It’s the First Day of School … Forever! 3 страница

Dad changed the subject to how he pulled a muscle racing his bike this morning and how his leg had stiffened up. One of my parents’ best qualities is that they have very short attention spans. They can never stay on a subject for more than a minute or two.

I gnawed on the chicken leg for a while and forced myself to eat some of the potatoes and coleslaw. Mainly so Mom and Dad wouldn’t start asking more questions. I couldn’t stop thinking about Blade. Wondering what was up with him.

After dinner, I changed into a long-sleeved top. The weather had turned cool and the sky was heavy with rainclouds. I called goodnight to my parents and hurried out to the car.

A few raindrops dotted the windshield as I drove to Miranda’s house. She lives on Heather Court in North Hills, the ritzy neighborhood of Shadyside. Her house is big, with a zillion rooms, but very comfortable. Her parents collect very large old movie posters, so there are these great stars like Charlie Chaplin and Humphrey Bogart staring out at you from every wall.

Miranda is into old movies, too. If Julie and I are hanging out at Miranda’s house, we usually end up watching some old black-and-white flick from the forties or fifties on Netflix. I love seeing the weird old clothes—everyone wearing hats all the time, even indoors—and the funny cars.

The rain was just a drizzle but I started the wipers. They squeaked as they scraped over the windshield. I turned onto Mission, which curved around to Miranda’s street. I slowed down. There were a lot of cars on Mission. Drivers use it as a shortcut to River Road.

I pulled through a stop sign—and then let out a soft cry. “Whoa.”

Was that Blade’s car up ahead? I squinted through the rain-spotted glass.

Yes. It had to be.

Actually, it was his dad’s car, but he drove it a lot. A ’95 red Mustang. Not too many of those on the road in Shadyside. Leaning over the wheel, I read the license plate. Yes. Yes. Blade’s car.

I lowered my foot on the brake. I didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t want to get too close.

But … who was that in the car beside him?

Bright white headlights beamed from an oncoming truck swept over Blade’s car and lit it up as if setting it on fire.

And I saw her. A girl. Beside Blade. A girl with short white-blonde hair. I just saw the back of her head. I didn’t see her face.

His car pulled away from a stoplight and roared forward.

My hands squeezed the wheel. They were suddenly clammy and cold.

I lowered my foot to the gas. I knew what I had to do.

I had to follow them.

 

 

11.

 

My headlights washed over the back of the red Mustang. I slowed down, let more space separate our cars. I had a sudden urge to tromp on the gas and plow right into him. Send that blonde girl flying through the windshield.

A crazy thought, and I quickly suppressed it. What kind of person would imagine such a violent, evil thing?

The girl beside Blade had to be a cousin. Or a family member who needed a ride. Or a friend from his old school he hadn’t seen in months. Or … Or …

Weird how your brain can dance around when you’re upset or anxious.

The rain stopped. I shut down the scraping windshield wipers. The red Mustang made the turn onto River Road. A few seconds later, I turned, too.

The road curves along the bank of the Conononka River, a long, winding road that climbs into the hills over Shadyside. It was too dark to see the river. But I slid my passenger window down so I could hear the gentle lapping of the water against the muddy shore.

I thought the sound might calm me. But, of course, it didn’t.

Again, my headlights played over the back of the Mustang. I slowed and edged to the right and let another car move between us. I didn’t want Blade to see me. I didn’t want him to think that I was suspicious, that I didn’t trust him.

He was obviously dealing with an emergency. That’s why he didn’t have time to explain to me what was going on.

But … if it was an emergency, why was he turning into the parking lot at Fire? Fire is a dance club on River Road. It’s a club for adults, but a lot of Shadyside students go there because the doorman isn’t very careful about checking your ID. If you don’t look twelve, you’re in.

A neon sign at the street has red-and-yellow flames dancing into the air. A sign beside it reads: SHADYSIDE’S PREMIER DANCE CLUB. LADIES FREE.

The club was a long, low, red building with red and blue lights along the flat roof. A red carpet led to the awning over the entrance. The doorman stood behind a narrow wooden podium at the front of the awning. Even with the car windows closed, I could hear the drumming beat of the throbbing dance music from inside the club.

As I watched the red Mustang roll over the brightly lit gravel parking lot, a wave of nausea rolled over me. I was supposed to be with Blade tonight. He told me he got “hung up.” So why was he here at a dance club with that blonde girl?

My ideas about a family emergency were quickly exploding, vanishing into air. And I fought down my dinner, which was rising to my throat. Fought down a choking feeling as I saw him pull into a parking place at the side of the club and cut his headlights.

My car rolled slowly over the gravel as I hung back, leaning over the wheel and squinting into the glare of the red, blue, and yellow lights overhead. I stopped and backed into a space between two SUVs near the club entrance.

When I looked back, Blade and the girl were out of his car. Blade wore his red hoodie over slim-leg jeans. She was tall and thin, taller than him, and the lights played over her pale face and the short white-blonde hair.

She leaned into Blade, and he slid an arm around her shoulders. They staggered sideways together, laughing.

A sob escaped my throat. I forced myself to breathe.

I told him I loved him. That night in his car up on River Ridge, the stars above us, the sparkling river down below, when we held each other, held each other as if we were the only two people on earth. We kissed … we kissed and … and …

I grabbed the door handle, ready to jump out of the car. I had an impulse to jump out, run across the gravel lot, grab him, grab him and spin him around, and—

—No.

I squeezed the steering wheel, squeezed it until my hands ached—and watched them kiss. She turned to him and he wrapped his hands around her neck and pulled her face close. And they kissed again. The red-and-blue lights played over them, making it look like a carnival scene or some kind of glaring dream.

If only.

If only it wasn’t real, Diary. But it was happening, and I was there.

I shoved open the car door. It slammed into the SUV next to me. I didn’t care. I slid out and stumbled forward, away from the car. I couldn’t balance. The world tilted and swayed under me.

My whole body shuddered as I forced myself forward.

Did I cut the engine? Switch off the headlights? I don’t remember, Diary.

Blade and the girl stopped at the doorman’s podium. He was a wide hulk of a guy, shaved head, wearing a purple sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his tight biceps and tattoos, and baggy gray sweatpants. Blade pulled something from his wallet—probably a fake ID—and the doorman waved them into the club.

“Stop!” I opened my mouth in a cry, but no sound came out. I took a deep breath. My shock quickly turned to anger.

Blade is a liar! A liar and a rat!

I couldn’t erase the picture of them kissing from my mind.

Suddenly, I knew I had to confront him. I had to let him know that I was here and I saw him.

A cry of rage burst from my throat. Like an angry animal. And I roared forward, my sneakers kicking up gravel, ran full speed toward the club entrance, the red-and-blue lights flashing in my eyes, running blind, blind with my anger and hurt pushing me forward.

I had to get in there. I had to make him face me.

I was a few feet from the doorman’s podium when a dark figure ran out from the side of the club. At first, I thought it was a moving shadow. It took a few seconds to realize it was someone dressed all in black.

Deena Fear.

I nearly ran right into her. She caught me with both hands before we collided. I was panting, wheezing loudly, enraged.

“Deena—what are you doing here?” I choked out, the words rasping against my dry throat.

“He betrayed us!” she cried. “Caitlyn—he betrayed us!”

 

 

12.

 

I gaped at her. The red-and-blue lights reflected in her glasses made her eyes look on fire.

“He betrayed us!” she screamed again, gripping my arms tightly.

“Go away!” I cried. Blade was inside the club with the blonde girl. I didn’t have time for Deena Fear. I had to keep my anger burning. Or else I’d never be able to confront him.

“Get off me!” I swung my body hard and tugged free of her grip. Then I lowered my shoulder and shoved her out of my way, shoved her so hard she toppled backward over the gravel. Her glasses flew off her face and landed on the ground.

I spun away, lowered my head, and ran past the doorman. I heard him shout: “Hey—stop!” And then he uttered a string of curses as I pulled the door open and rushed inside.

Into the flashing lights and throbbing beats, deafening, almost painful. I could see the silhouettes of dancers in the middle of the floor. Couples huddled around the sides. A crowd at the brightly lit bar against the far wall.

I took a deep shuddering breath. Then another. My eyes gazed from one wall to the other, squinting to see faces, to see Blade. The pounding beats matched my heartbeats. I stood there, gasping in the thick, humid air, inhaling the tangy aroma of alcohol and sweat.

I was so angry, so hurt, so devastated, the whole scene became a crazy blur to me. The lights pulsed with the beats of the music, pulsed with my heartbeats, until … until I was not myself. I was out of myself. Out of my head.

Where is he? Where?

And then my eyes stopped at the white lights of the bar. And I saw him. I saw Blade at the bar. The blonde girl was beside him. He was leaning over a tall barstool, talking to a female bartender.

I didn’t hesitate. I lowered my shoulder and bolted across the dance floor like a running back. Couples dodged out of my way. I heard angry shouts:

“Look out!”

“Hey—what’s your problem?”

My problem was Blade.

I let out a furious screech as I stepped up behind him. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around.

His eyes opened wide in surprise. “Caitlyn?”

The words spilled from my throat. “What are you doing here?”

He regained his composure quickly. “Getting two beers,” he said. He gave a casual shrug.

“Who is she?” the blonde girl asked.

“She’s nobody, Vanessa,” Blade said. “A friend. From school.”

I felt as if I’d been cut in half, sliced right down the middle.

I stood there trembling with my mouth open.

I know I overreacted. I know I went ballistic. Totally lost it. But that’s the way I am. That’s me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I am 90 percent emotion. And when Blade said those words to the girl, something inside me snapped.

“But … but…” I sputtered. “But we love each other!” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Blade’s face went entirely blank. His eyes appeared to freeze over. “In your dreams, maybe.”

And there I stood, my world collapsing in a sea of flashing lights and dancing couples and pounding music.

Suddenly, Vanessa, the blonde-haired girl, moved toward me. She put a hand gently on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re trembling. Can I get you a drink or something?”

Her dark blue eyes peered into mine. She was genuinely worried about me.

I stared back at her, unable to answer. Finally, I spun away and took off. I ran back through the dance floor, pushing my way through the dancers, startled cries all around me.

I pulled open the door and burst back into the cool darkness. The voices and music were a roar behind me. My eyes still pulsed from the crazy lights.

The doorman turned from his podium as I ran past him. “Hey, you—stop! Come here!” he bellowed angrily.

Again, I ignored him, my shoes slipping and sliding on the gravel as I turned toward my car. No sign of Deena Fear. I had a fleeting thought that she’d be there by the door waiting for me, waiting to grab me and insist that Blade had betrayed her, too.

Which one of us is crazy?

I knew the answer. I was the crazy one for caring too much. Everything I did in that club was crazy. So crazy that even the girl with Blade, a total stranger, was worried about me.

But I didn’t care. Blade was so important to me. I trusted him. I believed in him. I loved him. And now … I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I didn’t care.

He acted as if I was nothing. “She’s nobody.” That’s what he told that girl Vanessa. “She’s nobody.”

And he was right. Now I was nobody. I thought I had something great, something wonderful to get through life. But now I was nobody.

I climbed into the car. Slammed the door. Started it up and roared out of the parking lot, sending up a tidal wave of gravel behind me.

Where was I going? I didn’t know. I swung the car out of the parking lot without looking. To my left, a small van screeched to a halt. Close call. I didn’t care.

I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward. The pull of speed felt good to me. I spun around the curves of River Road, sliding from one lane to the other.

I made the car squeal and scrape. The river flowed beside me. All I had to do was swing the wheel to the left, and I’d be over the side and into the water. The cold, fresh water. Was it a good night for a swim?

No. I slid the wheel to the right and followed the dark road. Was that a squirrel I almost hit? No. Maybe a rabbit. Maybe a raccoon.

I was making the big curve onto Parkview, doing at least eighty, when the oncoming headlights filled my windshield. I blinked in the blinding lights. I cursed them for having their brights on.

And too late, I realized I was in the wrong lane. I was in the left lane. Too late. Too late to swing the car. Too late to avoid them. I heard the roar of a horn, like a siren, as the lights grew even brighter, washed over me, blinded me.

I’m driving right into them. Can’t stop.

 

 

13.

 

Sudden darkness. The long wail of the car horn ringing in my ears, bleating like an enraged animal. The horn finally stopped as the other car swerved into the right lane and roared past me.

Missed. The car missed. I forced myself to breathe. Silence now. The twin circles of bright white headlights lingered in my eyes.

Breathe, Caitlyn. Breathe.

Chill after chill ran down my back. A close call. I almost died. I didn’t really want to die. I was too angry to die.

I jerked the wheel and pulled the car to the curb. I hit the brake too hard, and the car lurched forward before it stopped, throwing me against the wheel, then slamming me back.

I cut off the engine. Then I sat there with my hands in my lap, staring out into the darkness, forcing my breathing to return to normal.

Caitlyn, you’re not handling this well. Caitlyn, get a grip.

Where was I?

I squinted across a narrow lawn to a square brick house with a single light on over the front stoop. A small one-car garage at the top of the driveway had its door open.

It took me a few seconds to realize I had parked in front of Blade’s house. I stared at the yellow light over the stoop until the house blurred behind it.

I knew I didn’t deliberately drive here. At least, I didn’t know I was going to park in front of his house. “I should go home,” I murmured out loud.

I reached for the button to start the engine. But then I lowered my hand to my lap. I needed to talk to him. No. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to sit here for hours, till the middle of the night, waiting for him to return from his date. And then rush him, run at him, confront him crying and screaming.

No. I didn’t want that.

So … why couldn’t I start the car? Why couldn’t I move? Why was I sitting here, every muscle in my body tense, my stomach rumbling and growling, wave after wave of nausea making me hold my breath and clench my jaw?

I don’t know how much time passed. I glanced at the car clock when the red Mustang finally turned into the driveway. It was nearly one o’clock.

I watched the car stop in front of the garage. I watched the red taillights die. I watched the driver’s door swing open. Now it all seemed to be in slow motion, like some kind of slowed-down dream.

Blade stretched his arms over his head. Then he closed the car door quietly. Quietly so he wouldn’t wake his parents, I guessed.

I sat and watched, hands clasped tightly in my lap. When he started loping toward the kitchen door, I finally moved. I moved fast.

I shoved open the car door, grabbed my bag, and leaped out. I didn’t bother to close it. I ran around the trunk to the driveway and began to run, gripping my bag in one hand, waving my other hand above me head. “Blade! Blade!” I shouted his name in a shrill voice I didn’t recognize.

It was a warm April night, almost balmy, but the air felt cool against my burning cheeks. “Blade! Stop! Blade!”

Why did I drag my bag with me? I can’t answer that question. Was I thinking clearly? Not at all.

Blade turned and I saw the surprise on his face. I kept waving my hand above my head as I ran, some kind of desperate signal.

I stopped a few feet in front of him, breathing hard, my chest heaving up and down.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Caitlyn? What are you doing here?” No warmth in his voice. His eyes cold. Wary.

“I-I-I” I stammered. I searched for something good in his face, just a tiny sign that he was glad to see me. No. Not even that. A sign that he liked me? No.

“It’s late,” he said, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie.

“I … I … Didn’t you say you loved me?” I blurted out, my voice trembling as if underwater.

He blinked. He lowered his gaze to the ground. “We had fun,” he murmured.

“Fun?” I cried. “Fun? You said you loved me. You know you did.”

He raised his eyes. His mouth formed a sneer. “You didn’t really think I was serious—did you?”

“Huh?” My mouth dropped open. I kept my eyes locked on him. I was straining to see the Blade I knew, the Blade I loved.

“We had fun, that’s all,” he said. He yawned.

I think it was the yawn that set me off. The loud, open-mouthed yawn put me over the edge.

I felt something in my brain snap. At that moment, at that second, something inside me cracked apart. I guess it was my whole life.

I really can’t describe it. Something in my brain just exploded.

I saw the surprise on Blade’s face. Or was it fear?

And then everything went crazy.

 

 

14.

 

“Fun?” I screamed. “Fun?”

He glanced to a window at the side of the house. His parents’ room? Was he afraid I might wake his parents? Is that all he cared about?

“You creep!” I cried. I had the handle of my bag gripped tightly in my right hand. I raised my arm and swung the bag at him, swung it with all my strength.

“Hey!” Blade uttered a startled cry and stepped back. He lowered his shoulder, and the bag swung over his head.

“Hey, stop, Caitlyn. Stop it.”

“Fun?” I shrieked. “Fun?”

I swung the heavy bag again. This time it glanced off his shoulder.

“Whoa.” His expression turned angry. “I’m warning you,” he murmured. “Stay back. Stop it.”

My next swing caught him on the chest. I couldn’t stop myself. I swung again, narrowly missing his head. I swung the bag again. Doubled him over with a blow to the stomach.

“Enough!” he groaned. He made a grab for the bag. Caught it from the bottom.

“Noooo!” I struggled to pull it away from him.

“Caitlyn—chill! Stop! Calm down! Can we talk?” He gripped the bottom of my bag and jerked his hands hard.

“Give it back!” I screamed. “Give it!”

The handle snapped out of my hand. I stumbled back. Blade held onto the bottom as we both watched all the contents spill onto the ground.

“You creep! You creep!” I was shrieking without even hearing myself.

Blade tossed the bag across the driveway. He glared furiously at me. “You crazy idiot. Are you going to leave?”

In the dim light from the stoop, I saw the knife. It lay on top of a scarf I had stuffed into the bag. With a shuddering moan, I dove for it. I gripped the handle tightly and raised it in front of me.

“Hey—what’s that?” Blade demanded, gazing from the knife to me.

My thumb fumbled for the button, and I released the blade. It snapped out instantly and I held it in front of me so Blade could see it clearly.

“Come on, Caitlyn. Put that down,” he said, holding his arms out at his sides, as if preparing to defend himself.

“Fun? We had fun?” I cried.

No way he could defend himself. I lunged forward and poked the sharp tip of the blade into the front of his hoodie.

He gasped and stumbled back. “Put it away. Are you crazy? Put it away!”

I jabbed at him, just enough to make him feel it. I poked him in the chest. Then I lowered the blade and poked his stomach.

“You’re crazy! You’re crazy! Stop. Put it down. Let’s talk.”

His eyes were wide. I could see he was in a panic. He kept his arms lowered, tensed, ready to fight back. He retreated a step, then another—and backed into his car.

I had him trapped now. I moved forward and poked him again, pushing the tip of the blade against his belly.

“Give that to me!” He uttered an angry scream and swiped at the knife.

I tried to swing the blade out of his reach. But instead, I sliced through the palm of his hand. The blade cut silently. I gasped. I started to choke.

Eyes bulging in disbelief, he raised his hand in front of his face as a line of blood oozed onto the palm.

The blood trickled for a few moments. Then it started to spurt.

We both stared at the bleeding hand in silence. It was too horrifying for either of us to make a sound.

And then he began to wail, shrill high-pitched cries, waving the spurting blood in the air.

Like a fountain, I thought. Blood spurting like a bright fountain.

His shrieks made my ears ring. The sight of the blood made my stomach lurch. I gagged.

I had to stop that horrible sound he was making.

I swung the knife back, then plunged the blade deep into his stomach.

Again. I stabbed him again. Stabbed again.

That stopped the screaming. He made a gurgling sound and grabbed his belly with both hands. Dark blood seeped through the red hoodie and poured over his hands.

He dropped to his knees, moaning, making strange wheezing sounds. The blood ran out of his body. He raised his eyes to me, his face twisted in horror, in disbelief. He tried to speak, but blood rolled over his tongue and bubbled over his lips.

He sank on his side to the grass, hugging himself. He bled out so quickly.

I stood there watching, fighting back my nausea, gritting my teeth. So quickly. It happened so quickly. Or was I standing outside time? Did it actually take him a long time to die?

I can’t tell you, Diary. I stood and watched the spreading blood. Such a big puddle of his blood, with him curled on his side inside it.

I was still gasping for breath, fighting the deep shudders that paralyzed my body, when I knew he was dead. And as soon as I knew, I started to move, to breathe again, to think more carefully and calmly.

I wiped the blood-soaked knife on the sleeve of his hoodie. Then I folded it up and tossed it into my bag. Gathered my belongings and stuffed everything back where it belonged.

Then I drove home, sobbing all the way. Sobbing at the top of my lungs, big tears rolling down my face, burning my cheeks.

My boyfriend, my only true love, was dead. I killed him. Stabbed him and watched him bleed to death. Killed him. I killed him.

So of course I cried. Cried and sobbed and moaned all the way home. I knew my life would never be the same.

 

 

PART TWO

 

 

 

15.

 

Thankfully, Mom and Dad were asleep in their room. I couldn’t have faced them. I would’ve collapsed in a heap and never moved again.

How could I explain to them what I did? I couldn’t explain it to myself.

I stood in the dark kitchen without turning on a light. My bag suddenly felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. I let it fall to the floor in front of the kitchen door.

The house was so still. The only sounds were my harsh breaths and the hum of the refrigerator. I took a few steps toward the kitchen counter. My sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. I pictured them covered in blood.

I pictured Blade swimming on his side in a lake of his own blood. I never knew that blood could smell so powerful. It smelled tangy and sour, very metallic.

I pictured Blade raising his head above the blood, gazing at me. Blood flowed down his face, thickly matted his hair. But he stared at me through the layer of blood, an accusing stare. He didn’t need to speak. I could read the horror and the anger on his face.

I shook my head hard, erasing the terrifying picture from my mind. I shut my eyes tight and held them closed. Could I stay in this darkness and keep all these pictures from my brain?

No. For some reason, Deena Fear appeared before my eyes. Her black hair flew about her head as if being blown by a hurricane wind. Her lips were bright red, brighter than Blade’s blood.

In my imagination, my feverish imagination, she raised a red hoodie in both hands and waved it at me.

Why is she doing that? Why is she even in my thoughts now?

The frightening stories of the Fear family contained many murders. According to legend, the Fears throughout their history knew how to murder people in the most hideous and painful ways.

But I’m a Donnelly. My grandparents came from County Wicklow in Ireland. We have never been murderers … till now.

I made my way through the dark house, then up the stairs to my room. I leaned on the banister and stepped as lightly as I could. I didn’t want to make a sound.

I closed the bedroom door carefully behind me, crossed the room in the dark, and slumped onto the edge of my bed. The window was open. The curtains drifted in and out softly in a gentle breeze. Pale light from the streetlight across the street washed over the carpet.

I sat hunched on the bed staring at the shadows of the shifting curtains. I don’t know how much time passed. I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

At some point, I scratched the fingernails of my left hand over the back of my right hand. Dug the nails into the skin. Just to feel something. Just to feel some pain. But I was numb. My hand was like a limp sponge. I didn’t feel a thing.

I sat there staring at shadows, chilled in the breeze from the window. Images rolled through my mind. Red hoodies … rivers of blood … Blade’s accusing eyes … I couldn’t shut the pictures out.

“I have to confess,” I said out loud, my voice hollow as it broke the deep silence. “I have to tell what I have done. I murdered Blade. I murdered him.”

I collapsed into shoulder-heaving sobs. I lowered my head, covered my face with both hands, and cried. Cried till my face and hands were soaked from tears.

The flashing red-and-blue lights made me stop. I lowered my hands and stared at the glare of the lights outside the bedroom window.

I heard a car door slam. The sharp sound snapped me from my shock. I grabbed a wad of tissues and mopped my face. Then I stumbled to the window and gazed down at the street.

A Shadyside police patrol car had stopped at the bottom of my driveway. The flashing red-and-blue roof lights gave the front lawn an eerie, unreal carnival glow. I watched two dark-uniformed officers striding up the driveway.

My knees started to collapse. I gripped the windowsill to keep myself up. A wave of nausea made me swallow hard. Again. Again.

They were here. The police were already here. Here to arrest me for Blade’s murder.

I lurched into the hall and flew down the dark stairs. So fast. The police were so fast. So quick to end my life.

 

 

16.

 

Gripping the banister tightly, I stopped at the foot of the stairs. The two cops stood side by side in the open front doorway. The pulsing red-and-blue lights behind them made them appear to flicker in and out of view.