by E. E. Cooper
Beth jumped off the belt and motioned for me to follow her over to the bikes. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re kicking ass this year, but the Spartans are better. They’ve got a killer offense. Did you see the videos of their past games? And they’re solid; at least two-thirds of their team is seniors, so they’re more experienced. They don’t get thrown easily. And their goalkeeper—that girl is a freaking tank. She practically fills the entire net, and she can move. Shit, she’s like on speed.”
My enthusiasm drained. “So you think we’re going to lose?”
Beth snorted and punched me in the shoulder. “I didn’t say that. I said they’re the better team.” She jumped up on one of the bikes. “Are you going to just stand there?”
I got on and started pedaling, my quads protesting. “I don’t get it. If they’re better, how are we going to beat them?”
Beth held up a finger. “Pay attention, future captain: I’m about to teach you a few things. You’ll need this wisdom for when you’re the leader.”
“There’s no way to be sure I’ll be captain next year,” I said.
“Of course you will, but that’s not the point; this advice is good for life in general.”
I slowed down and took a drink from my water bottle. “Okay, teach me.”
“There are almost always going to be teams that are better than you. Or people that are better than you—after all, there can only be one person on top at any one time, so that means the rest of the time you’re in second place at best.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.”
“So the secret is to figure out how to play the game.”
I screwed up my face. “I don’t get it.”
“Here’s the thing: if someone is better than you at defense, attacking it directly means you’re going to lose. If you go head-to-head on a skill where you are lacking, ninety-nine times out of a hundred it will be a huge mistake.”
“So you attack where they’re weaker,” I said.
Beth smiled, her eyebrows bopping up and down. “That’s part of it. Look to chip away at their advantages. If they play a better fast game, you’ve got to look at how to slow it down, get them to play your kind of ball.”
I chewed on my lip, thinking it over. “And what if they don’t have any weaknesses?”
She held up a finger. “Excellent question. I’ll show you. Push my hand.” She held up her palm like she was stopping traffic, the whole time keeping up her speed on the stationary bike.
I pressed my palm against hers, enjoying the zing I felt when our skin touched. Beth pushed against my hand, thrusting mine back. “Is that the best ya got?”
I pushed back. The two of us swayed a bit on our bikes, our strength evenly matched. Then Beth stopped, her arm going slack. I was still pushing, so I fell forward, catching myself with one hand on the floor just before I completely stumbled off the bike.
Beth laughed. She reached down to help me get my balance. “That’s the secret right there.”
“What, trick the other team so they fall?” I asked.
“If you can’t win a straight battle, stop trying. Be willing to let yourself go. Let that person beat themselves.”
“But what if they don’t fall like I did?”
Brit smiled. “Then you have to pull out the big guns and sacrifice yourself.” She saw my raised eyebrow. “Take a hit, burn yourself out doing a full-on run, take a penalty if you need to, but your sacrifice will inspire others to step up. Do something unexpected and get them off their game—if they’re off their game they might make a mistake. And you never know what might happen then.” Beth winked and then leaned over and kissed me.
Beth’s advice ran around in my head. Was it that simple? Maybe the way to beat Brit was by giving up. I thought about what Dr. Sherman had pointed out to me: that what I had been doing wasn’t working.
In English class last year we’d read Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. One of the girls in the class had gotten frustrated and wanted to know why the two families couldn’t get along. Our teacher had told us, Capulets have to be Capulets; Montagues have to be Montagues.
Brit had to be Brit, but I didn’t have to stay the same. If I kept pushing back I would never win, but there was the chance that if I gave up Brit just might beat herself. But it might call for sacrifice. An inkling of an idea began to grow in my mind. I almost rejected it entirely. It was crazy. Insane.
Dangerous.
I held up a fist of sand and let the wind blow it out of my hand. It was time to do this differently.
I opened the stall door and jumped back when I saw Brit leaning against the sink. I’d managed to dodge her all morning and hadn’t answered a single one of the texts that she’d sent over the weekend. But even while taking my exam I hadn’t been able to forget her, and now it was as if by thinking about her I’d summoned her like an evil demon.
“I haven’t heard from you,” she said. “I don’t appreciate you making me hunt you down.”
I walked past her to the sink and washed my hands.
“I can’t believe you want things this way.” Brit shook her head. “It breaks my heart. I’ve lost Beth, and I feel like I’m losing you too.”
I knew she was trying to needle me, get me to say something, but I wasn’t going to bite. I hadn’t texted her or reached out all weekend. I knew she found my silence annoying. More than annoying . . . disturbing. She needed me to push back to hold her up.
“My parents said you’ll be going to a mental health program as soon as school gets out,” she said. “The downside is they tell me problems like yours rarely get better. I told them I’m not willing to give up on you.” She turned away from me and primped in the mirror. “Have you thought about what I said on Friday?”
“That’s all I’ve done, think about it and what you did to Beth.”
Brit looked disappointed. “It breaks my heart that you think so little of me.”
“Spare me,” I said cutting her off. “I’m not taping this, so you don’t need to keep up the act. I don’t even have my phone on me. It’s in my locker because of exams.” I turned my pockets out. I raised my shirt so she could see my bare chest. “No wire.” I could see the wheels in Brit’s mind turning. “No one is ever going to know we had this talk, so don’t bother to tell your story all over again—I don’t want to hear it.”
“Do you think if we really had a private discussion I’d admit something?”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it. I don’t need you to admit anything. I was taping you in the art room because I wanted to show it to other people. I don’t need proof. I know the truth. You killed Beth, and you’re going to get away with it.”
“I’m not getting away with anything,” Brit said.
I cocked my head as if I were able to read her mind. “I bet you’re not. You might lie to everyone else, but I have to believe if there is a shred of humanity inside of you, even the smallest bit, you know what you did. Even if no one else ever knows, you know the truth. You killed your best friend and you covered it up. You’re a shitty excuse for a human.”
“You’re never going to prove any of that,” Brit said. Her voice was calm, but her left eyelid twitched with a tic.
“I know. Took me a while to figure it out, but you’re right. I give.”
“So you’re going to let me win?” Brit’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“No one in this situation wins. I’m just not going to play your game anymore. I think messing with me keeps your mind occupied, keeps you from spending too much time with your own thoughts. So I’m out. You don’t need to worry about me trying to catch you in a lie. Now you can just live with it.”
“That’s it, you’re just going to give up?” Brit leaned against the pink tile wall, trying to look casual, but I could tell there was something off about how she held herself. As if all of her muscles were tensed.
“Yep. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I’m talking to my parents; I’m going to see if they’ll homesch
ool me next year. There’s no point in me coming back.”
Brit smirked. “But if you drop out, you won’t be captain of the team anymore. Beth had been so proud of you too.”
I raised my chin in defiance. “Yeah, she had been, and she’d be proud of me now. What was it you told me? Field hockey is just a game. I’m moving on. I may not be able to do anything about what you did, but I don’t have to stand by you.”
“You can’t just move on,” Brit spit. The tic above her eye kept firing. She seemed offended by my calm.
I laughed at her. “But I can. Don’t you get it? It’s all moving on. You may be queen of Northside, but it’s already fading. You graduate in a week. Do you really think people are going to be talking about you next year? Whatever popularity you spent all these years building up doesn’t matter once school ends. The real world doesn’t care that you were a big deal in high school. The media doesn’t care about your back-from-the-dead story anymore; there’s new stuff, more interesting than you. Your book deal fell through, and you couldn’t get a reporter to follow you around now if you tried. In your heart you know you aren’t going to matter at Cornell either, and you can’t stand it. Your big dream of doing something great is just that—a dream.”
“I will too.”
“No, you won’t. Ivy League schools are full of people who were the top of their class, captains of different teams, who volunteered in some remote African village, or otherwise impressed the hell out of the admissions staff. Your miracle recovery isn’t going to set you apart. It’s not even anything you did; it’s something that happened to you. You won’t be special, Brit; you’re going to be one of many people who used to be a big deal. Welcome to the bigger pond. You didn’t even get in on your own merits.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Brit said. “You think you can upset me and get me to say something.” She sighed. “You’re so transparent it’s pathetic.”
“But you are upset. Maybe not as much as a normal person, but it bothers you.”
“What bothers me is how you’re acting,” Brit said.
I grabbed a wad of brown paper towels from the dispenser. “What is it you told me that one time? You like to choose your own reality, but whatever you want to believe doesn’t change the facts. Cornell only took you because of your connections. You aren’t exactly a rare breed. You’re pretty, but not an outstanding beauty. You’re smart, but you’re no genius. You’re good at sports, but you’re not some Olympic athlete. The only thing that made you stick out was what happened to you. Whatever claim to fame you made by coming back from the dead is already fading, and you know the reason you haven’t been able to stay in the limelight?” She stared at me, breathing heavy. The vein above her eye throbbed. “You won’t stay in the limelight because the truth is you’re boring.” I dragged out the word boring, giving it extra emphasis, and enjoying how she flinched from the term.
“Shut up.”
“You know the real benefit of a good friend? They push you to be a better person. Beth made you a better person. You killed the one thing that made you interesting.” I shook my head. “She believed in you, that you could be someone. She actually liked you, and you wiped that goodness from this earth.”
“I said shut up,” Brit repeated.
I carefully dried my hands as if I were a surgeon. I tossed the wad of paper towels toward the trash, and they went in with a swoosh. Ten points. “Fine. I’ll shut up, but when you lie in bed at night, I hope you think about all of this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look like she didn’t care, but I could tell I’d gotten to her. I’d pierced that armor shell.
I stepped past her and pushed the door. The tension that had been wound around me like some kind of evil poison ivy from a fairy tale disappeared. I felt as if I could take a deep breath for the first time in forever. I paused and turned back to Brit. “You’d better hope nine hundred fifty million Hindus are wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because karma can be a bitch,” I said, and then walked out.
I don’t believe in ghosts, but I knew if Beth were watching me from the beyond she would be cheering for me.
I felt good for the first time in forever. I practically skipped down the hall and then I saw Sara standing by her locker. I stopped short. She saw my gaze, but then looked away.
I didn’t let myself hesitate in case I lost my nerve. I crossed the hall, and Sara flinched away from me. I could tell it was taking everything she had not to run.
“What do you want?” she asked with her chin thrust up in the air.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I said.
Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. She looked over my shoulder and I could tell she didn’t trust me, thought I was up to something.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry about everything that happened. I wasn’t directly responsible, but I didn’t do anything to stop it either. I thought I had good reasons, but I’m not so sure anymore,” I admitted.
Sara swallowed hard and I could tell she wanted to cry. Her eyes were already red and swollen. She’d been crying a lot lately. “Do you think saying sorry makes what happened okay?”
“I know it doesn’t, but I promise you I am going to try to fix it.”
“What are you talking about?” Sara asked.
I didn’t answer and instead just walked away. I couldn’t tell her, but she’d find out soon enough. Everyone would. The next step I had to take scared me, but I was now more certain than ever that it was the right thing to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I brought the dark lavender lilacs to Beth’s grave. The bouquet, along with the thick glass vase they came in, had cost almost fifty bucks, but I wanted to do this right. Besides, I wasn’t likely to need a lot of cash where I was going, so I might as well splurge. Once I’d put down the flowers I traced Beth’s name carved in the granite with my index finger. The stone felt hot from the late-afternoon sun.
The confrontation with Brit seemed to have banished the fog that had taken up permanent residence in my head. Or maybe it was the apology to Sara, but either way, it felt like I was thinking clearly for the first time in a long time.
I’d avoided talking to anyone the rest of the day. Not that people were exactly beating a path to my door to hang out. I could still hear whispers as I walked past, like the quiet rustle of mice in the walls. At lunch I’d snagged a table in the far corner of the library where the bookcases hid me from sight. I could hear groups of people drilling one another or whispering horror stories of exams that were already over, but I had the corner all to myself. All the windows in the library were thrown open, and there was the smallest hint of a breeze. I lifted my hair off my neck and let the wind cool me. I’d brought my books, but I didn’t bother to study. After tomorrow none of it would matter. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be allowed to finish the rest of my exams.
“I wanted to come and see you one more time.” I sat on the ground next to Beth’s grave, the grass tickling the back of my legs. I hadn’t been there since the day I’d come with Brit and she’d taken a photo of the two of us. It seemed like something that had happened years in the past instead of just weeks ago. I plucked at the thick lawn, inhaling the fresh, clean smell.
The cemetery was abandoned; I was the only person there. A few of the graves were covered with some fading plastic floral arrangements, but Beth’s would be the only one with fresh flowers that I could see. There was a grave a few rows over that had two plastic geese figures that were dressed up in pastel Easter-themed dresses, complete with frilly mobcaps on their heads. I suspected there was an entire wardrobe of geese outfits, and in just a month or so it would be time to Velcro on their Fourth of July wear.
There didn’t seem to be any of Beth’s spirit in this place—it was too quiet. Even the rush of cars on the road beyond the wall was muffled by the row of pine trees. Beth had always been in motion; she seemed to travel with her own sound track, the kind of m
usic where it was impossible to stand still. She was always laughing or singing or calling out encouragement on the field. Whatever had made Beth who she was, it wasn’t here, and yet I still felt it was important to come one more time. I wasn’t sure when I would be able to come again.
I’d set things in motion today by pulling away from Brit, but it wouldn’t be enough. Sacrifice was required.
I was going to confess to killing Beth.
Even though everyone was sure I was crazy, a confession of murder wasn’t the kind of thing the police could ignore. If anything, the fact that I was mentally unhinged should give them all the more reason to make sure I wasn’t telling the truth. They wouldn’t know what I might be capable of doing. They’d have to check it out.
I’d tell them I’d killed her, but not alone. I’d tell them Brit was involved. We’d done the deed in Britney’s basement and then covered it up together. Now I could no longer keep the secret. The guilt was eating me alive.
I watched enough CSI to know there were all sorts of tests they would run. I was certain Britney had killed Beth in that space, and if there was even a drop of blood they would find it. I’d tell them how we hid her body in the wine cooler until we could get rid of it. They would check there too, spray chemicals, use blue lights, and peer in every corner. They’d sniff out the truth. I had to stop waiting for everyone else to fix my problems and do it myself.
I’d tell them the entire time Britney had been “dead” we’d been in touch. Plotting together. Seeing if we could get away with it. Maybe they could find a way to get our chats back or find something else in the computers that was unexplained. I’d tell them how I knew she’d been hiding in East Lansing. And even if she and Nicole hadn’t been close, Brit must have made a mistake somewhere with someone. Even she couldn’t be that good. There would be a conversation she had that didn’t add up. A time she’d used her real name. They’d check out Nicole’s room in Lizard’s house too. Who knows what other evidence she might have left behind?
They would do all the things they should have done when Brit first came back but never did. They might even want her to take a lie detector test. Oh, how much would I pay to be in the room for that? Watching the detectives hook her up to the machine, the delicate dials and sensors swinging wildly, broadcasting that she was nothing more than a huge liar.
