True Blue (13 page)

The prosecutor called my father to let him know when

I had to appear in court. I stayed away from the courthouse until then. I didn’t want to see anybody—not the Whites, not Casey, not Mrs. Glass, not anybody.

It was easy to follow the progress of the trial. It was all over the news.

First there was the jury selection, and then the scientists were brought in to testify how Stephanie had been killed. One expert identified Casey’s blood and skin tissue under Stephanie’s fingernails. Mela asked if the blood could have come from a scratch Stephanie gave Casey earlier and the expert had to admit that, yes, it could. The same expert stated that Casey’s hair in the hair clip could have become pulled out at any time, even days before.

The Tinker Bell t-shirt they’d found in Casey’s bag was introduced with great flourish, according to a story in one of the newspapers. The paper also described Mrs. Glass “filling the courtroom with the sound of her wracking sobs.” A criminal psychologist took the stand to say that many murderers keep a trophy of their crime.

A lot of time was spent examining photos of the tree where Stephanie was found, the prosecution saying Casey would have seen some sign of Stephanie if she had really been looking. Mela said that the leaves and branches clearly made seeing the tree difficult, and that the police hadn’t found Stephanie either when they’d searched that area. In fact, Stephanie wasn’t found until the rain finally stopped and the search dogs were brought in.

I hated having the events of the summer dredged up in such detail.

The morning of my testimony, I changed clothes five times, from jeans to church dress to in-between and then back to jeans, as if the right clothes could make me feel better about the whole thing.

I had asked Dad to be with me in court when I testified, but he made it so clear that he didn’t want to be, just by his expression, that I told him not to bother. I was all alone.

By the time I got to the courthouse, I was so worked up I knew I couldn’t do it.

I found the Crown attorney, Mr. Tesler, in the hallway.

“I don’t want to testify,” I said. “I don’t feel well. And I don’t have anything to say—really! I don’t want to do this!”

“You have a subpoena, a judicial order,” he replied. “What you
want
is irrelevant. You will take the stand and you will confirm what’s in your signed statement, or you will join your little friend in jail. And don’t think I can’t put you there because I can.” With that, he walked away.

Later that morning, I sat on a bench away from Casey’s courtroom but within sight of the door, so that I’d be able to hear the clerk call me in. I was bent over, looking at the floor, when someone spoke to me.

“I knew you’d be here somewhere.”

I looked up. It was Mrs. Keefer, the camp director. She sat down beside me.

“You’re testifying this afternoon, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “How did you know?”

“The prosecutor has to give its witness list to the defense,” she said. “I’m testifying later, on Casey’s behalf.”

I was stricken. “So Casey knows?”

Mrs. Keefer nodded. “Casey knows.”

Shame flooded through me. “How can I face her?”

Mrs. Keefer was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Do you remember the inscription on the plaque in the center of the ten willows?”

“Of course. ‘On the willows, we hung up our lyres, for our captors demanded songs, and our tormenters, mirth.’”

“Do you know what it means?”

“No. I don’t.”

“It means when people who are doing wrong want us to do something to please them, we don’t have to do it. We have a choice. We can pack up our lyres and refuse to play.”

I looked up at her. “But how—?” I was going to ask her how that applied to me, here and now, but I looked at her face, and I knew. I was drowning in shame, and she was tossing me a lifeline.

She gave me a hug, then left me alone to think.

I thought.

I knew what I had to do. I had to get up on that witness stand, take the oath, look Tesler in the eye, and say, “Casey White is my best friend. She would never kill anybody.”

And more. I’d have to tell them more.

That, I knew, I could never do.

Maybe it would be enough to just refuse to play. Maybe it would be enough to say, “Casey White would never kill anybody and if you can’t see that, too bad for you, because that’s the truth.” Then I’d refuse to say another word.

The prosecutor’s case would collapse. Relief would wash over the Whites. Casey would forgive me, my mom would hear about it and get well, and everything would be back to normal. Spring was on the way and we would be happy again.

Over and over, I imagined what I’d do, and how I’d say it. I pictured myself being charged with contempt of court and led out in handcuffs, everyone cheering me. Everyone would like me again. Maybe Mela would even agree to be my lawyer. My body sweated and shivered with adrenalin. By the time lunch recess was over, and the prosecutor’s assistant came to fetch me, I was fever-pitch ready.

Then I entered the courtroom.

I seemed to watch myself from a distance, climbing into the witness box, taking the oath on the Bible, sitting down in front of the microphone. I realized then that all eyes were on me. I saw a good chunk of Galloway, including Miss Burke, in the spectator seats. Mr. and Mrs. White were up front. Casey was sitting beside Mela at the defense table. She was wearing a plain blue dress I’d never seen before. She met my gaze. She didn’t look mad or hostile, just disappointed. It nearly killed me, to have her look at me like that.

Remember the plan
, I told myself.
Just do this one thing, and everything will be all right
.

If I had stood up right then and made my statement, I think I could have salvaged things. People forgive. We could have talked it out.

But Mr. Tesler stepped forward and started asking questions, and I fell into my old obedient behavior. He started easy, asking questions I could answer without thinking: how long had I known Casey, what were our duties at camp, and did Casey have a problem with Stephanie stealing her things. I kept hoping there would be a spot in the questioning where it would be natural for me to do my big, brave thing. Mr. Tesler, as if he could sense my mood, did not give me any opportunity. If my answers went beyond a few words, he jumped in and ordered me to be direct. He didn’t give me a chance to expand on anything or add anything of my own.

“How well did you and Casey know the trails at Ten Willows?”

“Very well,” I replied. “We’d been going there for years, plus we had permission to be there in the off-season. The Camp Administration trusted Casey especially, and—”

“Stephanie’s Tinker Bell t-shirt was found in Casey White’s duffel bag, pushed down among her camp clothes. When asked about it, Ms. White stated that she did not put it there. She also stated that you were asked to clean the cabin and pack up her bag as well as Stephanie’s, and you left the search staging area in order to carry out the request. Did you clean the cabin and pack up Casey and Stephanie’s belongings?”

“I was asked to, and so I did.”

And then he came to the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you put Stephanie Glass’s Tinker Bell t-shirt into Casey White’s duffel bag?”

There it was.

I suddenly developed a cough. I coughed and coughed and pointed at the pitcher of water on the lawyer’s table.

Mr. Tesler frowned at me like he knew I was faking. He took his sweet time pouring me a glass of water and handing it to me. I took my sweet time drinking it, trying to get up the nerve to make my big statement.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?” Mr. Tesler asked.

I nodded.

“Did you put Stephanie Glass’s Tinker Bell t-shirt into Casey White’s duffel bag?”

Then, just at that moment, just like in a movie, the clerk received a message from a court messenger and handed it to the judge. We all watched him read it.

“Would the attorneys, the defendant, and the defendant’s parents please see me in my chambers immediately?”

We all stood as the judge, along with everyone he summoned, left the courtroom. I didn’t know what else to do, so I stayed in the witness box. It was awful, sitting up there, where everyone could see me. I could feel myself wilting with each passing minute. I tried to rehearse my big speech, but I felt less and less like delivering it, and more and more like going home.

Half an hour later, the bailiff approached Mrs. Glass and asked her to join the others in the judge’s chambers. Twenty minutes after that, they all came back in again. It looked like everyone had been crying. Except for Mr. Tesler and the judge.

Mr. Tesler did not take up his former position in front of me. Instead, he stood behind his table and spoke to the judge.

“Your Honor, in light of new, irrefutable evidence that’s been brought to our knowledge, the Crown wishes to drop all charges against Casey White.”

The crowd in the courtroom gasped. The judge ignored them.

“Casey White, please stand.”

Casey and Mela stood up.

“All charges against you have been dropped. You are free to go. Case dismissed.” He pounded with his gavel and left the courtroom.

No one moved. We were all too stunned.

Then Casey left the defense table and went over to Mrs. Glass. Mrs. Glass rose to meet her. They embraced.

Casey started to cry. “Poor little Stephanie,” she sobbed. “Poor little Stephanie.”

Casey and Stephanie’s mother hugged each other and cried, then Mela and the Whites joined them as they walked out the front door of the courthouse. The people of Galloway slowly filed out of the spectator seats. I don’t know if any of them spoke to Casey or not. Nobody spoke to me. I remained where I was. I sat in that witness box, all alone in the courtroom until a janitor turned off the lights and ordered me out.

By that time, there was no one left outside.

Of course you know now what had happened to stop the trial, but we didn’t know until hours later, when we saw it on the news.

The man who killed Stephanie got careless. In the town of Kitchener, a few days before the end of Casey’s trial, he tried to grab a girl coming out of her Girl Guide meeting. The little girl started screaming, and a flock of Guides flew out of the church and surrounded him. They hung onto him, dragged him down, and blew their whistles until help came running.

The Girl Guides became heroes. They got a national medal of bravery and appeared on all the TV shows. You probably saw all that.

The cops impounded the man’s car, where they found a t-shirt Stephanie had stolen from me and I had never missed. It was the shirt she was wearing when she was killed. It had her blood on it and hairs from the guy’s head on it. They also found clothing belonging to a kid he had murdered in Windsor. He confessed to both murders and his confession checked out.

He had been lying in wait for us, hiding in the forest on the edge of the camp, waiting for his best chance. He grabbed Stephanie because she was a little bit apart from the group, so she was the easiest to get to. He hit her on the head while she was sleeping so she made no noise when he took her away.

There was no real reason why he did it. He chose Ten Willows by chance; he chose Stephanie by chance. It wasn’t personal. He just liked killing kids. Some men are like that.

I never had to answer Mr. Tesler’s question.

I still don’t know how I would have answered it.

Because of course I shoved Stephanie’s t-shirt into Casey’s bag.

I’d been searching for the little brat for hours. I kept trying to talk Casey into sneaking away with me, going to hide out in an empty cabin or even walk home through the rain, but she wouldn’t. She even almost snapped at me.

“She’s just a little kid,” she said. “She could have fallen. She could be hurt. We can’t stop looking just because we’re tired and wet.”

And she flounced away from me, back into the woods.

I started grumbling so much and so loudly that Mrs. Keefer suggested I go back to my cabin and pack up Stephanie’s belongings as well as Casey’s and my things.

Casey’s stuff was already mostly packed. All the other campers were gone. I packed up my things then packed up Stephanie’s. I took Stephanie’s bag up to the dining hall where her mother could pick it up. Then I went back to my cabin to sweep.

I found the Tinker Bell t-shirt when I was sweeping under the bunks.

I didn’t feel like hauling it all the way back to the dining hall. I looked at my bag and I looked at Casey’s and I looked at the garbage pail.

If I put the shirt in the garbage pail, someone might see it there and ask why I’d thrown it away, and that would have been a hassle.

If I put it in my bag then I’d have to either get it to Stephanie or dispose of it at my house. Both seemed like too much work.

So I put it in Casey’s bag. It was the easiest.

I should have thrown it in the woods or left it on the floor.

I never should have been asked to deal with it in the first place. It wasn’t my t-shirt. It shouldn’t have been my problem.

Casey was back in school the following Monday. The halls buzzed with the news of her return.

I didn’t actually see her until lunchtime, but first I encountered The Cactus gang. They pushed their way to the front of the cafeteria checkout line with an arrogance that told me they weren’t the least ashamed about what they’d done.

“I see your girlfriend is back in school,” Amber Bradley said.

“Probably thinks she’s some kind of hero,” said Nicole, poking me in the back. “Probably thinks the school will welcome her with open arms.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Nathan added.

“Why are you saying this to me?” I asked.

“Just in case you two have any notions of picking up where you left off,” Amber replied. “We don’t want that sort of thing at Galloway High. Casey may or may not be a murderer, but she is still weird, isn’t she?”

The group pushed past me into the cafeteria.

“So you just get away with it?” I called after them.

Amber came back and stood two inches from my face. “Get away with what?”

“Everything. Trashing her house, making money off those lies—everything.”

“
You’re
getting away with it,” Amber replied, a nasty smirk on her face. “Casey was fair game to us. She was never our friend. We never cared about her. What’s your excuse?” With that, she turned away and rejoined her friends.

Casey came in while I was having my lunch. She walked toward an empty table, her lunch tray in her hands. The cafeteria went silent.

The Cactus gang blocked her way.

“We don’t want you in our school.” Amber’s voice was loud and clear and mean.

Casey tried to move through them, but they knocked the lunch tray out of her hands. The sound of the dishes crashing to the floor made us all jump.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then I saw Casey do the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. She held her hands out in front of her as if she were still holding the lunch tray, and began walking again toward the tables. The Cactus gang parted and let her pass.

She surveyed the room, her eyes resting on me for a brief second, then moving on. She found a vacant seat at another table, sat down, and pretended to eat her lunch. She was calm, unhurried, and unafraid.

That’s when I knew that Casey had already left Galloway. Oh, she’ll be there until she finishes high school, but the town can’t touch her anymore. Amber’s meanness, the church’s pettiness, even my disloyalty—none of that mattered to her. Nothing we did could hurt her, ever again. She had beaten us all.

Watching her, I was overtaken by the depth of what I had lost, of the friend I’d thrown away because I didn’t have the courage to stand by her. Loneliness overpowered me, and I could barely breathe.

I couldn’t stand it. I jumped out of my seat and ran from the cafeteria. I stopped at my locker only long enough to grab my coat. At home, I threw some things into my mother’s car and I started to drive.

“Get out of this town,” Mom had implored, and, for once, I was doing as she’d asked.

That was nearly five months ago. I had meant to go far away, maybe to Arizona, but I couldn’t seem to get more than fifty miles away from Galloway. I drifted for a while, picking up cash here and there for this and that, and then I landed at the Roach House.

I phone Dad every now and then. He wasn’t surprised that I’d left. Mom’s the same, he says. He doesn’t know when she’ll be coming home.

There was a letter from Casey waiting for me in the mailbox the day I left home. She must have mailed it a few days before I testified, when it still looked like she’d be spending her life in prison. She wrote:

Dear Jess,

Mela finally told me that you are going to testify against me, and I’m writing to tell you that it doesn’t matter.

I would have been hurt by it, except that just after she told me, a cockroach wandered into my cell. I took one look at it, and I automatically knew it was an American cockroach, of the order Blattodea, family Blattidae, one of six hundred species worldwide. I knew its Latin name, Periplaneta Americana, and I knew that the females produce up to fifty egg cases, each holding a dozen eggs.

I reminded myself that I’m the same person, in or out of prison. There are bugs everywhere, and my life, my passion, my self, will not be ruined unless I let it be ruined.

I did not kill Stephanie, but I did fall asleep, allowing Death to come in the night and take her from us, before she had a chance to stop being annoying and become the person she was meant to be. I’ll have to live with that forever. But I didn’t kill her. And I will find happiness, and meaning, even in the penitentiary.

I don’t know why you allowed the world to change you, Dragonfly. You used to have such courage.

Casey

Casey was wrong about me, you know. I never had courage.

If I were courageous, I’d drive on back to Galloway and try to make things right with her again. But how can I do that? How can I prove to her that I’m someone who deserves to have her for a friend?

Mom would know. If I could talk to Mom, she’d tell me what I should do. If I could get her away from that hospital, get those awful drugs out of her system, I could convince her that I’ve changed, and she’d help me win Casey back. Casey trusts her. And Mom knows how hard it was on me to live in that town. And what I went through while Casey was in detention.

I could really do that, you know. I could drive up to the hospital in the morning, as soon as I got off shift. I can go up to her ward during visiting hours, so my presence wouldn’t look suspicious. I can take some extra clothes with me, get her out of that hospital gown they probably have her wearing, then take her calmly down the elevator and put her into the car.

We can even come back here to the Roach House for a few days. There’s a storeroom in the back she can sleep in, just until the drugs wear off and she can call Casey.

“Come out here and join us,” she’ll say to Casey. “My brave daughter gave me my life back. Come out here and we’ll drive to Arizona and get away from everyone!”

And Casey will come because she loves my mother and she loves me, and everything will be back to the way it used to be.

Back when we were friends.