Eleven

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Despite the interaction with Aubin having drained a lot of my energy, I somehow muster up the courage to answer my phone when Mom calls later that evening.

I'm curled up on the sofa next to Manal, with Josie on her other side. Manal's been really good with me these last few days and I'm so grateful. Josie's been a little on the cooler side, not quite always making such an effort with me, but I'm not really sure that I can find it in myself to blame her.

The incident with Professor Ruiz last week has definitely gotten to her, so seeing me so messed up by the fact that my childhood friend has committed sexual assault probably isn't easy for her. Particularly the part when I was confused about who was right or wrong.

The guilt that it took me so long to decide that I believed Josh's story has been eating me alive all weekend, since I realised that Mason was lying to me. Shouldn't that have been my gut reaction?

Shame and disgust with myself crawl all over me, tug me down a path I don't want to be on.

I know that Mom believes Mason, thinks he's as innocent as a baby, so I wince when I see the caller ID, but I know I've been putting it off for long enough.

So, I excuse myself and pad to my bedroom, hoping that this phone call won't absolutely ruin me, or my perception of my mother.

"Hi, Mom," I greet her when I shut the door and move to collapse onto my bed, hoping that the soft duvet will bring me at least some comfort.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls?" she asks, agitated. "Zebulun said you had spoken to him."

I take a deep breath, trying really hard to calm the rapid pace of my heart. My head is such a complicated, foggy mess and I can't fathom how to begin explaining why Zeb, the only one who was there for me other than Mason when our parents divorced, is the one I want to talk to, rather than her.

I'm not sure I understand it, understand myself right now, so what hope do I have of getting her to see my side of things?

"I've just been pretty busy," I try lamely, aware that there's no way that'll cut it.

To my surprise, that doesn't seem to rile her up much. If anything, she turns really sympathetic. "Oh, sweetie, it must be so hard on you right now, being there for Mason. How is he doing?"

I don't know what to do. My hand not clutching the phone is shaking as I debate the merits of telling Mom how I'm feeling, versus the backlash I'm going to face. Whose side will she pick? Who does she think is right here?

Zeb told me he'd very deliberately steered clear of expressing any opinion on the whole matter to her, because he felt like it wasn't much to do with him. He wants to be there for me, but he doesn't want to barge in and say lots of things to Mom about it.

But I know that if I avoid it too, it'll only get harder later on down the line to explain why I actually believed the accusers over him. "I, uh, I don't really know how Mason's doing," I reply timidly. "We haven't spoken in a few days."

There's a long pause as Mom digests the words that have spilled out of my mouth. Regret suddenly floods my system as I think of the consequences of my confession. Mom will tell Mason's mom, for sure.

But maybe Mason's already told his Mom that I didn't believe him. Maybe that's why Mom's been phoning me so much.

"Why not? I thought you said you were going to be there for him."

It's hard to figure out Mom's tone of voice, but I'm pretty sure she's not particularly impressed with me, but what am I supposed to do?

I clear my throat awkwardly, wishing I didn't have to do this. My stomach is all knotted, my heart is beating far too fast for what should be normal. Staring up at the ceiling, I take the plunge. "I, um. I'm not so sure that Mason's innocent."

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