Allie grimaced. Celia was starting to talk like her dad. “Don’t start quoting that C.S. Eliot guy—” she said.
“Do you hear that?” Celia said.
“What?” Allie said, and listened.
“Heh heh heh heh…”
The sound echoed down the hallways, faint and far. Allie had heard that laughter before.
“What is that?” Celia breathed. “It sounds like someone’s in the school…”
“Celia,” Allie said urgently. “We have to call the cops. Right now.”
“Call the cops? Why?” Celia said.
“The guy who shot at me is here!” Allie said.
“The guy who shot at you?” Celia said, baffled. “You got shot at? When?”
“At Sparrow Hills!” Allie whispered furiously. “That’s why my mom sent me to John Paul 2 High! The kid who shot at me laughed at me and that’s his laugh!”
Celia’s mouth dropped open. “Oh! Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure!”
The laughter stopped, and there was silence again.
“Who are you?” George yelled. “What do you want?”
There was no answer. But George, listening intently in the dark, could hear other sounds: the soft clink clink of metal, as if someone was getting a tool out of a toolbox.
“What do you want?” he shouted again.
There was piercing sound, incredibly loud after the silence: SKREEEECH.
It happened again, and again, taking on a rhythm: SKREECH SKREECH SKREECH SKREECH…
Who are you?” A faint voice came echoing down the hall.
Allie grabbed Celia’s arm. “Who was that?”
“What do you want?”
“That’s George’s voice!” Celia said. “We’ve got to find him!”
“Wait, Celia!” Allie said urgently. “There’s a crazy guy here too!”
“Okay, okay,” Celia said, and reached into her purse. “I’ll call…”
A screeching, metallic sound echoed down the hallway.
“What is that?” Allie whispered.
“I don’t know.”
It was an ugly, piercing sound, like some kind of animal screaming: SKREECH SKREECH SKREECH…
“It sounds like a dragon,” Celia breathed.
“Oh, shut up, Celia!” Allie whispered. She was creeped out enough as it was. “Get your cell phone out!”
Celia dug through her purse. “It’s not here!” she said. “I must have left it in the car! Do you have yours?”
“No,” Allie said angrily. “It’s in my purse, and I left that in the car like an idiot.”
“What do we do now?”
Allie didn’t reply. All was silent, except for that horrible sound: SKREECH SKREECH SKREECH…
Allie bit her lip. Everything in her wanted to run, to get out of here. She started backing down the hall. “We’re leaving.”
“But Allie—” Celia grabbed her hand. “George!”
Better George than me, Allie thought. But she stopped.
Celia urged, “The truth is, if we leave George now—”
Truth. The word jarred in Allie’s consciousness. “Not now, Truth Guy,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Allie said. “It’s just that I keep imagining…this guy following me.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Like your dad’s poem, that nerdy Truth guy following me and not leaving me alone.”
“Have you tried following him?”
“What?”
“Well, do you think…maybe…it’s Jesus?”
“The Truth Guy is Jesus?”
“Well, Jesus did call Himself the Truth,” Celia whispered. “And He said the truth would set you free. So try following Him. See where He goes. Isn’t it worth a shot?”
At any other time, Allie wouldn’t have paid much attention. But now, in the dark, she took a deep breath. Feeling foolish, Allie closed her eyes and thought, Okay Truth, I’ll follow you.
There was a moment of stillness. It continued. Allie blinked, looking around. The horrible screeching sound had stopped.
“Heh heh heh, heh heh heh!”
Laughter echoed down the hall, much louder than before. She shuddered. It was the laugh she had heard many times in nightmares, and now it was here, and real. The air around her tingled with danger.
But the screaming panic inside her had died down.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get closer.”
They edged down the hallway again. Celia pointed and whispered, “We must be real close to him. Look.”
Allie peered into the darkness. There was a turn ahead, where another corridor joined with theirs.
“He must be around that corner and down the hall,” Celia whispered. “Maybe we can see him, if we…”
“I’m coming to get you!!”
Allie almost jumped up and ran away. The malice in the eerie, raspy voice was unmistakable.
“Maybe we should go back!” Celia whispered.
“Just wait right there!!”
“Wait a sec,” Allie whispered back, fighting to control herself. The voice didn’t seem to be talking to them. And she knew, somehow, that running away would be disastrous.
“Okay, Truth, what should we do?” she muttered.
Chase him away.
Allie cocked her head, mystified. Where had that come from? Chase the shooter?
SKREECH SKREECH SKREECH. The sound started up again.
“Allie,” Celia whispered suddenly. “I…I just had this crazy idea.”
“Me too,” Allie said.
“I think we should just chase this guy away,” Celia whispered. “I know it’s crazy, but…”
“I was thinking the same thing!” Allie whispered back. “We should just run down the hall, yelling and screaming.”
“And maybe he’ll just run away,” Celia finished. It sounded crazy. But Allie felt recklessly confident. Like she had felt when she dumped Tyler.
“We should make lots of noise,” she said. If only we had some pots and pans.
“Omigosh!” Celia’s eyes widened. “Hold on a sec.” She opened up her purse and pulled something out.
“When I was looking for my phone, I found this.”
Celia handed Allie a small tin can with a plastic horn on the top.
“Is that an air horn?” Allie whispered, bewildered.
“It is!” Celia whispered excitedly. “George took it from J.P. at the All Saints Day party!”
“Okay, okay, give me that!” Allie said, grabbing the horn from Celia. “Let’s go.”
“What should we yell?” Celia whispered.
Allie waved a hand impatiently. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Let’s yell, Veritatis Splendor!” Celia whispered.
“Veri…what?” Allie whispered back.
“The Splendor of Truth,” Celia whispered, and grinned. “My IM name.”
“Oh…” Allie thought about it, and grinned back. “Okay.”
The SKREETCH SKREETCH SKREETCH continued as they drew closer…
…and then stopped. There was a loud clattering sound, and then they heard the voice one more time: “Here I come! Ready or not!”
There was the ugly screaming sound of metal scraping metal. Allie cringed.
Chase him, Allie! Chase him now!!
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Here goes nothing. Come with me, okay?
She jammed a thumb down on the air horn button.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!!
The deafening blare of the horn filled the air. Allie and Celia leapt from their hiding place screaming “Veritatis Splendor!” at the top of their lungs, the air horn sounding like a trumpet, challenging their enemy to battle.
They could see very little in the dark, but Allie distinctly made out a dark, burly figure kneeling by the doors that led to the wrestling gym. Then she saw it get up and… run away.
When they got to the doors, no one was there. A broken handsaw blade lay on the floor; the d
oor to the gym was halfway open, its bolts sawn in half.
George braced himself against the wall, knowing that there was almost nothing he could do to defend himself. But if that nut was going to come after him, George wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He waited, knowing that whenever that guy finished breaking down the gym doors, or whatever he was doing out there, there was going to be trouble.
Then, the strangest thing happened: he heard a blaring sound like a trumpet, and then voices—girls’ voices—shouting, and then running footsteps.
What the—?
The footsteps skidded to a halt.
“George?” A voice called out.
“I’m in here!” he yelled hoarsely, warmth and relief spreading through him as he recognized the voice.
The door to his prison swung open. Celia Costain climbed over the pile of mats and dropped beside him, her black curly hair framing her relieved face. He’d never been so glad to see his oldest friend.
And then the last person he wanted to see him right now appeared: Allie Weaver.
Celia was kneeling next to him. “Where are your hands tied?” she asked.
“Behind,” he grunted, not looking at Allie, and rolled over on his back.
Celia gasped. “Omigosh! That must hurt!”
“Just let me loose,” George said, trying to avoid looking at Allie.
“Those knots are tight; no wonder you couldn’t get out,” Celia said. “I wish I had a knife…”
“I'll get the hacksaw,” Allie said, her voice sounding odd. She vanished while Celia dug a water bottle out of her purse.
“Thanks,” George breathed after she had given him a long drink. “The guy—sawing through the bolts? Did you see who it was?”
Celia shook her head as Allie returned. “No, we didn’t—here, Allie, give it to me. There’s a short length here I can cut…”
George lay still as Celia patiently sawed at the cord while Allie waited, looking around nervously.
There was a snap and suddenly he could pull his arms away from his legs, and with a groan of relief, he sat up, his muscles unkinking. Then Celia cut the ropes that held his wrists together while Allie worked on the ropes that bound his ankles. In a few minutes, he was free, and sat back on the ground feeling sore and shaky.
“Are you okay?” Allie asked hesitantly.
“I think so,” George said, avoiding her eyes. He took another drink of water and tried not to let her see how his hands were shaking. “Did you guys drive over here? How long did it take you?”
“About an hour.”
“Really? What time is it?”
“Almost four. Want us to drive you to the meet?”
“Almost four.” George considered but shook his head wearily. “By the time we get there, the Sectionals will be almost over. It’s probably wrapping up now.”
“Let me help you up,” Celia said.
“So who the heck was that guy?” he said, getting to his feet a bit shakily.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Celia said. “Allie thinks…” She looked to Allie expectantly.
Allie looked a little hesitant. “Let’s go outside,” she said. “It’s too dark in here.”
So that sound was him sawing the lock open with a hacksaw.” Celia finished filling George in on the details.
“And that was you and Allie with an air horn?” George said. They were sitting on the grass outside the entrance of Sparrow Hills, close to the door with the broken lock, watching the autumn sky darken into evening. There was no sign of the stalker. He must have made a quick escape.
“And this guy…” George said. “Allie, you think he was the one who shot at you?”
Allie closed her cell phone. She had just called the cops, and they were on their way. “I was sure it was when I heard that laugh,” she said, shaking her head. “But I could be wrong. It was kind of like a bad dream, you know?”
“Yeah,” George said thoughtfully. “But you might have really recognized him…” He rubbed his wrists slowly. “I wonder what he was doing here today?”
Allie shrugged. “Staking out the school again,” she said shakily. “He has some kind of a plan, George, I know it.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so panicked, but her voice cracked, and Celia squeezed her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Remember, Allie? The Truth guy? He’s with you.”
“Yeah,” Allie said, flushing with slight annoyance at how Christ had gotten under her radar. She saw the rope burns on George’s wrists, and remembered how guilty she had felt, seeing George humiliated and beaten. If she had broken up with Tyler earlier…if she hadn’t dated Tyler at all…
“Tyler did that to you, didn’t he?” she said in a small voice.
He nodded, his face set.
“I broke up with him last night.”
A light seemed to turn on inside him. For the first time, he looked her in the face. “You did?” he asked, as if he didn’t really believe her.
She nodded. “I guess he didn’t take it so well.”
“Guess not!”
George flushed again, and she had to grin—he looks so cute when he’s embarrassed—then suddenly George was looking in her eyes with his hazel eyes, and she felt her own face turning red. She tried to keep locking eyes with him, but couldn’t keep it up. Shyly, she looked down at her shoes and caught a glimpse of him grinning at her.
He started to stretch, a little stiffly. “So, how did you guys find me?”
“You weren’t at the match,” Celia said. “Brian thought that something might have happened to you. So I called your mom, and she said she’d dropped you off here.”
George did a double take. “Brian was at the meet?”
“Yeah,” Allie said.
“I thought he’d quit the team,” George said, then added, almost to himself, “I guess he was stronger than I thought.”
“When we saw him, he hadn’t wrestled yet,” Celia said. “He didn’t look so great. This would be his first time wrestling in a match, right?”
“Yeah,” George said. “Yeah, it would be.”
There was silence, then George said, “You know, if it’s not too weird—why don’t we pray for Brian right now?”
“Sure,” Celia said, and Allie nodded.
George closed his eyes and crossed himself. The girls did the same. Then George bowed his head, cleared his throat, and said, “Our Father, who art in heaven…” He was beginning the Divine Mercy Chaplet, just like they were in school.
But this time, instead of zoning out, Allie listened to the words as though she were hearing them for the first time. You know, she thought to herself, George really means it when he prays. Maybe that’s why Mr. Costain always has him leads prayer, because those words actually mean something to George. He’s really talking to God, right now. It’s part of who he is. That’s why he’s so different from Tyler.
She felt a surge of warmth. And it’s why I like him, she realized. I really, really like this guy.
The bus filled with Sparrow Hills wrestlers pulled into the parking lot. George waited apprehensively next to Allie and Celia, as it drew near. They could hear laughter from the wrestlers inside.
“Home-school-ER! Home-school-ER!”
“I can’t believe it!” Celia blurted out angrily. “They’re still making fun of him.”
“Peterson!” Mr. Lamar bellowed from the bus, jumping out as it came to a stop.
“Mr. Lamar!” said George, running to meet him. “Listen, I know you’re not gonna believe this, but…”
The rest of the wrestlers piled out of the bus. A few looked grumpy, and most looked tired. But a bunch of underclassmen were exuberant. They had been making all the noise. There was no sign of Tyler, Flynt, or Brock.
Then Brian came down the steps, wearing an embarrassed smile. “There you are, George! Hey, Allie. Hey, Celia,” he said. “You’ll never believe what happened…”
“There’s Burke!” one of the wres
tlers said. “Let’s hear it for him!”
Soon nearly all the wrestlers were clapping and chanting again, “Home-school-ER! Home-school-ER!”
“Burke is going to the Regionals,” Coach Lamar said. “Along with Frank Mahoney, and Marshall Vickson—both freshman you trained, Peterson.”
George’s heart jumped in his chest. “Brian! You actually got to wrestle?”
Brian grinned. “Twice! And I won both times.” His expression turned to concern. “But what happened to you?”
When George had finished, the coach said grimly. “I thought something was up. Burke told me that something had happened to you. Well, I can tell you right now that Getz is off the team. And so are Flynt and Brock; that's why Mahoney and and Vick got to wrestle tonight: they took Flynt and Brock's places. Those three will be lucky if they don’t get expelled. I don’t know where they took off to.” He shook his head angrily. “Getz was stupid to keep you out of the match, Peterson. He had to wrestle in your place, twice; he barely won the first time and got pinned the second time. I’m sorry you weren’t there.”
“Yeah,” George said, trying to find the positive side. “I guess there’s always next year.” Next year, he could wrestle without Tyler and his goons being on the team.
“But you brought us some winners, anyway,” Coach said, slapping Brian on the back. “You brought Burke along to tryouts, and I’m sure glad you did. The whole squad owes you for that.”
George hadn’t thought of that, but now that the coach had said it, a feeling of warmth came over him. “Thanks,” he muttered, embarrassed. God worked it all out.
“And I have to say I like having homeschoolers on the team,” Coach Lamar said, grinning at Brian. “They’re a good influence on the other guys. You too, George,” he added as an afterthought. “You’re not homeschooled, but you’re a Catholic school kid, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” George said, and actually felt proud. “Yeah. I’m a John Paul 2 High kid.”
Well,” Coach Lamar said, looking concerned and baffled. “That’s just strange. What do you think, Hal?”
Officer Jordan was kneeling and examining the sawed-through deadbolt lock on the front door. He stood and shook his head. “We got breaking and entering and damage of school property; that is, if we ever catch the guy. How do you know this guy, anyway?” he said, turning to Allie.
Catholic, Reluctantly (The John Paul 2 High Series) Page 20
