Vicki Grant - Tell Me When You Feel Something

3 days after the party

11 a.m.

The cop is nice enough, but I can tell he doesnt believe me.

He listens to what I have to say then props himself on the front of his desk and dangles one leg over the edge. Its the standard just-having-a-little-chat pose of an adult trying to show hes on your side. Principals love that one too.

Im sitting in a plastic chair right in front of him. Hes too close. Theres this starburst of khaki crotch-wrinkles thats basically staring me right in the face. Ill give him the benefit of the doubt and presume he doesnt realize its making me uncomfortable.

Viv says everything makes me uncomfortable.

Look. His eyes go big and sad. A smart, talented, well-loved girl is in a coma. We all want to find someone to blamebut heres the truth. Opioids dont care who you are. They dont care whether youre an addict or a good kid who just goes out and does something stupid one night. Taking party drugs these days is playing Russian roulette and, unfortunately, your friend was unlucky and took a bullet.

Thanks. Like picturing her with all the tubes sticking out isnt bad enough.

I want you to know this though. Were going to find out who supplied Vivienne with the drugs and prosecute him or her to the fullest extent of the law. He makes a frowny closed-mouth smile and nods. Hes given his speech. He wants me to go now, and I shouldthis is uselessbut I dont. It took me days to get up the guts to come in. Im not leaving now.

No one supplied her with the drugs. Thats what Im saying.

He puts both feet on the floor and tilts his chin down at me like Im a little kid whos said something cute. Cute but stupid. Someone must have. She had to get them from somewhere.

No. Viv wouldnt do that. I say the words slowly, hitting the consonants hard. I need him to take me seriously. Viv would not take drugs on purpose.

Were you at the party? He knows I wasnt. The police already interviewed everyone who was there. When they didnt come to me, I realized I had to go to them. Its the least I can do for my friend. (Viv gets quotation marks now. Little cartoony ones that flash in my brain as if theyre just another one of her jokes, which they arent.)

I shake my head but dont break eye contact. Just because I wasnt there doesnt mean I dont know.

Do I know?

Stop.

All he needs to think is Im not surethen hell never believe me.

You saw the video though? He walks back to the other side of his desk. Or videos, I should say. Plural.

I saw one, but it didnt prove anything.

No? He sits down, grabs the edge of his desk and pulls his chair forward with a squeak. He looks at the computer screen through the bottom of his glasses. Well, there were quite a few videos. Perhaps the one you saw was different. Multiple people recorded Vivienne taking a pill at the party. Ive got it from at least six different angles.

That wasnt a pill. It was a vitamin.

Again, not to put too fine a point on it, but in the footage, we see Vivienne holding up a pill between two fingers and saying, This is E. I presume by E she meant Ecstasyor am I wrong? He looks at me over his glasses and smiles. The long eyelashes surprise me. He must have hated them as a kid.

No. She did mean Ecstasybut that was a joke. She always says that.

Always?

Hes doing that TV cop thing. Trying to trap me with my own words. Okay, not always, but a lot. She takes vitamins with iron for anemia. We both do. We were at lunch once and someone asked her what the pill was and she went, This is E, and the girl actually believed her.

He doesnt get how ridiculous that was, Viv and Ecstasy, so I tell him. It was funny. She started saying it all the time, like it was her catchphrase or something.

I shouldnt have worn this sweater. Im too hot all of a sudden.

Her catchphrase, he says.

Yes. I fold my arms so he cant see and pinch my sleeves away from my armpits. Id take the sweater off, but Id have to pull it over my head and that would be weird, like Im undressing or something. She was just joking around.

Okay. He pooches out his lips and shrugs.

I let that go. I mean, what am I going to say? Hes a cop. Im some off-brand seventeen-year-old girl. Then I think, no. No chickening out. Viv wouldnt chicken out.

I go, Why are you saying it like that?

I just said okay.

Um. Well, not really. You actually said okay-ay, which is kind of the opposite.

He at least has the decency to laugh.

Ask anyone, I say. Ask her boyfriend. She called it E all the time.

Youre talking about Jack Downey? He picks up a paper clip and tumbles it through his fingers.

Yeah.

Ive met his mother. Shes the preacher at First African Baptist, isnt she?

I dont know the name of the church.

He gives his head a little jiggle, as if details arent important. Hes taking it pretty hard, I understand. He opens his top drawer, drops in the paper clip and closes it again. Jack is Viviennes ex, though, isnt he? Not her boyfriend?

They had a fight, I say. Doesnt necessarily make him her ex.