“Sal was sixteen years old,” he said. “He was on the honor roll last year despite the fact that he held down a job to help support his family. The people I’ve talked to who knew Sal all liked him. They say that he was a reliable, responsible person, that he had a good sense of humor, that he was nice to everyone, and that he helped out whenever he could. His parents are devastated by his death, as I imagine any of your parents would be if it had been you. A lot of you knew Sal. You were in classes with him. You saw him around school—maybe in the cafeteria or the library or just in passing in the halls. Maybe you ate at the McDonald’s where he worked.”
He paused and looked around again. “I’ve talked to many of you personally,” he said. “But I’m asking again—if anyone in this room saw anything—and I mean anything—out on the street the day that Sal was killed, even if you’re not sure it’s important, I’m asking you to talk to me. If you know anything or have heard anything, talk to me. Or, if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, I’m asking you to call the TIPS line.” He told us the phone number, and Ms. Rather put it up on an overhead screen behind him. “You don’t have to give your name if you don’t want to. And there’s no call display on the phones there. We won’t know who’s calling. It’s one hundred percent anonymous. So I’m asking you, if you know anything or saw anything, let us know. Help us find the person who killed Sal San Miguel. Please.”
He stepped back then, and Ms. Rather repeated the phone number and the fact that calls could be made anonymously. She said, “Imagine if this happened to your brother or your sister. Imagine if this happened to your best friend. If you knew something, you’d tell. Sal didn’t have any brothers or sisters. But he has parents who love him very much. And I know he had friends. Good friends. I know that some of them are right here in this room. And I hope that if any of you know or saw anything, you’ll do the right thing.”
I heard someone sobbing softly to my right. When I turned my head, I saw that it was Kim. But you know what? I didn’t care.
I had math after the assembly, but I didn’t even bother to open my book. By lunchtime I thought I would go crazy. I went to Rebecca’s locker to find her, but when I got there, all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. I had to get outside and get some air. I turned and ran for the stairs just as Rebecca rounded the corner and spotted me.
“Mike?” Rebecca called. “Where are you going?”
People turned to look at me—and all I could do was wonder if any of them had been out on the street last Thursday, if any of them had turned and looked at Sal the way they were looking at me now, looking, but not doing anything. It was a good thing Mr. Gianneris wasn’t around. If he’d seen the way I raced down those stairs, shoving people out of my way, he’d have handed me a detention for sure. I walked and walked and walked until I knew there was no way I was going to make it back to school on time for my next period.
Sure enough, I was twenty minutes late and got tagged by the hall monitor. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t concentrate. I might as well have skipped the afternoon, too.
Rebecca was waiting at my locker after school.
“Are you okay, Mike?” she said.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Because you heard that announcement on Friday, right, Mike? The one that said if anyone was having trouble, you know, with what happened, with dealing with it, they could talk to someone about it. About what they’re feeling, I mean.”
“I’m fine, Rebecca.”
She watched me open my locker.
“When they made that announcement, I thought about you, Mike.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulder and rooted around in it for a few moments before she found her school agenda. She opened it and handed me a slip of paper with her neat printing on it.
“What’s this?”
“I wrote down the name and phone number of the counselor they mentioned. I thought maybe you might want to—”
“You thought I might want to what? Talk to a shrink?”
“It’s a counselor, not a shrink,” Rebecca said. “It’s someone people can talk to about what they’re feeling and about what grieving is.”
“I’m okay, Rebecca,” I said. But I was starting to feel all tight inside.
“You’ve been acting different, Mike.”
“Different? Jeez, my best friend just died. Doesn’t everyone act different when something like that happens?”
“Well, sure,” she said. But something was bothering her. I could tell by the little lines between her eyes and by the way she kept looking at me.
“What?” I said. I was trying not to get irritated, mainly because I like Rebecca. If it had been anyone else, I’m not sure what I would have said or done.
“Don’t get mad, Mike,” she said.
“Mad? About what?”
“Promise?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay, I promise,” I said. The tight feeling inside me got tighter.
“It’s just that you attacked Teddy on Friday and again at the funeral,” Rebecca said slowly. I wondered who had told her what had happened at the funeral. I sure hadn’t. “And you made Kim cry.”
“What? When did I do that?”
“On Thursday, after she told you what she told the police. She thinks you blame her for what happened to Sal.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Well, it sounded like that was what you were saying. I was there, Mike. I heard you. You more or less said that Kim should have done something when Teddy and them started in on Staci. But she’s just one person, Mike.”
“So what if that’s what I said?” Why was she sticking up for Kim anyway? “It’s true, isn’t it? Are you telling me you want me to apologize to her even though she was right there but she didn’t do anything to help him?”
“You know what I think?” Rebecca said. “I think you got mad at Kim because of your history book.”
“What?”
“You lost your history book, so you had to borrow mine. Then you forgot mine at home when I needed it.”
“I gave it back to you on Friday, Rebecca.”
“I know. But that’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“You forgot my book at home, so you had to bail on your plans to go downtown with Sal so he could take the test for his driver’s license.” She laid a hand on my arm. “If you hadn’t lost your history book or if you hadn’t forgotten mine at home, you and Sal would have been downtown. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near Teddy and the rest of them. He wouldn’t have gone to help Staci—he wouldn’t even have known that anyone was hassling her.”
I stared at her. She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t been thinking ever since it had happened, and she didn’t even know the whole story. But it’s one thing to think something privately in your own head and a whole other thing to find out that someone else was thinking the same thing, that someone else was doing the same thing I was doing—holding me responsible. I don’t know why—well, maybe I do—but it made me mad.
“Are you’re saying it was my fault, Rebecca?”
“No. I’m just saying …” She hesitated, like she was searching for the right words. “I’m just saying that I understand how you feel. I mean, you’re probably thinking that if you hadn’t forgotten my book at home, things would have been different. And maybe that’s why you’re so mad at everyone.”
“I’m mad at everyone because nobody did anything to help Sal,” I said. “And because probably someone who goes to our school—or maybe even a whole bunch of kids who go to our school—killed him, and so far nothing is happening.”
“I understand,” Rebecca said. “Which is why I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to someone. It could really help.”
I had to bite my tongue. I like Rebecca. I like her more than I’ve ever liked any girl. Maybe I even like her more than I’ve ever liked anyone, period. But she was driving me crazy. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
I just wanted the cops to find out who had killed Sal. I wanted them to arrest that person and put him in prison for the rest of his life—except that if it was a kid, if it was Teddy, for example, that wasn’t going to happen. No way he’d get that long. He’d be out in a couple of years—assuming the cops got their act together and caught him in the first place. But Sal would stay dead forever.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
Then … wait a minute.
“How did you know that I was planning to go downtown with Sal?” I said. “I don’t remember telling you.”
“You didn’t,” Rebecca said. I saw a flash of something in her eyes—like she was mad I hadn’t told her. “Imogen mentioned it.”
“Imogen? You talked to Imogen?” The only good thing about Imogen was that she had transferred schools this year, so I didn’t have to see her face every day.
“I called her after it happened,” Rebecca said. “And I talked to her at the funeral.”
“You called her? What for?”
Rebecca took her hand off my arm and looked closely at me.
“Didn’t Sal tell you about Imogen?” she said.
I started jamming stuff into my locker, mainly so I wouldn’t have to look at Rebecca.
“Tell me what?” I said.
“Imogen said he was going to tell you.” She touched my arm again and gave it a little tug so that there was nothing else I could do—I had to look at her. “Sal was going out with her again, Mike.”
I looked at her and said, “What are you talking about? Imogen tried to get me arrested. She spread all kinds of rumors about me. She accused me of beating up Sal. She practically accused me of—” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you called her.”
Rebecca stood up straighter now. Her cheeks turned pink.
“She was going out with Sal,” she said. “They’d been seeing each other since the summer, and Sal was trying to get up his courage to tell you.”
“His courage? Now you’re saying Sal was afraid to talk to me?”
“Well, I guess he knew how you’d react …”
“I can’t believe you called her, Rebecca.”
Rebecca drew in a deep breath. I could see she was working hard at staying calm. “I knew she still liked him, Mike. I knew she was upset when they broke up. So I called her to see how she was doing. And I don’t need you to yell at me about it.”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“Yes, you were. You’re mad at me, and I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Oh, and I did, is that it? If I hadn’t lost my history book and hadn’t borrowed yours and then forgotten it at home, Sal would still be alive? Isn’t that what you said?”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
“But it’s what you said. You think this is all my fault.”
“No, I don’t,” she said. She seemed stunned by the suggestion.
I slammed my locker door. The bang reverberated up and down the hall. A lot of people turned to look.
Rebecca stared at me for a moment. Her lower lip was trembling, and her eyes got all watery. But she didn’t cry. Instead, she pulled herself up straight and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She didn’t say a word as she turned and marched down the hall.
Jeez, what was I doing?
I jammed my lock through the loop in my locker door and chased after her.
“Rebecca, wait,” I said.
But she was already halfway down the stairs.
“Hey, Rebecca!”
I ran after her—and collided with Mr. Gianneris.
Terrific. I waited, but he didn’t get mad at me the way he usually did when he caught me breaking some stupid rule—like, no running on the stairs. Instead he said, “Slow it down, huh, Mike?” and let it go at that.
By the time I got outside, Rebecca was gone.
I started to walk over to Rebecca’s house but ended up taking a detour. Actually, I took two. First, I crossed the street and stood at the opening to the alley where they had found Sal. I stood there for a long time, feeling all shaky inside, before I finally made myself step into the alley. It ran straight for a couple of meters, then it made a sharp turn and ran behind the backs of stores and restaurants until it finally hit another main street. It also connected to other alleys. Kids cut through there all the time, some because it was a shortcut to get where they were going, others because it was somewhere to hang out where, mostly, people couldn’t see what you were doing.
I turned to leave. That’s when I noticed the big dark spot on the grey dust and gravel. At least, that’s what I thought it was at first. I was turning, I looked down, and I thought, dark spot. It took a moment until I realized what had made that spot so dark. Blood. Sal’s blood. I felt sick inside. I turned and ran out of the alley. I stood on the sidewalk, sweating and feeling like I was going to throw up. Then I decided to take a short walk so that I could calm down before I tried to talk to Rebecca.
I ended up a dozen blocks north of school, in the ravine that snaked for maybe five kilometers between a whole bunch of high-rise apartment buildings. It was nice and quiet in there. A person could think in there.
And that’s exactly what I did.
I thought.
The main thing I thought about was why Dave Jones had asked me if Sal had a weapon. Why would a guy like Sal have a weapon? Why would he even need one? But that’s what Dave had asked. He’d also asked me if Sal was being bullied. Had something been going on that I didn’t know about? Had someone being bullying Sal? Had it been so bad that Sal thought he needed some kind of weapon to protect himself?
Boy, and that opened the floodgates. Those two questions led to a dozen more, like:
Suppose that was true? Suppose Teddy had done more than just jab Sal a couple of times. Suppose he had threatened him in a way that really scared Sal? If he had, why hadn’t Sal told me? We were supposed to have been friends. But he’d gone back with Imogen, and the way Rebecca had put it, he’d been afraid to tell me. Was there other stuff he was afraid to tell me or didn’t want to tell me or didn’t trust me with? And if there was, what did that mean? I thought he was my best friend. Had that changed without me even noticing? Was it because of what I did after that convenience store robbery? But Vin had been way more involved than me, so if that was it, why had he started getting friendly with Vin again?
Then I thought, Listen to yourself, Mike. Sal is dead, and here you are feeling sorry for yourself because maybe Sal didn’t see you as his friend anymore, as if that even matters now. As if it’s important.
It wasn’t.
The only thing that was important was who had killed him.
Thinking about that made me wonder about a lot of things, like:
First, why had Sal gone into that alley? Had he been steering Staci in there, maybe to get her away from Teddy? If he had been, why hadn’t Staci seen what happened? Or had she? If she had, had she told the cops? No, that didn’t make sense. If Staci had seen what had happened and if she had told the cops, then the cops wouldn’t have come to school today to ask for everyone’s help. So that must mean she hadn’t seen anything. Either that, or she hadn’t told the cops what she saw. If she knew something that she wasn’t telling, what did that mean?
Second, if Sal was stabbed in that alley, then someone else was in there with him. Had that person gone into the alley after Sal? Was it Teddy? Was it one of Teddy’s gang? Was it a couple of them? If it was, someone must have seen them go in there—someone who so far hadn’t said anything to the police.
Or was it someone else, someone who was maybe waiting for Sal in the alley? I shook my head. That didn’t make sense. How could anyone possibly know that Sal was going to go into that particular alley on that particular day at that particular time? After all, Sal wasn’t even supposed to be there. He was supposed to be downtown, writing his driver’s license test. So it had to be someone who followed him into the alley. Followed him, killed him, and then got away.
I sat down on a rock that was set way back on the path. There was no one around. I put my head down on my knees, and just like that, I was crying.
Jeez.
CHAPTER NINE
Both Susan and Riel came into the front hall when I finally got home. Susan looked worried and relieved both at the same time. Riel looked worried and annoyed.
“Where have you been?” he said. “It’s been dark for over an hour. You missed supper. You didn’t call.”
“I took a walk,” I said.
“Taking a walk is one thing,” Riel said. “Worrying us sick is another.”
Susan touched his arm, and he stopped talking.
“Have you had anything to eat, Mike?” she said.
I shook my head.
“Are you hungry?”
“I guess.”
“Come into the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll get you some supper.”
I followed her inside. Riel came too. He sat across the table from me while Susan took down a plate and opened the fridge.
“Rebecca called,” he said. When I didn’t say anything, he said, “Is everything okay between you two?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. I don’t know.”
“At a time like this, it’s easy for everything to go off the rails, Mike,” Riel said. “Believe me, I know.”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t know, that his best friend hadn’t just been killed. Except that that wasn’t exactly true. One of Riel’s partners had been shot right in front of him. Riel had been shot, too, but he had survived. He’d stopped being a cop for a while after that. So I guess he had a pretty good idea what it felt like.
Susan slid a plate in front of me—lasagna and garlic bread. She put a glass of milk on the table, too.
Dead Silence Page 8
