by Elle Casey
Chapter Forty-One
“I’D GONE TO THE STADIUM early. None of the players were there yet. The coach was in his office, going through his playbook and watching videos of the other team, something he did before every game.”
“Was that normal for you? Did you always go in early too?”
“No. I usually rode over with Joe and Derek, sometimes Jamahl, and got there an hour before game time.”
“Why didn’t you go with them this time?”
Jason’s jaw got tense again, but then he answered, something I hadn’t expected him to do, since he’d been so evasive before. “Because … I wanted to talk to the coach about something … personal.”
Jason looked down into his lap, emotions of all kinds fleeting across his face.
“What was it?”
Jason’s eyebrow went up and he looked angry. “Something personal. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Was it about football or something else?”
“Personal. It was personal.”
Sensing he wasn’t going to go any further with this part of the story, I changed tack. “Okay, what then?”
“I went in there, to his office, and brought up this thing I wanted to talk to him about, and he just … acted like an asshole.”
“Asshole? Like what … he was rude?”
“He was …,” Jason started punching the steering wheel over and over, first lightly and then harder, “…nonchalant … like it didn’t matter.”
“Like what didn’t matter?” My heart was going nuts. I knew I was about to hear something that no one else but Jason and the coach knew.
“The personal thing I needed to talk to him about!” Jason gave one more punch to the wheel and a loud beep came from the horn, echoing all over the garage.
I was a little scared at the violence, and I think he was too. We both stared at the wheel and then at his hand. There was a small dot of blood there where he’d opened up a cut on his knuckle.
I had a hard time swallowing when I saw that. All I could picture was that fist killing a man.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I have a temper sometimes.”
A shiver ran through me and I wondered for a moment if I should be scared to be in the car with him like this, with his dad upstairs in his office and no one around to see what was happening.
Then a second later I wanted to slap myself. Jason was my friend. Jason would never hurt me. It didn’t matter to me that he had actually murdered someone. It was an accident, a mistake. He hadn’t gone into that office that day to kill anyone.
He wiped the blood on his shorts and stared out the front window again. “Anyway, words got heated, the conversation went downhill fast, and then he moved and I moved and there was some shoving and punching and down he went.”
“Down?”
“Yeah. He fell and his head hit the desk and he didn’t get up.”
“What’d you do?” I was having a hard time not being dizzy at this point. I felt like I was there watching it. And let me tell you … if you’ve never had an actual murderer tell you about how he killed someone, I don’t think you could understand what I was going through. Let’s just say it wasn’t anywhere near pleasant.
“I just stood there. I waited for people to come. I don’t know how long it was before they were there, but they found me standing there doing nothing.”
“Did anyone say anything to you?”
“Everyone just kept asking what happened, and then someone yelled out that I killed him and everyone started shouting and the cops showed up. They took me away, but not before half the guys I used to call my best friends were threatening to end me. They looked at me with such hate …” He shook his head silently, staring off into space.
“Wow.” I had to wipe the sweat off my upper lip. “That must have been intense. Just hearing the story…” I couldn’t finish because it was completely insensitive and more than a little stupid to be comparing my hearing what he’d done to him actually living through it.
“Yeah. Intense. You could say that.” He was lost in thought, nodding his head at nothing.
“I’m just wondering …,” I paused to make sure he was listening, “… I mean, if that personal thing you were talking about was something important, and he came at you … did he come at you? I mean, maybe it was just self-defense or whatever. Just … maybe he had a responsibility to do something that he didn’t do, or maybe you felt … threatened.” I was grasping at straws, but at the same time I was waiting with baited breath, hoping that I’d struck on something that might help him. Teachers and coaches were supposed to help students when they went to them with personal problems, right? They have a responsibility, right?
“Responsibility…” He practically spit the word out. “Responsibility. Yeah. That’s fucking awesome. Just great.”
“Great as iiinnnn … you think he had one or that he should have had one?” This was getting confusing, but he was talking and I knew of course that he was hiding something. Getting to the bottom of things had become my reason for being.
“Never mind. I’m done. Story’s over.” He threw his door open and got out. He didn’t even wait for me before going back into the house.
When I finally got inside, his father was standing in the hall looking bewildered.
“What was that all about?” he asked, looking over his shoulder towards the front hall.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t want to tell him what Jason and I had been talking about. He probably wished the whole thing would just disappear like pretty much everyone else on the planet had from their lives. I tried to think of a single person who would be happy that Jason did what he did and no one came to mind. Nobody was served by the coach’s life being ended so soon. No wonder everyone was talking about sending Jason to the electric chair.
“I should probably get going,” I said.
“Have a good workout?” he asked, walking me to the door.
“I guess. I’m always sore.”
He looked down at me with his hand on the front doorknob. “Well, if it makes any difference, I can see your gains.”
I looked down at my stomach. “My gains?”
“Muscle tone. And you’ve lost a lot of body fat. It’s obvious.”
“It is?”
“Your clothes are hanging off you. You have baggy-butt now.”
I laughed. “Baggy butt? What parent says that?”
He looked so awkward as soon as I said that I felt bad.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “that was rude.”
“No, I just … I realized that I’m not even sure what a parent is supposed to do anymore.” His eyes got a little watery.
I put my hand on his arm. “No parent would. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I try not to be. Thanks for coming over, Katy. It means the world to him, and that’s saying a lot these days. You’re the only one…”
“Don’t get me started on those hypocritical assholes,” I said before I could filter my mouth.
He laughed and pulled me into a hug. “You’re a great kid, Katy. Never change.”
I patted him on the back. “You’re the only adult who’s ever said that to me in my entire life.”
He pushed me out of the hug but held onto my upper arms, looking me dead in the eye. “I am one of the very few adults who’s had the horrible luck of having the veil that covers reality lifted. I see what others can’t or won’t. Trust me when I tell you that your honesty, your smart mouth, and your determination are going to take you a lot farther in life than anything those other kids at your school might boast about.”
I gave him my most annoying suck-up expression. “You mean being prom queen won’t guarantee me friends, financial success, and eternal happiness?”
He laughed and aimed me for the door. “You got it. Now get out of here. Your parents are probably wondering if they still have a daughter.”
“Do I come here too often?” I asked, feeling just a little self-conscious
about it.
“No. Come here as often as you like. More often if you want. Jason waits for you all day.”
“He does?” My face went warm at that confession. Sometimes I still wondered why he even hung out with me at all.
“You bet. See you tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I have a monster final and physics hates me.”
“Bring your books over here. Jason was a wiz at that stuff.”
“You mean he is a wiz at it.”
His dad leaned on the doorframe. “You’re right. He is.” His smile was sad.
I left without another word, for the first time not even noticing whether there were any reporters around. It was like they’d become a part of the landscape. Here on Chestnut Lane there were mailboxes, lawns, cars, lampposts, piles of dog doo here and there, and vultures. Vultures who carried cameras and microphones. This was my world.
Chapter Forty-Two
IT WAS ALMOST THE END of football season and Bobby had been harassing me for a couple months to go to a game with him. It felt disloyal to watch any of those turd football players on the field when Jason was still locked inside his house, but Bobby was finally able to convince me that eating a paper bowl full of nachos and orange non-cheese would do my heart good. When he’d said heart, we both knew he hadn’t meant the one pumping away in my chest that would surely be suffering from the onslaught of transfats; he meant the one that ached for a certain boy with a doomed future.
“I’m so glad you finally came,” Bobby said, sliding the nachos off the counter of the snack stand and handing them to me. “You’re turning into a total hermit these days.”
“No, I’m focusing on my grades instead of football. Trust me, I’m better off for it.”
“Grades? Is that why you’re at Jason’s every single day of every single week of every single month?”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up or I’m going home.” I used a chip to move some beans, chili peppers, and orange non-cheese around. I have an issue with ratios being off in a bowl of nachos. Each chip must have a little of everything or my world feels completely off.
“Hey, I’m not arguing, okay? You look totally fab.”
“I do?” I smiled, knowing for a fact that he wasn’t blowing smoke up my butt. I’d weighed myself that morning and found that I’d officially lost fifteen pounds of fat and replaced it all with toned muscles. Jason had told me just yesterday that I was now in better shape than any girl at school, including everyone on the cheer team and the girls’ basketball team. Adding a half-hour of the elliptical machine to my routine four days a week had made a real difference.
“Yes, you do. Totally fab-u-lous. I can actually see your muscles in your arms and legs. You’re like … fit. Fitter than fit. Shakira-fit.”
I grinned like crazy. “Thanks for noticing. I had to buy new jeans again last week.”
“I saw.” He leaned back to look at my butt. “They’re good for your buns. Very flattering.”
Happily crunching away on my nachos, I didn’t even notice Brittney coming up on us until she was practically stepping on my toes.
“Excuse me,” she said in a bitchy tone. She was all decked out in her cheer uniform, a small gym bag over her shoulder holding her pom-poms; I could see pieces of their plastic strips in our black and orange school colors peeking out from the partially open zipper.
“Sometimes there just is no excuse,” Bobby said, raising an eyebrow at her in challenge.
My chip-crunching slowed as I came to grips with the fact that I was facing Jason’s ex after spending nearly three months with him non-stop — a fact that the newspapers were still reporting fairly regularly. Was she mad about that? Jealous? I guessed we were going to find out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking first at Bobby and then at me.
I shrugged. “How’m I supposed to know? I’m just eating nachos.” Having those reporters outside Jason’s door for months had made me a lot more circumspect about engaging people in public. Before, I would have met a situation like this toe-to-toe, bitch-to-bitch; but today, not so much. I just wanted to claim our seats in the nosebleed section and pretend to enjoy football for an hour or so before I begged to be released from the boredom.
She turned her attention fully on me. “You know, everyone knows what you’re doing,” she said, her face all twisted up. “So pitiful…”
“She’s not doing anything, Brittney,” Bobby said, getting all riled up.
I waved my hand in the air between them. “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but these nachos are already working their magic, so I suggest you be on your way, Britt.”
She wrinkled her face at me. “What does that even mean?”
Bobby looked at me, his expression kind of blank. “Did you just threaten to pass gas?”
I shrugged. “I can’t be held responsible for all these beans.” I lifted up my paper box to show them how generous the lady behind the counter had been this evening. “Beans, beans, good for the heart…”
“Oh my god, you are so weird,” Brittney said, before leaving in a hurry.
Bobby started giggling and eventually had to bend over to keep from busting apart.
“I can’t believe you,” he gasped out.
“What?” I crunched on another chip, waiting for him to recover. I was already bored with football and they hadn’t even hiked the ball yet.
“You just … you just …”
My eyes scanned the entrance to the stadium and landed on a group of reporters surrounding some players. There were a few kids mingling with them, all of them wearing smaller versions of the team’s jerseys.
I stopped crunching my chips.
“You just scared Brittney away with threats of farting on her!” Bobby was still laughing.
“No, I didn’t. I issued threats of farting in her general direction. Not the same thing.”
I left him there and started walking first slowly and then pretty quickly over to the group of players standing around. Some of them were posing for pictures with the kids, while others were tossing balls around. It looked like a publicity event.
When Bobby finally realized I’d left him behind, he jogged in my wake, arriving at my side panting for breath. “Where’d you go? You totally ditched me back there.”
“What’s going on here?” I asked, gesturing with my nachos at the scene before us.
Bobby pointed to a banner that had been strung up on the chain link fence next to them. “Charity thingy. You remember … Jason used to be involved in it too. It’s a team thing.”
My eyes bugged out as I recognized one of the kids from the photos I had on my computer. It wasn’t the one I’d seen with Jason, but that didn’t stop me from being insanely curious about him.
“What’s the big deal?” Bobby asked. “Can we go now? Have you finished ogling yet? The game’s going to start soon.”
I nudged him again. “The game can’t start without all these guys out there. And besides, I’m not ogling the players, fool, I’m ogling the kids.”
“Oh, that’s not disturbing at all.”
I sighed loudly. I used to have so much patience for Bobby’s silliness but now I was just anxious to move on from it. “I’ve seen that kid before.” I nodded towards the group.
Bobby moved in closer and dropped his voice. “Which one?”
“The one with the jersey. The black kid.”
“Which black kid with a jersey? There are five of them over there.”
“The little one. With the red shoes.”
We both watched him smiling at one of the players and nodding.
“How do you know him?” Bobby asked.
“I don’t know him, I’ve just seen pictures of him.”
“In the news? In a magazine? In your dreams? Where?”
“Just … hold these.” I handed him my nachos and left him standing there, my eyes focused on the kid.
The boy didn’t see me coming until the player he was talkin
g to lifted his gaze and glared in my direction.
The boy turned around, his eyes going wide, probably trying to figure out why I was about to get pounded.
“Hey,” I said to the boy.
“What’re you doing here?” the player asked me.
“You’re Jamahl, right?” I asked, turning my attention to him.
“Yeah? So?”
“So? Seen Jason lately? Your friend, Jason, remember him?”
The kid switched his bodyweight to the other foot and started looking around like he was trying to find an escape route.
“Fuck that,” Jamahl said, putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Come on, kid, let’s get outta here.” He turned them both around and looked over his shoulder at me, lifting his lip in disgust. “Don’t want you getting involved in some bad shit.”
I reached out and grabbed the kid’s hand before he could get too far away. “Wait! I want to talk to you.”
Jamahl dropped the kid’s shoulder and turned around to face me, his chest puffing out. He seemed to grow about three inches taller. I tried not to let it intimidate me, but it was difficult.
“You need to get gone, girl, before you get hurt.”
“You’re gonna hit a girl?” the kid asked, sounding shocked and maybe a little impressed.
Jamahl faltered. He looked embarrassed. “Nah, man, I don’t hit girls. Never hit girls. That ain’t cool.”
I smiled as genuinely as I could at the kid. “I saw a picture of you once. At the boy’s club place where you hang out sometimes. You were with these guys. You looked really cool in your new red shoes.” I looked down at his feet.
The boy smiled a little. “Thanks. Coach got these for me.”
“Really?” I nodded, acting impressed but inside feeling really sad that the coach wouldn’t be able to do that for these kids anymore. “That’s cool. He was a cool guy, huh?”
Jamahl let out a long hiss of air that sounded like steam escaping. He turned slightly away to signal to a couple of his friends. I knew I had to hurry if I wanted to accomplish anything with this kid.
“So there was this other kid in all the pictures I saw too, but I don’t know his name. Do you know who he is? He has a big afro, maybe about a couple inches taller than you?”
