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Authors: Kristen O'Toole

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BOOK: Echo Bridge
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“I—I guess Ted was in front of me. I don’t really remember. I’d had a lot to drink,” I fumbled. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I prayed she wouldn’t test my blood. In truth I’d only had the two shots of tequila Melissa had practically poured down my throat, and that had been hours ago.

Detective Soleto flipped the folder closed. “Well, you certainly look like you’re in rough shape this morning,” she said. She studied my face, which I knew was pale and pouched from fear and lack of sleep. She leaned toward me slightly and said, almost conspiratorially, “You know, a grilled cheese before bed will make the morning much easier to handle.” She sat back. “Just a bit of advice. For when you turn twenty-one.” She lifted an eyebrow.

I managed a wan smile—it seemed to be the reaction she was looking for—and thought we must be nearly finished. I slid my arms into the sleeves of my coat, draped over the back of my chair, and gathered my purse. As I stood, she slapped the folder open again.

“Just one more thing, Miss Valance. It’s a challenge to put together a timeline of events when we have such a large pool of witnesses. Everyone remembers different details, and we’re still not sure what might be relevant. And of course, alcohol and drugs are factors here. We heard from several people that you were talking to Mr. Marsden in the living room not long before he went out to the backyard. Do you recall what you spoke about?”

I flinched before I could stop myself. I realized, suddenly, how we must have looked: Hugh’s hands around my wrists, our faces close together. I had assumed no one was paying attention, and that if someone had been, they’d have seen my discomfort. But why would they? We must have looked like we were about to make out. And the detective had a point; everyone had been buzzed by that time.

“No idea,” I told her. I widened my eyes, trying to look innocent and upset. “I mean, I remember that we talked for a sec in the middle of everything. But I don’t think it was about anything important. Hugh liked to tease, me in particular.” I summoned all the chops I had to look sad. Maybe I could even force a tear. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

“It’s a tragic accident,” admitted Detective Soleto. “And very likely to draw a lot of attention to responsible property maintenance and underage drinking in our community. I don’t think we’ll see any parties in Belknap like the one last night anytime soon.”

I composed my face to look appropriately chastised. “I certainly don’t want to see any parties for a long time.”

“Well, Miss Valance, thank you for coming in. If anything else comes up, I know where to find you.” It sounded vaguely threatening, and my heart was pounding when I went out.

My mother was standing near the reception desk of the police station, speaking in hushed tones to a few other parents. Her eyes were red and she held out her arms when I came out. “Oh, honey. Are you okay? I am just so sorry all you kids have to go through something like this. It’s horrible, just horrible.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Can we go home?” It was five in the morning, and we’d been there for hours.

“Of course. Let’s get you to bed.”

When we got home, I went straight upstairs, tripped over Anna’s old Docs getting into her creaky old bed with the bears, and slept for six hours. When I woke up, I ate the chocolate cream donut my father had bought me that morning and called Lexi.

She took the news of Hugh’s death in stride.

“I’m glad,” she said.

“Are you really?” I asked around a mouthful of sugar. I sipped some coffee and savored the way it blended with the crumbs on my tongue.

“Are
you
really asking me that?” asked Lexi, incredulous. “You know better than anyone that he was a psychopath.”

When I pictured Hugh’s face as it had been that night in Melissa’s guest bathroom, over my shoulder in the mirror, I felt the same way she did. I was glad he was gone, and I hoped that he was in hell. But when I remembered the scene in the barn, Hugh’s mangled body and Ted’s tears, I felt ashamed, like my soul must be black and shriveled.

“Ted was really upset,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Look, Courtney. I’m not saying Ted’s a dupe. But Hugh was a psychopath. Ted only knew the Hugh that Hugh wanted him to know.”

“I guess,” I said.

“I don’t think we can go to the police now,” Lexi said casually, as if it were an afterthought. “It would only cast suspicion on you, and the whole point was to stop him from doing it to other girls. You’ve done that now.”

“I didn’t do anything, Lexi.” I put my head in my hands. The way she said it, she thought it was empowering, a victory. “I know it’s my fault he’s dead, but I didn’t
do
anything.”

“You kept him away from Molly.”

“This time. If I had reported what he did to me—”

Lexi blew an exasperated breath into the phone, and I could picture her throwing up her hands. “And if Farnsworth had listened to me, then Hugh may not have had a chance to hurt
you
. And he’d probably still be alive. A sex offender, but alive. It’s not your fault, Courtney. You were one link in a chain that Hugh forged himself. That’s what led to his death, not you.”

“I guess,” I said softly.

Lexi lowered her voice, too. “Anyway, if you’re going to do the shoulda-coulda-woulda thing, remember that we might not even know each other, if this had all happened differently.”

I put the donut down on the kitchen table. It was suddenly far too cloying and sweet. I was remembering the taste of Lexi’s mouth: cigarettes and raspberry lip gloss and underneath, something that was just her, the way every kiss has its own flavor, no matter how many Altoids you chow in anticipation. But I didn’t know what to say to her, whether my feelings were too much or not enough or just brought on by shared experience.

Lexi sensed my hesitation. “And Farah and Rahim probably wouldn’t even know each other’s real names,” she said, laughing, trying to lift the tension I had put into the conversation.

I was grateful to talk about something other than my own mixed-up feelings for a minute. “Yeah. What’s going on there?”

“I think he’s giving her hacker lessons. Stanford scholarship or no, Farah’s attracted to the dark side,” Lexi laughed.

I remembered the day I first talked to her, the message over the darkroom door: Welcome to the Dark Side. The painting depicted Darth Vader in painstaking detail, but he seemed like a cartoon to me now. Farah spying on everyone on the Belknet; Lexi drugging Hugh; Rahim’s gleaming glass building—that was the dark side. Not being sorry that Hugh was dead—I was on the dark side now.

Chapter 19

If Hugh had been a high school hero in life, in death he was practically a saint. School was canceled on Monday for the funeral, which was enormous. At 10 a.m., when I’d thought I would be at the police station with Lexi and Farah, waiting for the cops to bring Hugh in, I was sitting in Belknap United Methodist Church, clutching a program that featured Hugh’s senior class photo and the lyrics to “Waiting On An Angel,” by Ben Harper. I was sitting between Lindsay Stevens, who was obviously stoned, and Melissa, who was sobbing like she’d lost her own brother. Hilary and Selena filled the rest of our pew. The boys, as pallbearers, were all seated up front, and behind them, the varsity hockey team. A lot of Country Day’s rival teams were there, too, filling a dozen pews in the back. It seemed like half of Belknap was in the church, including most of the students and teachers from Country Day. The casket up front was closed, and next to it stood a poster-sized photo of Hugh on the ice, in full pads and holding a hockey stick, surrounded by a wreath.

I could see Ted a few rows up, his shoulders rigid in his black suit, his head bent, neck still tan from soccer season. I hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday, other than a quick hello when we’d met up in front of the church and he’d kissed my forehead. Between the cops, his parents, and the Marsdens, he hadn’t had any time to talk over the weekend. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was up to playing the supportive girlfriend. I had caught a glimpse of Lexi with Farah at the back of the church on my way in, and my neck prickled at the thought of her somewhere behind me.

“I just can’t believe it,” wailed Melissa. She patted the area under her big black sunglasses with a lace hankie. “Poor Huey. You know he pinched my ass not five minutes before he went out to the barn? I’m going to miss him so much.”

“It is pretty surreal,” said Lindsay. I looked at her red-rimmed eyes and guessed that
everything
was pretty surreal for Lindsay just then.

“You didn’t even like him, Melissa,” said Hilary nastily.

“How c-c-c-can you say that?” Melissa hiccupped loudly and people in the pews ahead of us began to turn around.

“Both of you, shush,” said Selena. “We all feel messed up.”

Melissa buried her face in my shoulder, and I patted her back awkwardly.

Mr. and Mrs. Marsden sat in the first pew, across the aisle from the pallbearers. They were as beautiful and icy as ever, accepting condolences with blank nods when people came up to them. There were rumors they were going to sue Ted’s parents, but there were a lot of rumors flying around, and it was hard to know what to believe.

As if on cue, Hilary leaned over Melissa and said in a hushed voice, “I heard he took the same stuff he was on at Rivalry Revelry. So he had, like, no idea what was going on.”

“What was this stuff he was on, exactly?” asked Lindsay. “And where did he get it?”

“Don’t be dumb, Hilary,” said Melissa. “Revelry was an accident with allergy medication. Hugh wasn’t a druggie.”

Lindsay had the wherewithal to look mildly offended at the note of disgust in Melissa’s voice.

“But how many times do you think he’s been to Ted’s house? If anyone would know to avoid the root cellar in the barn, it would be Hugh. I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to miss when you know it’s there, right, Courtney?”

“I guess?” I mumbled, barely audible.

“So he must have been, like, really wasted.” Hilary was smug.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to speak ill of the dead?” snapped Melissa.

“You’re both being disrespectful,” hissed Selena.

At last, the priest stepped up to the podium, and the crowd in the church quieted down. “We’re here today to celebrate the life of Hugh William Marsden.”

He droned on, and I zoned out. I wasn’t there to celebrate Hugh’s life. I wasn’t there to celebrate his death, either—as much as I’d hated him, as much as I’d wanted him locked up and/or far away from me, I felt guilty about what had happened to him. If only Molly hadn’t come to the party. If only we’d gone to the cops on Wednesday night like Lexi had wanted, or earlier, like we should have done all along. I had stayed silent about Hugh in hopes of my life returning to status quo, but it turned out that doing nothing had its own butterfly effect. I had put all of this in motion when I’d pulled my skirt down and curled up in the bathtub at Melissa’s house.

The priest’s voice was a low background buzz, the church a distant blur in my mind’s eye. I felt like a zombie. It made me think of the day Lexi and I had gone to Harvard Square and thought up our imaginary B-movie,
Rapist Hockey Zombies
, and for an awful moment I thought I might laugh. The hysterical braying rose in my chest like vomit, and I choked it back. Melissa offered me her hankie. Hugh had seemed invincible then, coddled and protected by everyone who was now mourning him.

After we sang “Waiting On An Angel,” with Benji and Horse playing acoustic guitars in front of the altar, Ted stepped up to the podium. I realized that he was delivering the eulogy. Even after everything that had happened, it seemed odd that I would not have known this, that as chaotic as the weekend had been, we had not had five minutes to speak on the phone. I wondered where this rift had come from, if it had been happening for a while or if it was the result of Ted’s grief. It crossed my mind that growing apart might not be such a bad thing for us, and I was surprised at myself. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, but it was still hard to picture my life without Ted in it. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke I could hear the tears he was holding back in his voice.

“Hugh was my best friend,” he said into the mike. “He was an only child, and he told me all the time that I was like a brother to him. I have a brother myself, so I know how much that really means. Hugh was a second brother to me.” Here he had to stop, brace one hand on the podium, and put his head down before he could go on.

“I haven’t just lost a friend. I’ve lost a part of myself. I’m sure many of you feel that way.” He looked down at Mr. and Mrs. Marsden. “And that’s why it’s so important that we all remember him, because we’re also remembering the parts of ourselves we gave to him, and the parts of himself that he gave to us.” I shuddered. I didn’t want to remember what Hugh had taken from me anymore.

“The thing that Hugh gave me, the thing he taught me, was how to compete. I know he taught a lot of us about that, certainly the rookies on the hockey team.” Ted nodded at Coach Jessup. “From the first day I met him, everything Hugh did was a competition, a chance to prove himself. He was always looking for a record to break. He had the highest shooting percentage in the history of Belknap Country Day hockey, the fastest sprints down the rink. But it wasn’t just on the ice—Hugh scored our whole lives, from who got to school first to who could eat the most brownies after lunch in the refectory.”

I stared up at Ted. I wondered how much he knew about Hugh’s habit of keeping score. I felt my neck grow hot as I pictured Lexi and Farah in the crowd behind me, eyes on the back of my head. I wondered how many other girls in United Methodist at that moment were represented by dates on Hugh’s list. Black spots swam at the edge of my vision, and I suddenly felt sure that I would never make it through the rest of Ted’s eulogy or the slow parade out of the church to the graveside.

“Are you okay?” whispered Lindsay. “You look kind of funny. But that might just be me.”

Up front, Ted was still talking. “The very first time I met Hugh, on the first day of my sophomore year, he bet me five bucks that he could talk to more girls in the student lounge during our free period than I could. And he beat me by half.”

BOOK: Echo Bridge
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