It’s the First Day of School … Forever! 9 страница

“Why?” I said coldly. My jaw was clenched. “Why did you think you had to ambush me?”

“No one is ambushing anyone,” Mom said.

“What was I supposed to do?” Julie asked, near tears. “What you were saying … What you were telling me at that restaurant was so crazy…? I was worried about you. I mean, really worried. You need help, Caitlyn. I mean…” Her voice trailed off.

Mom took my hand and squeezed it between both of hers. “We came as soon as we could. Julie said you were having a breakdown.”

A breakdown?

She wouldn’t let go of my hands. Her watery eyes peered into mine. Dad took my arm and pulled me to the couch. “Sit down. Come sit down. You’re not well. I can tell by your eyes.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” I said sarcastically.

“Can I get anyone any coffee or tea?” Mrs. Nello chimed in.

No one answered her.

I could hear Julie’s sisters talking upstairs in their room. I had a strong impulse to break away from my parents, run up there and join them.

“We’re so sorry to intrude,” my mom told Julie’s mom.

“You’re not intruding. I completely understand. If there’s anything I can do.…”

“Caitlyn, I’m sorry.” Julie was still apologizing. She stood by the front door, as if she was afraid to come near me. “You’re my friend,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to see you in trouble. Please—forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” My dad answered for me. He sat down next to me on the couch. He kept some distance between us, like I was contagious or maybe a wild animal that might attack him if he got too close.

Mom stood over me, her arms crossed in front of her. “Tell us what you told Julie. Okay, Caitlyn? Tell us the story so we can help you. Don’t be afraid.”

“You don’t understand!” I screamed. “You don’t understand! It isn’t a story. I didn’t tell Julie a story! You don’t understand!”

I was shrieking at the top of my lungs. I realized I truly did sound like a crazy person.

“Screaming won’t help,” Dad said softly.

“This isn’t going to help, either,” I said sharply.

“Let’s have a talk,” Mom said. She motioned for me to slide over so she could sit on my other side. “That’s what families do, Caitlyn. They help each other.”

She and Dad were talking to me like I was a mental patient, and they both had these wet-eyed stares that made me nauseous.

“You talk about it!” I shouted. I jumped to my feet. I pushed my mother out of the way, dodged past Julie, who uttered a startled cry, and bolted to the front door.

I leaped out onto the front stoop and slammed the door hard behind me, shutting out their cries and pleas to come back. I took a deep breath of the fresh, warm spring air, dove off the stoop, and started to run.

I hesitated, seeing my car at the curb. No. I needed to run. I needed to run off my anger. I needed to feel the air against my face and let the silence clear my mind.

I lowered my head and picked up speed, my bag bouncing on my shoulder, swinging my arms as I ran through the night. Past mostly dark houses and small front yards, an empty lot with a FOR SALE sign near the curb, a narrow playground with a swing set and slide.

They think I’m crazy.

Julie thinks I’m crazy.

Some friend.

I knew this would happen if I confided in someone. And now here I was, running full speed, running like an animal at night, running who knows where. On my own.

Deena Fear couldn’t help. Julie couldn’t help. God knows, my parents couldn’t help. They looked ready to have me locked up.

So here I was running along the street, running two blocks, then three, in and out of the dim spotlights of yellow light from the streetlights. Light, then shadow.

Would the rest of my life be spent in shadow?

I couldn’t run forever. Even in my crazed state, I knew I’d have to go home. And then what?

My shoes pounded the soft grass. Somewhere in the distance a car horn honked three short beeps. The only other sound was the thudding of my shoes on the dew-wet ground.

When I neared the bus shelter on the corner, I stumbled to a stop. Had to catch my balance. My breaths came so hard, my chest ached.

I caught myself, my arms flailing, the bag suddenly heavy on my shoulder. Stopped, struggling to breathe, and stared at the glass bus shelter, lighted by a tall streetlight.

Stared at the stain of bright red through the glass. Squinted hard, focusing … until I saw that the blotch of red was a red hoodie. Through the shelter glass, I saw the red hoodie. And the boy wearing it. Hood pulled over his head. The boy hunched on the edge of the shelter bench, tapping one leg up and down.

Blade. He didn’t see me. His back was turned, as if he was watching for the bus. But I knew. I knew he was waiting for me.

How did he know I would be here? It didn’t matter. He was haunting me. I knew he would show up everywhere I went. I knew he would always be there.

I watched him, tapping his foot so casually, rubbing the knees of his jeans. I stood there, fists clenched, letting my anger grow until I saw red spots before my eyes, as red as his hoodie. And now I was seething, boiling over, swept up in a tidal wave of fury.

He can’t do this to me!

Deena Fear’s words came back to me then. I could hear her as if she were standing beside me. “You have to kill him again.”

And I already had the knife from my bag. Already had the handle gripped tightly in my fist. The blade still blood-smeared from before.

I had never cleaned it. I had never tossed it away or hid it. I kept it … kept it because maybe I knew all along that I would have to use it again.

I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream out my fury. But I held it in. I held it in, not breathing, no longer thinking like a human. I held it all in and raised the knife in front of me.

I slipped into the bus shelter before he could turn around—and I stabbed him in the back. Sank the blade into the middle of the red hoodie, sank it deep and pushed, pushed it deeper, pushed it with all my anger.

I slashed it to the right. Then pulled back and sliced it to the left. Dug it in and stabbed and sliced.

His arms flew up weakly. He uttered a long low groan of pain. Then sank forward. Just collapsed on himself.

Panting like a dog, wheezing loudly, I raised my eyes—and started to choke. I started to gag and choke because I saw Blade watching me. Blade, in his red hoodie, watching me from under a streetlight across the street.

39.

The knife fell from my hand and bounced into the curb. A cold grin spread over Blade’s face, and he flashed me a thumbs-up.

A low howl escaped my throat. My knees started to fold. I grabbed the back of the shelter bench to keep myself up.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it. Then I reached over the back of the bench and grabbed the boy in front of me by the shoulders of his hoodie. I turned him around.

The hood fell back and I saw his lifeless face. Wide dark eyes staring blankly up at me. Mouth frozen open in a startled cry of pain. Curly brown hair matted to his forehead. A silver ring in one ear.

I’ve never seen him before.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I killed a stranger. I killed the wrong boy.

Over the throbbing pulses of blood at my temples, I heard Blade’s laughter. High, giddy laughter, as if he had just heard a funny joke.

I gazed across the street. But he had vanished into the deep shadows. His laughter faded slowly.

I realized I was still gripping the dead boy’s shoulders. I had the sudden impulse to pull him to his feet. To tell him he was okay. To make him walk away.

His head fell back, smacking the bench loudly. The sound sent a shattering chill down my body. I let go of his shoulders. I stumbled back.

I’m a murderer.

“Deena! Did you make me do this?” I shouted, surprising myself. “Did you make me kill this boy, too?”

Silence.

Of course I heard only silence.

Deena was nowhere near.

I killed this one. I killed this boy. Not Deena.

I jumped as pale light spread over the grass. I turned to see a light go on in the front window of the house on the corner. Squinting up the lawn, I could see two people staring out the window at me.

I’m a murderer. I’m going to be caught.

I moved to the curb. I bent and picked up the knife. My hands trembled as I folded it and let it drop back into my bag.

Blade’s cold laughter rang in my ears. I couldn’t see him. But I could hear his gleeful, scornful laugh.

Covering my ears with both hands, I took off running again.

Running across the street and along the curb of the next block. Running. Holding my ears, shutting out the cold laughter of a dead boy.

Running into a blur of gray and purple and black night. Running. But, where?

I thought of Miranda. My only other friend. No. No way. Miranda wouldn’t believe me, either. Why should she? I was sure Julie had already been on the phone with her, already shared what I had confided, already described the meeting with my parents. The ambush.

I was sure they had already discussed my breakdown. Crazy Caitlyn and her delusions of her dead boyfriend returning to haunt her. I was sure my two friends were very sympathetic. They wished there was something … anything … they could do to help me recover my sanity.

Yikes.

I couldn’t run to Miranda’s house. No way. Miranda wouldn’t help me.

So where could I go? Where could I go with a blood-stained knife in my bag and chilling laughter in my ears? And the picture of me stabbing that boy, slashing and slicing him, stabbing him again and again, a stranger … the picture lingering in my eyes, replaying itself with every footstep.

Where could I go?

I had no choice. I had to go home. I had to surrender, to give up, to turn myself in, to confess my guilt, to prepare to face the consequences and pay for what I did.

Okay. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, Diary. Maybe my thoughts were a jumble. But that’s what I was thinking as I ran down the dark, empty streets.

Back to Julie’s house. My car parked at the curb. All the lights off in her house. The car bathed in darkness.

I fumbled for the key. Drove home in a frenzied blur of lights and passing houses and trees. Drove home without stopping, without seeing stop signs or traffic lights.

And when my house came into view, the world finally came back into focus. I actually felt relieved. I could stop running. Maybe I could find some safety inside.

My parents would be horrified when I confessed everything to them. They wouldn’t understand. And it would be hard to make them believe me. But they would try to help me. I knew I could count on that.

My shoes slipped on the wet grass as I started to the kitchen door. I stopped short when a figure jumped out from the darkness at the side of the house.

Blade. Eyes glowing. He grabbed my arm with his remaining hand. “Time for you to join me, Caitlyn,” he rasped through his ragged, torn lips.

I tried to tug free, but he was too strong. He pulled me toward him. Slipped a hand behind my head. And forced his lips against mine. His cold, dead lips, grinding against mine.

My stomach churned. I couldn’t end the kiss. His mouth scraped against mine. I could feel the bump of stitches that he had missed.

Sick. I’m going to be sick.

The horrifying kiss seemed to last forever. Finally, Blade pulled his head back. He stared into my eyes. His glowing green eyes had no pupils. They were solid glass.

“It’s time, Caitlyn,” he repeated. “Time for you to come with me.”

I gasped. “Come? Come where?”

He slid his face close to my ear and whispered: “To the grave.”

40.

“Nooooo!”

The scream burst from deep in my chest.

“Nooooo!” I tossed my head back and shrieked. Gathering all my strength, I shot my arms out and broke his hold on me.

He stumbled back. I struggled to breathe, the cold, sour taste of his lips still on mine.

With a desperate cry, I spun away and searched the ground for my bag. It had fallen into a flower bed at the side of the driveway. I took a step toward it, and Blade came at me. Arms outstretched, he roared as he prepared to tackle me.

I swung to the right and wriggled out of his reach as he dove. He shot past me and plunged to the ground, uttering a cry of surprise.

I made a grab for the bag. But he wrapped a hand around it before I could get there. He tossed it in the air. I watched it come down on the roof of my car.

As he climbed to his feet, grunting and growling like an angry animal, I raced to the car. I pulled the bag off the roof, gripping the handle in both hands.

Blade slashed a fist at me. I ducked, and the punch sailed over my head.

“You’re coming with me,” he growled. “You’re dead, too, Caitlyn. You and I, we’re dead together.”

“No way!” I cried. I shot my hand into the bag, frantically pushing everything out of the way, fumbling, as I watched him prepare to lunge at me again.

There!

I had it. The knife at the bottom of the bag. The knife that had already killed him once. I wrapped my trembling fingers around the handle.

As he dove for me, I slid the blade out and swiped the knife at him.

Missed.

He slammed into the car, so hard it shook on its tires. He uttered a muffled gasp. Bounced off.

I spun and tried to drive the blade into his back.

“Kill him again.” Those were Deena’s instructions. That was her only solution. The only way to get rid of a dead boyfriend. “Kill him again.”

He twisted his body to the side. The knife blade cut only air.

Green eyes glowing angrily, he raised both hands toward me.

I swung the knife again, off-balance this time. He lurched forward and grabbed my arm. Grabbed my hand and struggled to pull the knife free.

I opened my mouth to protest, but I was breathing too hard, wheezing noisily. No sound escaped my mouth.

I tried to pull my arms away, to twist my body away from him. But he wrapped his hand around mine. And grabbed the knife from me.

A wide-eyed look of triumph spread for only an instant over his dead, pale face. And then he moved toward me, holding the knife blade high, aimed at my heart. He swung it down fast.

I stumbled and fell. Fell flat on my back. And before I could scramble to my feet, Blade was on top of me. He straddled my body, his knees digging into my sides.

I shoved him with both hands. Desperate to squirm out from under him. But he had me pinned down. Helpless.

The blank eyes bulging in his head, he raised the knife high, and I watched the blade, the gleaming blade, come plunging down.

41.

A scream escaped my throat. With a burst of strength, I grabbed his hand before he could bury the knife in me. Straining, groaning, I pushed the hand away.

We fought, a desperate wrestling match, me on my back, Blade straddling me, bent over me, using all his strength against me to push the blade down.

I gasped as the blade point came within an inch of my neck. With a superhuman heave, I shoved it back up. Blade uttered a cry of anger, frustrated that he could not stab me.

I twisted my body, struggling to squirm out from under him. Twisted hard—and saw Deena Fear running up the driveway.

“Deena—” I gasped her name.

Blade raised his head, turned to the driveway. He stopped his attempts to force the blade down. Just for a second, he loosened up.

And I took advantage to swipe the knife from his hand.

He was still gazing at Deena as I steadied the knife, raised the blade, and plunged it up, straight up, into his stomach.

He uttered a breathy gasp. His hands flew up.

I stabbed him again. Stabbed the top of his stomach. Sliced through the red hoodie. Cut and sliced. Stabbed his chest between his ribs. Again. Again.

No blood this time. How could there be blood? He was dead. And now he was dead again, only he didn’t seem to realize it.

I couldn’t see Deena’s face. Her hair blew wild about her head, covering her face. She stood with her arms crossed at the edge of the driveway, stood very still, made no attempt to interfere. As if she wasn’t surprised. As if this was what she expected to find.

Finally, Blade uttered a final groan. His body started to slump to the right. I reached up, grabbed his side, and gave a hard push. He fell off me, his head bouncing on the grass.

I slid away from him. Gave him another push. He was stretched out on his side on the ground now. Eyes wide open but not moving. Not moving. Still as death.

Deena rushed forward and helped pull me to my feet. I stood there, my face wet with tears, my arms aching from the battle, blood pulsing at my temples.

My knees buckled and I started to fall. Deena held onto me, kept me standing up. I leaned against her. I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt like I was choking.

“Wh-what are we going to do?” I stammered, my voice a choked rasp.

“Easy. Take it easy,” Deena said softly, holding onto me. “I’ll take care of it.”

I blinked. Wiped the cold sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “Take care of it? How do you mean?”

She didn’t answer. I started to feel a little more normal. My arms ached from my struggle with Blade. My neck felt stiff and sore. I glimpsed Blade, sprawled lifelessly on his side, head tilted at a strange angle, mouth hanging open.

“What do you mean take care of it?” I repeated.

Deena tugged her wild hair off her face with both hands. “I’ll take him back to the chapel. Return him to his coffin.”

I studied her eyes, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. Did she mean it? Would she leave him dead this time? Not bring him back to torture me some more? Not bring him back in hopes that he would be hers next time?

“His family will want to bury him right away,” Deena murmured. She motioned to the body. “Help me get him in my car.”

I started to follow her across the grass. “I’ll come with you,” I said. “I want to make sure—”

“No. You’re totally messed up,” Deena said. “He nearly killed you, Caitlyn. Go inside. Take a long hot bath. Get some rest.”

“But I should—” I tried to protest.

She waved me back. “No. Just help me lift him into my backseat. I can do this myself. Really.” I grabbed his legs. She started to lift him from under the shoulders. “It’s my fault, after all,” she said. “I never should have brought him back. I … I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply to that. I felt too weary. I could barely hold my head up. Blade weighed more than I thought. Or maybe it’s just that dead bodies are really heavy.

We dragged him to her car at the bottom of the driveway. We lifted him off the ground and heaved him facedown onto the backseat. His legs stuck stiffly out of the car. Deena carefully tucked him in and slammed the door.

She walked to the driver’s door. “I can handle this. Seriously,” she said. “Go inside, Caitlyn. Get some rest.”

I won’t be able to rest. How can I rest after what I did tonight?

I stared into her headlights as she backed down the drive. My mind was spinning. My whole body ached. I decided I had to follow her.

She had aroused my suspicions. Why did she insist on returning Blade to the chapel on her own. I didn’t think she was just being considerate of me. I didn’t think she was that worried about me.

What did she really plan to do? Was she telling the truth, or did she have another plan for Blade’s body?

The lights were on in the den at the far side of my house. I knew my parents were waiting there. I slipped into the car and, as silently, as I could, backed slowly down the driveway with the headlights off.

I could see Deena’s car a block or so ahead of me. I kept the lights off. I didn’t want her to see me following. I slowed down as she stopped for a light. She made a right turn and I waited, even though the light was green.

There was no traffic on the road, so I let her get a three-block lead. Was this the way to the chapel? I’d been concentrating so hard on the back of her car that I hadn’t looked to see where we were.

Deena’s twin red brake lights floated in front of my eyes. I saw her make another right turn. I kept thinking about Blade, back in his coffin. Blade finally buried deep in the ground where he couldn’t come after me, where he couldn’t try to pull me with him.

I was nearly to the right turn when I heard the rise and fall of the siren and saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

As the patrol car came into focus in the mirror, I let out a groan and swung the car to the right. The cop car edged past me, and I saw a dark-uniformed officer in the passenger seat wave me to the curb.

I hope Deena really is returning Blade’s body to the chapel.

That was my first thought. My second thought was more frightening: Are the police stopping me because they know I killed Blade? Have they finally solved the case? Are they arresting me for murder?

I gripped the wheel with both hands and clenched my jaw, trying to stop the chills that ran down my body.

I stared straight ahead until I heard the hard tap on my window. I turned and saw Officer Rivera peering in at me. “Caitlyn? Is that you? Step out of the car, please.”

42.

I grabbed the door handle, then hesitated. I spun around and saw my bag on the seat. Was the knife inside it? Or had I left it on the ground near my driveway where it had fallen?

Rivera tapped impatiently on the window. “Please step out of the car.” He raised a flashlight and sent a white beam of halogen light over my face.

I shut my eyes and climbed out of the car. I stood there stiffly, blinking in the bright light. “Wh-what’s wrong?” I stammered softly. I tensed myself for the bad news.

I turned away from the light and glimpsed his partner still behind the wheel of the patrol car. Rivera studied me intently. He had one hand on his holster.

Ready to arrest me for murder.

He lowered the light from my face. “Caitlyn, were you aware that you were driving without headlights?”

“Huh? Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you notice your headlights were off? Didn’t it seem a little dark to you?”

“Well…” My throat tightened. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to burst out laughing. I was expecting to be handcuffed and dragged off to prison for murder. And these guys pulled me over because of my headlights.

I pressed my hand over my mouth so he wouldn’t see my grin.

“Caitlyn, have you been drinking?” Rivera brought his face close to mine, I guess, to smell my breath.

“I don’t drink,” I said.

“It’s pretty late,” he said, his eyes glancing around the dark street. “Where are you going this time of night?”

“I’m just … coming from a friend’s house,” I said. “My friend Julie.”

“And where does Julie live?”

“On Bank Street. A couple of blocks from the mall.”

He nodded. He took off his cap and swept back his black hair. “Well, I’ll let you go,” he said. “Is everything okay? Did you just forget about the headlights?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking about school. I just forgot.”

He pushed down his cap. “Well, be careful, okay? Put on your lights.”

“Will do,” I said. I watched him walk back to the patrol car. He slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. He and his partner didn’t pull out. I guess they were waiting for me to go first.

I clicked on the headlights. Then I shifted into drive and drove away. Too late to try to catch up with Deena. I turned at the next block and made my way toward home.

A heavy wave of dread rolled over me. My stomach began to ache. I knew my parents were waiting up for me. How would I explain tonight to them? What was I going to say?

I’m sure they were mortified to have that emotional confrontation with me in front of Julie’s parents. And how could I explain it? As I pulled up the driveway, my brain was doing jumping jacks in my head, leaping from thought to thought until I felt like my head was about to blow apart.

Sure enough, the front door swung open before I even climbed out of the car, and Mom and Dad came rushing at me. “Are you okay? Where did you go? How do you feel?”

I had the car door open only a few inches. “At least, let me out of the car,” I said.

They obediently stepped back. I climbed out, straightening my top over my jeans. They put their arms around my shoulders and we walked into the house in a line.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” Dad demanded after we had settled on facing couches in the den.

“I’m perfectly fine,” I said. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Way tired. But I’m okay. Seriously.” Especially since Blade is dead again and won’t be coming to haunt me.

“Do you expect us to believe that?” Mom said, arms crossed tightly in front of her. She’s the tough one. I knew I’d have trouble getting past her.

“Well … yes,” I said. “I do expect you to believe me. I’m not a liar, Mom. I think you know that.”

She ignored that. “Where did you go?” she demanded, eyes piercing mine. I could practically feel the heat from them. “Where did you go after you ran out of Julie’s?”

I shrugged. “Just drove around.”

“Caitlyn, you have to explain what’s going on,” Dad said, his fingers tapping the couch arm. “What did you tell Julie? What did you say to get your friend so upset?”

“You have to tell us,” Mom insisted. “You can’t just shrug it off and not say anything.”

“Look, it was a joke,” I said. “I made up a story about Blade Hampton and—”

“That boy who died?” Mom interrupted. She shook her head. “That was so sad.”

“Yes, Blade Hampton,” I said. I shut my eyes and rubbed my temples. “It was a joke. I told Julie a story about him and … I forgot she doesn’t have a sense of humor. I guess she thought I was serious.”

They both stared at me in silence. Were they buying my lame story?

No. Not at all.

Too late to make up a new one.

A hush fell over the room. Dad tapped the couch arm rhythmically. Mom didn’t move. She finally broke the silence. “Well, Caitlyn … your joke must not have been too funny. Whatever you said to her got her so upset, she called us and said you were having a breakdown.”

I forced a laugh. “Breakdown? What’s a breakdown? You mean like a car?”

“Don’t be glib,” Dad said sharply. “Your friend was really upset and worried about you.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “But you’ve got to believe me. It was all a joke. I guess Julie took it the wrong way. I’m perfectly okay. I’m not a wacko. I haven’t gone berserk or anything.”

I started to stand up. Maybe I could make it to the stairs and escape to my room. I could see from their faces that they were unsatisfied.

My parents aren’t dumb. In fact, they’re really smart. And they knew they weren’t getting a very good explanation from me. They knew they weren’t getting any explanation at all.

“You’d better go to bed,” Dad said, motioning to the stairs. His expression was suddenly sad, his eyes weary, as if I had disappointed him.

“But we’re not finished,” Mom said, jumping up and leaning over me. “We’re not finished, Caitlyn. We’ll come back to this, hear me. We’ll talk when you’re not so exhausted.”

“Good,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I stopped at the den doorway and turned back to them. “Sorry,” I murmured. “Sorry you got that phone call from Julie and had to run over there. Sorry. Seriously. Sorry if you were worried about me…” My voice trailed off. “Goodnight.” I grabbed the banister and pulled myself up the stairs.

I paused at the top of the stairs. I could still hear Mom and Dad, both talking heatedly in the den. I heard Dad say, “Teenagers all have secrets. But she’ll be okay.”

Secrets? He didn’t know the half of it.

I picked up a stray sock that someone must have dropped in the hall and carried it to my room. I closed the bedroom door carefully behind me. The window was closed and the air was stuffy, but I didn’t bother to open it. I began to pace tensely back and forth. My room is small. Not much room to pace. I felt like a caged animal.

How would I ever get to sleep?

If Blade was safely back in his coffin, maybe I could begin to rest again. I’d be in even better shape if I knew his coffin was deep in the ground.

But I had no way of knowing Deena’s real intentions. I didn’t trust her. I knew she was insane about Blade. But … insane enough to awake him again? To try her magic on him one more time?

“No. No way,” I muttered to myself.

I had no way to get in touch with her. She wasn’t responding to texts or phone calls. It was too late to sneak out and drive to her house. I just had to pray that she returned Blade’s body as she said she would.