Page 77 of Did You See Evie

She lowers her head again, chin to chest, as she shuffles past Mr. Lake. The awkwardness from our conversation lingers, as I once again itch with shame over the fact Mr. Lake knows almost as much about my fiancé’s infidelity as I do.

“What do you want?” I ask him, once the door is shut again.

“Did you hear about what happened in the parking lot this morning?”

I refuse to look at him. Mr. Lake will find out that one of the employees at his school was messaging students soon enough, and when he does, he’ll be angry I didn’t come to him first. “I was there when the police arrived and asked him to come downtown.”

“Do you know what it was about?”

I don’t confirm or deny, simply shrug my shoulders. Mr. Lake has lost my respect in the way he’s handled everything from Evie being bullied onward, choosing when to share information and when to cover it up.

He sighs. “I have to talk with the police. I need you to go to the gym for a team meeting before first period.”

“I thought you didn’t want me speaking with the girls anymore,” I say, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Detective Fields is the one calling this meeting,” he says. “She wants to confront the team about some new information that came through last night. As soon as I finish with this Kyle mess, I’ll join you.”

I sit up straighter. Knowing that Detective Fields is involved gives me enough hope to push through everything else that’s hurting me.

Within the hour, the school building is full, buzzy energy bursting at the seams. As most of the students clank around their lockers and migrate to their classrooms, the basketball team makes their way to the gymnasium. Detective Fields is already there. I’m happy to see no parents are in sight. We get more accurate information from the girls when they’re not involved.

Just as the final tardy bell rings, my phone buzzes. Nadia is calling. I haven’t talked to her since I hung up last night. I’m sure she’s as eager for a development as I am. Regardless, I ignore the call, ready to hear what Detective Fields has to say.

“Is this the entire team?” she asks me before we get started.

I nod my head, eyeing each of the girls. Given Evie’s absence, my answer feels like a lie. “Shouldn’t you be talking with Kyle?”

“One of my colleagues is with him now. I’ll get to him later, but I wanted to address the team first,” she says. She raises her voice so that it carries across the gymnasium. “I understand you all opened up to Coach Cass yesterday about conversations Evie was having online with an older student.”

Some of the girls nod their heads, but most stare ahead blankly.

“Can anyone tell me how long Evie was in contact with this individual?”

Now the girls look at each other, trying to decide how much they should say. Finally, Beatrice is the one to speak.

“She told me they’d been in contact since January,” she says, confidently.

“Did anyone else on the team have contact with them?”

“She showed us the messages,” Amber says.

“But did any of you talk to this person directly?”

The girls shake their heads.

Detective Fields looks down at her phone and unlocks the screen. She pulls up a picture of the phony boy Evie had been talking to, walking down the line of bleachers to let all the girls see.

“Have any of you ever seen this person before?”

Each girl sits up straighter, craning their necks to get a better look at the photograph on the screen. Just as quickly, they look away.

Detective Fields smiles, her expression equal parts amusement and sadness.

“This is the person Evie was talking to online,” she says. “After looking into it further, we uncovered she wasn’t speaking with the teenage boy you see in this picture. She had been messaging a grown man.”

I pay close attention to how Detective Fields shares this information. She isn’t telling them the adult with whom Evie had been speaking is their teacher, although I’m sure word will soon spread like wildfire.

Some of the girls roll their eyes or mock gag, unable to hide their disgust. Others gasp. Beatrice jumps back, covering a hand to her mouth. “There’s no way.”

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