I Know What You Did

KNOW WHAT YOU DID

“I know what you did.” I looked at my best friend—my ride or die, Bizzy. How could she know? I'd been so careful.

“What do you know?” I asked.

“I know about the—” she started.

I looked at her, holding her gaze, and changed me mind. I was not going to talk about it. “No, you don’t know anything,” I interrupted. “Nothing at all.”

“I do—” she stated again.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but I don’t want to talk about it. Ever. End of conversation.”

I turned on my heel and walked away. Well, maybe more like stomped away.

Bizzy followed me, undeterred. “Pen! Wait!”

I ignored her, and continued walking.

But she ran after me. Ran! “Pen!”

I whirled on her. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to talk about it?” I put my hands up, like I was trying to prevent her from getting any closer. “Just leave it alone.” I paused. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But—” she tried again.

“STOP!” I yelled. “If I wanted to talk about it, I’d talk about it. But I don’t. So, just leave it alone. And leave me alone.” I turned away, again, and marched off.

To be perfectly honest, I had no idea where I was going, so I just kept walking. I walked, and walked, and walked. And thought.

Did I think that no one would ever find out? Yes, I did. If I hadn’t believed that, then I would never have done it. I’m not stupid. If people knew what I had done, things would change. A lot. And I liked the way my life was right now, thank you very much.

I walked until I got to the river. The city had thoughtfully installed benches along the walking path that traced the riverbank so that people could sit and enjoy the scenery. I don’t actually know how enjoyable it was—the view across the water was an industrial hellscape. But at least on our side if was very lovely, well-maintained parkland. If you squinted your eyes, and only looked at the water, you could pretend that the brutalist hulks of the industrial complex didn’t exist half a kilometre across the river.

But, I sat and watched anyway. The emissions spewing out of the smokestacks were mesmerizing. Sometimes they looked like recognizable shapes—T-Rex, rabbit, the Pope. Mostly though, the flue gas travelled up and up until the higher altitude winds gently whisked it away. I watched it all disappear. Like my life.

Someone sat down beside me. “Bizzy, I told you—” I said, turning towards my unwanted seat mate. But it wasn’t Bizzy. Instead it was an older man—maybe fifty, casual clothes like he was out doing errands, neatly trimmed beard, hair turning silver.

“Hello, Penelope,” he said.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. I had no idea who he was. I was willing to bet that I had never seen him in my life. Yet, a complete stranger who knew my name—my full name. And had followed me here. “Excuse me?” I said. “Do I know you?”

He smiled. “No, but I know you.”

Okay. My creep-a-metre was going off, big time—Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

I looked around. It was dusk, and of course there was no one else around.

I got up to leave. “I think you’ve made a mistake.” I started to walk away.

“October 25, 2025,” he said.

I stopped. What the actual hell was happening? First Bizzy, now Creepy Guy.

I turned and looked at him. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” I stared at him intently. “You’re scaring me. I want you to leave.”

Instead of leaving, the man smiled. “You know they know, right? They know what you did.”

My bravado was epic. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” I turned around again, and walked—very quickly—across the grass, heading for the road and the presence of people. I did not want to be alone with Creepy Guy.

Now I was freaked out. My carefully executed stealth plan was somehow now common knowledge. That meant that it was only a matter of time before everyone knew, and everything would change.

I felt like crying, and screaming, and just getting the hell out of Dodge …

Yeah, that’s what I should do—leave. Just get away from everybody and everything. I didn’t need to stick around and see what the fallout would be. Out of town was a good plan. Just drive and drive until the end of the road, where no one could find me.

So, I headed back to Bizzy’s place to pick up my car. Before I walked down the street, I made sure that my escape would go unnoticed. It was almost full dark—I should be fine. I started down the street, keeping to the shadows. As I got to my car and beeped the remote, Creepy Guy stepped out of the shadows to meet me, scaring the bejesus out of me.

“What the hell, man!” I yelled, taking a step back.

“Penelope, we know. We all know. Just admit what you did.”

I took another step away from him. I was trapped. Glancing behind myself, I scanned the street behind me, calculating whether or not I could just run away. I didn’t need my car. I could get another one, right? I half-turned, ready to make my escape. But there was Bizzy. And her mom Angelina, dad Scott, and her little brother, Micah—all blocking my escape route.

Damn. I was trapped.

I had hoped that this day would never occur. I’d planned so well. Or so I thought. Anonymity was goal. I would be in and out before anyone thought to look for me.

“So …” I said, looking around the group. “You all know?”

Heads bobbed.”

“Okay. So now what?”

Creepy Guy stepped forward, his hand extended. “I’m Bryce Paddington. I’m the Barnard’s family lawyer.”

Shit! Lawyers were involved. I was done. I didn’t shake his hand. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest. “Exactly what every situation needs—a lawyer,” I snarked.

Bizzy stepped forward. She put her hand on my arm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” I retiterated, not making eye contact, instead looking at the sky peeking over their house. “No one was supposed to know. Ever.”

Angelina stepped forward. “Pen, what you did was beyond.”

“It was supposed to be anonymous. They promised me. They said all donations are anonymous.” I looked at them all, my eyes travelling from one to the other. “How did you find out?”

Bizzy spoke up. “I saw your scar. When we were changing to go swimming. It looked just like mine—an upside-down ‘L’.”

Damn! I had outed myself. I looked at Bizzy. “It’s no big deal, Biz.”

“Pen, you saved my life. I don’t know if I could have survived without you.” Her eyes were welling up. “You sacrificed a bit of yourself to save me.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets, and looked away. Angelina, and Scott and Micah all came in for a hug. FYI, I am supremely uncomfortable with hugs, especially group hugs.

Mr. Paddington cleared his throat which, thank God, ended the public display of affection. “Penelope, I have something for you. As you know, Mrs. and Mrs. Barnard offered a fifty thousand dollar incentive for any live donors who were a match for Elizabeth—Bizzy.” He held out the cheque to me.

“I don’t want it. It’s not why I did it.” I looked at Bizzy. “You’re my best friend, and you were sick, and I could help you get better. So I did. That’s the only reason that I did it.” I pointed to Mr. Paddington. “To help you—not for the money.”

Scott spoke up. “We know, Pen, we really do. But we want to make it a gift, to you. You’ve got university next year. Put it towards that,” he said.

“Or by yourself a good used car,” said Angelina, nodding towards my much-abused 2008 Subaru Forrester in their driveway.

I looked at them. “This is exactly why didn’t tell anybody. I don’t want your money—it cheapens what I did. It makes it transactional. And that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted my friend to get better. That’s all.”

No one said anything. I got into my car and drove away, knowing that my relationship with Bizzy was forever changed—possibly destroyed—just because I gave her a small piece of myself to help her survive.