Chapter 4 - What Brooke Did
Brooke’s confession lasted thirty-seven minutes.
Amanda felt every second.
“I didn’t spill the water,” Brooke said.
She sat opposite Maya Torres with both hands wrapped around a paper cup she never drank from.
“Savannah did.”
“How?” Maya asked.
“She had one of those big insulated water bottles. She poured it near the service doors.”
“Why?”
Brooke looked at Amanda and immediately looked away.
“She wanted Ms. Foster to slip.”
Daniel stood up.
Amanda caught his wrist.
“Sit.”
“Amanda—”
“Sit.”
He did.
Maya kept her voice neutral.
“Did Savannah say she wanted Ms. Foster injured?”
“No. No. She said she wanted her to fall on her butt.”
Brooke began crying again.
“She said we’d record it and put it in the senior group chat. She was angry because of the plagiarism thing.”
Amanda forced herself to remain still.
“What was your role?”
Brooke’s shoulders shook.
“There was already a caution sign because somebody had mopped earlier. Savannah said if the sign stayed there, you’d walk around the water.”
“So you moved it.”
Brooke nodded.
“Where?”
“Into the prop closet.”
“And then?”
“I stood by the door.”
“With your phone?”
Another nod.
Amanda remembered the metallic clatter.
“You recorded me falling.”
“I started recording before you came around the corner.”
“Where is the video?”
“I deleted it.”
Maya asked, “When?”
“Right after.”
“Did anyone tell you to?”
“Savannah.”
“Anyone else?”
Brooke hesitated.
“Brooke.”
“Mr. Mercer.”
Harris closed her eyes.
Brooke wiped her face.
“Savannah called her mom. Her mom came to school. I was freaking out. Mr. Mercer took us into his office separately. He told me it was a stupid prank that got out of hand and that ruining three students’ futures wouldn’t fix Ms. Foster’s leg.”
“Three?” Maya asked.
Brooke stared at the table.
“Me. Savannah. And Dylan.”
“Dylan who?”
“Dylan Price.”
Amanda knew him.
A senior.
Quiet. Average grades. Worked evenings at his uncle’s auto shop.
“What did Dylan do?”
“He was supposed to text Savannah when Ms. Foster left her classroom.”
Amanda’s stomach turned.
A stupid prank.
Three teenagers.
A deliberate trap.
Maya asked, “Did Mr. Mercer ask you to delete anything else?”
“He told us never to discuss it in writing.”
Owen gave a bitter laugh.
“They already had.”
Brooke looked at him fearfully.
“Mr. Reed, I’m sorry.”
Owen stared at her.
“My daughter asked you to do this?”
“Yes.”
“And you did it.”
Brooke started crying harder.
“Yes.”
He looked away.
Amanda watched him and felt no satisfaction.
There was nothing satisfying about watching a father discover that the person he had raised had become capable of cruelty.
Maya closed her notebook.
“I need your phone.”
Brooke immediately handed it over.
“My parents said I should cooperate.”
“Do they know everything?”
“Yes.”
“Did you preserve any messages?”
“I deleted some, but my phone backs up.”
Owen looked toward Amanda.
“That’s how I found Savannah’s.”
Brooke swallowed.
“There’s something else.”
Amanda nearly laughed.
Of course there was.
“There’s always something else.”
Brooke flinched.
Amanda regretted the sharpness immediately but did not apologize.
“What?” Maya asked.
Brooke looked toward Principal Harris.
“Savannah’s plagiarism report disappeared.”
Harris frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Mercer told Savannah after the accident that she didn’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Amanda straightened.
“My report was submitted through the district portal.”
Harris turned toward the technology specialist.
“Check it.”
He opened his laptop.
Amanda waited.
After less than a minute, his face changed.
“The case is closed.”
“On what basis?” Harris asked.
He read.
“Teacher error. Duplicate-source detection produced a false match.”
Amanda stared at him.
“I never withdrew that report.”
Harris came around the table.
“Who closed it?”
The specialist clicked again.
“Administrator approval.”
“Whose?”
He paused.
“Colin Mercer.”
Owen stood abruptly.
“So he erased the footage and her academic violation?”
“We haven’t established who deleted the footage,” Maya said.
“But he closed the plagiarism case.”
“Yes.”
Amanda looked out through the conference room’s glass wall.
Students had begun crossing the courtyard between classes.
Normal life continuing thirty feet away.
For six weeks, Savannah had watched Amanda maneuver through those halls in a wheelchair.
She had passed her classroom.
Accepted assignments.
Asked questions.
Once, Savannah had even held a door open for her.
Amanda remembered thanking her.
The memory made her feel sick.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She nearly ignored it.
Then she saw the message.
You should take the settlement before this becomes uglier.
A second message arrived.
People with careers to protect usually know when to stop.
Amanda showed the screen to Maya.
“Do you recognize the number?” Maya asked.
Amanda shook her head.
Owen looked at it.
His face changed.
“I do.”
“Who is it?”
He looked toward the door.
May you like
“My wife.”
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