PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “He’s undocumented,” I say. “The school wouldn’t want an illegal alien interviewed, right? It’s against the law to hire undocumented workers. But he’s employed there, and you’ve got to find him!” My words are rushing over each other, tumbling out like ice from a spilled glass. Everyone in the room is staring at me, including Red, whose eyes have narrowed to slits as she clicks her pen on and off. She stares at me for a good long minute then turns to my mother.

  “I think we’d better try again when she is less heavily medicated.”

  The door flies open and Miranda races in. Her pixie face is contorted and streaked with tears.

  “I’m sorry!” she cries out. “I’m so sorry!”

  Handlebar marches up behind her and yanks her arms behind her back. He abruptly clips metal handcuffs on to her wrists. Then he tells her she has the right to remain silent because he is arresting her as an accomplice in the murder of Annika Sorens, based on a statement he received, someone with direct evidence.

  Miranda’s own father turned her in.

  25

  Two days later, Jason, Victor, and I are standing in front of the police station, waiting for Miranda to exit with her parents. I have so many questions to ask her, but mostly why?

  As it turned out, Miranda didn’t kill Annika, but she did confess to planting the original pair of A-monogrammed underwear on Billy Timmons. Why would she risk it all to do such a thing? And why did she tell me about the planted panties in the first place? Confusion numbs my brain, and I wonder if I ever really knew my friend at all.

  Jason holds my hand tightly as we huddle together on the stairs, waiting for the doors to open. He is wearing a red windbreaker to shield him from the chilly morning air. He looks like an Abercrombie model. My heart skips a beat. I lean into him and pull my own jacket around me before realizing I’m not cold. Just being next to Jason is enough to warm me up.

  Victor looks pensive as he waits with crossed arms, his dark eyes trained on the ground. I’m glad to see him still hanging in here with Miranda, even though her character is now in question. He must really love her. It bodes well for their future.

  The doors open and Miranda comes out, shrouded by her parents. She looks both tiny and obviously pregnant as she waddles down the stairs, taking them one at a time. Her parents each hold an elbow, their faces a mixture of stern resolve and concern.

  Miranda sees me and stops. She turns her head away, biting her lip. I rush up the stairs and give her a hug.

  “Miranda, it’s okay. I always knew you didn’t have anything to do with Annika’s death. I knew it even before you were cleared.”

  “You did?” She meets my eyes, her forehead bunched up like an elastic waistband. Tears fill her eyes. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

  Mrs. Gough turns to her daughter. “Shall we give you girls a moment?”

  Miranda nods, and her parents trot down the steps to join Victor and Jason.

  I meet Miranda’s eyes. “Why?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

  She shakes her head and her lower lip trembles. “I . . . ” She fidgets with a button on her coat.

  “How about if I peck you? Would that be easier?” I say jokingly.

  She gives me a wry smile. Then her face clears, and she nods. “Actually, yes. It might be easier that way.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” I move to plant a quick kiss on her but am stopped by Mrs. Gough’s loud gasp.

  “My lord, what are they doing?”

  We look down at Miranda’s parents. The father is staring up at us, his arms crossed. The mother shakes her head in consternation.

  “Not this again,” says Mrs. Gough.

  “What is it with you two?” asks the father.

  “They’re doing it for our sake,” jokes Jason, and Victor laughs. “Nothing like a girl-on-girl kiss.”

  “Yeah, it’s for the guys,” says Miranda, and for a moment I see her old silly self back. To me she whispers, “Seriously, I want you to know everything that happened with me.”

  I nod. She leans over and pecks me lightly on the lips. In one blast, I feel all her rage and hurt over Billy Timmons. Flash! I see her that day at the track meet, the day Annika died, making out with Billy next to the gym. She couldn’t help it; she still had feelings for him even though he’d just told her he wanted nothing to do with the baby. She felt so guilty after kissing him, especially since he’d just destroyed her friendship with her best friend—me. Plus she had a new boyfriend, Victor, who adored her and accepted the baby. What was she doing? She didn’t understand herself.

  Then, Billy acted like he didn’t know her on the bus ride back after Annika was killed, when she needed comforting the most. The whole next week at school, he ignored her, too. It was then that Miranda decided enough was enough. She was going to forget Billy Timmons once and for all. Flash. She went up and told him that she hated him and was never going to talk to him again. She would never let him see the baby, ever!

  He just grinned and told her to smoke his cock like a doobie.

  It was at that moment that she decided to get revenge on him: revenge for impregnating and leaving her, revenge for every insulting word he’d ever said, revenge for ruining her best friendship, and revenge for being the royal loser that she finally realized he was.

  She went out that day and bought a pair of panties at Forever 17, then typed an anonymous note to the police. During track practice, she snuck into the men’s locker room and put the underwear in Billy’s backpack (she’d recognize that hideous Rasta print anywhere). Kirby Cahill came out of the bathroom stall while she was doing it, but she just pretended she was looking for a pencil in her boyfriend’s backpack.

  Flash! Kirby told the police Miranda was the real killer who planted the underwear on Billy to deflect attention from herself. Then Miranda’s father admitted to the cops he thought she had something to do with the murder. Months ago, he’d found her Forever 17 receipt and read an angry snippet in her diary where she ranted about wanting to kill Annika after Billy dumped her. These things, along with her recent secretive behavior, confirmed to her parents that she might be involved somehow. Her father and mother wrestled with their consciences, they later told Miranda, and finally came to the conclusion that they needed to do the right thing and turn her in (after hiring the best defense attorney in the country, of course). Then Miranda confessed to Handlebar, and that sealed it.

  The last flash fades. I stare at Miranda. “Why did you tell me about the fake underwear in the first place? Why did you let me know they’d been planted when it was you all along?”

  She sniffles, swiping at her nose with her fist. “Because I felt guilty. I knew the real killer was still out there. I knew Billy didn’t do it because he was with me at the track meet. By me planting the underwear and getting him arrested, people were going to think they had the killer, when the real one was still loose. My conscience nagged at me, which is why I told you. It’s also why I kept pushing you to find the real murderer. I knew Billy would be released eventually. He had an alibi.”

  I shake my head, sighing. “Oh Miranda. You sure opened up a can of worms for yourself, didn’t you?”

  She nods, looking forlorn. “I wasn’t thinking. I really wasn’t. I was just so mad at Billy. I wanted to punish him.”

  “Well, you’ve made things difficult for me, too. I’ve had a hard time convincing the police to listen to me, you know.”

  “I know.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry. I’ve really screwed things up. I’m going to start being a better person.” She looks down at her stomach. “I need to set a good example for my baby.”

  “You’re already a good person, Miranda.” I reach to hug her, and her thin arms encircle so tightly around my neck that she almost pulls me over. She sniffles into my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbles again. Then she pulls back to look at me. “I heard Coach Ted’s wife was released. I’d really thought she was the killer.”

  “Me, to
o. But nope, she didn’t have anything to do with it. She thought Ted was having an affair with Annika. When we overheard them arguing, it was because of Mrs. Dannerson’s nasty comment about Annika deserving what she got. Coach Ted was upset. He knew they would both be suspects after that, and wanted her to fix it by apologizing. She was preparing to go find me when she was arrested.”

  “Man,” says Miranda, inhaling.

  “Yeah.” I shake my head. “I hope this little experience will teach her to get her jealousies in check.”

  “I’ll say.” Miranda looks down, picking at her nail. I wonder if she’s thinking about her own jealous nature and the trouble it has caused in her life. After a moment she looks up, a hopeful expression clearing the clouds on her face. “You do have enough evidence to get Kirby, don’t you?”

  I nod. “They’re testing Darcy’s underwear right now. They’ll see that they’re the real ones. Darcy didn’t know she was wearing Annika’s underwear. Kirby told her he bought them at Forever 17, and she believed him. Horrible.”

  “And the janitor? Have they found him?”

  “Yep. Westchester High’s in a load of hot water for not bringing him forward from the beginning, especially since he was working without papers. But yes, they’ve got him and he’s prepared to testify.”

  “Have the police asked how you knew all this?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t lie. I told them that Kirby told me. He did, in a way. It just happened to be in his thoughts. I left that little part out.”

  “So you’ll have to testify against him?”

  “Gladly. I look forward to the day.” I rub my neck. It still hurts from where Kirby tried to squeeze the life out of me.

  “Wow, that’s good to hear.” Miranda looks at me for a long moment. “I’m glad we did this, even if it was really hard.”

  “Me too. Even if my face looks like it lost a prize fight.”

  She giggles. “Yeah, you’re still look pretty beat-up. Purple isn’t your best color.”

  “Shut up.” I elbow her. “Come on, let’s go.” I take her arm and help her down the stairs to go meet the others.

  Victor rushes over and folds Miranda in his arms. She melts into him gratefully. Over his shoulder, she gives me a resigned wink tinged with sadness. I know that Miranda, with her upcoming trial for obstruction of justice, plus a new baby on the way, has a hard road ahead of her. But she’s lucky she’s got people who love and support her. And, unlike Annika, she’s alive to experience it all. Even the lows in life are better than nothing at all.

  ***

  The day after Kirby Cahill is charged with the murder of Annika Sorens, I open my door to find Annika’s parents standing there. They look so different from the vibrant, hard-working people they were a just short time ago. They’re wearing a cloak of sadness around their shoulders, weighed down by life.

  I invite them in and follow them down the short hall, noticing that Annika’s mother has the same quirky walk that her daughter did. My throat catches, remembering Annika’s essence, her aliveness that is forever gone. When Mr. Sorens sits on our worn couch, I notice he has his daughter’s same large eyes. It’s as if Annika is sitting here, looking back at me through her father’s eyes.

  Even though it’s painful, I refuse to look away. I need to look at deeply at these parents, to see through their eyes what they have lost. To experience the pain with them. Maybe then, only then, can I be free from the guilt of not being a good enough friend to their daughter.

  “We want you to have this,” says Mrs. Sorens, holding out a check with trembling fingers. “It’s the reward for finding Annika’s killer.” She pronounces Annika’s name with a thick Swedish accent. Through her intonation, the name sounds extraordinarily beautiful, so different than the flat way Americans pronounce it. Annika was their baby girl once, a child they thought about, dreamt about . . . named. This realization hits me hard. Tears well up and fall, wetting my face.

  Annika’s parents, seeing my tears, begin crying too. I reach out to hug them, and then we are crouched on the couch together, clinging to each other as our shoulders heave.

  “We loved her,” her father says through a choked voice.

  “I know,” I say.

  “There was everything to love about her,” says her mother. She struggles to gain composure, her voice warbling as tears flow down her narrow cheeks—cheeks obviously made thinner from lack of food and sleep.

  “I can’t take the check,” I say, my words coming out in a whisper. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  Mr. Sorens grabs my shoulders and looks into my soul with Annika’s eyes. “You helped find who killed our daughter. We have some peace now. Not a lot, but some. And some is everything when you’re experiencing our kind of nightmare. No, you must take this check and use it to live your life happily. For Annika.”

  “Yes,” says the mother. “Our Annika wanted to go to college so much. It was a dream of hers. You must want to go to college too, no? Maybe you can use it to help pay your way. Maybe you can experience college for our daughter as well.”

  She holds the check out to me with a hopeful expression. Annika’s father nods at me, encouraging me to take it.

  I know to reject it would be to squash a dream for them, the dream that Annika might live on in some way.

  Looking into their hearts and seeing through their eyes, it’s clear what I should do.

  I can’t let them down.

  Or Annika.

  26

  Jason and I are at the beach. It’s dusk and we’re on a blanket, snuggled cozily together against the frigid evening air as the heat from the bonfire warms our faces. I’m leaning against him, a cup of hot chocolate nestled in my hands. Waves crash in the distance, and the faint twinkles of stars are beginning to dot the navy-colored sky. We are content as we stretch out together, bellies full of roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. The firelight casts dancing shadows on the sand as we sip our warm drinks. It feels good to relax after all that’s happened.

  There were all of the police interviews, then the search warrant of Kirby’s house. The cops found some of Annika’s hair strands in the box where Kirby had initially kept the underwear before giving them to Darcy. The tests on the panties came back and were proven conclusively to be Annika’s and tainted with Kirby’s DNA. Darcy went into counseling over the whole thing, then emerged a few weeks later saying she wanted to be a crime reporter. She even started a channel on YouTube, in preparation for covering Kirby’s trial in detail, which we all know is her revenge.

  The janitor, after being tracked down and giving his statement in Spanish, negotiated citizenship for himself and his family after promising to testify that he saw Kirby leaving the restroom before Annika’s body was discovered, and that Kirby paid him off.

  After Valerie Dannerson was released from jail, she issued a statement to the community and Annika’s parents, apologizing with deep shame for the comments she’d made about Annika. She said that although she could sue for false imprisonment, she had decided against it. Her time in jail had been a positive spiritual experience for her, she said, and had caused her to do a lot of soul searching. She’d reevaluated her life and relationships and had decided she needed to make some changes. The community was convinced that Valerie Dannerson’s next step was to file for divorce from Coach Ted, but the last I’d heard, he’d taken his wife on a three-week cruise in the Mediterranean to rekindle their marriage, chin-hair and all.

  Billy was finally completely cleared within the minds of the community and actually came to thank me. He stood on my doorstep, shuffling his feet, and said he felt bad for everything. He said he felt guilty for selling Kirby a joint the night of the dance and hoped it didn’t contribute to my assault. I said I didn’t hold it against him, but suggested he clean up his act, especially the pot, and maybe things would turn out all right for him. He shrugged and ambled off down the sidewalk. Something about his bearing seemed subdued, different. Maybe everything that happened has made him re
evaluate things. Maybe he’ll consider being part of his child’s life now. Knowing Billy the way I do, though, I’m not holding my breath. But a person can always hope.

  Kirby goes to trial in a few weeks, and I’m prepared to testify. People are saying he’ll get life in prison. Others say it’s too bad he’s a minor because he should get the death penalty. No matter what, it’s pretty certain he’ll never get out of jail again.

  The TV showed Kirby exiting a police van in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit, then being led to court for his arraignment. He looked as cocky as usual, strutting before the cameras as if being celebrated instead of condemned. He’s already got a jailhouse fan club, crazy girls who write him letters and act like he’s a movie star. Word is that he’s already adapted to his new life, making friends with other inmates and bragging about his escapades. His lawyers are having a hard time keeping his big mouth shut, and he’s already implicated himself a few times by trying to impress the other inmates in the yard.

  People at school treat me a little bit like a hero. They seem to have forgotten I was considered a “kissing slut” before this whole thing. Having Jason’s support helps a lot. People are a bit in awe of our relationship, wondering what we’re all about. People debate about why I threw myself at Kirby at the dance when I had a guy like Jason, but most conclude it was to find out the truth about Annika’s murder. Everyone wants to know how I knew it was Kirby, but all I say is that he told me. It’s not a lie. He did tell me. No one needs to know how.

  Everyone is saying I would make a good detective because I have a knack for getting people to “confess.”

  Ha! If only they knew.

  People can just keep guessing about me. So what if they can’t figure me out, or think I’m a little weird or have an unpredictable side to me? The main thing is that Jason is into me, so let them wonder. Jason and I laugh about it sometimes. Through this whole thing, we’ve both learned to stop caring so much about what people think.

  I will never get over my feelings of guilt about Annika. She needed a true friend and I was too cowardly to take on her baggage. Now I know life is short and we should grab our chances of true friendship when we get them.