Principal Osborne kicked off the assembly, and he sounded sincere and concerned. Murphy, who spoke next, came across in a predictably intimidating way. Murphy remained less touchy with her while they waited backstage, which was good, but he was still a wild card that Rainy wanted to hold on to. She was glad he made it unnecessary to come down on him.
It was Rainy’s turn to speak. Applause following her introduction was polite, but tepid. Rainy had given this talk dozens of times to dozens of different fresh-faced high school kids. She could recite most of what she’d say from memory. And while she’d be addressing everybody in attendance, Rainy would secretly direct her message to Lindsey Wells.
“Melanie Smyth texted naked pictures of herself to her boyfriend. He posted them on Facebook,” Rainy began. “A few days later, she killed herself. Melanie was only fifteen years old.” A picture of Melanie’s bright, youthful face, projected from Rainy’s PowerPoint slide deck, filled the screen behind her. Murmurs followed. Rainy’s shocking opener achieved its objective. She had everyone’s full attention.
Rainy made brief eye contact with Lindsey, who sat ten rows from the front. “Melanie killed herself because naked pictures of her were circulating around school.” Rainy paused. She especially wanted to give Lindsey time to let those words sink in.
Rainy went on to explain her role with the FBI’s cyber crime squad and, more specifically, the Innocent Images National Initiative. She pointed out the dangers of trusting people teens might meet in chat rooms. She told the story of the fifteen-year-old girl whose supposed sixteen-year-old soul mate turned out to be her fifty-five-year-old neighbor. Police recovered the girl’s body two weeks after she went missing. The statistics Rainy shared were sobering and were meant to intimidate.
“Did you know that one in four teenage girls reported having met in person strangers they met online?” Rainy asked the group. Rainy got back only blank stares from the rows of students listening, but she knew that her words had sunk in and were taking some sort of meaningful shape in their minds. “One out of five teens has been solicited sexually online, and only three percent told an adult about the encounter.”
When Rainy touched upon sexting, she could almost feel the teens’ ears perk up. Their attentiveness did not surprise her. Statistically, nearly 40 percent of her audience had sent nude pictures of themselves via their cell phones.
“Did you know sexting a picture of yourself is considered child pornography?” No heads nodded. Not a hand rose. The students sat still, quiet, and Rainy could tell most were riveted to their seats. “You could go to prison for sending a naked picture of yourself or receiving a picture of your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I, for one, hope those laws will change. Your state legislators are becoming more savvy about the emotional scars public humiliation can cause. Scars that might lead to suicide.”
Again, Melanie’s beaming face filled the screen behind Rainy. From somewhere in the back, Rainy heard soft snickering, followed by a burst of laughter. Her fierce eyes locked on a pack of boys who’d begun fidgeting in their seats. One boy punched another in the arm. A teacher descended on the rowdy crew and ushered the two most obvious offenders out of the auditorium.
“This is nothing to laugh at,” Rainy scolded the crowd. That comment only inspired more spurts of laughter from the increasingly fidgety teens. “Maybe you think it doesn’t apply to you, or you’re uncomfortable talking about it. But I assure you, this isn’t a joke. Sexting might just be the stupidest thing you can do with a cell phone. Maybe you think it’s funny to virtually flash your friends, but I assure you it’s not seen that way by the law. You can end up on a sex offender watch list. That means you couldn’t go to school here anymore, because you wouldn’t be permitted near minors. You wouldn’t be allowed inside a library. Your driver’s license would carry a sex offender label on it. Go try to build a life from there. Try to get a job and overcome that stigma. You can’t.”
Rainy paused. This time, nobody laughed.
“These images don’t just stay between you and your boyfriend or girlfriend. Trust me when I tell you that. In a second they can be distributed to hundreds, even thousands, of strangers. What you do online has no shelf life. Your behavior doesn’t come with an expiration date.”
Rainy flashed on her memories of James Mann’s grieving family. She could pinpoint where on the lawn they stood when the SUV with Mann inside drove away.
“So what can you do if you’ve already sent sexually explicit images to somebody you trust?” Rainy asked.
Not a single hand went up. Expected.
“First, you could ask the person who received your picture to delete it. It’s in your best interest to make certain your image wasn’t posted to any Web sites or forwarded to somebody else. Ask to see their phone. If you trust them and they trust you, that shouldn’t be a problem. I have some other suggestions, which I’ve included in your handouts. But I’m out of time, so I can’t go through all of them here. I hope you found this seminar informative. Before I go, are there any questions?” No hands went up.
Rainy continued. “Mr. Osborne has graciously made his office available for me to use for an hour following this assembly. I’d be happy to answer any questions you’d feel more comfortable asking in private. Thank you again for your time.”
Some kids applauded. Some just bolted out of their seats. The overpowering din of student chatter revved up in an instant. Rainy made her way to Lester Osborne’s office with a quick and cordial good-bye to Sergeant Murphy.
Rainy watched Lindsey Wells walk away.
It’s the state’s case now, Miles, she said to herself. Go ID the other girls and get the hell out of Shilo.
But something told Rainy she was going to be hanging around this sleepy New England town for many more days to come.
Chapter 40
Lindsey Wells followed closely behind Jill Hawkins as the students left the auditorium. Jill, who hadn’t returned a single text from the more than forty that Lindsey had sent, appeared committed to ending their friendship.
Empty.
Lindsey had never felt more empty and alone in all her life. She missed Jill’s friendship each and every day. She missed it so much that it physically hurt. But thanks to Fidelius Charm, everyone at school now believed that it was Lindsey who wrote the blog posts detailing an affair with Jill’s father. Some people even believed Jill was the mysterious Fidelius Charm, ratting out her dad by breaking the scandalous news. Rumors about Lindsey spread around Shilo as fast as it took someone to type The secret is out. Coach Hawkins is sleeping with Lindsey Wells, and hit SEND.
School had once been Lindsey’s oasis, and soccer her favorite escape. But school no longer felt safe to her, either.
No place did.
Jill disappeared around a corner, and Lindsey followed close behind. But the next moment Lindsey saw Jill, her friend was no longer alone.
Three senior girls surrounded her. Gretchen Stiller, Mandy Jensen, and Clair Hubert, known to some around school as the witches, kept pace with Jill stride for stride as they walked a long corridor lined on both sides with metal lockers.
The witches were considered the popular girls. They intimidated others. They seemed more worldly than most (not everybody went to Europe for the summer). They weren’t athletes. Too messy. Nor were they honor students. Too hard. The witches were nothing more than rich girls with the right bodies to attract the boys and the right attitudes to act above it all. They went to college parties. They could make you feel inches tall with just a glance. One did coke. None of them were virgins.