The Confession Page 7

  A few minutes later, Sandy and Vincent grabbed for the ball together. Vincent said something to Sandy. I couldn’t hear what he said.

  Sandy stopped dribbling. He gave Vincent a hard shove with both hands.

  Vincent’s mouth opened in shock. “Hey—I was only kidding!” he protested to Sandy.

  Sandy scowled at him and returned to his dribble. Vincent took off after Sandy. He bumped Sandy from behind. Still joking around, I think.

  Sandy shouted a curse as Vincent stole the ball from him.

  Some of the other guys laughed. “What a klutz!” one of them shouted to Sandy.

  “Butterfingers!” another boy yelled.

  Sandy didn’t laugh. His face turned bright red. I sucked in my breath. He suddenly looked scary.

  I don’t think Vincent realized how angry Sandy was. Vincent spun around and gleefully twirled the ball in Sandy’s face. He held the ball out to Sandy, then pulled it away.

  I gasped as Sandy let out a scream. He went into a rage. Totally lost it.

  With another loud curse, he grabbed the ball from Vincent’s hand. I saw Vincent’s mouth drop open in surprise. Vincent started to back away.

  And Sandy heaved the ball at him with all his strength.

  “Noooo!” I let out a frightened wail and ran onto the court.

  Vincent let out a groan and sank to his knees. I saw him struggle to breathe. His face was bright purple.

  He toppled facedown on the floor. I bent over him, shook him, repeated his name.

  The other players all gathered around. Everyone but Sandy. I glimpsed him stomping away, still red-faced, muttering under his breath. He never turned back.

  Vincent groaned. He blinked his eyes.

  The ball had knocked his breath out. But he was okay.

  He blinked some more, gazed around. Searching for Sandy, I think. “Some friend,” Vincent muttered, shaking his head. “Some friend.”

  Sandy isn’t our friend anymore, I thought bitterly, helping Vincent up.

  Sandy is our enemy.

  Saturday night, Hillary and I planned to go see the new Jude Law film at the mall. I called Vincent to see if he wanted to join us. “I’m meeting Hillary at the mall. We’re going to an eight o’clock show. Can you come?”

  Please come, I thought.

  I need someone to cheer me up.

  I need you to cheer me up.

  “I can’t,” he said. “My parents are still being jerks. I’m still semi-grounded.”

  “Semi?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It all depends on their mood.” He groaned. “I wouldn’t even bother asking them tonight. It’s bad news around here. I can hear them downstairs yelling at each other right now.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment from my voice. “Well, I’d better run. I’m already late. Maybe I’ll call you later?”

  “Yeah. Okay. Later.” He sounded really depressed.

  I thought about him as I sped to the movie theater. I thought about him and Sandy and Taylor and what good times we had at the beginning of the school year. Now we were graduating, and everything seemed to be falling apart.

  Normally on a Saturday night, Hillary and I would have called Sandy and Taylor. We would have made plans to meet them at the movie. Or do something else. Or go hang out with them somewhere.

  But now we didn’t want to see either of them.

  It wasn’t Taylor’s fault. We didn’t really have anything against her. It’s just that she was always with Sandy.

  And Sandy was a murderer.

  Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

  As I drove, I repeated the word in my mind until it became a nonsense word. It had no meaning at all.

  Murderer.

  It wasn’t a word I ever thought I’d use in real life. It was a word for the newspapers, for TV shows. Not for my life.

  I shook my head hard, forcing the word from my head. The traffic on Division Street was terrible. It’s usually pretty bad on Saturday night. But tonight a van had stalled in the center lane, backing up traffic for blocks and blocks.

  I made it to the mall at about a minute to eight. Circled twice before I found a parking spot near the movie theater. Then I went running full speed through the lot to meet Hillary.

  I found her standing beside the ticket window. She was wearing a T-shirt and an open red-leather vest over baggy black denims. “Sorry,” I called breathlessly, running up to her. The lobby was nearly deserted. Everyone had gone in.

  “I bought the tickets,” she said, starting to the theater door. She handed me mine. “The coming attractions started. We haven’t missed anything.”

  “Get a seat up front,” I told her. “I’ll be there. I’m just going to the ladies’ room.”

  She started to the door. I turned and jogged across the thick red carpet to the ladies’ room against the far wall. Tucking the ticket into my jeans pocket, I pulled open the door. Stepped inside.

  And bumped right into Taylor.

  Chapter

  18

  “Oh!”

  We both cried out in surprise.

  Then we both started talking at once:

  “I didn’t know you were coming!”

  “I was just thinking about you!”

  “Where are you sitting?”

  “In back. On the side.”

  “Hillary is here too.”

  Taylor looked really beautiful. Her white-blond hair was pulled straight back, tied with a bright blue hair band that matched her top. She wore dark red lipstick on her full lips. Very hot and sexy.

  I felt glad to see her. But the feeling lasted for only a moment. My unpleasant thoughts about Sandy washed away all of my good feelings toward her.

  I could see her expression change too. Her green eyes turned cold. “Sandy and I don’t see you guys very much these days,” she said flatly.

  I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets. “Well, you know,” I stammered. “Graduation and everything.”

  Lame. Really lame.

  “We’re graduating too,” she replied sharply.

  “Uh … we’d better get inside,” I said, motioning to the door. “The movie … I hate missing the beginning. I can never catch up.”

  Her eyes locked on mine. She didn’t move. “I thought you and Sandy were such close friends,” she said.

  “We were,” I told her. “I mean—we are!” I could feel my cheeks burning. I knew I was blushing. “It’s just that I’ve been so busy … and everything.”

  “Sandy isn’t a killer!” she cried with sudden vehemence. Her eyes flashed angrily, out of control for a moment.

  I gasped.

  “You’re supposed to be his friend,” she continued, a little less heatedly. “He’s kind of hurt. I mean, he thought you’d stand by him.”

  “I—I really have to find Hillary,” I stammered. I turned to the door, desperate to get away from her.

  But then I stopped. And the words burst out of me: “Did you tell Sandy what Hillary and I were saying about him?”

  Her jaw had been tightly clenched. Now her mouth dropped open. I could see red lipstick stains on her front teeth. “Excuse me?” she asked, knitting her pale eyebrows.

  “You were listening to us. On the stage after graduation rehearsal. Did you tell Sandy what Hillary and I were saying?”

  She shook her head, her mouth still open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Julie. I didn’t hear you and Hillary. I usually don’t go around eavesdropping on my friends!”

  That made me feel a little better, a little relieved.

  But then I realized that Taylor was lying.

  I could see it in those cold, green eyes.

  Of course she was eavesdropping on Hillary and me. Of course she heard what we were saying about Sandy.

  And of course she told him.

  “Uh … we’re missing the start,” I said. “Hillary and I—we’ll look for you after the movie.” Another lie.

  One good lie deserves another. />
  I turned, pushed out through the door, and hurried into the darkened theater.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  On Monday night, we had another rehearsal for graduation. This was a dress rehearsal, with caps and gowns and everything.

  The rehearsal went late. There was a mixup with the caps and gowns, and several kids were handed gowns way too big for them.

  Then the pianist kept messing up “Pomp and Circumstance,” which sent us all into giddy hysterics. For some reason, everything struck us funny tonight. So we had to keep starting over.

  And starting over. And starting over.

  Until we were all pretty tired—tired of laughing, tired of marching around in the auditorium. Hot and sweaty in the blue gowns, which felt heavier and heavier as the night dragged on.

  It was nearly eleven when I dropped Hillary off at her house. And even later when I pulled the car up my driveway.

  The house was dark. Mom and Dad were visiting our cousins who lived in the Old Village. They usually leave the porch light on, but tonight they must have forgotten.

  The car headlights rolled up over the garage door. I slid the gear shift into park and climbed out of the car. I found the garage door clicker under the bush where we always keep it. I clicked it, and the door slowly began to rumble up.

  I set the clicker down in its hiding place under the bush. Climbed back into the car. And pulled carefully into the garage—a tight squeeze. It’s only a one-and-a-half-car garage, and it’s filled with lawn mowers, bikes, and other junk on both sides.

  Thinking about a cold drink and a shower, I cut the engine and the headlights and climbed out of the car. The sharp aroma of paint greeted me. Dad had been painting the fence at the back of the yard.

  I fumbled in my bag for the house keys as I made my way around the car to the door that led from the garage into the kitchen. It was so dark. I struggled to find the keys.

  I was still grabbing around in my bag when I heard a loud rumbling sound. Then a metallic squeak. Heavy grinding.

  I turned with a gasp to see the garage door closing.

  “Hey—!” I cried out in surprise.

  A stab of fear cut through my chest. I sucked in my breath. Stared out toward the dark driveway.

  “Hey—who’s there?” I cried shrilly over the heavy rumble of the sliding garage door.

  I froze. Panic held me in place. I couldn’t decide whether to duck under the door and escape to the driveway. Or find my keys and try to get into the house.

  The door was halfway to the ground when I heard the thud of footsteps. Someone ducked into the garage.

  “Who is it?” I shrieked. “What do you want?”

  No reply.

  I fumbled again for the keys—but the bag fell from my trembling hand. It hit the concrete garage floor. I heard the clatter of things spilling out.

  But I didn’t lower my gaze. I kept my eyes on the dark figure moving slowly along the side of the car.

  “Hey—!” Another choked cry escaped my throat.

  The heavy door thudded shut.

  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 deli
berately 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

  “He 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.