Em left a message. She swears it wasn’t her, but I don’t really care anymore. The pact is back on, at least for me. I was going to wait until the day of the game, but my dad will be home then and I wouldn’t be able to do everything I needed to do with him around.
I dug the pills out of the trash compactor after you left, just in case. I guess you should have flushed them after all. I’m going to use my dad’s very expensive coffee grinder to grind them into powder since I’m afraid the pills would just pass into the pouch un-dissolved. I’m not sure they would, but it’s not like I can asked anyone. Besides, I want my dad to remember me every time he makes coffee. I’m leaving a few other gifts for him too.
Speaking of the perv, Wanda broke it off with my dad last week. Then, of course, he decided my pouch wasn’t completely disgusting to him anymore. But that’s okay, because in the padded envelope addressed to the Port Fare Police is my journal. Please give it to them. I kept a record of every disgusting thing he’s done to me. I don’t know if they’ll believe it. He’s done a pretty good job of setting me up to be a liar, but at least there’ll be doubt in people’s minds, if nothing else. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, his high-profile law firm will fire him, not wanting to have someone with a tarnished image working for them. I can hope.
I love you, JD. Please don’t hate me for being weak. You were always so much stronger than me. Live on for the both of us.
Your friend, always,
Izzy
Max was on his knees. He must have dropped to them while he read. Mindy, the tenth grader from earlier, came up to him as he finished.
“JD, are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.”
“No. No, I’m not.” He didn’t know what to do, or where to go. This was too big to dump on Em, but he needed someone who could help.
Suddenly, he knew exactly who to go to for help. He jumped to his feet, grabbed the padded envelope and his backpack, and ran full out to the locker room. He weaved around the other students in the hall. Max shoved the locker room door open and ran straight to Coach’s office. He knocked on the ajar door, panting for air.
“Coach, I need to talk to you,” he spit out between pants.
“Hi, JD,” he said without looking up. Jeff stood next to Coach. He did look up. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait. We are about to start our practice game. The championship . . .” Jeff tapped the Coach and pointed to JD.
“Do I need to get my bat?” Jeff asked.
“No. It’s Izzy.”
“I’ll use it to protect her.”
Coach placed his hand on Jeff’s arm. “Have the team run two laps. If I’m not out there by the time they’re done, go ahead run the practice like we talked about.” Jeff nodded and loped past Max. “Close the door behind you. What is it, son?”
Still panting, he handed him the letter Izzy left for him. Coach read it quickly. “Oh, jeez.” He snapped open his desk and grabbed his cell phone and his car keys. “Come on.” As they ran to Coach’s car, he called the police. “What’s her address, JD?”
“4222 Clinton Way. Tell them to hurry.” Max collapsed in the car, scared out of his mind.
“What’s this pact thing she talked about in the letter, JD?” he demanded.
“A suicide pact.” JD didn’t want Coach to know about it. But Max did. He continued. “On the night of the championship game, we were going to take a bunch of Percocet, then go out onto the baseball diamond and lay there until . . . Anyway, we wanted them to find us the next morning.”
Coach pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Jeez, JD! That is a stupid thing to do! I told you I’d help you, all you had to do was ask. Why didn’t you ask me for help?”
“Coach, I changed my mind, and I thought I convinced Izzy also. We need to hurry.” Max laid his head back against the headrest, fighting the urge to vomit.
“Do you need me to pull over, son? You look like you’re about to throw up.”
He turned to Coach, and for a split second, he imagined seeing Tim instead of Coach driving. Max pressed himself against the door before realizing his emotions got the better of him.
“We can’t stop. I promise I won’t throw up in your car.”
“I’m not worried about my car, JD. I’m worried about you.”
“No. We need to keep going.”
“Alright.” Coach’s foot pressed down on the accelerator. When he turned onto Clinton Way, Max leaned forward into the windshield.
“That one, the two story,” Max pointed out. Coach tore into the driveway and Max bolted from the car before it stopped completely.
“JD,” Coach called after him, but he was already at the door. “Wait, son. Please.”
“No time,” Max said, twisting the doorknob. He shoved the unlocked door open and gasped.
Chapter 27
Black scarred the inside of Izzy’s pristine white house. Long, angry streaks, most likely from a paint brush, defiled the pure white couch. Splatters of black littered the white carpet and the white baby grand piano sitting in the corner. Max stepped inside, yelling out, “Izzy!” but got no response. Both Coach and Max dipped their fingers in a large black spot of paint on the carpet. Dry. She hadn’t just done this. He looked over at Coach, and knew from the grim expression on his face, he thought they were too late.
Max took off at an all-out run for the kitchen. Coach reached for him, but Max was faster.
“Izzy!” he yelled again, with Coach on his heels.
“JD, stop! We need to wait for the police,” Coach said, finally reaching Max. He wrapped his hand around Max’s biceps, holding him back.
The kitchen was disaster also. Not only was the food from last night still out, but laying on its side was the fancy coffee grinder. Several small, dried milk puddles littered the counter top, along with trace amounts of a powdery substance. The ground-up pills. Max squeezed his eyes shut. This can’t be happening. This is just one of JD’s horrible nightmares.
“Let’s go back outside and wait for the police.”
“No!” Max ripped his arm free and headed for the stairs. “Izzy!” He made it up two steps before the Coach hooked his arm around Max’s waist, jerking him to a stop.
“Listen to me. This may be a crime scene. You can’t go around touching everything. You’ll contaminate it.”
“Crime scene? She’s trying to kill herself. What are they going to do? Arrest her?” Max tried to reel in the anger he felt. Coach only wanted to help. Then it hit him. “You’re not worried about this being a crime scene, you’re afraid I’m going to find her dead body and you don’t want me to freak out.”
“JD, please. Let’s go outside. I can hear the police sirens, they’re almost here.” The concern on Coach’s face touched Max. He really did care about JD.
Max twisted around to the open front door as two cop cars raced up her driveway. He tugged against the Coach’s arm, hoping maybe they’d be a distraction and he could break out of his grip. But Coach held tight. Three police officers, two male, one female ran up the front walk and in the door.
“I’m Officer Karren. These are Officers Davie and Andrews. Is one of you the person who called about a possible suicide?” asked the female cop.
“Yes. JD, give them the letter.” Max peered down at his hands. They were balled into fists. In his right fist he clenched the letter. He handed the crumpled piece of paper to the cop.
“We need to keep looking. We haven’t found her yet.” Max tugged again but Coach didn’t let up. “We need an ambulance. And we have to hurry.”
“An ambulance is on the way,” assured Officer Davie.
“Alright, Davie, you come with me. Andrews, search the main floor,” directed Officer Karren. “You two need to stay right here.”
Max and Coach stepped out of the way as the cops split up. Max paced back and forth in the small entryway, stopping to look once again at the mess in the living room. Izzy’d even marred the walls with paint. As he turned back to the stairs, he spotted th
e painting of the family at the beach hanging on the living room wall next to the door. He’d been focused on the mess in the living room when he came in and missed it.
Izzy had destroyed it. Max stepped toward the painting.
“JD, we have to stay put.”
“I just want to see the painting. It’s right there,” he pointed. Coach looked around then nodded, following him to the painting.
The canvas held several small slashes, undoubtedly from a knife. A painted black X cover the parents, and the words pervert and molester painted in black surrounded the father. Max sank to the ground.
“Let’s go outside, JD. You need air.” Coach lifted Max up by his arm and led him outside. Max hoofed over to the car and sat down on the hood, still woozy.
“This is taking too long. Why can’t they find her?” He dropped his head between his knees.
An ambulance rushed around the corner and sped up to her house. A medic jumped out of the passenger door and ran to the back, opening a side compartment. He pulled out a large black and silver box. The driver walked up to Coach, but before he could ask any questions, Officer Karren, who was speaking into her talkie, stepped outside. Max watched as she shook her head at the Medic. He nodded and put the box back in the ambulance.
“Wait! You have to help her. My friend is inside. She’s taken a bunch of pills. Please, she—” The plea died in his mouth as he heard Officer Karren’s request for the coroner over her talkie.
Everything spun around him. Trees, houses, lampposts were all a blur. Max fell over. Thankfully one of the medics caught him before he crashed to the ground and half carried him to a shady spot on the grass. Max flopped back, struggling to comprehend what had happened. Coach came over to him and sat down as the medic took his blood pressure.
“JD, are you okay?”
“Nope. I’m not even a little okay.” He stared up at the sky, trying to fathom the reality of it all. It felt like he lay there forever, waiting. He sat up as the coroner arrived. Max watched as the driver unloaded a stretcher and took it inside. It was like watching a frightening horror movie that he couldn’t walk out of.
“May I speak to you for a minute?” Max peered up at the female cop standing over him and nodded. She squatted down. “I’m very sorry about your friend, JD. There’s nothing we could have done. She’s been gone for a while.”
Numb, Max said nothing.
“In this note, she mentions a journal she wanted you to turn over to the police. Do you have that with you?”
“I’ll get it.” Coach got up and went to his car. He grabbed the envelope and brought it to the officer. As he handed it to her, a car with the Port Fare Airport shuttle logo on the side pulled up in front of the house. Izzy’s cocky father stepped out of the back.
Max shot up, rage flooding every square inch of him. He didn’t know if it was JD’s rage or his own, or both, and he didn’t care. Kevin Thurston was about to pay for what he’d done.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“You foul, sick pervert.” Max launched himself at Kevin, kicking, punching and swearing with each blow. Kevin tried to defend himself, but he was no match for Max’s rage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it surprised him that no one stopped him. After several seconds, the two officers and Coach finally pulled Max off.
“You, young man, will pay for that,” Izzy’s father spat at him as he struggled to stand up. “Officer, I want this man arrested for assault.”
Max grinned as Kevin wiped at the thin trickle of blood running from his lip, wishing he’d done more damage. “Your daughter is dead, thanks to you,” Max snapped angrily, kicking at him, unable to make contact with the three men holding him firmly.
“Dead? My Isabelle is dead? How?” He appeared visibly shaken.
“She killed herself, mainly because you’ve been molesting her, you freak,” Max shouted.
Kevin had the audacity to look offended. “And you can add slander to the charges against JD, Officer.” That sparked Max’s rage all over again and he almost broke free of the men as he swung out, missing the creep.
“See that journal she’s reading?” Max pointed to Officer Karren. “That’s Izzy’s. She’s been documenting what you’ve been doing to her. You’re busted, perv.”
Wide-eyed, Kevin turned to Officer Karren. “Miss, I’m a lawyer, and unless you have a warrant, you have no right to go through my family’s belongings. My daughter is dead, and that makes her belongings mine.” He reached for the journal, but Officer Karren stepped back.
“Mr. Thurston, as you well know, that’s not correct. Besides, this was addressed to us and delivered to us at Isabelle’s request.” She held up the padded envelope. “It’s not your property. And I’d suggest you find yourself a very good lawyer.”
“Aren’t you the least bit concerned that Izzy’s dead?” Max asked bitterly. “Or are you only concerned with your own putrid self?”
“The boy has a point, Thurston. Why haven’t you asked to see your daughter? Where were you last night around ten p.m.?” asked Officer Karren.
“I was in Ohio at a business dinner with five other attorneys,” he answered, indignantly.
“We’ll need you to ID the body please. This is a crime scene, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you not to touch anything.” Officer Karren, looking as repulsed as Max felt, turned and walked in the house. Kevin followed.
“What happened to my house? This carpet is imported wool!” he shouted as he crossed the threshold.
Max stomped over to Coach’s car and dropped onto the hood again. Coach came over next to him. “How are you doing, JD?” Max shrugged. JD was pulling away. Feelings of failing Izzy, along with complete and utter sorrow over losing his best friend swamped him. Max knew he should fight it, try and encourage JD to talk to Coach or Mel, but his own sorrow and rage engulfed him.
Kevin’s repeated screams of No hit Max like punches. It was her. Izzy was dead. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe that it was all a mistake, and that it wasn’t her upstairs, dead. Overwhelmed, Max slid off the car. He wanted to leave. He didn’t know how much more he could possibly take. A few minutes later, the medics wheeled out the stretcher with a black body bag strapped to it.
Max stepped back, his head shaking in disbelief. Kevin bolted out the front door and threw himself across Izzy’s lifeless body. “No, Isabelle. Please. I’m sorry. Please. No.” A medic tried to pull him off Izzy, but he held tightly to her body, begging. Begging her to live, begging her to forgive him. Begging and begging.
Max didn’t realize he’d worked his way down the driveway. Watching her vulgar father’s pathetic attempt at redemption and seeing her hauled out in a body bag pushed him over the precarious edge he was on. JD ran. Max, emotionally beaten, let him go.
With everyone watching Kevin’s guilt spilling everywhere, no one paid any attention to Max. He ran hard, through neighbors yards and across parking lots.
Max tumbled as JD’s sorrow choked him. His best friend was dead. The only person in the entire world who truly understood JD no longer existed. Not even his own mother got him like Izzy did. Now what? Who could he trust now? Who could he confide in when things got tough?
Max did his best to give JD hope, pointing out the new friends he’d made, but his own sorrow anchored heavily on his heart. He slowed to a jog and eventually to a walk. He didn’t want to go home. No one would be there. He went to the school instead, going straight to his locker. JD wanted the painting Izzy gave him.
He opened the locker and removed the painting, unrolling it carefully. He sat down on the hard cement ground and soaked it in. The colors, the mood, the beauty of two young kids, so blissfully happy, in a field of weeds. Running his finger delicately across little Izzy’s cheeks, he smiled until the tears came. Then he gave in to deep, gut-wrenching sobs.
**
Kevin Thurston was arrested the next day. He didn’t fight the charges brought against him. Rumor had it he even confessed. Izzy’s suic
ide burned through the school like wildfire. At lunch, he saw the girls who’d been laughing at Izzy’s gift crying in a small huddle. Good, he thought to himself. His compassion rode low.
Izzy’s mom and sister flew out for the funeral on Friday. Her mom sat stoically through the entire service. Her sister, Kelley, was inconsolable. But it wasn’t Izzy’s family that drew his attention. It was the church. Or rather, all the people in the church. They packed the entire building. Students and teachers filled every pew and packed the wall space, all wanting to say their goodbyes. In way too many cases, they begged Izzy for forgiveness for the way they treated her. Max hoped Izzy watched from heaven.
Her suicide affected many at Port Fare High. When Max rode the bus the first time after her death, two other students shut Greg down when he tried to bully him. Too bad Izzy had to die before others realized the ugliness of bullying.
JD was struggled greatly with Izzy’s death. No matter what Max said to him, his despair ran deep, and it worried Max.
Despite the hot, sticky weather, Max decided to walk home after the funeral, wanting to give JD another pep talk. He forgot that he’d have to pass the Widow Maker on his way to Mel’s from the cemetery.
Max debated about turning down the road, but felt drawn for whatever reason. Probably morbid curiosity more than anything. As he reached the curve, he stopped in his tracks. Off the side of the road dozens and dozens of flowers greeted him, left in memorial to him and his family.
Max stepped up to the flowers and read some of the cards. Some were from teammates, others from friends. Several were from Em. He worried about her still. Izzy’s death shook her up pretty badly. She’d been at his side since the moment she heard the news, trying to offer him comfort, but Max knew she struggled much more than she let on. Izzy’s suicide, and Em’s reaction to it, shook up her parents also. They’d arranged for her to meet with a grief counselor, and did their best to make sure she wasn’t ever alone. Em complained to him about all the hugging and talks she’d had with her parents over the past few day, but Max sensed it didn’t annoy her as much as she said.
Not So Easy Page 25
