Page 98 of Enemies to Prom Dates
My mother pressed her lips together, looking directly at me. “I believe you.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. It would have been easy given the evidence to think I’d done it. But I needed my parents at least to know I wasn’t a liar.
My parents and Beth.
She nodded. “Okay. Then let’s change focus. If they charge you—”
“When,” my dad said.
“When they charge you,” my mother conceded, “we’ll get you out as soon as possible on bail. So I don’t want you to be afraid. I’ll walk you through every second of what will happen at the police station and then in court.”
“You going to walk him through what handcuffs feel like, too?” my dad asked.
At this point he was just being a jerk, but my mother wasn’t going to rise to the bait.
“If you’re right about the time on the video being wrong, then we’ll have to find someone who can prove that. Your lawyer will do that. He’ll make sure he has a forensics expert as well a private investigator on the case. After all, someone did this on purpose, right? Set you up. We have to find out why.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. This was going to suck, but it was time to tell them. Everything.
“I know why,” I said.
Both of my parents looked at me, then at each other.
“Start talking, Fitz,” my dad told me.
And I did.
* * *
Beth
Locke’s placewasn’t what I was expecting. I glanced down at the address Reen had reluctantly given me.
Reen:He won’t tell you anything. He doesn’t work like that.
Me:What does that even mean?
Reen:Locke is different. He’s not like us.
Me:I don’t care. Fitz told me to start with him. That’s what I’m doing.
Reen:I get you want to help your boyfriend, just don’t be too disappointed.
Me:What’s going on with you and Locke anyway?
Reen:No comment.
I hadn’t necessarily understood her response, but I didn’t press it. She texted me his address and I didn’t hesitate. I was out the door my mom’s SUV keys in hand. Technically, speaking, I only had a permit and wasn’t supposed to be driving without a supervising adult. But Mom was out to lunch with a friend who had picked her up. And Star, who’d recently been commandeering the SUV as hers, must have had someone from the cheer squad pick her up for practice, which was my luck.
I could have walked but this was faster, and it just felt like I needed to hurry. Like I was racing against a clock.
I pulled up in front of a row of townhomes located in the only section of the town that had them. Two neat rows across the street from one another, adjacent to the hub of downtown Haddonfield known as Kings Court.
The nonresidential part of Haddonfield was a mile-long stretch of niche boutiques, BYOB restaurants, a Starbucks and jewelry stores. Lots and lots of jewelry stores.
Most of these businesses were run by bored housewives of rich husbands who didn’t mind using the business losses as a tax write-off. These women were far more ambitious than the home-party candle-selling variety, but they were just as unsuccessful. As a result, the storefronts of Haddonfield were forever in constant flux except for the Starbucks and the jewelry stores.
This part of town was also within five minutes walking distance to the Speedline. A light rail that ran through South Jersey across the bridge to center city Philadelphia. Which made Haddonfield an ideal location for a man working at the University of Penn, while his younger brother was afforded what was basically considered the equivalent of a private education.
