The Last Good Girl by Allison Leotta

if this was a practical joke. Here, this is my best President Shapiro impression.
    â€œOh my God, Emily. Are you serious?”
    And I’m, like, “Do you think I’d interrupt your meeting for a prank?”
    And he’s all like, “No, of course not, honey. My poor girl.”
    He actually got up and sat in the guest chair next to me. He reached forward and put an arm on my shoulder, almost a hug. He’s a famous hand shaker, but he’s never been great in the hugs department. I let my head rest on his shoulder. It felt so good, for just a moment, to be supported by someone. He asked me to tell him what happened, but I really didn’t want to get into the details. It’s, like, so embarrassing to talk about that stuff with your dad. So I said I just wanted to tell him who it was and what I was doing. And then I said it was Dylan Highsmith, and that I’m filing charges through the college.
    Dad sat back in his chair. Hug time was done.
    Okay, so this vlog is for theater class. I’ll act out our conversation. Imagine I have on a power tie and a stick up my ass for the President Shapiro parts.
    â€œHoney, that’s a big step. Maybe we should talk about this some more before you decide to pursue such a major decision.”
    â€œI’ve thought about it, and talked about it, and I know what I need to do.”
    â€œIt’s not an easy process, for anyone. I would imagine especially for the president’s daughter. And even more so if the accused is a Highsmith.”
    â€œAre you worried for me?” I asked, “Or for your college?”
    And he said: “I have to consider both.”
    I couldn’t believe he came right out and said it. I mean, I know it’s true. But couldn’t he at least pretend, while he’s talking to me, that he cares about me more than his school? At least in the moment when I’m telling him I was raped? Like I said: he can be a dick. I guess he saw the look on my face.
    So then he was all like, “Of course you take precedence, Emily. But sometimes what’s good for the college might also be good for you. If you report this, it becomes a rape statistic for the campus, and then applications go down, the reputation goes down, the value of your own degree goes down.”
    I was like, wow. I didn’t know I could single-handedly destroy the school. Just by telling the truth.
    â€œIt’s not an easy process.”
    â€œIt’s a process your school runs.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean it’s the right course for you, my daughter, to take on one of our highest-donor families.”
    I hated him a little bit in that moment. He’s such a politician, it’s almost like a mental illness.
    I stood up and left. And here I am, back in my dorm. Fuming. Because fuming is better than crying.
    Dr. Blum says that when I’m talking about the rape, it’s a hard subject for people to discuss; they don’t know what to say, you know, so I should try to interpret their words in the best light possible. I’ve always been Daddy’s little girl. The cute little university mascot. Maybe he has a hard time separating those two things, the girl and the mascot. Maybe Dad really was just worried about me. About how hard it’ll be. About my overall happiness. Maybe if I hadn’t stormed out, he would’ve said that.
    But the impression I got was that he was worried about me second and the university first. Because that’s how it’s always been.

10
    W e have to get under the Crypt,” Anna said.
    â€œYeah.” Sam drove down Detroit’s deserted Michigan Avenue. “But we don’t have enough to get a warrant.”
    â€œNot yet, anyway.” Anna thought about the young man in his underwear below the Ping-Pong table. “I might know someone who could just invite us in. Show us around.”
    â€œGet on that.”
    â€œI am. I have to massage