“Same reason Taneisha isn’t talking. They’re afraid.”
“Okay. So, what if that’s who’s sending me emails?”
“Exactly.” Raul’s jumpy, all keyed up. “Remember Jagger’s mom saying she didn’t realize he had so many friends? What if one of those people visiting is MP.”
“Why? The hospital’s the last place I’d go if I were in the group.”
“Think about it. You’re the person who isn’t happy with Pass Out as the initiation, but you get outvoted. Or no one asked your opinion in the first place. However it happened, once Jagger ends up in the hospital, wouldn’t you feel guilty? Wouldn’t you need to see for yourself if he’s getting better?”
I feel myself nodding slowly. “We could camp out at the hospital, see if we recognize any voices from the tape.”
“Or get a look at the visitor log. Maybe a name will pop out.”
“There’s something else,” I tell him. “Right after it happened, I thought the double agent played me. Told me the initiation was at the flagpole so I’d go there while they brought Jagger to the warehouse. But maybe he didn’t know, either. Maybe he thought it was supposed to be at the flagpole and it got changed at the last minute.”
“Because Skeletor doesn’t trust anyone. Or he doesn’t trust the double agent. Listening to the footage, it sure sounds like he’s the leader.”
“The last email I got said there are spies everywhere and it’s too dangerous to email again. So yeah, Skeletor might suspect someone.”
Raul grabs his jacket. “I’ll go to the hospital while you send an email. Tell the double agent we can help, that we’ll keep his identity a secret if he talks to us.” He holds up a hand to still my protest. “I know you think he won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. Stay here in case there’s a response.”
I take my time composing an email. I want to get it right.
I know you want to stop the MP madness. The dangerous initiations. It’s not hard to figure out that’s why Jagger participated in Pass Out. So please. We have to meet. Wherever you say—but we need to do it soon. I’ll protect you. I promise. No one needs to know your name. Ever. Contact me any way you can.
* * *
The hours go by. Raul texts to tell me he’s going to wait for Jagger’s mom to come by. I’m about to crawl out of my skin when Bethany barges into the room. She stops when she sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“Funny. I mean, what are you doing home before me? You never get back from school first.”
“I didn’t go today. Got halfway to WiHi, felt sick and turned around.”
She looks at me suspiciously. “You’ve been here all day? Alone?”
“Of course. Why?”
“I don’t know.” She crinkles her eyes, looks around the room as if there’s something she should figure out.
Damn! Two pillows sit side by side against the wall. Casually, I move to the bed, grab both pillows and fluff them together before randomly tossing them back onto the mattress. “I hope I’m not getting what you had a few weeks ago. Or that terrible flu.”
Bethany gives me a piercing stare. “You don’t seem sick.”
“That’s what sleeping half the day gets you.” That’s when I remember that the only thing I ate was a bagel. “I’m going to get something from the kitchen.”
She plops on her bed. “And I care because…”
“I am your one and only sister and you love and worship me.”
“Ha!” she snorts. “Wait, Val! Any news about Jagger?”
“They took him off the breathing machine.”
She sits up. “They did? When?”
“Last night. He still hasn’t woken up, so no one knows if it means he’s getting better for good.”
She plucks the sheet. “I was afraid, when I saw you home…”
“Yeah. But no, he’s the same.”
Something flickers in Bethany’s eyes. Omigod! The clothes, the haircut, the not telling me Jagger talked to her at the Video Arcade. Showing up at the hospital with Mom…
“You’re crushing on him, aren’t you?”
My sister gets defensive. “Just because he’s the only one of your friends who ever talked to me doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”
“Marci talks to you.”
“Like I’m a baby. Jagger treats me like I’m his age.”
I can’t decide if I should pity, be pissed at or be amused by my sister. I go for letting her down gently. “Don’t be fooled, Bethany. Jagger’s a flirt whenever a girl’s around. He can’t help it. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She looks so angry I dodge out of slugging range. “See what I mean? You act like I don’t know anything. I know lots. I know it’s your fault Jagger broke up with you last year—”
“Why would you even—”
“How long did you think it would last when you act so superior all the time? Jagger left you for that Dawn girl.” She gives me a gotcha look. “Don’t tell me he didn’t.”
It takes every bit of self-control to keep from beating the crap out of her. How dare she act all high and mighty, as if she’s in a secret relationship in which Jags confides his innermost feelings to her?
“Bethany Ann Gaines, you know nothing about anything. When you get a boyfriend, if you ever do, we’ll see how long you stay together.”
I clatter down the steps, stomp into the kitchen—but I’ve lost my appetite. Grabbing my coat, I slam the door good and hard.
Standing on the street, I’m not sure where to go. My insides are so steamed the cold barely affects me.
I’m the one with attitude? Does the Queen of Sloth have any idea how she comes off?
Doesn’t matter which way I choose. Heading east, I clomp past brownstones and apartment buildings decorated for the holidays. Christmas lights, plastic Santas, Hanukkah menorahs. I haven’t spent one second thinking about the holidays. Usually I leave plenty of hints about what I hope to get, but not this year. The only present I want is something my parents can’t give me: Jagger listening to music, doing some crazy tricks on his board, laughing at us in Campus News…
Even as that thought crosses my mind, dark whispers crowd it out. What if Bethany’s right? Jagger said it was his fault, but what if I drove him to it? Did I really act so superior that, deep down, he wanted to see what being with Dawn was like? Could it happen again? Will Raul and I still be able to be friends if Jags and I do get together?
It’s only too easy to remember what it was like to get dumped. At the time, I came up with plenty of reasons: Jagger wished I was prettier, I’m too interested in Campus News, I’m not enough of a party girl. But arrogance? The thought never occurred to me. I couldn’t possibly feel superior around him. It’s the opposite. Deep down, I always knew he’d leave me. Even so, when it actually happened, I was surprised. That’s not arrogance. It’s stupidity.
Streetlamps blink on. My toes are numb. Reluctantly, I head home. I’ve got to check email—even if Bethany’s in the room. To my relief, my sister slouches on the sofa, playing a video game. She gives me a hostile stare. I return it before heading up the steps.
Crossing my fingers, I sign on to my email. Click the message that awaits.
Told you before. Can’t meet you. Ever. Do not email ever again. It’s not safe.
30
The B Team meeting the following day crackles.
“I talked to Toby,” Henry ann
ounces. “She said the only person at school who knows enough to hack an IP address is Liam Dolan.”
“Who’s that?” Marci asks.
Henry shrugs. “I don’t know, but—”
“Hold on! The name sounds familiar. Liam, Liam…” With open palm, I pound my head, trying to shake the memory loose. “Got it! He’s one of the guys I tried to interview after the toilet bowl prank. Before I could even start, Liam gave me the finger and stalked inside. We ended up shooting that other dude.”
Marci nods. “Potty Mouth. I remember.”
“Right. Someone should talk to Liam. Maybe there’ll be others after we play this.” I take the flash drive from my pocket. “I copied the footage Jagger took at the initiation so we could all watch it.”
While I set up the computer, Raul says, “Listen carefully, guys. It’s our only shot. The hospital told me it’s against regulations to show the visitor log to anyone. We won’t be able to find MP that way. Hopefully, someone recognizes a voice.”
Marci closes her eyes. Omar moves in front of the speakers. Henry puts down the pencil he’s doodling with.
Raul hits Stop after the part where I find Jagger.
Marci looks sick. “Wish I hadn’t heard that.”
“I know,” I tell her. “Did you recognize anyone? Anybody?” All around the room, heads shake. The tiny ember of hope that flared when Raul and I found the camera in Jagger’s backpack dies a quick death. “Damn! After all he went through, the footage is a waste.”
“There’s got to be some way to use it,” Omar tells us.
Raul sighs. “I’m out of ideas.”
“It’s maddening!” I pace in front of the monitor. “To be this close. That kid who whispered, ‘Can we get him down?’ might be exactly who we’re looking for. The double agent. The weak link. Why does it have to be the quietest voice in the room?”
Omar extends a hand. “Give me the drive. Mr. C. showed me how to boost sound back in September. I’ll see what I can do. We can talk to Liam after that and see if his voice matches.”
“Cool.”
Henry stares at the darkened monitor. “That’s a good idea, Omar. But why can’t we also broadcast some of the footage? Do an America’s Most Wanted thing.”
“You mean—” Raul shifts into a deep announcer voice “—if you recognize any one of these voices, notify Campus News. All leads kept confidential.” He goes back to his regular voice. “I don’t know. Could it work with no picture?”
“It’s a waste of time,” Marci says. “The footage is useless. You can’t figure out who’s who. My mother could be on that tape and I wouldn’t know for sure.”
I lean forward. “Maybe all we need to do is shake them up. Get the group upset so that they make a move. A panicked, not-well-planned move that’ll bring them down.”
“I agree,” Henry says. “MP can’t be positive no one will recognize a voice. They know who’s talking, so they might assume everyone else does.”
“Might be worth a try.” Raul glances at me for confirmation. “We can show, say, a minute and a half. Announce that more footage will air next time. In the meantime, if anyone knows anything—”
“Put a note in the Campus News box or contact any reporter!” I jump up. “I’ll tell Mr. Carleton we’re changing the show. You guys choose a section that runs straight through. No edits. The last thing we want is to be accused of messing with the footage.”
“Hold on!” Omar stops me just as I reach the control room door. “Think about it, Val. If you go rushing off to Carleton, he might freak.”
“Why? Mr. C. wants us to get the story—”
“Who’s to say the school isn’t responsible for what happened? Jagger was doing something for a class. As the teacher in charge, Mr. Carleton might be the person they hold accountable if his mom sues the pants off everyone. If I were Mr. C. and you came to me right now, with Jagger in a coma, I’d tell you to shut it down.”
“He’s not like that,” I protest.
Marci nods at Omar. “Why find out? Or get Mr. Carleton in trouble? Let’s bring it to the cops instead of playing Channel 5 News. Let them deal with it.”
“That’s not what Omar said,” I protest.
“Not this second. But everyone in this room promised that if we got something solid, or anything close, that’s what we’d do.”
“It’s not like the cops don’t know about MP but have you seen even one of them asking questions?” Raul shakes his head. “You still think the police are going to sweep through, Marci, find out what we can’t and save the day. This isn’t Small Town, Montana, population eight hundred. Eight million people live here. Someone gets robbed or raped every hour of every day, and cops don’t do shit—”
“That’s not true,” Marci protests.
“It is! It’s happened to people I know—” Raul freezes, shocking even himself. The control room gets deathly quiet. Nobody moves; no one knows what to say.
He squares his shoulders, lets out a breath. “You live in a nice, safe doorman building, Marci. Your folks probably pay half a month’s rent just to keep their car in a lighted garage with security cams all over the place. So you don’t realize that unless it’s murder, whenever anything happens and the person can’t be identified, it’s pretty much ‘really sorry you had to go through that, we’ve got your statement and where’s the front door again?’”
“I’m sure it’s not how they want it,” Henry protests. “There’s only so much cops can do….”
“Which is why going to them with footage that doesn’t have a single face on it is a waste of time,” I say. “Like you said, Henry, we’d do better showing it on Campus News.”
“But then we run into the Carleton problem,” Omar argues. “If we tell him ahead of time, we take the chance he says no.”
“What else is there?” Marci gasps. “You don’t think we should air it without saying anything, do you? Sneak it into the broadcast and hope Carleton won’t get mad?”
Nervously, Omar twists a stray paper clip. “I’m not saying that’s what we should do. But yeah, it’s an option.”
“With serious consequences,” Henry mumbles.
“Like what?” I tick them off on my fingers. “Getting kicked off Campus News? Suspension? Expulsion?”
“Who knows?” Omar says.
I look at the team. “Then Marci’s right. If we’re afraid to air it, we are just playing at being reporters. Because the guys on TV make hard choices all the time. How far into the war zone should I go? What if the hurricane sweeps me away? Will I get radiation poisoning if I do one more story near the broken reactor?”
Nobody says anything.
“Who votes to air a section of the video without permission?” I ask.
“Count me out!” Marci says. “I am not willing to screw up senior year for something I don’t think will work. Sorry, Val. Not even for you.”
“That’s okay. I get it.”
Marci blinks nervously. “What do I do if you show it? Quit?”
“No.” I sigh. “If you leave right now, before anything gets decided, you can swear you’re not part of it. And it would be true.”
To my surprise, she stays in her seat. “Listen to me, Val, please! You’re making a big mistake. Airing that footage might be the worst thing you can do. Who knows what MP is capable of? We don’t even know if the publicity we’ve given them is what caused the warehouse mess. This might put them over the edge. Someone else could get hurt. On
e of us.”
“We’ll be careful,” I tell her.
“Isn’t that what Jagger said?” She looks at the others. “I want to find out who left him in that building as much as anyone else, but I think going back to the police is smarter. Even if, in the end, it doesn’t do any good, at least we tried.”
“Give us a couple of days,” I plead. “After we run the footage, you can take it to whoever you want. The cops, Channel 5, whatever.”
Her expression is so grim I’m sure she’ll turn me down. But years of being best friends count for something. “You’ve got two days. Clock starts the instant the piece airs if that’s what you all decide to do.”
The oxygen in the room is sucked out as Marci exits. Henry’s head falls to his chest; Omar slumps in a chair. Raul leans tiredly against the wall.
“You guys out, too?”
Omar can’t look at me. “I’m up for a full ride at Cooper Union. Photography. All four years. If there’s a hint of trouble, or I make a ‘bad choice’ and things get screwed up—my dad will kill me. I’m counting the days until I’m out of the house, Val. You know that.”
“Henry?”
He stares at Marci through the control booth window. She sits at the B Team table, rigid, her back to us. “I think she might be right.”
Given the choice between Marci and anyone or anything else, it’s a Henry no-brainer.
“Then leave with Omar.” I take a deep breath. “Raul?”
“First, we need to talk.”
Omar and Henry can’t wait to get out of the room. After they’re gone, it’s my turn to slump into a chair. “What just happened?”
Raul shakes his head. “Reality? Fear? Jagger’s freaking us all out. Not just you.”
“I know.” I take a breath. “Tell me the truth. Is Marci right? Did Campus News make it worse from the start?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like we put MP up to any of it. All we did was follow the story. Like we’re supposed to.”
Circle of Silence Page 21
