Sara (23 page)

She clicked on it. A few seconds later she saw herself looking at what was obviously the class picture of a blond girl who was beaming at the camera. She was kind of cute, with braces on her teeth and her head tilted slightly to one side.

The headline read A
NOTHER
T
EEN
S
UICIDE
.

She felt her blood run cold.

She started reading.

March 25. Stacy Bolton, 15, a sophomore at Farmington High School, is the latest in the string of suicides and accidents plaguing the town in the last month. According to Police Chief Chastain, Stacy hanged herself with a belt in her bedroom. Her older brother Jason found her when he came home from baseball practice.

Stacy was a solid B student at FHS, and a member of the junior varsity cheerleading squad. She also belonged to the chorus, Swing Choir, and was recently voted into the National Honor Society. She was a member of the Homecoming court last fall, and according to her friends was well-liked and cheerful.

“It doesn't make any sense,” said Lori Domenico, her teammate on the cheerleading squad. “I talked to her right before she went home. She was going to work on a paper for her European history class. She wasn't depressed or anything. She was laughing and joking. I don't know what could have happened between when I said good-bye to her when she got on her bus and…It just doesn't make any sense.”

Bolton is the third suicide and seventh death of a Farmington High student since March 1.

After the first suicide earlier this month, the school board brought in grief counselors to help students deal with their shock and grief, as well as to try to head off copycat suicides. “There's always a danger that other students will follow suit when one of their classmates commits suicide,” remarked Mark Drake, MPSW, one of the grief counselors working with the FHS student body. “But this is a very strange situation. Suicide followed by accidental death followed by suicide.”

Services for Stacy Bolton will be at St. Timothy's Church on Saturday at 1 p.m.

She printed the page and returned to her original search.

Suicide followed by accidental death followed by suicide
, she thought as she clicked on the next article.
Here it's accident-suicide-accident.
She chewed on a fingernail.
Does Randy count as an accident or a suicide?

She closed her eyes as they welled up with tears.

She'd known Randy as long as she could remember—well, Zack and Noah, too. They'd all grown up together, going to Carterville Grade School and then South Kahola County Middle School before Southern Heights High. She wiped at her eyes but left them closed as memories of the dead boys flashed through her mind. She'd always liked Randy—she used to have a crush on his older brother when she was in middle school, the tall, handsome senior athlete. She'd never gone with Randy or Zack—Zack she'd never liked that much. His parents were so creepy—his dad always talking about God and sin and hell, his mother always wearing those dresses Laney's mother called “
Little House on the Prairie-
style” and no makeup, never really talking much or saying anything, always deferring to her husband with downcast eyes.

And Noah. Poor, poor Noah.

When she'd heard about the accident, she'd wondered if God was punishing them both for what they'd done to Laura, her best friend since first grade. Noah and Laura had been together since the eighth grade. Everyone just assumed they'd get married after graduation. They were kind of an institution. You rarely saw one without the other. They were so obviously in love, the way they looked at each other and never really noticed anyone else when they were together. She'd always envied Laura that—she hoped to maybe someday find her own soul mate.

And Noah—she'd always thought he was cute, and he, like Glenn, could always make her laugh. She'd never thought of him in
that
way—there was no point, he was her best friend's boyfriend. She never imagined in a million years she'd ever date Noah.

But then she'd never imagined Laura's parents' car would get crushed by an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler on the highway during a thunderstorm, either. She'd never imagined Laura would move to California to live with a great-aunt she'd never met. She'd never dreamed that Glenn, dear sweet cute Glenn who could make her laugh no matter what and was always her go-to guy whenever she needed a date would come out of the closet and start going out with Clark Murphy.

She and Noah had gravitated to each other in the void created by Laura leaving and Glenn coming out.

It was just a rebound thing, two lonely people coming together.

It was also a mistake.

Maybe you're trying to make more out of this to alleviate your own guilt about Noah dying
, a voice murmured inside her head,
and Tony's right, there's nothing strange about what's going on around here.

She pushed that thought away and opened her eyes. The next article had finished loading, and she was looking at the laughing face of a really good-looking boy.

His name was Gary Rasmussen. She printed that article, too, and went back and forth until she had printed all seven articles about the teenagers who'd died in that one-month period.

She walked over to the checkout desk. The woman there was still sorting books. Laney was just about to say something when she looked up. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. May I help you?” She looked about fifty years old, and was wearing a pale blue sweater over a pair of dark blue slacks. Reading glasses hung on a chain around her neck. There were gray streaks in her brown hair, which was pulled into a French braid that hang halfway down her back.

“Yes, thank you. I printed out some articles off the Internet, and was wondering where I could pick them up? I don't see the printer anywhere.”

The woman was wearing a name tag that said
Mrs. Soltis
on her right breast. She smiled. “Well, it used to be here on the counter, but we started going through so much paper and ink we had to move it to the office.” She hesitated. “We charge a quarter a page for printing.” She said the last apologetically, and went on in the same tone, “I know we should have signs up explaining that, but…I'm sorry, it could prove to be expensive.”

“That's fine.” Laney smiled back at her.

“Let me get those for you, then. I'll be right back.”

Mrs. Soltis went through a glass door into another room, and Laney could see her collecting paper from a large printer. Mrs. Soltis was frowning, and she slid her reading glasses onto her nose as she put the pages together.

“Are these yours?” Mrs. Soltis said when she came back to the counter, holding the paper out to Laney. “These articles about teenagers dying?”

Laney hesitated for just a second, but the lie came easily. “I'm doing a paper about teenage suicides and death for my psychology class.” Laney hoped her face looked solemn enough. “And I found this weird set of deaths in this Chicago suburb a few years ago.”

Mrs. Soltis brought her hand up to her chest. “Mercy.” She crossed herself. “Such a subject!” She shook her head. “When I was a teenager…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “It was a simpler time of course, none of this Internet and Facepage nonsense.” She peered at Laney through her glasses. “Are you researching the deaths in the south part of the county? I'm so glad my kids don't go to that high school.”

“Uh-huh.” Laney swallowed.
I'm so glad my kids don't go to that high school.
She forced a smile. “You said it's a quarter per page? How much do I owe you?”

“Three dollars and twenty five cents.”

“Great.” Laney smiled. “Thanks.” She found exact change in her purse and collected the pages. She almost sat down again at the carrel she'd been at, but couldn't decide if she should read the articles first or go back to the hospital and show them to Tony. She started to walk out of the library, but hesitated when she got to the door.

She didn't know what to do.

She felt sick to her stomach.
This is all just crazy, we're all losing our minds, Tony's right, we're just trying to make sense out of a string of strange unexpected deaths and grabbing at straws.

But there had been seven strange deaths at Glenn's old school while he was there. Two years later, kids were dying at his new school. That couldn't be coincidence.

Could it?

She felt like talking to Glenn. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone but hesitated before touching his name in her Contacts app.
What would I say to him?
She took a deep breath and bit her lower lip.
Glenn, please tell me your new friend Sara is the one who's killing everyone, that you're not involved, that the kids who died at your old school—that had nothing to do with you. Please.

She put the phone away.

She missed him.

Glenn couldn't be involved.

Glenn wouldn't hurt a fly, even when he was angry.

Glenn just wasn't like that.

It had to be Sara, it had to. That was all there was to it.

Glenn was sweet, Glenn was kind, Glenn was loving.

Glenn couldn't kill anyone.

But how could she have killed Noah? How could she have caused his wreck? How could have hanged Zack from a rafter in his dad's barn? What was she?

And did she go to his old school, too?

It was, she realized, completely crazy. This wasn't a scary movie—it was her life.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that it
was
Sara.

And what about the dreams, Laney? What about the dreams? How is that possible? How could you and Tony and Candy be having the same dreams?

Fluke, coincidence—collective delusion or whatever it was Candy had told them it was yesterday. What they—what
she
was imagining was just not possible.

Sara would have to be some kind of otherworldly demon, and there was no such thing. Demons didn't exist outside of stupid Bible stories, and only crazy people believed they did. Why would a demon come to Southern Heights High School?

The sudden rash of deaths at Southern Heights High was strange, and the deaths at Farmington High had to be a coincidence.

There was no such thing as demons or magic.

Just throw the articles in the garbage and go home, forget all about this. Tony doesn't believe you anyway, Candy never believed in the first place. They're just humoring you. Maybe Laura moving away and Noah dying so suddenly unhinged your mind—that and your guilt. You don't want to feel responsible, so you're trying to find someone, something, else to blame.

It made sense, she had to admit that.

She walked over to the garbage can to the left of the exit and hesitated before shoving the pages inside.

Seven deaths at Farmington High.

“Miss?”

Some accidents, some suicides, some murders.

“We're getting ready to close. Was there anything else you needed?” Mrs. Soltis had appeared at her side.

Laney gave her a weak smile. “Oh, no, thank you for your help.”

Seven deaths—ten if you add in Noah, Zack, and Randy.

Her stomach churned, and she took a deep breath. She nodded at Mrs. Soltis and pushed the door open. She walked outside and shivered as the wind hit her. She heard the sound of the door being locked behind her.

No, you're on the right track, even if you don't want to believe it. You're right and they're wrong. Ten of Glenn's classmates have died—that
can't
be a coincidence, no matter how much you don't want to believe that Glenn had anything to do with it, no matter how much you want to blame Sara.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

She sat down on the steps and took deep breaths until the nausea subsided. She took another deep breath and started sorting the pages by date order, the oldest going to the top of the pile. The wind picked up again, and she got up and walked over to her car. She got inside and shivered for a few moments. She thought about starting the car and turning on the heater, but decided not to.

She started reading.

Jared Wheeler had been the first kid to die at Farmington High School. Jared had been sophomore class president. He smiled toothily for the camera—his smile lit up his entire face. He did have enormous teeth. He was kind of good-looking, with his hair cut into a buzz cut, and had definitely been a star jock. Just a sophomore, he'd been on the varsity football team, played varsity basketball and junior varsity baseball. He'd also been on the honor roll and had done a lot of charity work. He'd been found shot to death in his bedroom—but he'd apparently been cleaning the gun and it had somehow gone off, another senseless gun tragedy and statistic.

Three days later Tiffany Fowler, his girlfriend, was found by her younger sister in her bedroom—she'd hanged herself with a lamp cord. She'd been a varsity cheerleader and very popular. She was wearing her cheerleading uniform in her picture, kneeling with her pom-poms in her hand, her dark hair pulled back into a ribboned ponytail. According to her friends, she'd been horribly depressed since Jared's death and sometimes verged on hysteria. One of her friends, not named, claimed that on the day she killed herself, Tiffany had complained about having horrible nightmares every night since Jared's death—and had even dreamed about Jared the night he died.