by R. L. Stine
Gretchen realized she was scaring herself. Hernandez said he was investigating. He didn’t say he was accusing her of anything.
And now, here she was facing him, sitting hunched in the chair across from him, her cold hands clasped tightly in her lap, so tightly her fingers ached.
He forced a smile. “Don’t look so frightened, Gretchen,” he said softly. “We’re not here to assign guilt. We just need to know exactly what happened.” He scratched one side of his face. “Stacy’s parents are going to want to know, too.”
“H-how is she?” Gretchen stammered. “Have you heard anything?”
“She’s stable, according to the last report I heard,” Hernandez said.
“Thank God,” Coach Walker murmured.
“She has serious burns over her arms and chest,” Hernandez continued, his eyes probing Gretchen’s. “The most serious question is if Stacy will regain the use of her right arm again. It’s the most badly damaged.”
A sob burst from Gretchen’s throat. “How awful. I mean—”
“The burn unit at Shadyside General is supposed to be top-notch,” Coach Walker said, her gaze on Hernandez. “My cousin was in a car fire, and they performed miracles with him.”
“That’s good to hear,” Hernandez said softly. He picked up a pencil and began rolling it in his fingers. He narrowed his eyes at Gretchen.
Sudden dread tightened her throat. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Any idea how the accident happened?” the principal asked her.
She swallowed. “Uh … no. Not really. I mean…” Her voice was quivering. Did it make her sound as if she wasn’t telling the truth?
“I mean … I can’t understand it at all. I was so careful. It was my first time doing it, and I wanted to do a perfect job.” Gretchen took a breath. Beside her, Coach Walker was now staring at her intently.
“I went over it, step by step,” Gretchen continued. “I concentrated on doing it right. I … I can’t understand.…” Her voice cracked.
“Did you see anyone else go near the batons or the kerosene bucket?” Coach Walker asked.
Gretchen thought hard. She shook her head. “No. I don’t remember anyone. I … I was there the whole time. Well…” She suddenly remembered something. “You called me over to the bench, Coach Walker. Remember? You asked if I needed help, and I said no. But that only took a few seconds. I hurried right back.”
Coach Walker nodded. She rubbed her chin, swept a hand back through her hair, her face knotted in a frown.
“Gretchen, did you notice anything strange at all? Before or after the accident?”
Gretchen concentrated again. “Well … one thing was strange.” She hesitated.
Hernandez let go of the pencil. He leaned closer over his desktop. “What was that?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t say.…” Gretchen murmured.
“Gretchen, anything you think of can be helpful,” Coach Walker said. “Don’t hold back to protect someone. And don’t feel you have to be one-hundred percent positive about something you think you saw. A terrible thing has happened. We need to know why it happened.”
Gretchen swallowed again. Her mouth was dry as sandpaper. “Well … I’m a little confused about Devra.”
“Devra Dalby?” Hernandez sat up straight. He squinted at Gretchen through his glasses. “What about Devra?”
“Devra was supposed to take the first fire baton,” Gretchen said. “But when I started to hand it to her, she backed away. She said she didn’t feel well. She told me to give it to Stacy.”
“I noticed that,” Coach Walker said. “I noticed that Devra held back and Stacy ran in front of the stands to perform without her.”
“I … uh … I-I don’t want to accuse Devra of anything,” Gretchen stammered. “But … it was like she knew there was something wrong with the baton. I mean, how did she know not to take it?”
A hush fell over the room. Gretchen’s words seemed to linger heavily in the air.
Coach Walker rubbed her chin some more, her eyes on the bulletin board behind the principal’s desk. Hernandez tapped the pencil against the desktop. He appeared to be faraway, deep in thought.
I had to say it, Gretchen thought. It was just so strange how Devra wouldn’t take the baton. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“We’ll talk to Devra later,” Hernandez said, finally breaking the silence. He pointed the pencil at Gretchen. “We know that you and Devra have been feuding. We know—”
“Feuding?” Gretchen interrupted.
“Well, you’re not exactly best friends,” Coach Walker chimed in. “You’ve accused Devra before.…”
Hernandez raised a hand to silence her. “Let me finish. I hate to ask this, Gretchen, but I have to. Coach Walker has told me how eager you were to be on the squad. And we all know that Devra probably doesn’t belong there. So tell me this…” He hesitated.
Gretchen felt her heart skip a beat. She gripped the leather arms of the chair.
“You didn’t try to hand Devra a dangerous baton, hoping to get her off the squad—did you?”
Gretchen gasped. Without thinking, she jumped to her feet. “Of course not! That’s horrible!” she shrieked. “Is that what you think? You think I’m a killer?”
A sob escaped Gretchen’s throat, and then she couldn’t hold back. A flood of tears rolled down her cheeks. She folded herself back into the chair and cried, sobbing hard, her shoulders heaving up and down.
Coach Walker tried to pat her comfortingly on the back. But Gretchen brushed her hand away.
Hernandez sat helplessly, biting his lips, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It was a question I felt I had to ask.”
Gretchen could barely hear him over her sobs. She sucked in breath after breath and finally managed to stop crying. Her cheeks were tear-soaked and burning hot. She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.
“I’ll never forgive myself,” she finally managed to choke out, not looking at either of them. “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to Stacy. Never.”
* * *
Gretchen’s heavy footsteps echoed down the long, empty hall as she made her way to the exit. She held her breath, struggling not to start crying again. She fumbled in her bag for her car keys, and dropped the bag. She stood watching everything tumble out onto the floor.
“At least the day can’t get worse,” she muttered. She bent down and swept everything back into the bag.
“Hey—!” Gretchen called out, surprised to find Sid waiting for her in the student parking lot. She rushed forward and he wrapped her in his arms.
“I don’t need to ask how it went,” he said. “I can see your face is a total wreck.”
“Thanks a bunch,” she muttered. But she pressed her cheek against his chest. She could hear his steady heartbeat. She wondered if hers would ever beat so slow and normal again.
“They think I’m a murderer,” she said, raising her eyes to his.
“No way,” Sid replied. “You’re not serious. They don’t think that.”
Gretchen sighed. “I don’t know what they think. It’s all a horrible mystery.”
“I just came from the hospital,” Sid said.
Gretchen took a step back. “And?”
He shrugged. “Third-degree burns over both arms. It’s horrible. She’s bandaged up like a mummy.”
“Did you talk to her?”
Sid shook his head. “No. She wasn’t awake.”
Gretchen couldn’t help it. The tears began pouring from her eyes again.
Sid stepped forward and wrapped her in a close hug.
And she heard a harsh voice from behind them. “Well! It didn’t take you long to steal Stacy’s boyfriend!”
24.
Gretchen spun away from Sid and stared at Devra’s friend Courtney Shaw. Courtney wore a black-and-white-striped T-shirt over white tennis shorts. She had a tennis racket raised in one hand. Her short black hair glistened from sweat. Her silver nose ring flashed i
n the light of the afternoon sun.
“Courtney, I—” Gretchen couldn’t figure out what to say.
“How’s it going?” Sid asked casually. As if she hadn’t made an accusation. “You have a good game?”
Courtney ignored Sid and glared at Gretchen. “I saw you from the tennis courts.” She motioned to the courts at the back of the parking lot. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
Gretchen squinted at her. “Tell me something?”
“You’re on the cheerleader squad now, right? Because poor Stacy got burned to a crisp?”
Gretchen gasped. “Are you accusing me?”
“Not at all,” Courtney said. “I’m just saying.”
Gretchen stuck her chin out, ready to defend herself. “Saying what?”
“You’re on the squad now, so you and Devra will be together a lot. You probably know that Devra is my good friend.”
“So?” Gretchen demanded impatiently.
“So I wanted to warn you. Devra has had enough.”
“Are you kidding me?” Gretchen exploded. “Are you out of your mind? Devra has had enough?”
“Listen to me, Gretchen—”
“Devra has been torturing me!” Gretchen shouted. “She has been ruining my life.”
“Not true!” Courtney said, slamming her tennis racket against a pole. “Not true! Not true!”
“Can’t you both dial it down?” Sid shouted. “I’ve got sensitive ears.”
“Devra doesn’t care a thing about you!” Courtney screamed, ignoring Sid. “She isn’t interested in you at all. She just wants you to stop blaming her for everything. It’s crazy.”
“Sending threatening texts isn’t crazy?” Gretchen cried. “Cleaning fluid in my water bottle? Jamming my uniform full of cockroaches? And I’m the one who’s crazy?” She took an angry step toward Courtney. “You’re the one who’s crazy.”
Courtney stepped back until she bumped into a car fender. “You’ve got it all wrong, Gretchen. Devra isn’t doing anything to you. I’m telling the truth.” She smacked the head of the racket against the ground. “Listen to me. Do you know about the cheerleader retreat?”
“Of course I know about it,” Gretchen snapped. “We’re all going to stay in these cabins in the woods for a weekend.”
“Devra says when we’re there, just keep away from her and everything will be okay.”
Gretchen pressed her hands against her waist. “She’s threatening me?”
“No way. She just wants peace, Gretchen. A truce. Know what I mean? She hasn’t done anything to you. She swears it. So just leave her alone.” Courtney finished her speech, breathing hard, sweat glistening her short black hair.
Gretchen let out a long breath. “She’s a total liar, Courtney. Do you really believe her?”
Courtney didn’t answer. She flashed a look of disgust at Sid, swung her racket in the air as if batting him away, turned, and strode off.
Gretchen watched her until she disappeared behind the tennis courts. Suddenly, she felt more confused than ever. Her thoughts whirred through her mind.
If Devra isn’t behind all these horrible things … then, who? Courtney is lying. She has to be. I know she and Devra are friends. But why would Courtney lie for Devra?
25.
Gretchen and her mother ate dinner in near silence. Mrs. Page was not a good cook, and parts of the roast chicken were nearly raw and the baked potatoes were hard.
Gretchen didn’t have much of an appetite, anyway. She hadn’t eaten much since the football game. Her stomach was so tightly knotted, she never felt hungry.
The house was so quiet, Gretchen could hear the ticking of the mantelpiece clock in the next room. I don’t know which is worse, she thought. Forcing a conversation with my mom, or this horrible silence.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mrs. Page said, as if reading Gretchen’s thoughts. She set her fork down on the table. “Sorry about the chicken. I knew I should have left it in the oven longer. I get distracted.”
“It’s … okay,” Gretchen murmured.
“You can’t blame yourself,” her mother said, abruptly changing the subject. “It was a horrible accident, dear. But it was an accident.”
Gretchen sighed. “That doesn’t really help, Mom.”
“There’s nothing I can say. You tried to be as careful as you could. I know you did.”
Gretchen clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t careful enough.” She shoved her plate away. “You’re right, Mom. We can’t talk about it. It’s too awful to talk about.”
“You have to put it behind you,” Mrs. Page said, licking her lips.
Gretchen hated the way her mother was always licking her lips. Why didn’t she wear lip gloss or ChapStick if her lips were so dry? And what was this put it behind you nonsense? How stupid was that? What a useless a thing to say.
Gretchen opened her mouth to tell her mother to just stop talking. But her phone rang before she could get a word out. She had the phone on the table in front of her. She picked it up and squinted at the screen. Madison was calling.
Gretchen jumped up. “Mom, I have to take this.”
Mrs. Page frowned. “I made dessert. I mean, I bought a pound cake.”
“Later.” Gretchen gave her a wave and hurried upstairs to her room.
She dropped onto the edge of her bed and pressed the phone to her ear. “Madison—where’ve you been? I tried calling you all weekend.”
“My cousin Emma had a baby,” Madison said. “She’s the one that lives out on that farm beyond Grove City? My mom wanted to help out, so we spent the weekend there. My phone wouldn’t work there. No cells, I guess. And Emma doesn’t have WiFi. I’ve been totally out of touch.”
“Oh, wow. I really wanted to talk to you. I—”
“And I need to talk to you,” Madison interrupted. “I have to tell you something, Gretchen. Something really horrible.”
Gretchen heard her mother coming up the stairs. Was she spying on her?
“Something horrible? Oh my God. Madison, what is it?”
“I-I’m supposed to be practicing my violin,” Madison stammered. “For the assembly tomorrow morning. But … I can’t concentrate. I can barely think straight. I … I’m so upset.”
“Madison—what is it?” Gretchen repeated.
“You have to come over. Hurry. I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”
The bedroom suddenly began to spin. Gretchen shut her eyes to stop her dizziness. What could be so horrible?
“Is it about Stacy?” Gretchen demanded, her voice quivering. “Is it?”
“Just hurry over here,” Madison insisted.
Gretchen ended the call, tucked the phone into her pocket, and hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her mother appeared at the front door just as Gretchen was about to pull it open.
How does she do that? Gretchen wondered. Appear at the door from out of nowhere every time I’m about to leave? She is so annoying!
“Just going next door.” She tried to squeeze past her mother.
“What for?” Mrs. Page demanded, not budging.
“Madison wants to tell me something.”
“Sorry.” Mrs. Page, hands on hips, shook her head. “You’re forgetting your promise.”
Gretchen blinked. “Promise?”
“You promised you’d help me with the photo albums tonight. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
“But, Mom—” Gretchen had her eyes on the door knob. So close yet so far.
“The albums are a mess. In total disarray. You promised you’d help, Gretchen. Tonight’s the night. No excuses.”
“No, I can’t. Really,” Gretchen replied, trying to keep her voice low and calm. But she knew she was about to lose it. “Madison—”
“You know I’ve been obsessing about the albums ever since we moved, Gretchen. It’s the next thing on my list, and I want to check it off tonight.”
Gretchen let out an exasperated groan. “Mom, you’re being really
annoying. Madison has something she wants to tell me. We can do the stupid albums tomorrow night!” she screamed.
“Don’t you scream at me. Do you think you can convince me by acting like an infant? No way. You’re not going out. Whatever your friend has to say can wait, I’m sure. You’re staying home and helping me. Keep your promises, Gretchen.”
Mrs. Page stood stiffly, whole body tensed, arms crossed tightly in front of her, blocking the door.
“Mom, I swear—”
But Gretchen saw that she had lost.
Do I have the most annoying mother in the world? She’s impossible. Impossible!
Her shoulders slumped. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mom. Photo albums. If it will make you happy.”
Maybe we can get through the albums early, Gretchen thought. And I can run over to Madison’s. Or else I’ll have to talk to her after the assembly tomorrow.
And then questions flashed one after another in her mind.
What is Madison so desperate to tell me?
Is it about Devra?
What could be so horrible?
26.
Gretchen took a seat in the third row of the auditorium next to Ana. She turned to gaze down the rows of seats as kids filed in for the morning assembly. She looked for Sid. He had said something about sitting with her. But he was nowhere to be seen.
Ana held her phone in her lap and was busily texting someone with both thumbs. She held the phone low behind the seatback in front of her because students weren’t allowed to use their phones during school hours.
Gretchen glimpsed at Devra at the far end of the row. Devra saw her, too, but quickly glanced away. She and Courtney began talking animatedly, their faces close together.
Ana finished her text and slid the phone into her bag. She shook her head hard, straightening her bangs. “How’s it going?”
“A little better,” Gretchen said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop thinking about Friday night.”
Ana nodded solemnly. “I still hear Stacy’s screams in my ears. Last night, I dreamed my house was on fire and I was trapped in my room.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Oh, wow. That’s terrible.”
The auditorium lights dimmed. Principal Hernandez, in his gray suit, strode up the stairs at the side of the stage.
