Page 101 of The Second Kiss
“I walked,” Jacob says.
“You walked,” Mr. Harris says incredulously.
Jacob looks down at his hands. “I got in a fight with Laini, and she kicked me out of her car, so I started walking.”
Mr. Martin looks suspicious. “You didn’t call for a ride or call a cab or your brother or—”
“No,” Jacob says.
“Why not?” This time the question is from Mom, but she asks it gently.
“I didn’t call Gage because I didn’t want to ruin Jess and Jasmine’s prom night.”
“Then why did you go to Ms. Roberts' house?” The lawyer asks.
Jacob looks like he’s struggling to come up with an explanation. For a second he catches my eye, looking at me like I might have the answer, but I don’t. Finally he says, “I don’t know. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure where I was going when I first started walking. I walked for a long time before I realized I was almost at Jess' house. I felt like...like there was something I needed to do there. That... I don’t know.”
Mr. Harris shakes his head. “You’re going to have to come up with a better explanation than that. A prosecuting attorney will tear that statement apart. You can’t have any insecurities about your own motives. No one is going to buy that you just ended up there at exactly the right time and the right place. You can say your phone was dead, so you went looking for your brother, or that you didn’t have anyone else to call, or that–”
“You want me to lie?” Jacob says.
“No. I want you to consider what your motives were, and then choose one that looks less like you and Jess had planned to ambush Mr. Wilson at her house.”
I snap. “That’s not what happened. Brad ambushed me. He tackled me, and I hit my chin on the stairs. He was dragging me to his truck, and I got away for a minute, but then he found me. If Jacob hadn't come he would have...” but I can’t finish that sentence. My chest is tight, and my stomach churns. Mom takes my hand and I grip hers like she’s the only thing keeping me from falling off a cliff.
Dad’s face is stormy, and his voice keeps getting louder. “What about her chin? What about her stomach? What aboutthe bruises all over my daughter’s body? What about the broken door in the barn?”
“He has explanations for all of that—explanations that implicate Sergeant Ricks.” Mr. Harris sighs. “I’m afraid it’s his word against theirs. It is helpful that there are two of you, and that your stories are the same.”
Dad runs his fingers through his hair. Has he always had that much gray? “What about their side? Will anything Brad says hold up in court?”
“It’s a hard call,” Mr. Harris shuffles the paperwork again. “They have the high school counselor’s report—”
Mom shakes her head. “But the report is wrong. Jess’ injuries were from an accident. From a paintball game. I talked to Ms. Simons that day. She didn’t say she was filing a report.”
“Well, she did. The report doesn’t mention Sergeant Ricks by name. It just says, ‘a Fort Lewis soldier.’ And then there are three other witnesses that say Sargeant Ricks assaulted Mr. Wilson at a club in Tacoma because Jess wouldn’t leave with him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Mom says. “Jess has never been to a club.” I exchange a glance with Jacob, but I don’t dare look at either of my parents.
“And then there’s the text Jess sent the night of prom. The one where she said she’d do anything to bring him down.”
I look up, realizing that Brad had set me up, again. “I thought I was texting another girl Brad assaulted. I wanted her to know that I’d help her.”
The lawyer shuffles the papers again. “With all of that, and no other witnesses besides the three of them, it comes down to a lot of he said, he said, she said. And he was the one who got shot.”
“I didn’t kill him,” my voice is cold. It sounds like I regret not killing him.
Mr. Harris looks at me seriously. “That’s a good thing. If you did, you might be facing manslaughter charges. As it is, the DA is letting you off easy. No jail time. Yet.”
I swallow hard again.
“What about the party? What about what Brad tried to do there?” Mom asks.
“That would help establish a pattern of assault, but there’s no evidence,” Mr. Harris says. “It would be good if we could find someone to verify that incident.”
“Think, Jess,” Mom looks into my eyes. “Was there anyone there who could back you up on this?”
I shake my head. The laughing faces swim in front of me again. “No one knew. I didn’t tell anyone.” Another face comes to me, smirking. “Lexie.” Everyone turns to stare at me. “Lexie Bates, I’m sure she knew. But she left at the beginning of the year. I don’t know where she went, and I don’t think she’ll tell the truth.”
