Ghosting (16 page)

the article for the school paper

about

that night.

I heard he did it

because he was

fed up

with all the

half-truths

and the

controversy.

And it was good he did.

Because the stories that had been

swirling around

were freakish, scary.

Not that what happened

wasn’t

freakish.

Scary.

It was.

But not:

that we came upon

Walter Smith eviscerating

a dead crow,

or

that he stuck a gun in Emma’s

mouth and made her beg

for her life.

But when everyone learns

how Chloe got the shooter

to give her

the gun,

well, that did it.

The story spread like wildfire

and Chloe was all anyone could

talk about.

ANIL

1.
There were a lot of rumors

going around,

so I decided to tell

what really happened,

the truth, as I saw it,

which is:

2.
We were in the SUV,

Chloe and Maxie and I,

with Felix,

who had lost

consciousness.

I had taken over from Chloe,

keeping up the

pressure on the

makeshift, blood-soaked bandage

and Maxie was holding Felix’s hand,

telling him to hang on

and that he’d be all right.

Then some noise or movement

from outside the car

made all three of us

look up at the same time,

and we saw, and heard,

the final gunshot,

saw Brendan and Emma go down.

There was a horrible moment

of silence, then Maxie

let out a gasping sound

and a stricken whispered
oh no please God.

We stared out at the shooter,

who was still holding the rifle,

standing very still,

gazing down at the bodies

lying on the ground.

I remember thinking how small

he looked. Like a boy.

Then I heard

Chloe let out a sigh.

She slid through the half-open car door

and hobbled across the grass,

her right foot slipping around

in her bloody sandal.

The shooter didn’t move,

just watched her

coming toward him.

3.
She stopped a couple of feet

away from him

and held out her hand.

I swear she looked like some

unearthly angel-madonna.

After a few seconds,

the shooter handed her

the rifle.

Just like that.

She looked down at the gun,

like she didn’t know

what to do with it.

Then she threw it away.

The rifle skittered

across the sidewalk

with a harsh, clattering sound,

then came to a stop.

4.
Sirens were getting louder

and the shooter,

the small kid in a baggy green sweatshirt,

suddenly sat down

on the curb

and started to cry.

Chloe crossed over

and sat next to him.

When the first ambulance arrived,

with a police car right behind it,

she was still there.

Sitting beside him.

CHLOE

“Reasons We Do Things”

I don’t really know

why I did it.

He just looked so pathetic,

this skinny little guy

who’d hurt all these people

and didn’t seem to understand

any of it.

And all of a sudden

I got fed up.

Someone needed

to take that stupid gun

away from him

before anyone

else got shot.

I guess he could have shot me, too,

but I didn’t really think about it,

not then.

Which was dumb.

Except this time

it turns out

I was dumb

and

I was smart.

Wednesday, September 29

POLICE CHIEF AUBREY DELAFIELD

Walter Smith was denied bail,

which was no surprise.

I attended the hearing

and the kid looked like a ghost,

paste-white pale,

and like he had no clue

where he was.

When I realized he was headed for

Cook County Jail, I knew Walter Smith

would be eaten alive.

So I put in a word,

to see if there was any way

to keep him sequestered.

Turned out he was on suicide watch

so they put him in solitary.

And kept him there.

Even now, a month later,

gawkers still drive by the house,

but there’s nothing to see.

The house is deserted.

A distant cousin came

and put Adeline in an assisted-care facility.

We had the photos printed up,

the ones Maxine Kalman took that night.

There’s one of those two girls,

their smiling faces lit up

by the light of their cell phones.

And when I think of what came after,

the sidewalk slick with blood,

the ambulances,

the havoc done to so many lives,

the memory of those smiling faces

knocks me flat.

It’s an image

that will stay burned

in my mind.

Forever.

CHLOE

“How Much It Sucks to Be a Cult Leader”

The cult thing

freaked me out.

I mean, it seemed so stupid.

Freshman girls

following me around.

The hockey goalie

who brought me flowers

every day for a week.

Little pieces of candy

stuffed into my locker.

Even Josh began to bug me,

being so nice all the time.

It seemed fake.

I mean, it made no sense.

None of it had
anything
to do with what

really happened

that night.

It got so I didn’t want

to go to school,

but Mom made me.

She said it would

die down eventually.

Which it did,

finally.

During the worst of it

I started going

to the hospital

every day after school.

I liked being there.

I liked the smell of it,

which I know sounds weird.

This one orderly,

a guy with dreads

and a friendly, jokey manner,

asked me why I was there

all the time

so I told him.

He suggested I might want

to volunteer.

There are kids

from the high school,

he said

who volunteer here.

Nothing too glamorous,

but since you like it here,

might as well put you

to work.

He sent me to a lady

who said she could fix me up

with about seven hours a week.

I think that orderly

with the dreads

put in a good word for me,

plus, let’s face it,

everyone at the hospital

knew I was one of

“those kids.”

ANIL

1.
I didn’t set out to

build a shrine.

It just sort of

happened.

It started the morning after

that night

when I placed the pop-top from

the can of MoonBuzz

on my dresser.

I had pried it off while I was talking

to Maxie and Felix,

a nervous habit I have.

Must’ve slipped it in my pocket

when I went into the party.

That afternoon

I added a small splinter of glass,

a shattered bit of windshield,

which I found lodged under a flap

of my cargo shorts.

2.
The third thing I added

was also glass,

a piece of sea glass.

I found it in a jar in our basement,

where we put all the shells

we’ve collected on family trips to Florida.

I don’t remember which trip,

or which of us found it,

but it was a pale, frosty green

and it made me think of Maxie.

3.
Then I added a candle

to represent the

vigil I didn’t attend.

4.
And then a rose.

Because of the roses

in the pots that Chloe broke.

I read about them in the newspaper.

In an article about

the grandmother of the shooter

and about the roses she loved so much.

5.
My mother noticed my shrine.

And she understood right away.

It’s your ghar mandir,
she said.

She told me that in India

people build
ghar mandirs

in their homes,

and each morning

they sit before them,

to still their minds.

To pray.

It will help you heal,
she said.

6.
My dad says nothing about the shrine,

though he must notice it

every time he comes into my room.

I am at my desk,

doing chemistry homework

when he knocks

and opens the door a crack.

Anil,
he says.
A word?

I nod and set down my pen.

I just wanted to tell you,
he says, and his words are halting, not smooth the way he usually speaks,
just how . . . proud I am of you.

I say nothing, surprised.

I spoke to a colleague the other day who knows one of the EMT responders who was on the scene that night, and he said that what you did, the way you reacted, in very extreme circumstances, your quick thinking, probably saved Felix Jones’s life.

I shake my head.

It wasn’t anything. I just . . . ,
I say.

My father raises his hand

to stop me.

Not everyone could have done what you did, son,
he said.
I know you have had your doubts, but I must say this to you now. You have the heart of a doctor. That is all.

And he turns to leave.

I watch him go out the door,

shutting it carefully

behind him,

and part of me is angry,

with the feeling that he is using

this thing that happened,

this nightmarish,

tragic thing

that will haunt me

for the rest of my life,

to point me in the direction

he has always wanted me to go.

But part of me, I confess,

thinks that just maybe he’s right.

And I discover,

with a sense of wonder,

that it makes me

happy.

Monday, October 4

MAXIE

One day at the drugstore

I hear two ladies talking.

. . . drunk, trespassing,
one says.
Well, I’m sorry but I think those kids got what they deserved.

And I immediately know what kids

she’s talking about.

Us kids.

And I wonder,

is she right?

Did

Felix,

Emma,

Faith,

all of us—

even the boy Walter Smith—

did we get

what we

deserved?

CHLOE

“The Blame Game”

Everyone had an opinion

whose fault it was.

Everyone.

Mom’s Aunt Marceline.

My dentist.

The checkout girl at Dominick’s.

The substitute gym teacher with the freakishly large

earlobes.

And one thing I’ve learned is

people aren’t shy about giving

their opinion.

Here’s my tally on how it fell out:

1. Brendan, for shooting off that stupid gun
   
2. Emma, for suggesting we go to the “ghost house”
   
3. Me, for bringing up ghosting in the first place and for being a klutz and breaking the flowerpots.
   
4. Anil, Maxie, and Felix, for not speaking up about the gun in the glove compartment
   
5. All of us, for drinking MoonBuzz
   

So, yeah, I think about it a lot.

And yeah, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

That we’d gone to a 3-D movie instead.

But the truth is, blaming isn’t going to

change one single thing.

And that’s exactly what I said to

that substitute gym teacher

with her stupid big earlobes.

MAXIE

School is torture.

Some days I

can’t even get out

of bed.

I go to a therapist

and it helps.

A little.

She says it’ll

take time.

Emma,

when she came back,

in between

all her surgeries,

wearing a perpetual cast,

tried pulling me into

her wagon train

of friends.

I was grateful at first,

felt a little less lonely,

but then I started feeling

even lonelier than before.

Because it was obvious to me

that Emma’s friends

wished I wasn’t there.

So I started avoiding Emma.

Went back to avoiding everyone,

including Anil.

Especially Anil.

Which is ironic since one of

the few things that

keeps me from crying

is remembering

his story about

the two telescopes.

ANIL

1.
I think about Maxie a lot,

worry about her.

In the first few weeks after

that night

it seemed like I never saw her

around school,

to the point that

I even wondered if her parents

had decided to switch her to

another school.

Then I’d catch a glimpse of her.

But she always stayed far away.

Like she couldn’t bear

the sight of me.

MAXIE