by Jessie Rosen
Kit stayed completely silent. Laura wondered why the three of them were even at the diner together if they were just sitting there, looking like they all just lost their puppy.
Of course, she thought. They did all just lose their puppy. Something’s wrong with Charlie. That’s why they’re all together here, without him.
Laura didn’t know what to do in that moment. If she left, she’d have nowhere to go but home. Jeff’s party didn’t start for another hour. Plus, Charlie was part of her life, too. She obviously wasn’t going to get more info on his real whereabouts, but she decided she might as well sit with the group and think about him. After all, that’s all she would have done if she decided to go home.
But when Charlie didn’t show up at Jeff’s by 10:30 p.m., and then 11:00 p.m., and then 11:30 p.m., Laura decided that enough was enough. She drove straight to his apartment building and yelled his name until the front door buzzed, letting her into the complex. It was a crazy girlfriend move, but Laura didn’t care. She was frustrated and concerned.
Laura found the front door open. “I’m in here,” Charlie yelled from his bedroom. She walked in to find him lying on his back in the dark, still wearing his Danny Zucco costume. He didn’t even flinch when she walked in. It was like he was expecting her to show up. Something was obviously wrong.
“Charlie…what’s going on?” Laura asked. She sat down on the edge of his desk, keeping her distance from him at first, in case another, more vicious panic attack would happen if she pushed him too far.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m just really not feeling well.”
“Oh,” Laura said. “Maybe you have what your mom has?”
Charlie gave her a confused look, but then he just nodded. “I guess. You should go.”
“But I’m worried about you,” Laura said. “And if you’re sick, then let me help you.”
“You can’t help me,” Charlie said, closing his eyes.
“You’re right. I can’t do anything for you if you won’t let me. And I won’t do anything for you if you keep lying to me.” That got his attention. He looked up from his slumped-over position and directly into Laura’s eyes. “Listen, Charlie. You can lie to your teammates and friends and the whole freaking school if you want, but you cannot lie to me. That’s our deal. We were supposed to be our real selves with each other all the time, and you’re breaking that promise. I’ve been there for you and worried about you and I’m even trying to help you figure out who is doing these awful things to you, and this is a crappy way to repay me. So until you’re ready to be honest, I’ve got to go.”
Charlie had a strange, almost appreciative look on his face, like he was glad she just called him out on everything. Then he took a deep breath and said the last thing Laura expected to hear: “The police questioned me about Sarah Castro-Tanner this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Laura said. “What was that like?”
“Weird,” Charlie said. “I didn’t tell you this, but Sarah and I had these email exchanges before she died that were really scary. She…pretended to be this other girl. It was really messed up. But after she died I didn’t turn those over to the police, and I absolutely should have.” Charlie finally sat up from his bed and put his head in his hands.
“Okay,” Laura said. She had a thousand questions, but she was trying to be respectful of Charlie’s emotional state. “So how did the cops get the emails?”
“I turned them in. Since the cops reopened the case I thought the emails would shed light on what Sarah was really like: sick.”
“Wow,” Laura said. “So what did the cops ask you?”
“That’s the weird part,” Charlie said. “They only had one question, and it was a simple one: why did I send the emails in now?”
“One question?” Laura asked. Even Charlie had to admit that seemed unbelievable.
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I told them it was to help the case, now that it was open again, and they let me leave. Totally simple. But now I’m just thinking about everything Sarah did to me and having a hard time, like, processing it all.”
“Right,” Laura said.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Laura hadn’t meant for there to be a tone in her response, but she apparently couldn’t hold back. She didn’t believe a word Charlie was saying.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she said after thinking for a few seconds. “I want to help you, and I want to believe you, but I don’t.”
“What?! Why would I lie to you?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t wait around to find out. Good luck. I’m here when you’re ready to really talk.”
Laura didn’t look back to see how her words hit Charlie; she just walked out the front door and directly toward her car. But as she did, something across the street caught her eye. It was the reflective stickers on a bike across the street from Charlie’s house. Laura was curious enough to start walking more slowly around to her own driver’s-side door to see if she could tell who was sitting on the bike, but the second she saw the outline of the person’s face, Laura quickened her pace and hopped in. It was Becca.
November 9
Charlie
On the day after Halloween, Laura texted Charlie that she was going to California for a family wedding, starting Monday. Apparently she hadn’t been planning to go because she didn’t want to leave him, but her parents insisted when they learned how upset she was about everything going on with Charlie. Charlie couldn’t blame her, but he suffered through a miserable week without her at school.
On Monday he tried to sit down at the lunch table, but the look on Amanda’s face made him turn immediately in the other direction. Later she texted that she thought they should all keep their distance in case undercover cops were lingering in the halls. Charlie spent the next three days eating with Coach Stanley as they watched tapes featuring their opponents for the week.
This was the week that soccer scholarship letters were supposed to start coming in from colleges, but so far Stanley had nothing to report and Charlie was too afraid to ask. They both knew that he’d been playing inconsistently for the past month. Twice, Coach pulled him for errors on the field, and his goal average for the season was lower than it had been sophomore and junior year. Local recruits from UVA, Georgetown, and Harvard—a dream Charlie couldn’t even imagine coming true—were hidden among the bleachers at those games, but even that motivation could not pull Charlie out of his own head and onto the field. After the most recent game, Coach asked him to stay after for a talk.
“I need you to focus, Sanders, or I’m going to have to pull you off the field,” he said. It was the first warning like that Charlie had received in his entire soccer career.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t worth getting into with Coach. He didn’t tolerate personal issues as it was, plus Charlie’s future was still in his hands.
“If there’s a problem, get help—fast.”
“I’ll be fine,” Charlie said, but he could tell from the look on Coach’s face that they both knew that wasn’t true.
Charlie’s life had become a series of solo walks to boring classes where he could barely focus, and hours of soccer practice where he tried unsuccessfully to force the stress away by pushing his body to the limits. If someone from outside Englewood came and watched him for a day, they’d think he was a friendless loser. His only hope was that Laura would take him back so he’d have one person by his side.
Charlie had hoped that her time away would give her space and help her forgive him, but on the Sunday she got back, he received a text suggesting the exact opposite:
Home and did some thinking. I need to take a break until I feel more comfortable with you.
Charlie hurled his cellphone across the room, then ran out to the garage to work out his frustrations.
He didn’t respond to Laura’s text that night and gave her nothing more than a “hey” in English class on Monday. If she wanted space, he was going to comply. On Wednesday of that we
ek, she finally broke the ice, though it wasn’t at all what Charlie was expecting to hear.
“I might have something to talk to you about later this week,” Laura said at the end of English.
“What about?” he asked.
“About the messages you were getting,” she said, “have there been any more?” Charlie perked up immediately. His first thought was relief that Laura still cared about him enough to think about the pranks. His second was that now he had to be honest about the fact that they had not stopped.
“Yes,” Charlie whispered. “I got one while you were gone.”
“What of?” Laura asked.
“It was a picture taken from inside my car…of my car stereo playing a song. This time it came via text. I deleted every single app on my phone, but whoever it is still found me.”
“God, that’s creepy,” she said. “I’m sorry.” The caring tone was back in her voice. “What was the song?”
“That Miley Cyrus one, ‘Can’t Stop’ or something?”
Laura’s face turned from worried to confused.
“Weird,” she said. “That song hasn’t been on the radio in forever.” She quickly pulled out her phone and searched something. “Yeah. It came out in the summer, almost two years ago.”
Charlie didn’t need to say what he was thinking; they both knew. That was the summer before Sarah died.
“Maybe someone didn’t just get in your car…” Laura said. “Maybe they’ve had that picture for a really long time.”
Charlie felt his chest tighten again. It had become a common feeling at this point. He knew how to will it away by taking a quick breath and pushing the fear or stress back down into his stomach. He wondered if Laura could see him doing that right now.
She was right, of course. Someone probably had taken that shot from inside his car just like they’d done with the other recordings. But for the first time since he started to receive the cryptic messages, a new possibility struck him: Sarah could have taken the videos and picture. All three of the creepy messages could make sense from that lens.
Miller yelled at Charlie before they left to meet Sarah that night, but maybe she knew they were doing that and was somehow recording? Charlie’s toast would have been easy for her to capture by just hiding her phone under the table. Maybe she’d even taped it on purpose with them watching as some sort of memory? Charlie couldn’t remember. And now the song from inside the car. It must have been playing as they drove out to the bridge.
What if Sarah Castro-Tanner was the original source of every single piece of content, and then she texted them to someone she knew throughout the night to eventually frame him or something? Charlie wanted to dismiss the idea instantly. She didn’t know what was coming that night, why would she have taken videos and photos? Then another realization hit him: maybe it was because she was bragging about the night she was going to spend with Charlie and his crew. And now whoever had the shots was using them against him because they thought he had something to do with her death. It all made sense, but it didn’t get Charlie any closer to figuring out the source, and he definitely couldn’t share all that information with Laura.
“I found out something interesting about my editor, Becca, but I want to check out more before I tell you what I know,” Laura said.
That certainly didn’t connect. Charlie didn’t even know Becca’s last name. Besides, she was younger.
“Can you tell me what you do know now?” Charlie asked anxiously.
“No, I’m sorry. I have to be honest with you, Charlie. I’m not sure I trust you. And if I’m wrong about Becca, it’s not fair to start rumors. She’s my friend.”
I’m not sure I trust you. Those words hit Charlie hard because he knew they were fair. He still wasn’t telling Laura everything he knew about that night. She didn’t know that Sarah had been with him and his friends before she died, and she didn’t know why. Now Laura was out trying to help solve the identity of the mystery person, and he wasn’t even giving her all the information she might need.
Charlie was silent, but he promised himself that when the time was right, he would come clean to Laura. She was trying to help him; he could trust her. And more importantly, if he didn’t tell someone everything flying around in his mind, he was going to explode.
“Let me have a conversation with Becca,” Laura said, “then we can talk.”
“Thank you,” Charlie said sincerely. “You’re the only person helping me.”
Laura reached down and wrapped her hand around his. “I know there are still things you’re not telling me, Charlie, but I really, truly believe it’s because you’re afraid of getting blamed for something that you didn’t do.”
Charlie couldn’t believe how clear and correct Laura was about the whole thing. He had been right about her all along—she really did see the truth in him, even if he was keeping some of the details from her.
He knew they were supposed to be on a break, but in that moment he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and giving Laura a kiss, and he was thrilled when she didn’t pull away.
* * *
Later that day, Charlie sat alone in the library looking up a romantic spot in one of the surrounding towns where he could take Laura to talk. After everything she was doing for him, it was time to tell her more of the truth. He wasn’t exactly sure how much he would say, but he wanted to find a nice, quiet place where they could bring takeout from the Italian restaurant that she loved, one they’d gone to on an early date.
There hadn’t been any more contact from the police since that interview over a week ago, and even though the mystery person had still taunted him, that was not the same as more threats to the police. It was already past the time when whoever was behind all the messages claimed they would release everything they knew to the authorities, and that hadn’t happened. Maybe this was all a giant bluff intended to make him confess? That was the only silver lining Charlie could think of as he tried to focus on the computer screen—that and the idea of having Laura fully in his life again.
After a few minutes, Charlie looked up to see Principal Hayden standing next to one of the two old librarians. Hayden asked the shorter, older one a question. She looked around the room and pointed straight in his direction. Charlie’s stomach jumped into his chest. Typically he wouldn’t be worried about Hayden or any other administrator coming to find him—between student council and soccer he was a regular in the main office—but based on everything going on, Charlie was nervous, and the look on Hayden’s face did not help.
Those butterflies were nothing compared to the panic that set in when Charlie stepped into Principal Hayden’s office and saw Detective Pierson leaning up against the wall.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said. “I had a feeling we’d bump into each other again.” Charlie felt his chest tighten and his body turned from cold to burning hot. The friendly tone in the detective’s voice was gone.
“Charlie, why don’t you take a seat?” Principal Hayden said. “We have some things to show you that are very concerning to us both.”
They have the rest of the emails, Charlie thought. He couldn’t figure out how, but nothing made sense anymore. Whoever was out to get him had some serious spy skills. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had a personal investigator following him around 24/7 at this point.
Charlie’s mind raced trying to come up with a plan about how to respond. He could say the emails had been deleted as far as he knew so he couldn’t submit the full set the first time. He could tell the truth and say he didn’t give the cops everything because he was too ashamed. But neither answer would stop them from asking the next logical question: what did you do to Sarah after these emails, and why does someone think the police should know?
“Why don’t you take a look at these,” Hayden said as he slid a folder toward Charlie.
Charlie tried not to visibly wince as he opened it and picked up one of the many pieces of paper.
Dear Principal Hayden,
I’m
writing to you because I’m scared, and I don’t know what else to do. I did something stupid and mean to another student here—Charlie Sanders—and now Charlie and his friends won’t stop harassing me. It’s getting to the point where I don’t want to come to school anymore, and some days I don’t even want to wake up. They say really cruel things to me and are leaving me notes in my locker saying I should watch out. Can you please help me?
–Sarah Castro-Tanner, sophomore in Mrs. Peter’s homeroom
This time Charlie couldn’t stop his body from reacting. He tried to take a breath, but his chest was too tight. A noise came from the back of his throat that must have sounded like he was about to throw up.
“Charlie?” Principal Hayden said. “Are you okay?”
All Charlie could do was nod. He didn’t think it could get worse than the cops finding all his email exchanges with Sarah and “Chelsea,” but he was wrong. This note gave them everything they needed to prove that he drove Sarah to kill herself, and he had no way to prove that it was a fake. They didn’t harass her—they did the exact opposite. But the only way to prove that was to confess how Sarah really died.
“Anything you want to share with us?” Detective Pierson said.
“Am I allowed to ask a question?” Charlie asked.
Hayden looked to the detective who nodded. “Go ahead,” he said.
“How did you get this?”
“We’re not at liberty to share that, Charlie,” the detective said. “Unless you’re asking because you have an answer to your own question?”
“I don’t, but it’s important,” Charlie said.
“Why’s that?” Hayden asked.
“Because it’s not true, and if you got it now then it might be from the same person who tipped the police off in the first place.”
The two men shared another glance. This time Hayden let the detective take the lead.
