around my fork. Her words—so stupid and careless—made me remember what I’d said to Magda that day about being punished for making a mistake. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “No, those boys ought to have known better than to drug and rape a girl.”

“Hadley...”

“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare say it.” I didn’t understand how she could think it, let alone believe it. I knew, however, that my mother wasn’t the only woman to think that Magda had asked for what happened to her. Hell, even I had thought it once or twice. God, I wish I could take it back, because that guilt was a weight I’d carry the rest of my life. “Even if I walked into school stark naked with a box of condoms and a bottle of lube, I would not be asking to be raped.”

“Oh, Hadley!” She made a face. “Don’t be so crude.”

“What if it had been me, Mom? Would you blame me? Would you say those things about me?”

“Of course not!” She looked offended that I’d even suggest it. God, she really didn’t have a clue. “I hope I raised you well enough that you wouldn’t get yourself into such a situation.”

I’d had enough. There was a very real possibility that I was going to stab my mother with my fork if I didn’t leave the house at that moment. I pushed back my chair—it screeched against the floor—and practically jumped to my feet.

“I have to go. I’ll be late for school.” I grabbed my bag and stomped from the kitchen, throwing open the door so hard that it banged against the wall.

“Hey!” my mother yelled. “There’s no need for that!”

I ignored her and kept walking. I was halfway to school before I realized that I still had the fork in my hand.

CHAPTER 4

I ran into Zoe at lunch that day. Actually, I was outside sitting on the grass, letting the sun beat down on me in the hope that it might thaw the coldness inside, when she plopped down beside me.

“So,” she began, “are you going to the party Saturday night?”

I turned my head toward her, looking at her through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. “What party?”

“Jason Bentley is having a party Saturday night.”

I laughed—it was not a happy sound. “No.”

“He asked me to tell you about it.”

I peered at her over the top of my sunglasses. She was shitting me, right? “Seriously? Why would he do that?” Was he trying to mess with me?

She pulled a pair of pink cat-eye sunglasses from her bag and put them on. “He didn’t say. He just asked me to tell my ‘pretty blonde friend’ about the party.”

“And you thought he meant me?”

Zoe smiled. “He saw us talking in class.”

He must have asked her to do this before he came after me yesterday. “I’m not sure why he would think I’d want to go. Zoe, you know he’s one of the guys who raped Magda.”

She glanced away. “He was never charged.”

Was I the only person who had a grip on reality around there? “That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry, Hadley. I’ve known Jason for years. I just don’t want to believe he could do such a thing.”

And I never believed Magda would kill herself. I never thought my father would turn out to be an asshole. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it, either.”

“So what, you’re just going to avoid all social gatherings your last year of high school?”

“No. Just the ones Bentley and his friends are involved with.”

“They’re going to be at all of them. They’re the most popular guys in school.”

“I know. That’s how they managed to get away with it. They’re rich and popular. They’re also rapists. If you go to that party, don’t let Drew Carson get you a drink.”

“I don’t let anyone get me a drink.”

So maybe she wasn’t as gullible as I thought.

Zoe pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Has it occurred to you that maybe if you go to the party, people will see you and remember what happened to Magda? Maybe another girl will think twice before going off with one of them.”

I stared at her. I didn’t know why it was so important to her that I go to this damn party, but she had a point. “I’ll think about it.”

She smiled. “I can pick you up.”

If she’d wanted me to go to the party with her why hadn’t she just said so? I wanted to warn her that I wasn’t much of a wing man, but I couldn’t make the words come out. I wasn’t in the market for a new best friend, either. Still, I kept that to myself.

Instead, I said to her, “We’re starting a self-defense course for girls at my dojo. Diane Davies—she’s a cop—is putting it together. She’s asked me to help. Are you interested?”

Zoe’s pretty face brightened. “You mean like teaching us to fight?”

I nodded. “It would be about protecting yourself from an attack, but yes, we teach you to fight.” Maybe I shouldn’t make that promise, but if Detective Davies wasn’t going to do it, I would.

She grinned. “Cool. I always wanted to learn how to fight. When does it start?”

“Thursday night. I know that’s soon, but we wanted to get going as quickly as possible. It’s at seven. Here’s the address.” I gave her one of José’s cards.

“Thanks.” She glanced at it before putting it in her bag.

“If you know anybody else who’d be interested, feel free to spread the word.” The more girls we got, the less chance there was of Drew Carson and his friends being able to continue hurting people. Warning girls that their drinks might be spiked only did so much.

“I will.”

We sat there for a while, not saying much. It was nice to hang out with someone. I hadn’t done that since Magda died. Lunch was almost over when I heard laughter. I turned my head toward it and saw Drew, Jason, Brody and Adam standing together farther down the lawn. They were talking to a group of girls, all of whom looked at them like they were special. I didn’t understand it. We all knew what they had done. Everyone in that school knew what had happened that night. For fuck’s sake, everyone in the goddamn town knew what had happened that night. Why, then, did the four of them get to continue on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened? Why did people treat them as though they were innocent, even though they had taken pictures of what they’d done to my friend?

And why did Magda, the best person I’ve ever known, get treated like she had done something wrong? I could almost understand why guys wouldn’t care, but I would never understand why the girls didn’t.

I stared at them, that familiar burn of anger and helplessness churning in my stomach, spreading up into my chest and throat until I thought my ribs might cave in from the heaviness of it, and I might choke to death.

They would all be at the party at Jason’s. They would be there, and so would those girls. And one of those girls would get Drew’s attention. Maybe he already had her picked out. He would get her a drink, and he would put something in it that made it difficult for her to fight back or even move. And he would take her to a bedroom, where he and his three best friends would take turns violating her while one of them took video and photographs. And if anybody found out about it, they would say she was willing. That she wanted it. That she was a slut. And they would get away with it, because they always got away with it. I knew of three other girls who had been assaulted by one or more of those assholes, and nothing had been done about it.

The edges of my vision were black, as I gasped for breath. Was this a panic attack? Or was I finally being suffocated by my grief, guilt and rage? My anger was not a bad thing. My anger was righteous. Teaching girls to defend themselves was only a small part of what needed to be done. Someone had to show those boys that they would not be allowed to hurt people, that there was a price. They owed Magda her life, and that was a debt they could never repay. But as I sat there watching them, caught between imploding and breaking down, I realized something with absolute clarity. The four of them had to pay.