Caleb found his voice slowly, and when he spoke, it was low enough that the people nearest them had to stop whispering to hear.
“Hannah, I have to tell you everything. Right now. In front of everyone.”
She waited.
“Three weeks ago, Brittany and her group approached me. They offered me money to ask you to prom. They wanted me to dance with you, make you believe it was real, and let them film your face when they pulled the joke. They were going to post the video.”
The room heard this. She could tell by the particular quality of silence that followed — not the silence of people not listening, but the silence of people absorbing something.
Her eyes burned. “Caleb—”
“I agreed,” he said. “I know how that sounds. But I agreed because it was the only way to get them on record. I knew that if I refused, they would find someone else. And I knew that if I went along with it and gathered proof, they couldn’t walk away from it again the way they always have.”
One of the officers spoke. “This afternoon, Caleb came in and gave a formal statement. He turned over voice recordings and screenshots documenting a planned harassment scheme targeting you specifically.”
Hannah stared at the officer. “So you’re not here to arrest him.”
“We’re here for the young women who planned this.”
