Jennifer Two

TWENTY.

June 25th, 2016

"Do you want to know why you died?" Bret asks me as I sit on his couch in the late evening. I was supposed to be on the road, or back home by now. I just couldn't make myself do it; I wasn't satisfied just yet. I'm hoping Jamie won't snitch, and she's assured of my safety. Even she has to understand that things can't just be suspended or cancelled; I'm here to finish whatever was started and close this chapter once and for all.

"Tanner shot me, Bret. I know this."

"I know," he mumbles. "But he wouldn't have, if it wasn't for me."

I look at him quizzically. "How so?"

"I... I didn't stop it."

"What do you mean?"

"I could have stopped it from happening... I could have..." he still can't finish his sentences, which is getting frustrating at this point.

"Bret, I'm right here," I speak softly. "You have nothing to regret. I'm here, see?"

"I still let that happen to you. I let you die. I killed you."

"Tanner shot me! Not you-"

"Oh, God," he groans. He's had a bit too much to drink, though not as much as on the first night. I'm scared he might throw up or something, by the look on his face. His beard has started to grow back and his hair is a dishevelled mess. I think my sudden appearance has created more chaos in his life; I need to leave soon, after tonight.

"I knew you were going to die," he says. "I knew he was going to kill you, and to me, that is just as bad as pulling the trigger myself."

"Why did the reports say the shooting was unmotivated, and random? Like something switched in his brain, or something? Didn't he hate me?" I realise I'm asking like I'm not Jennifer One, like I don't know something she would have. He looks at me with bewilderment, as if I've forgotten something so transparent and obvious. There is something about Tanner that I'm missing. I think back to the diary entries, where Jennifer One would mention him. I try thinking as hard as I could, and all I have floating in my head is an entry around two months before her death, where she recalled the group playing spin the bottle, and she had to kiss him. She talks about how it wasn't bad, but he was a nuisance from thereon. An entitled, arrogant, gun-wielding nuisance. Of course she never mentioned the latter, because she never knew. But judging from her entries, they didn't get along much towards the end. Surely that's something the world would know, right? Unless it got covered up.

All Bret can do is look at me, because he's facing the secret he hid for so long. You can't keep secrets forever.

◆

Diary Entry, July 4th 1999

[Eight days before the shooting]

When will Bret Wade just do the right thing? Does he not know that you can't keep secrets forever?

He's been a slimy tool for a while now, but this is the straw on the camel's back. He can't get away with just messing around with the people closest to him. He can't just hop into girls' beds and then dance around the truth. That's all he had to do – be truthful to Sofia. He couldn't. This has blown out of proportion. There's only so many times you can end up in bed with a friend and then try and bury it under the rug.

He needs to do the right thing, for once. If he doesn't, someone will have to do it for him. if he doesn't, it will end up biting him on the ass. He'll just keep doing things he regrets and he'll manage to bury the truth, and he'll get away with it, like he always manages to.

But boy, nothing fucks you up like a conscience.

And if he has one, it will have his life.

-J.R.

You slept with my best friend, and you framed me, Rose wanted to tell him at the party. He cut her off, but he knew she was going to say that. As righteous as she may have felt, she had to expose everything if he wouldn't. And you could say that this was Nicole's turf, but the Rich Kids are just a mess of a mixture, and one kid's problem becomes someone else's. She has every right to speak on it as much as the next person. Nicole didn't come to the party, so Rose let him know herself. She could see the anger in his eyes, and she knew it was because he was intimidated by her. But he couldn't do anything to her – he didn't have the power. His hands were tied now, and if there was any way he could try to liberate himself, he wasn't going to do it by throwing other people under the bus.

Rose can't get the look in his eyes out of her head.