“Rachel, honey?” I lean forward, trying to catch her gaze.
“I don’t know. We kind of were together. Like, for a really short time.” Her shoulders go up and down a little, a tiny shrug that speaks volumes. “He gave me a bunch of stuff. Little things, jewelry, you know.”
“Wait, you were dating Van? When?” I glance at Miguel but I can’t read his face. He doesn’t look as shocked as I feel, but maybe he is just trying to maintain his composure.
“We weren’tdating.” She spits out the word. “We were just hanging out in the same group. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. It wasn’t serious.”
“But serious enough for him to give you a bracelet,” I say. “Did you know it had been stolen?”
“Sort of? Like, he didn’t say it, but yeah, I kind of knew that he had been going into people’s houses and stuff.” She looks up suddenly, her eyes swimming with tears, a plea for understanding written across her face. “Please don’t tell anyone, Mom.”
I sit back down on a stool, letting this wash over me. The thought of Van getting close to my Rachel sickens me. I’d heard rumors of him being a player over the years. He certainly had that swagger. Questions swirl in my mind. Might this be the drama that seemed to sink her fall of junior year? All those sleepovers at the Allards’, hanging out with Eloïse—I shudder thinking that it was all just a cover for her to be with Van. And if I had known at the time that Van was passing along stolen goods to her, I would have lost it. Gone to the police. Which is exactly why she didn’t tell me. I’m trying to see her honesty now as a sign of maturity and stymie the urge to call the police and turn in Van this minute.
“I didn’t mean to keep the bracelet, I swear. It was an accident,” she says. “I thought I gave everything back.”
“Did he ask you to?” I can feel my pulse pick up speed, each beat a reminder of how little I know about my daughter’s life.
She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Not him, but Eloïse. Last fall. She said her parents had found out what Van had been doing. That’s why they sent him to Europe last August, instead of going to Stanford. He went to this, like, rehab place in Switzerland—”
“I thought he was taking a gap year, helping sail some yacht across the Mediterranean.”
She shakes her head. “That’s just what the Allards told people. They, like, shipped him off against his will. Said they wouldn’t pay for Stanford unless he took a year off.”
“I didn’t realize you and Eloïse were back on speaking terms.”
“We’re not exactly. She showed up in the fall at the courts after practice and kind of, like, ambushed me. To be fair, I had blocked her. She was a total mess. You know how she worships Van. How she’d do anything for him. She was so upset that he was gone. Hysterical upset. She had this whole fantasy of them going to Stanford together.”
“And now they are.”
Rachel nods. “True, but at the time, he was gone. Sent away. She told me her parents needed all the stolen stuff back, that otherwise Van could go to jail. And she kind of apologized. I mean, it was more a justification of her actions if you want to know the truth, but at least she admitted she had acted like a bitch.” Her eyes flick to my face. “Sorry.”
I wrap my arms around her and give her a hug. “Oh, honey, I had no idea you were going through all this.”
“It’s so embarrassing.” Her voice breaks, and she lets out a little whimper. “I don’t even think he liked me. He was horrible to me.”
I stiffen. “How so?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
She pulls back from my hug. “At first, he was so nice. He really was. When I would go to Eloïse’s, I’d always end up talking late into the night with Van. He told me he could talk to me like he couldn’t to anyone else. I think Eloïse was jealous, actually, ’cause he started to pay so much attention to me. But then he changed.”
“How did he change?”
“I don’t know. I mean, he started pressuring me to, you know. He wanted me to take pictures and send them to him. And videos.”
“Videos of what?” I’m horrified.
She shoots Miguel a little glance, clearly embarrassed. “Like, whatever, you know, me doing stuff.”
“That is awful. I can’t believe that.”
“Why?” Her tone is sharp. “Guys do it all the time. Van does it all the time. Do I have to talk about this?”
“No. You don’t. I’m just glad you ended it.” I squeeze her arm, numbness settling on me.
She laughs bitterly. “That’s the pathetic part. He’s the one who dumped me. Homecoming night there was a small after-party at the Allards’ and Van and me ended up in his room and I didn’t want to do anything and he kept, like, pressuring me and I tried to leave and he wouldn’t let me go.”