The Confession (11 page)

Silence now.

I'm trapped, I realized. I squinted along the dark garage wall shelves, searching for something I could use as a weapon. Hedge clippers. A broom handle.

Anything!

“Who
are
you? What do you
want?”
My voice trembled in terror.

A rectangle of pale moonlight washed in from the long, narrow window in the garage door. The intruder stepped into the soft glow of light.

Sandy!

“Hi, Julie. It's me,” he said quietly. In the silvery light, I could see a smile on his face, a strange, unpleasant smile.

“Sandy! What's the big idea?” I cried, my fear quickly giving way to anger. “You—you scared me to death!”

He didn't reply.

I saw him bend down. He picked something up from the garage floor.

I saw a metallic glint. A flash of silver.

Sandy picked up my Rollerblades. He held them in front of him as he moved toward me.

“Sandy—stop!” I shrieked. “What are you going to do?”

Chapter

19

I
tried to back up but bumped into the side of the car.

He raised the Rollerblades. Raised them high over my head.

“Sandy—!” I cried, throwing up my hands to shield myself.

“You shouldn't leave these on the floor,” he said softly. “Someone could trip over them.” He lowered them to a shelf against the wall. “Someone could get hurt,” he added in a whisper.

I let out a long breath.

He grinned at me, pleased with his sick little joke.

“You're not funny,” I snapped shrilly, struggling to slow my racing heart. “Why are you trying to scare me?”

He shrugged. Then he brought his face close to
mine. His dark eyes locked coldly on mine. “Why are you trying to scare
me?”
he demanded.

“I—I don't know what you mean,” I stammered. I shoved his shoulders, shoved him back with both hands.

Is this really Sandy? I wondered, staring at his cold, menacing expression. Is this
really
the guy I've been friends with since third grade?

“How could I scare
you?”
I asked.

“Talking to the police scares me,” he replied sharply. “It scares me a lot.”

“So you admit you were spying outside my house!” I cried. “That
was
you hiding behind the tree!”

He shrugged again. “Whatever,” he murmured.

“But, Sandy—” I started.

He interrupted. “I saw the police car. I wondered what was going on. So I watched. Big deal.”

“Sandy, you didn't just
happen
to be in front of my house. You followed Hillary and me home. Can't you tell the truth anymore?” I cried. “Can't you tell the truth?”

He ignored my question. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why did you call the police, Julie? Can you answer that question for me? Why did you call them?”

“I didn't!” I snapped, more shrilly than I intended. “I didn't call them. Officer Reed—he came to my house. He was waiting for me after rehearsal. I didn't call him. He came to ask me more questions. Haven't the police been asking
you
more questions, too, Sandy?”

He nodded. “They don't quit,” he said softly. “They've been back to my house, too.”

“They think they're getting close to solving it,” I told him.

His eyes flared. “No, they're
not!
That's a lie, Julie. Don't believe that lie. They tell the TV reporters they're close to solving it. So they don't look bad on TV. But the police don't have a clue.” He scowled at me, leaning close. “Unless
you
told them something.”

“I—I didn't!” I stammered, trying to back away. “I didn't say a word, Sandy. I swear!”

He studied my face, locked his eyes on mine, as if searching for the truth in them.

“I swear!” I repeated. I stared into his scowling face. Even in the dim light, I could see sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Look at you!” I cried. “You're totally messed up. If you thought we'd turn you in, if you think we're going to give you away to the police—why did you tell us? Why did you confess to us?”

He uttered a strangled cry. “Because I trusted you. That's why,” he shouted, breathing hard. “But now … ”

“Now
what?”
I demanded.

He shook his head. He didn't answer. “We have to get over this,” he murmured finally, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Really, Julie. We have to forget this happened.”

“How can we?” I cried. “The police don't let us.
You
don't let us.”

“I—I'm having a party,” he said, raising his eyes to me. “At my house. Next Friday. Sort of a pre-graduation
party. Sort of a let's-get-back-to-normal, pre-graduation party. So … come about eight o'clock, okay? I'm inviting Hillary and Vincent too. And a lot of other kids.”

This is unreal!
I thought.

He traps me in the garage. He deliberately tries to terrify me. Then he invites me to a
party?

I swallowed. “Uh … I don't think I can make it, Sandy,” I told him, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

I saw him clench his jaw. Otherwise, he didn't move.

“I have to go somewhere Friday night,” I lied.

He nodded. He clenched his jaw tighter. His expression turned hard, cold. “Yeah. Right,” he muttered bitterly.

“Sandy. Really—” I started.

“Right, right, right.” He grabbed my arm tightly, tight enough to hurt. “I was lying about the party, Julie. I'm not having a party. It was just a test.”

“A test?” I asked, squirming to free my arm.

He nodded again. “You failed it.” He shoved me away roughly. “You failed the test, Julie. But I'm warning you. You have to get over this. You and Hillary and Vincent—you all have to get over this.”

I stared back at him, suddenly frightened again. He wasn't warning me—he was threatening me. Threatening us all.

“We all have to go back to the way things were,” he said.

“And—and what if we can't?” I stammered, my trembling voice betraying my fear.

“I'm warning you,” he repeated.

He spun away from me and clicked the garage door. The motor hummed and the door squealed, then began to rumble open.

He hunched down to duck under the door. I watched him toss the clicker at the bush beside the front walk. Then he hurried away into the night.

Leaving me in the dark garage, my arms tucked around myself, hugging myself, holding myself, struggling to stop the shivers, the shudders of fear. The cold, angry glow of Sandy's eyes lingering in my mind.

Chapter

20

“H
e threatened me too,” Hillary whispered. “He came to my house, and he tried to scare me.”

“He
did
scare me,” I admitted.

We stood at the door of the lunchroom, holding our bag lunches, our eyes searching the tables. I spotted Sandy at a table near the window. He was talking to Taylor, who sat across from him, her back to us.

Rain pelted the windows. Over the din of voices in the crowded room, I could hear the crackle of distant thunder. The fluorescent lights were on overhead. But the gloomy gray light from outside seeped over the room.

“Where do you want to sit?” Hillary asked. She waved to Deena Martinson at the table nearest us.
Deena and her friend Jade Smith were arm-wrestling, for some reason. The others at their table were laughing and cheering them on.

“Sandy sees us,” I reported to Hillary. “He's looking at us. He expects us to join them.”

I saw Taylor turn. Both of them were watching us now.

“Forget about it. I want to enjoy my lunch,” Hillary said.

She set down her bag on a table near the front aisle and pulled out a chair. Careful not to look at Sandy and Taylor, I dropped into the chair across from her.

“Maybe they'll think we didn't see them,” I said.

Hillary made a disgusted face. “I don't care what they think. I don't want to sit with Sandy. He can threaten me all he wants and tell me things have to go back to normal. He's not my friend anymore.”

As I pulled the tuna sandwich from my bag, I glanced at the window. A loud crack of thunder made some kids jump. Sandy and Taylor were staring at us. Sandy was talking rapidly, angrily.

I turned back quickly to Hillary. “Sandy has gone totally psycho,” I said. “He tries to scare me to death. He tries to make me think he'll hurt me if I tell the police he's the killer. Then he tells me we have to be friends again like before.”

My sandwich fell apart. I tried to push the tuna back into the bread.

“No way anything will ever be the same,” Hillary said, shaking her head sadly. Her long, silver earrings swayed with her. “I don't think I'll
ever
feel normal again. I can't sleep at night. I can't concentrate on my work. I—I have no appetite.” She shoved her container of yogurt away.

“Hey—there's Vincent!” I cried. I raised my hand high and waved to him. “Hey, Vincent! Vincent!”

I followed Vincent's gaze. He saw Sandy and Taylor too. Then he heard me calling him and hurried over to my table. “Hey, what's up?” he asked, glancing back at Sandy.

He didn't give us a chance to answer. He leaned over the table and his expression turned serious. “You know, Sandy called me last night. He sounded really messed up. And he threatened me. Do you believe it? He threatened me.”

Hillary had to go to the school administrative office after classes. She had some problem about the wrong transcripts being sent to Princeton. I decided to tag along with her.

It took longer than we thought to straighten it all out. The school was nearly deserted by the time we stepped out of the office.

Hillary was grumbling about how computers always get everything mixed up when we turned a corner and bumped into Taylor.

“Hi. How's it going?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I started to tell her I liked the way she had her hair pulled back. But I stopped when I saw the angry expression on her face.

And I realized that we hadn't bumped into her by accident. She'd been waiting for us.

“Sandy is really hurt,” Taylor said through gritted teeth. She had fine, delicate veins at her temples, and I could see them pulsing. “You've really hurt his feelings.”

“I'm sorry,” I said quickly. I didn't want to fight with Taylor. I had no reason to fight with her.

To my surprise, Hillary reacted angrily. “We don't care,” she told Taylor. “We don't care about Sandy's feelings. We know you still care about him. But we don't. We think Sandy is—is—”

“You don't know what you're saying!” Taylor protested. Her normally pale skin had become blotched with red. The veins pulsed and throbbed at her temples. “You don't know what a good guy Sandy is! How can you hurt him like this?”

“A good guy?” Hillary shrieked. “He's a good guy? Taylor—have you totally lost it? You know what Sandy did. You can't be
that
crazy about him. You can't think he's a good guy!”

My heart started to pound as I stared at Taylor. I realized I was shocked that she decided to confront us.

I mean, I didn't even think Taylor was
that
crazy about Sandy. Sandy really wasn't her type at all. And all the while she'd been going with Sandy, she flirted with every other guy at Shadyside High!

“Sandy did what he did for all of us!” Taylor declared, spitting the words at Hillary. “And then what do his good friends do? They turn around and pretend he doesn't exist anymore! It's—it's so disgusting, I—”

She raised tight fists. Her face blazed bright red now.

“Taylor—what are you trying to prove?” I cried. “You can't
force
us to like Sandy again! You can't
force
us to forget.”