Later I began working on our assignment for American History that involved making a chart with different color markers. My markers were all dried up. We had divided into teams and Cree and I were doing it together. She called just as I finished breakfast.
“Want to meet me at CVS to get our stuff? I have to go anyway and pick up my grandma’s prescription.”
“Cree,” I reminded her, “I don’t have transportation.”
Neither did she, although she lived in the village and it wasn’t far for her to walk. She used to travel everywhere on her bike, when she had one.
“Um,” she said, which meant she was thinking. “If I pick up my grandma’s pills, by rights she should lend me her car. So I can pick you up. When are you getting your car back?”
“Very soon, but I still need a new windshield.”
“Are they anywhere near finding the person who shot yours out?”
And shot Hank. “They’re working on it,” I said.
That brought up an image of Falco’s green eyes. They were so green, I wondered if he wore contact lenses. Were cops allowed to? What if he got hit in the face?
“An hour?” Cree said.
“Okay. An hour.” I wondered if I could get her to take me to the hospital afterward.
Cree was always on time, unlike me. I had this habit of coming up with last minute things that really, really needed doing. But I was ready for her when she came at exactly eleven-thirty in her grandmother’s bright orange car. It was sort of a metallic orange. Not bad as a color, but for a car?
“I see you got Archie,” I said as I climbed in beside her. Archie was what her grandmother had named the car.
“At first she wanted it back by two o’clock for one of her girlie meetings, but somebody’s picking her up, so that’s okay.”
“You mean there’s no deadline?” I asked hopefully.
“Why?”
I sighed, but it was more like a groan. “I can’t wait to get mine back. Except I don’t know if I ever want to see it again.” I tried to imagine getting behind the wheel, especially for the first time after that shooting.
“What are you going to do?” Cree asked. “You need something, way out here in Boonieland.”
Not having a car was unthinkable. “I’d have to take the bus to school. You’re so lucky to live in town.”
“I guess.” She made a left turn and started down the steep hill toward the bridge. “Every time I do this I can’t help wondering if the brakes will hold. Do they ever not?”
“I never heard of it happening, but I suppose it could.”
She gave me a quick look as we turned onto the bridge. “Is something on your mind?”
“I’m sorry. Yes, something is. Um—after we get our stuff, would you mind terribly if we make a quick trip to the hospital?”
She glanced my way again, but mostly had to keep her eyes on the bridge. “Is he out of his coma?”
“I haven’t heard anything. Of course I don’t expect the hospital to keep me posted.”
“Can’t you call them?”
I hesitated before answering. “I really want to see him.”
She hesitated, too, and then said, “Oh.”
I tried to explain. “It’s not personal. I mean, it’s not him. I just feel responsible, you know? Even though it wasn’t my fault. I mean, it was my car.”
We passed a sign welcoming us into Southbridge proper, not the Boonieland east of it, where I lived. Cree said, “Look, if somebody had a beef with him, they’d have done it anyway, whether it was your car or not.”
“What if they were aiming at me and missed?”
That time her quick look was more of a glower. “Who would shoot at you?”
“How do I know? Who would shoot at Hank?”
“Maybe they were shooting at something else entirely. You said it was getting dark.”
I never thought of it’s being an accident. “That’s why it’s so stupid! They shouldn’t have been shooting at all, especially in the dark. People are just too trigger-happy. Guns are lethal.”
I tried to think what someone could have been shooting at, if not my car. Cree pulled into the parking lot in back of CVS. We cruised, looking for a space. It was Saturday and it seemed as if the whole world was shopping in Southbridge. Finally we found an empty meter.
I hadn’t realized how skittish I’d become until we got out of the car. I looked around, feeling eyes, but didn’t see anybody watching.
Why would I see them? They’d be hidden. Snipers didn’t stand out in the open. I walked as fast as I could to CVS’s front door.
Cree headed straight for cosmetics, wanting to check out blusher colors to go with her dark red hair. She wore it in a ponytail down to her waist.
“You don’t need blusher,” I said. “You have good coloring naturally.”
“Just looking.”
I knew she was crazy about makeup but Ben would like her even without it. Again I felt that pang. I used to have a devoted boyfriend, too, until it all went sour. The very thought of Evan made me sick. How could I have been so stupid?
A voice said, “Maddie!”
Coming toward me was a head of frizzy blond hair.
“Glynis!”
I hadn’t actually see her since I left Lakeside, although we talked on the phone sometimes.
We hugged each other. Glyn said, “How have you been? I miss you so much. How’s the big old public school?”
She hadn’t heard about the shooting. Glyn hardly ever read The Chronicle, our local paper. Or listened to the local radio.
“It’s okay. It’s a lot better than what I left at Lakeside, except for you. This is my friend Cree Penny from Southbridge High. Glynis Goode, from Lakeside.”
“Hi,” they said to each other.
Somehow we worked our way back to the lipsticks, where Glyn had been browsing. “What do you think of this?” She held one up.
Dark burgundy with silver sparkles. I tried to be diplomatic. “A lighter shade might go better with your coloring.”
“How about this?”
“That one’s good.” It was apricot.
She put it back, looked at pearly pink, and sighed. “Don’t you just love cosmetics?”
The question was directed at me, but Cree answered. “I know what you mean! Even before I could wear them, I used to come in here and just look.”
Between the two of them, they could have spent all day in that aisle. I wanted to get out of there and visit the hospital. Cree still hadn’t answered my question about whether she’d be willing to take me.
Somehow Glyn must have tuned into my brainwaves. She put back the tube of pearly pink. “Any new guys in your life?”
I felt my face heat up. “I don’t have time. And who wants a new guy after that one?” She knew all about Evan.
But not about Hank. She looked at me closely, having seen the blush. Stupid face. I wasn’t a blond or a redhead, so why did my face give me away?
She laughed. “He was such an idiot. I never saw anybody so lovesick. He messed up his whole future just because he couldn’t keep away from you.”
Now we were on a topic I knew something about. “You call that love? It has nothing to do with love. As I said to my friendly neighborhood cop, it’s nothing but a sick obsession, and I mean sick. It wasn’t about me.”
“How come you have a friendly neighborhood cop?” Glyn asked.
I backed down a little. “He’s not exactly neighborhood. But he’s friendly.” I turned to Cree. “Remember that guy at the police station, with the green eyes?”
She blinked, and then remembered. “He was cute. But not much help.”
“He’s been a help to me other times.” I didn’t want to get into the whole shooting thing. Glynis didn’t know and it would take too much explaining.
“Evan was really into you,” Glyn said. “Or maybe not, because he told . . . oh, look!” She held up a dark blue tube with a pattern of gold stars. It was lovely packaging but
the package isn’t what you wear on your face.
That was obviously a diversion. I said, “He told what?”
Glyn pressed her lips together as if she wished nothing had gotten past them.
I tried again. “What did he tell? And who did he tell it to?”
She saw that I wasn’t going to let go. “Um—everybody. He was telling all these lies.”
“About me? What sort of lies?”
“Oh, things like you slept around and that’s why he broke up with you.”
“He—said—that?”
“Um...yes.” She couldn’t look at me.
“To the whole school? All of Lakeside?”
“Um, just a few people, but it got around.”
“He said he broke up with me? Did anybody believe him?”
“Maybe some people did. But everybody knows you, Maddie. And they know what he can be like.”
Cree listened, wide-eyed. “What a rat! I’m glad you got rid of him.”
“He’s worse than a rat,” I said. “He hit me. He’s violent.”
“And has the muscles to prove it.” Glyn put back the starry tube.
“Not to worry, Mads.” She gave me a weak smile. “He’s gone.”
At first I thought she meant dead, and I was shocked. Then I realized. “You mean New Hampshire.”
“It’s got to be a couple of hundred miles. Do you think that’s far enough?”
“Not with phones and Internet. Last night he kept calling. Playing music.” Who else could it be but Evan?
“Sounds as if he still has the hots for you,” Glynis said.
And I said, “I wonder why he went to New Hampshire.”
She giggled. “I think it was the only place that would take him. Right in the middle of the school year. He was lucky to get in anywhere.”
Evan led a charmed life. If he needed luck, he always got it. “I suppose,” I said, “he’ll be back for the holidays.” That was a chilling thought.
“I’ll be your bodyguard,” Cree offered.
So loyal. But I knew she’d rather spend time with my brother.
As for bodyguards, I thought of a certain green-eyed cop. And then I thought of Hank.
“We have to get going,” I said. “Where would the markers be?”
“Try the stationery aisle.” Glyn went back to her lipsticks.
* * *
We supplied ourselves with markers, poster board, and whatever else we needed, and set out for the hospital. I wasn’t at all sure I could see Hank. Cree had brought a magazine to read while she waited in the lobby.
I avoided the volunteers at the information desk and made straight for the elevator. By then I knew my way. But the nurses’ station outside the ICU was as far as I got.
I could see him through his big window, but they wouldn’t let me in. All I could do was ask how he was.
“He hasn’t woken up yet,” a nurse said almost apologetically.
“I wish I could talk to him. I have some news that might cheer him up. Is it true that people like that can often hear and understand what’s going on?”
“They can unless it’s a very deep coma.” But she still wouldn’t let me get any closer.
“Are they ever going to move him out of ICU?”
“That would be up to the doctor, and it would depend on his condition.”
Hank, wake up. Please.
I was sure it would help if I could talk to him. Touch him. But the hospital wasn’t going to change its policy. People in ICU were not robust. I could understand that traffic had to be regulated. The best I could do was look through that window and try to send healing thoughts.
Chapter Six
On Monday I began my campaign to track down the newspaper staff. I didn’t know most of them except by sight, and Southbridge High had hundreds of kids. I knew some schools have thousands. But after Lakeside, Southbridge seemed big to me. It included kids from Northbridge and several other outlying districts. There was a Northbridge community, even though the North Bridge itself was long gone.
But Cindy Belcher I did know. I corralled her next to her locker. It felt strange talking to her about Hank. She’d been so antagonistic.
She stared at me, blank-faced. Then said, “Why can’t we stick to school news the way we always did?”
“You mean fluff?” I said.
That gave her an idea. “We could start a gossip column!”
“Do we need more fluff?”
“It’s what people are interested in. Who cares about the right to ... I can’t say it.”
“Cindy, it’s an important issue. We don’t want to be fluffheads all the time. And by some strange coincidence, now Hank is there himself, or he might be. He’s still unconscious. Did you know that? I think we should go ahead with his plans.”
Her lips moved very slightly. I imagined her saying “It serves him right,” but I had no idea what she actually said.
“Okay, that’s up to you,” I told her. “I’ll see what the others want to do, and Mr. Geyer. We can meet—”
“Hey, I’m late for class!” She rushed off.
I was late, too. She didn’t even wait to hear me out. For all I cared, she could drop the whole newspaper thing.
I knew I should talk to Mr. Geyer, but it was hard to get hold of him before three o’clock. I didn’t see how he could object if we wanted to keep things going.
At three, I found him busily scooping papers into his briefcase. He wore a rumpled blue shirt that looked as if he’d slept in it. His socks didn’t match and he seemed in a hurry. I didn’t have much time either. Ben would be waiting for me. It was a real pain not having my own transportation.
“Mr. Geyer, I assume we’re going ahead with the newspaper even though Hank is, um—in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”
“Maddie Canfield. I was here last week. That was my first time. I know you left early, and Hank and I were—I mean, he was with me. In my car . . .”
“Oh, you’re the one.”
“Yes. So I was wondering are we going ahead with it?”
I fidgeted while he thought it over. Maybe I didn’t really need to consult with him. He seemed more of a background figure. It was Hank who ran the show. Except for now.
Finally he spoke. “Are you taking over the editorship?”
“Well, no. I just thought—don’t we have an assistant editor?” I thought we did but couldn’t remember who it was. All those people were so new to me.
He laughed. “Besides Hank? For this paper, he’s the sun and the moon and the stars.”
What an endorsement! Maybe Geyer really wanted to write poetry instead of teaching chemistry, or steering a bunch of kids on a school paper. I said, “Cindy Belcher thinks we should have a gossip column.”
“Then let her do it. She’s the only one who’s come up with any ideas.”
That wasn’t true. I said, “I kind of liked Hank’s idea. It has depth. It’s not just fluff.”
How else would you describe a gossip column?
Geyer was still on Hank’s idea. “It’s very controversial.”
“That’s what gives it depth. It’s a serious subject.”
He pondered the idea. I hoped Ben wouldn’t leave without me. Home was a long way off.
“I’d be happy to carry on with it,” I said. “If you approve. Hank did a lot of research and I’ve been doing some, too.”
“You have? Really? Then go ahead, if that’s what you want.”
By myself? Research? Write it? I could do that. But—“Who should I submit it to?”
“Me, I suppose.” He looked up at the wall clock and closed his briefcase.
“Who’s going to put it all together?” I asked. “I don’t know how to do layouts and stuff.”
“We’ll manage.” He gave me a quick smile and was out the door.
I hurried down to the parking lot. As soon as Ben saw me coming, he turned on his engine. I got in back because Cree was in t
he front. “Sorry,” I said.
Cree turned around. “We’ve been waiting hours. What happened?”
“Hours? I thought it was more like five minutes. I had to talk to Mr. Geyer. The whole newspaper is up in the air.”
Neither of them seemed terribly concerned about that. For most people, the paper was not a big priority.
Ben drove me home first. I knew he wanted time alone with Cree.
But Cree was my friend, too, so she stayed at our place awhile. We munched on chips and dips and put the finishing touches on our history project.
We were just showing it to Ben when the phone rang. Again there was no name on the ID. And no one spoke, or if they did, I couldn’t hear. Instead, a Sousa march blasted from the answering machine.
It was one we used to play at football games.
Didn’t that prove it? As Rhoda said, a phone call could be made from anywhere.
How could he do that? He was supposed to be in New Hampshire. How would he know when I’d be home? Nervously I looked out the window.
All I saw were rhododendrons. No yellow car with oversize tires. Our driveway made a sharp turn onto Lake Road and we had those bushes everywhere. I almost couldn’t see the road from our house and I was not about to go outside.
I couldn’t forget that time in October when he broke in. It was just after I changed schools. He tried to drag me away even as my family surrounded us. What was he planning to do with me? I didn’t want to know. He might have gotten away with it except Ben and the dogs peeled him off me while Daddy called the police.
Didn’t he know my family would come to the rescue? And what about those two big dogs? Why would he be so stupid? I couldn’t help thinking it was mostly a demonstration to show how madly, desperately in love he was. If that’s love, I can do without it.
The phone calls and music kept up. Ben said, “Isn’t that one of your band pieces? Did you play it at games?”
Ben never went to football games. He couldn’t stand the noise.
“All the time,” I said.
He erased the so-called message. “You’d better watch it. Doesn’t this bother you at all?”
“A little. But I have it on good authority that Evan is safely tucked away in New Hampshire.” If Glyn wasn’t good authority, who was?
The Long Sleep Page 5
