by Dawn Klehr
As we run through the woods, we close in on the creek. “Time to jump,” Libby whispers back to me.
We take a running start and leap across the water, clearing it with ease. We’re officially on the other side of the tracks now. The creek separates Devlins’ neighborhood from the rest of our city’s riffraff.
“There’s a shed back here,” Libby says. “Come on.”
How does she know what’s back here?
Libby seems oddly familiar with the area. That’s when I realize we’re almost at Ms. Dunn’s house. We start running again. Branches and leaves skim our bodies as we fly through the trees. As we slow down, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I hear footsteps getting closer.
We slip into the decaying shed. I crouch down behind an old bench and Libby hides under a table in the back. There are gardening tools and old pots leaning against the walls. I try to catch my breath but hold it again when the shed door squeaks and begins to open.
The moonlight shines through the broken window and a shadow grows on the wall. A huge shadow. It’s like a scene from a corny old horror film. I can’t look. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip.
That’s when a hand clamps down on my shoulder.
The hand grabs me and I jump, holding in a scream.
It’s Devlin. The killer.
The hand flips me around.
I can’t make out the face, but Libby can.
I’ve completely forgotten that she’s been here the entire time.
“Jake,” she says, her voice low and quiet. “What are you doing out here?”
We know Jake Noring from school, so my heart rate automatically slows, yet I have to remind myself that no one’s to be trusted.
Libby’s had a crush on Jake since seventh grade, but nothing’s ever come of it. He lives on the nice side of town and spends his time playing traveling soccer on a city team. Libby doesn’t exactly run in the same circle and, despite what she says, I think she’d like to.
Oh no. Was that Jake’s voice on the video? Libby’s partner in crime?
“Shhh,” he whispers. “He’s coming. Let’s get out of here.”
I try to remember the voice on the video, but I can’t tell if it was him. I don’t know if I should stay or run.
Jake leads us out the door and within seconds we’re running through the woods again. We run until we’re out of breath, then duck down among the downed trees. I suddenly feel like I have to pee. We wait there, crouched in the woods, hiding.
My legs are shaking so badly I have to lean forward on my knees. I can’t believe I’m stuck in the woods surrounded by murder suspects.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask Jake, since he didn’t answer Libby the first time.
“I saw you behind the Devlins’ house,” he says. “I live next door to them, ya know.”
I didn’t remember that, but obviously Libby did. That’s why she kept staring off.
“I was coming out to scare you guys when Devlin started hauling ass in your direction.” He laughs.
I can’t believe I saw the missing Degas in the Devlin house. Maybe the mayor is like one of those serial killers and the statue is his trophy after killing Ms. Dunn.
Once again, my brain is on overdrive. I need to get back into that house. There has to be a way to find out if Devlin’s involved.
“I’ve heard about your little remote control trick,” Jake says, interrupting my scheming. “Pretty clever.”
“Thank you very much.” Libby beams.
“So now what’s on the agenda? Tormenting any of my other neighbors tonight?”
“Nope, I think that’s it,” Libby says. “We’re in my neck of the woods now. Are you mad?”
“Not even close. Anytime someone can stick it to the Devlins, especially Tori, I’m all for it.”
Tori. That’s it. She’s my ticket into the house.
“Really?” Libby’s hope is seeping through her pores.
“Really,” he says. “So, where to now?”
God. I can’t take it anymore. “Do you guys want to save your flirting until maybe we don’t have a pissed-off mayor after us?”
Libby glares at me.
“Relax, Riley,” Jake says. “If Devlin hasn’t made it here by now, he’s not going to.”
Yeah, but maybe he’s not the only one I’m worried about.
Libby and Jake continue to flirt and I continue to study Jake’s voice.
“We were just heading to the coffee shop,” Libby says.
We were?
“Wanna come?” she asks.
“Sure.” Jake shrugs.
And just like that, I’m the third wheel.
We sneak into Libby’s car, which is strategically parked on the dirt road behind the woods. I watch Libby and Jake for any signs or trip-ups, but soon I just want to get away from them.
I fake cramps and make Libby bring me home. I need to be alone to think.
I’m beginning to feel like I’m trapped in a cheesy whodunit movie and I can’t get out. I’m the idiot girl trying to solve the mystery—the girl who puts herself in danger at every turn. The girl who opens the door—or pulls back the shower curtain or runs up the stairs—instead of running away from the killer. Except this is the Heights and until Ms. Dunn was killed, nothing remotely dangerous has ever gone down here. The police chief would say our little community is still just as safe. But if that’s true, why are people putting new locks on their doors and sticking to a self-enforced curfew?
The clues continue to pile up, and if Devlin is involved, maybe that means Libby did nothing wrong. All I know is I have to find out the truth. The only way to do that is to investigate Devlin … which means I need to get closer to Tori.
And I think I know just how to do it.
DEZ
A beam of light rides across my room, moving my attention away from the disturbing phone conversation and over to the Frosts’ house.
It’s Riley.
Fuck.
My lights are on.
Why is she back so early?
She’s seen me, I’m sure of it. I messed up. Now she’ll know I was lying about hanging out with Allie.
My first mistake.
I flick off the light and move away from the window, onto the floor, crawling around like the dirty rat I am. There’s nothing I can do about it now but make up a lie. Another one to add to my web. Yes, I’ve officially become a lying A-hole who has to make up shit because his life is so pathetic.
Truth is, there’s no Allie. There never was. There’s never been anyone I really wanted to be with.
Except Riley.
I’ve actually planted girls’ clothes in my car and room. I’ve had fake phone conversations. I’ve even bought perfume to put on after my alleged dates. Of course, I know how psycho this all sounds. But it seemed that if Riley thought there was someone else in my life, she’d be more interested in me. It always works in the movies.
Who am I kidding? This is not the movies. Actually, all of this is reading more like a lame made-for-TV special and I’m dangerously close to jumping the shark. I need to wake the hell up and come back to the real world.
I can’t make my surprise move at a fake Halloween party orchestrated in the hopes she’ll fall into my arms. It doesn’t work that way. Plus, this whole secret-crush thing has been going on for so long that I can’t tell her the truth now, and I surely can’t just come out and tell her how I feel about her. It’s too late to do this like a normal guy would. I’ve completely fucked up.
I crawl over to my bed, pull the costume down, crunch it in a ball, and throw it in the trash. If it’s going to happen between Riley and me, she’s going to have to figure it out on her own.
It’s the only way.
RILEY
On Saturday
, we shoot on location at the city square in the Heights. We all pile into Caleb’s old VW camper, with a group of extras following in the car behind, and set up in the park. Dez and I used to come down here with our families when we were kids. In the center of the park, under the clock tower, there used to be concerts. Flowers hung in baskets on the fence posts, and the grass was covered in a rainbow of blankets with people picnicking and listening to music.
Now the park is covered in weeds. Leaves have fallen and nobody’s bothered to clean them up. The clock stays permanently frozen at 10:20 because there’s no money to fix it.
“Wait in here, Rye,” Dez says when I try to get out of the camper to help. “You’re the star, remember?” He winks.
I try to smile back, but the papers I found in Ms. Dunn’s photo frame weigh on my mind. They’re in my bag right now and I so want to show them to Dez, but something won’t let me.
I need more information before I bring Dez into this.
The square is quiet. It used to be buzzing with people doing their shopping and dropping kids at the fields for soccer practice. Today there are only a few residents eating at the local greasy spoon. Inside the diner, I can see the Devlins. The happy family is having breakfast together. With Coach K.
Figures.
Dez moves over to see what I’m looking at.
“I should’ve known,” I tell him.
“What?” he asks.
“The reason Coach K never says anything to Tori when she calls me a dyke.”
“What do you mean? He’s actually heard her say that?”
Sometimes Dez can be so naive. “Oh yeah,” I say. “He’s even made a few cracks himself.”
“He what?!” Dez’s face turns red.
I can’t believe I never told him this. “He makes jokes all the time, but I just chalked it up to his redneck nature. I didn’t realize how tight he was with the Devlins.”
I start to wonder just how many teachers Tori’s dad has in his back pocket.
Dez takes out his camera and starts shooting the scene in the diner.
“Dez.” I motion for him to put the camera down. “What are you doing?”
“Just getting some b-roll. You never know when you’ll need it.”
Exactly, I think, making sure the DVD of Libby in Ms. Dunn’s room is still safe in my bag.
On Monday, I see Tori in the school garden, getting everything in place for the dedication. There’s a new tree there, and the plaque to honor Ms. Dunn. Tori is actually weeding the neglected beds.
It’s the perfect opportunity to make the first move. Especially since last week I overheard her talking to the Rollers about her church project …
“I have to help someone with their testimony and I’m running out of time,” Tori said in her usual bitchy way. “Dad wants me to make a big deal of it at church—have me show how I helped some poor lost soul find God and change their life.”
“It’s not like you haven’t been looking, Tori,” Natalie said. “I’m sure your dad will understand.”
“You are such a moron sometimes,” Tori hissed. “Have you met my dad?”
“Well, there’s always Will,” Paige offered. “I’m sure your dad would be impressed if you helped the
biggest drug dealer of the school find the Lord.”
“Okay, there’s one. I need a few more options.”
“What about Emma?” Natalie asked, trying to redeem herself.
Tori nodded.
The Rollers volunteered a few more names and Tori created her list.
I hadn’t really thought about that conversation until after Devlin chased us on Friday night. It was then that I realized what I have to do. I need to get close to Tori—and the Degas statue—and what better way than to become her new pet project? Surely she’d jump at the chance to save a sinner like me.
I take a few steps into the garden, toward Tori. “Here.” I grab the pile of weeds and throw them in the trash bag. “Let me help.”
“My, that’s awfully Christian of you, Riley.”
“Yeah, well, this might surprise you, but I’m a Christian. I was raised Lutheran, Tori. Even confirmed.”
“Really?” she asks, genuinely surprised. “I never would’ve guessed, especially considering your … choices.”
Choices. I ignore the fire igniting in my belly and keep a smile on my face. Yes, of course I chose to become the pariah of the school. Who wouldn’t?
“Yeah, it’s complicated,” I say, trying to unclench my jaw.
“No, Riley, it’s quite simple,” she says in her most pious voice. “Leviticus 20:13: If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. The Bible is perfectly clear on the matter.”
“Maybe. But haven’t you also heard, the heart wants what it wants ?”
“Let me guess—a quote from a movie? You film club people are so weird.” She rolls her eyes.
“Emily Dickinson, actually.” I grab a rake. “Seriously, though, I meant it the other day when I said I was going to make a change. I’m done with girls. Now, do you want my help with this garden or not?”
If I pull this off, I should win an Oscar.
“I could use it,” she says, wiping sweat off her otherwise perfectly made-up face. “If this isn’t perfect for the ceremony, my dad will have a fit.”
“Okay, I’m in.”
DEZ
WEEKEND MONTAGE
ESTABLISHING SHOT—EXTERIORS OF THE FROST AND BRANDT HOMES
CUT TO: SPLIT SCREEN
Montage of RILEY on the right side of screen; montage of DEZ on the left. We see them both come into their rooms after Saturday’s video shoot and plop down on their beds. Camera moves in on both of their faces as they are lost in thought. The scenes move in compressed time, showing them watch TV, read, and eat. DEZ plays with his video camera; RILEY reads her script. DEZ texts RILEY. RILEY quickly texts back. More texts and calls come in for RILEY, but she ignores the calls and shoves the phone under her mattress.
After Saturday’s video shoot, I didn’t see Riley the rest of the weekend and she only responded to my texts with one-word answers. This is pretty much her MO after a breakup.
She hides.
I sulk.
In the lunchroom today, Jonah sits at our table in the corner, his plate piled high with spaghetti. I make my way over to the pizza line.
“Hey, Dez.” Glory brushes up against me as I wait.
I know she’s here to shoot the shit. Girls like Glory don’t eat pizza.
“So, what did you think of my performance the other day?” she asks, sticking out her boobs.
Glory is one of our extras for the film. She must be bored again. Glory is all hot and heavy about a guy who doesn’t even know she exists—a senior named Jacob. And much like me, she’s always looking for a distraction.
“You were great.” I appease her because I know what it’s like to crave attention. “But you do need to learn how to take direction,” I add, teasing her. She had a heck of a time with blocking during our shots.
“Yeah, I know.” She laughs. “I just like to get a rise out of you.” She touches my arm and holds it there so that I get the hint.
In reality, Glory has gotten more than a rise out of me.
A few times.
The first was when Riley got together with Reed before sophomore year. Reed took up all Riley’s free time that summer, leaving me alone. One lonely night, I ran into Glory at Java and she made her move. I (graciously, I like to think) accepted. Something I consider doing again until I see Riley walk into the cafeteria. I move up the line, hardly listening as Glory talks, and order two slices.
“Glory,” I tell her. “I can’t do this right now.” There’s no point in beating around the bush
.
“Oh.” She pulls her chest in and looks down. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Sorry,” I say, and I mean it. She’s a good egg. She’s sweet and pretty and funny, but there’s Riley. “See you later,” I say before giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
I get my pizza and take a seat next to Jonah while Rye goes through the burger line.
“So, did you rekindle with Glory over the weekend?” Jonah asks. “Is that why you ignored my calls?”
“No and no,” I say, my eyes glued to Riley.
“Well, what were you doing then? I really needed my wingman.”
I tear my eyes away from Riley for a minute.
“Sorry pal, but I think it’s time for you to fly solo.” I bump his shoulder. “You are ready, young Jonah.”
Riley interrupts my pep talk, setting her burger and Dr. Pepper on the table.
“Hey babe, how was the rest of your weekend?” I ask in between bites of pizza. “I didn’t hear from you after the shoot.”
Riley just shrugs as she dresses her burger in pickles and ketchup.
It’s nice to have her back at our table, even if she’s a little removed. Riley and Emma always used to sneak away for lunch, leaving me with Jonah and random members of the film crew. Occasionally, one of Jonah’s friends from youth group would join our little lunch soirée for some real fun.
It sucked.
Riley watches as Emma grabs a cookie and milk and rushes out the side door.
“You know you’re too good for her.” I can’t help but say it. I touch my hand to Riley’s for a second. “She didn’t deserve you.”
And that’s a cold hard fact. Emma lives a lie. She’s gay and in the closet—and Jonah and I have been sworn to secrecy about the whole thing. She was so not worthy. Anyone who would keep Riley a secret doesn’t deserve her.
If Rye was mine, I’d shout it from the rooftops.
“Dez.” Riley shakes her head and slams her pop, wincing as it goes down her throat. “Can we not talk about it?”
