Run on Red

by Noelle W. Ihli

I blinked back tears of frustration and lay my head on my knees. I would make one more pass of the car, and if I couldn’t find it, I’d take my chances with the one-percent battery. “Dear God, help me find that fucking phone,” I prayed aloud to whoever might be listening. From the front seat, Laura coughed. Then, to my amazement, she laughed softly. “Can’t swear … in a prayer, Liv. Cancels … the whole thing.”

“A few years ago, Delta Phi got busted when some bitch brought the police to the frat house after a party.” His face darkened. “Biggest slut around, but the police didn’t know that. In the end, nobody got in trouble, and everyone hated her so much that she ended up dropping the charges. And dropping out of school.” He looked thoughtful. “But still. Not an experience we were interested in repeating, you know? So we got smarter.” He paused, clearly waiting to be prompted. I pushed the words past the vomit rising in my throat. “So what did you do?” The dropped assault charges a few years ago were common knowledge on campus. I wasn’t naive enough to think they were baseless, but I’d assumed the crime was perpetrated by individuals. Kyle had used the word system. I could barely breathe. “Like I said, we had it all figured out. The system was color-coded. Blue meant it was okay to fool around with a girl, but nothing below the waist. Red meant ‘anything goes.’ Blue paid $100. Red paid $300.” “To the girls?” I asked, keeping my voice measured. He laughed. “Keep up, MacGyver. To their boyfriends.”

“But why us,” Laura suddenly spat. Kyle smiled. “I knew you’d have questions. It’s pretty simple: We thought Tish was with you. It’s her car. She RSVPed on Facebook. And she was supposed to be at the bonfire tonight.” “Bullshit,” I hissed, my throat closing over with tears I refused to allow. “You saw us. You saw us both—before you ran us off the road. You knew Tish wasn’t in the Volvo.” Kyle smiled wider and held up his hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “Yeah … I realized that pretty quickly. But I didn’t give up my Friday night to turn around just because we got the wrong girl. Tony tried to puss out, but he needs my help. We’ll take care of Tish another day.” He rolled his neck and moved to stand, brushing his hands against his pant legs. “Anyway, that beer won’t drink itself. Hope this helps. Tony isn’t your friend. He was your sister’s pimp.” He lowered his voice, leaning down so that the orange light spilling from the hallway backlit his hair in a sickly halo “And he’s my bitch, too. He just doesn’t realize it.” The crawl space door slammed shut.

Eleven Deltas—including Tony—went to prison for what they’d done to Tish and so many others. The story stayed in the headlines in Idaho and beyond for the next year as the case went to trial. In addition to human trafficking, kidnapping, and two counts of attempted murder, Tony was charged as an accomplice in Ava’s death. That charge didn’t stick. His defense team subpoenaed both Laura and I to testify that he didn’t know Ava was down in the crawl space. Tony stared at us pleadingly while we took the stand for the defense. He refused to meet our eyes when we testified for the prosecution, to tell the jury what had happened right before Tish and the police officer showed up. The attempted murder charges, kidnapping charges, and human trafficking charges all stuck. The other Deltas got twenty-five years, with the possibility of parole. Tony got life.