And no wonder! Because while I’m looking for the killer, “Detective” Pederson’s too busy going to house parties and making a play for the principal’s daughter, which sounds like statutory if I’ve ever heard of it (someone call a cop!). But even in his second try at his glory years, little Pederson bungles it. In fact, he screws up with her so bad that they both promise not to tell anyone what happened. But then Pederson breaks this promise by spilling the beans to Phillip and his lawyer, and soon everyone finds out . . . so now Rebecca Walker is telling her side of the story. You see, Principal Walker’s daughter really liked Callum. She wanted to take things slow. But Callum pressures her to hook up with him in the school gym. He’s desperate to bang her. To prove he’s one of us. It’s his only shot at redemption for his wasted life—but he’s so worked up that a girl is actually into him that he creams his pants before they even get to second base. Then, while he’s pretending this is the first time he’s ever shot his wad at first touch, and Rebecca’s pretending to believe him, Cal hears footsteps in the gym, freaks out that someone might see them, and jumps up, elbowing Rebecca Walker square in the eye. So now the girl he tried to smash has a grade-A shiner, but he doesn’t even bother to help her. Instead, Cally Cal leaves her high and dry and books it out of the gym, covering his stained skinny jeans. Never apologizes either. He ignores Rebecca from that day forward, even when she walks by him in the hall with a black eye.
That’s toxic masculinity, friends.
A boy who never grew up, preying on our girls. Play-acting the cop who’s supposed to find who’s killing them.
We all know how this will end. More Chaminade students hauled in. More time wasted. More tips and real suspects ignored. Until finally someone figures out that the real criminals are the ones in charge of catching them. They’re the ones letting a killer go free. And until we start looking at them the way they’re looking at us . . . more girls will die. So now it’s our turn to speak up. To start asking them the questions: Why haven’t they found the killer? Why were they so quick to target us from the beginning? What do they have to hide?
Thank you, Principal Walker, for letting me read this statement at this afternoon’s assembly. I know it must be hard for you, hearing what your students—and your own daughter—had to go through these past few months. I know that you only wanted to do right by letting these cops go stealth in our school. But we’ve all learned the truth about them. In fairy tales, there is good and there is evil. And now we know which side is which.
(Silence)
PEDERSON: You . . . read that to the whole school?
FLYNN: At this afternoon’s assembly. And I posted it online. Three thousand reshares so far. (Chair slides.) When all this is over, you should come play Red Dead with me and the boys sometime, Officer Pederson. It’ll be like old times.
(Door closes.)
CHANG: (quietly) I told you, Pederson. I told you . . .
PEDERSON: I tried to call Rebecca. I tried to smooth things over. She wouldn’t answer.
CHANG: How many times did you call her without an answer? Twenty-eight? That’s what Adam did to Ariana, right? Isn’t that what Princes are supposed to do? Demand an answer. Get an answer. Keep calling, Cally Cal. Keep calling. (Chair scrapes.)
PEDERSON: What’s that supposed to mean? Chang? Where you going?
REBECCA
Voice mail from CALLUM PEDERSON—Tuesday, May 19, 10:01 a.m.
“Rebecca . . . it’s Callum. I know you’re not going to pick up. But I needed to say this out loud. For you and me. So you know how I really feel. I’m sorry, Rebecca. I’m sorry for being a fuckup and an asshole and like all the other guys, when you thought I was different. I care about you, and that’s why this hurts so bad. You’re the first girl I’ve ever felt like I could be myself with. More than that. You’re the first person I could be awkward and weird and vulnerable with, all the things guys aren’t allowed to be. And instead of making me feel ashamed for it, you made me feel wanted. What else can a person ask except to meet someone who lets them be more themselves. I’ve never had that in my life. I always felt I was playing a part to fit in. Trying to be like the other guys. Trying to be the kind of prince that gets the girl of his dreams. But you didn’t want that kind of prince. You wanted me. That’s probably why I couldn’t stop staring into your eyes, like you weren’t real. Like you were like some kind of fairy princess that I didn’t deserve. Because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me. You’re honest and real in all the ways I can’t be for you. And I just hope . . . I hope that when enough time goes by, you realize how perfect and beautiful and amazing you are, inside and out, and how nothing I did should make you doubt that. I know you thought I wasn’t like the other boys. I thought I was special too. But I’m not. I’m not the good guy. Your real prince is out there somewhere. You deserve a happy ending far, far away from me. Maybe one day I can learn from you how to find mine. Okay. Bye, Rebecca.”
CALLUM
CHANG: For the record, this is the exit interview of Callum Pederson, conducted by Lieutenant Joseph Chang on Tuesday, May 19, at 4:32 p.m. I worked with the chief to get you a decent severance. (pause) Don’t give me that face, Callum. I did what I could.
PEDERSON: Heard there’s a sixth girl found this morning. Who?
CHANG: Not our case anymore, Callum. FBI has a suspect.
PEDERSON: Then tell me how he killed her.
CHANG: Let it go.
PEDERSON: How? Rapunzel? Red Riding Hood?
CHANG: For your own sake, Callum.
PEDERSON: HOW?
CHANG: Pinned with a donkey tail. Her nose replaced with a long stick. The words “Who’s Next” carved into it. Alright?
PEDERSON: Fuck. I can’t sleep. It’s like the answer is right there, slipping around in my head, and I can’t grab hold of it.
CHANG: Leave it. Move on.
PEDERSON: Who’s the suspect?
CHANG: Older guy. Fifties. Flynn gave us a tip that paid off. What are you going to do now?
PEDERSON: I’ve been bunking with my mom. Doing shifts at the diner with her. Might stop. Too many parents of students coming in, giving me looks. Not sure what else to do. Always thought I’d be a cop. How about you?
CHANG: Put back on desk duty. Feels like home.
(Silence)
PEDERSON: Hung out with Eric, Adam, and Flynn on Saturday.
CHANG: Really?
PEDERSON: Eric asked if I’d sub in for a league scrimmage. Wanted to say no, but . . . I felt guilty somehow. Now that there’s a suspect. Like I was still holding on to something, even after they’d all moved on. I mean, they should be the ones who hate me. (pause) You said Flynn tipped you off on the suspect?
CHANG: Callum—
PEDERSON: Who’s the guy?
CHANG: Drifter who’s been living under the bridge. Been harassing girls for months.
PEDERSON: That’s the Princess Killer? That’s the murderer meticulously luring teenage girls and re-creating famous fairy tales?
CHANG: You’re young. Best thing you can do is get on with your life.
PEDERSON: Who do you think did it?
CHANG: About your severance and benefits—
PEDERSON: They had the motives. The Princes. But then they had alibis too.
CHANG: Which is why none of them was the killer.