Flawed Plan

by Amabel Daniels

  “Tim!” Ashlyn rushed a step toward us. “Don’t—”

  “Right?” he said to me, holding his hand up to silence his sister. “You followed that dope home and saw it all. Am I right?”

  If he thought I was going to actually strap a bullseye target to my back for him, he had another thing coming. My lips remained shut.

  “’Course you did.” He nodded again and licked his lips. “You know where he is.”

  “Where?” Ashlyn said and grabbed Tim’s bicep. “Then where is he?”

  Huh? I squinted at her. Seriously? Was she losing it? By the wide-eyed hysterical stare she had, she sure looked like she was a little bonkers.

  “He’s in the damn river, Ash!” Tim exploded. “We saw him crash!”

  “But…but…”

  He shook free of her hand. “No buts. He’s dead!”

  “But I saw his car at school,” she argued.

  Again, he glared at me. “And I can only wonder who drove it there.”

  Me? All right, first of all, I didn’t know how to drive. No point to learn yet if I didn’t own a car. And second, I don’t own a car! Much less a perfect classic cruiser like Jackson’s Vette.

  “Even if she didn’t bring it to school to mess with our heads, it wasn’t his. I drove past the police station on my way home from working out twenty minutes ago. His car is in the lot, all banged up and totaled. And wet. They pulled it from the river today. You saw something else this morning.”

  I kind of doubted it. Crimson Falls was too tiny to have an abundance of classic cars roaming the streets. A Vette around here would be, well, Jackson’s. No other car owner came to mind. Could it have been someone passing through? And if so, why stop at Falls High?

  Ashlyn shook her head. “But… No.” Now she clamped her lips tighter, some inkling of defiance taking over her dazed expression. “No, Tim. No. I saw it.” She pointed at me. “She saw it parked at school too. And tonight, it’s been driving down the road, on the hour. Blaring that damn AC/DC song from the radio.”

  AC/DC. Jackson’s favorite band…

  I put my hands up. “Alrighty. Look, I can’t drive. Nor do I have anything to drive. And I was at the diner all night. You’re looking at the wrong person.”

  A weirdo stalking Ashlyn from a lookalike Vette? She really was losing it. Tim just said Jackson’s car was totaled and dripping at the police station. Could it be guilt was playing games with her mind?

  Tim cocked his head to the side as he studied me. “I think I’m looking at just the person I need to see right now.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “A warning. I know you saw what happened. If you’re thinking about blackmailing us with this… You must be paying someone to mess with us. Driving by in a similar car, playing that song. Egging our front door after school.”

  Egg their front door— I almost looked past him to check out the damage. Vandalism on their house, now that had to take some balls. “I was at the diner all night.”

  He still took a step forward, and I hated that I had to lean back.

  “You think you finally got one over us? You know a dirty little secret about us?” He laughed a single ugly bark of sound. “Think again.” He grabbed the handlebars and I shoved him back with a push of my shoe to his gut. Shaking his head, he stood back. His glare darkened and his lips sank lower. “Think again, Harding. I’m not letting one little mistake screw me over. I’ve got college scouts ready to sign me up as pitcher. I’m not going down for this.”

  Little mistake? Killing someone was a little mistake? How I wanted to scream and rip at his face. But there was no denying he was so right. So damn right.

  Even if I told someone about it all, he’d come out on top. All three of them would get out of it. If Tim could drink and drive when he was fourteen and run his mother’s car into the fountain near the park—demolishing it and flooding the area, also running over someone’s unleashed dog—and get off scot-free, there was nothing the mayor wouldn’t be able to erase from his son’s record.

  In the face of his threat, because it sure as hell was heavier than a warning, I couldn’t deny I was stuck. He was right, and no matter what I could say and to whom, I would be wrong. No one ever believed me. All these years I’d had experience with being bullied, tormented, picked on. It only took me a few times to understand no one would take faith in my reporting that the Vensel twins were mean brats, that Meg was a cruel snob along with them. Except Bill. He seemed like the one person who’d believe me. He’d taken my side before.

  A warning, though?

  I maintained my stare on Tim’s smug scowl and then glanced at Ashlyn’s wary gaze.

  Nah. He could take that warning and stuff it. This wasn’t my rah-rah moment of independence, some coming-of-age-taking-back-my-dignity moment. If he’d just forewarned me of more teasing and put-downs… Whatever. Like I’d ever expect anything else from them. And just what could he plan to do? Egg me while I was biking home? Beat me up?

  I lacked the confidence to feel like I could call his bluff because he was intending to get away with murder. A strange sense of calm and surety took root in me, though. He could have made this really nasty, and let me assume they’d be after me once they knew I was aware of their crime. Telling me I was on their radar, well, thanks. Now I’d be sure to be even more cautious of them.

  “Tim, I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about,” I replied and kicked my pedal around so I could take off. As far as playing dumb went, it was a weak line. Denial? They wouldn’t believe me. Okay, I wasn’t sure what Ashlyn would buy right now, because she seemed awfully worked up like Jackson was back from the grave to get her. Tim, I knew, had to be glaring at my bike as I raced away. Because, one, I’d dared to leave with the last word. And two, I didn’t cower at his demands. Nope. I just ran away.

  All day I’d been waylaid and…too confused to make a stronger effort to tell Bill about them killing Jackson. The same obstacle that had me hesitating hadn’t changed. I had no evidence. Actually, I did. Jackson’s car would testify what damage was wrought on it. I didn’t have to mention that the Vette appeared at school. Cue, my confusion.

  On the turn that would bring me to my street, I debated wheeling over and past the police station. It wasn’t that I needed reaffirmation that the Vette was totaled and soaked. I knew it was. But what safer place to be than at a police station? Maybe Bill would be in, too. Finally, it seemed my pieces were fitting together better.

  I checked a peek over my shoulder, to make sure Tim and Ashlyn weren’t following me on the empty dark sidewalk, and cruised over to the police department. Through the window, I could see the daytime secretary rolling her eyes as she listened to someone on the phone. No other lights were lit inside. Hmm. No officer present to speak to. Walking with my bike still between my legs, I made my way toward the teeny staff lot next to the brick building. Two spotlights shone on the parking space, and there it was.

  God, he’d be so furious at the damage if he were still here.

  Jackson’s beloved car, the one he’d so painstakingly renovated and fixed up, sat still on a tow truck’s bed. Water had dripped enough to darken the pavement, even in this dim light of the night, leaving lines of where liquid fled the vehicle.

  Window cracks and pushed-in metal screamed the facts of how he’d been killed, and seeing the damage up close for the first time, I struggled to shut down the memory of those screeches and thuds as he’d gone into the river.

  I clutched a diamond of the chain link fence and leaned my forehead to the slim lines of freezing metal. See. He really was gone. Any person driving that car under the conditions to receive that much battery to a car could only be…dead. I had to extinguish that weird but annoyingly insistent instinct that maybe he had gotten out. The prickly feeling that sharpened when Ashlyn and I saw the Vette at school this morning—that if a gorgeous antique car was there, so would Jackson.

  Shaking my head, I stepped back. I had no time to hem-haw a
bout the other car. Maybe it was someone else’s. Or Ashlyn and I had a simultaneous hallucination for no reason. Now, however, was not the time to stand out in the open on the sidewalk when Tim could drive by and make good on his threat, especially if he saw me at the police station.

  Time to haul my butt home. Mom would be there. She’d keep me safe, of course. She’d hear me out—

  Eh. Should I tell her? Doubts stacked up the closer I neared our house, lit up this time since she was, in fact, home. Last night, in the immediate shock of witnessing Jackson sinking into the river, I’d been all on board with seeking her out for help. Now, I wasn’t sure.

  Keeping secrets from my mom was something I indulged in almost never. She was my go-to for everything. It’d always been just the two of us since my dad abandoned us, and being that small of a family only reinforced our relationship.

  If I told her, though… She’d lose it, on many counts. The fact I’d witnessed the death of my friend. That I was threatened to keep quiet. And most importantly, how it was the Vensel twins’ and Meg’s fault.

  Mom had plenty of practice hearing about my complaints and woes at the hands of those three bullies. With all that experience of me telling her about how awful those kids could be, she’d developed more than a passing hatred toward them. Mama bears got protective, but mine? She would get full-on militant combative to defend me.

  Once I slowed in the driveway, I rested my bike against the side of the lean-to where her car was parked. Fresh linen mist from the dryer vent warmed my walk toward the front door. As soon as I entered, I couldn’t help but take in all that she’d been doing. Humming whirs came from the kitchen as the dishwasher ran and the roar of the vacuum cleaner sounded from her bedroom.

  Her one night off and she was playing housemaid on speed. I shook my head, hating that I hadn’t had the time or forethought to load the dishwasher last night. Well…if it’d been a normal night.

  No sooner than I pushed the front door shut with my butt did the sweeper shut off. She strode through the house, approaching me with a bright smile. “How was your day, sweetheart?”

  I felt my brows dip. How the heck would she think it could be when news of Jackson’s death had to be making its way through town… Only, maybe she was unaware. If Bill had to wait for Jackson’s parents to get back in town, maybe he hadn’t made an official statement about the Vette being in the river. Parents had to be notified first, and all. And the only others who knew about it—what really happened—were mute me and the obviously mum Vensels and Meg.

  “Uh…”

  Here it was. The moment I realized I wouldn’t be telling her. At least not yet. I could just see it now. At the mere suggestion of someone coming after me, she’d get my grandpa’s rifle out to be on the ready. Maybe even call 911. Then she’d lose her temper, cussing out the bullies while refraining from actually using profanity. After that, she’d sit me down and have me repeat my story three times over, obsessing over every detail.

  It would be…too much. My love for Mom couldn’t run any deeper, but the practical logic in my head had me hedging for an excuse to be alone. There was only one person I could trust to take care of this awful mess and seek justice for Jackson’s death. Bill. He stood by me once, that petty little issue with the graffiti, and I hoped he would again.

  He had to be home now and off duty, but I wasn’t gutsy enough to bike to his house in the dark with an angry and stubborn Tim on my tail.

  “Uh, it was okay.”

  “You sure?” Mom stepped closer and hugged me. Even sniffed at my hair. “You look beat.”

  I shrugged within her embrace until she released me enough to let me hug her back.

  What if Tim upped his threat and included Mom in that danger as well, to keep me quiet? I couldn’t bear to drag her into this mess. It would be safer for her to know as little as possible.

  “Long night at work. And…lots of homework to do.”

  She sighed and let me go. “Maybe you should cut back some of your shifts at the diner here and there.”

  I shrugged again. Washing dishes was the lamest and easiest task I could possibly perform for a wage in this town. And homework? I couldn’t even say what was discussed at any of my classes today. I refused to tell her my true reason for stress and fatigue. Not yet, at least. “No, I’m good. Just eager to get my things done and have a good night’s sleep.”

  Mom nodded and smiled fondly. “Did you already eat dinner at work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you from your studies. I’ll try to keep my cleaning down out here.” She huffed her brown bangs from her eyes as she surveyed our minimalist yet cramped house.

  “Okay. Love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart. You go on and keep up those straight As.” She winked at me, and I tried to return a grin. “Maybe we can have a little snack before you get to bed. I can warm up some hot cocoa.”

  “Maybe,” I said and headed to my room.

  After I locked the door and fell to my bed, I covered my eyes with my arm and sighed. How could I tell Bill? Should I tell Bill? What, exactly, should I tell him? It was too loaded of a question to ponder lying down. I stood up, pitting my antsy energy against my tired body, and paced the room.

  If I sought out Bill to speak to him in person, I’d tip off the Vensels that I was ratting them out. Hence, danger for me and maybe Mom, because if those twins wanted to hurt me by exploiting my weakness, she was it.

  Call? The phone lines had finally been restored from the storm that had passed through. Perhaps I could call him? From where would be a challenge. Even if I were to give him a call on our landline, I didn’t have his home number. Contacting the police department and requesting to speak to the already too busy Bill would be the same as speaking to any officer—and potentially giving the twins the heads up I was telling on them.

  I could email him. It shouldn’t be too hard to look up a direct address for him from the police department’s website. Right? Crimson Falls was dinky, and the local businesses and departments probably had the bare-bone basics available on the Internet. Besides, we didn’t have cable anymore, so no going online here, and we didn’t have a computer. I’d need to go to the library—closed at this time of the night, of course.

  I stopped midstep and shook my head. Was my best and most timely option to sneak out of the house and knock on Bill’s front door in the middle of the night? I bet I’d get his attention that way, but leaving the safety of my house seemed risky. Better to act in the daylight of tomorrow and make sure I wouldn’t be alone with Tim, Ashlyn, and Meg. I couldn’t chance them getting away with this. If I were the sole witness, I had to convey this story to Bill.

  What if…

  Yes, sometimes oldies but goodies could do the trick. I could write it out. That would be the least trackable means of communication. I could bike past his house and slip it under the windshield of his car before going to school. Or I could drop it in the mail, but jeez, even in this small town, that’d take a day or two. Too long to wait.

  Mind made up, I rustled through the notebooks on my bookshelf and then sat at my bed to put pen to paper. I’d write it all down now, and it could even be anonymous! Unless he decided to have a handwriting sample from me. Hmmm. I paused after the first couple sentences of my narrative. No. I’d already written about reading their lips in school—that’d categorize me as a student. And later, I’d need to explain I biked out there. If I weren’t going down in Crimson Falls history as the deaf girl, my other mark of celebrity would be how poor Mom and I were, and that I biked everywhere instead of drove.

  Words rushed out fast, whipping me through the ugly evening of dread, fears, and anger. Tears welled and fell, as composing my testimony was my first private and conscious opportunity to relax enough to grieve Jackson’s death.

  I’d never had a chance to say goodbye.

  It was a goodbye I’d never wanted to make, to the one person I never wanted to imagine absent in
my life. I wouldn’t have another chance to laugh with him about action movies or tease him into smiling when he was acting like a rockstar. Our whole futures were supposed to be waiting for us, those blank canvases we’d planned to start filling in the day we left town after graduation. Now, he was gone, and I was alone.

  All because of one. Stupid. Prank.

  Gritting my teeth, I wiped my eyes and concentrated on providing the most precise account I could. I pressed the pen tip so hard to the paper that it tore on some letters.

  I had no enthusiasm to look forward to the next day or any of the ones following. Not without my friend, not without the boy I’d fallen in love with. First thing tomorrow morning, though, I’d make sure to wave farewell when Ashlyn, Tim, and Meg were carted away for interrogation and hopefully arrests.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning, I left the house well after Mom had already gone in for her shift at the hospital a half an hour away in Arbordale. I had my lengthy handwritten letter to Bill sealed in an envelope and addressed to him in my backpack. Bill’s house wasn’t too far from school, but I’d anticipated needing a good couple minutes to stop by there to deposit my words where he couldn’t miss them.

  What I hadn’t counted on or even considered was the absence of Bill’s car. So excited and determined was I with my plan, I didn’t even think about a backup idea. Because in Bill’s short driveway to his rental was nothing but chilly October air.

  Damn.

  Guess that’d mean…he was at work? Not necessarily a bad thing, and I could still pass along my letter, somehow, after school. The beauty of slipping it under his windshield would be that no one would have to witness me handing over the secret. If I were to run into him in person, there was the chance Tim or the other two bullies could oversee my exchange.

  Hmmm. I glanced around, checking again for Tim’s, Ashlyn’s, or Meg’s cars. Still good. It was early in the morning, and they wouldn’t have reason to be on Bill’s street anyway. My only company was a squirrel sampling a gourd on the neighbor’s porch. Slip the letter inside under the crack of the front door? I eyed the entry to Bill’s house and didn’t favor that option either. Who knew how long it might be before Bill could come home? The longer I didn’t tell the one person I deemed as my single hope for justice, the more this urgency to do some action intensified.