Blood on My Hands (12 page)

At first I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I’m only vaguely aware that it’s a girls’ soccer game. But gradually I realize that they’re not only girls but girls about the same size and age of Alyssa, Slade’s little sister.

And there she is, racing around the field, her brown
ponytail bouncing. I quickly glance down the sideline to see if Slade’s here. There’s no sign of him on this side of the field and I look across to the people lining the other side.
Oh my God!
He’s partway down the field, yelling encouragement. The pendulum of my emotions swings back toward elation, and the next thing I know, I’ve walked down the sideline until I’m directly across from him. Each time his eyes move in my direction, I raise my hand to shoulder height and softly wave.

But he’s too involved in the game to notice. It’s driving me crazy. I want to run all the way around the field and into his arms, but I might just as well start shouting to everyone that the girl the police are looking for is here.

I wave again and this time his eyes stay on me. His eyebrows dip, then shoot upward as if they’re going to rocket right off his forehead. I press my finger to my lips and feel joyous. Slade looks to the left and the right and then begins to walk down the sideline toward the goal, as if he’s coming around the field to me. He’s a little gimpy and I can tell his knee is still bothering him.

That’s when a police car shoots past the front of the school at pursuit speed, but once again with its lights and siren off. It’s headed toward the entrance to the parking lot. Then tires screech to my left as another police car races up the footpath that connects the school grounds to the park next door. They’re headed for the soccer field, and they’ve blocked both avenues of escape.

Chapter
23

Monday 6:09
P.M.

MOST OF THE people on the sidelines are still cheering the soccer players, but a few are watching as the police officers get out of their cruisers and start looking around. Near the goal, Slade stops, his head turning from the police to me and back again. Meanwhile, I’ve backed slowly away from the crowd, toward the reeds. Everyone’s so busy watching either the game or the police that no one notices that as soon as I feel the reeds at my back, I turn and step into them.

The ground turns soft and muddy. My feet sink and my shoes stick. No matter how slowly and carefully I try to go, the reeds scratch and rattle as I weave through them. As soon as I think I’m out of sight, I stop and listen, but all I hear is the crowd cheering. To the west the sun is beginning to set. Golden red light catches the cattails overhead. In the stillness of the reeds, I wonder whether the police will search the marsh and, if they do, whether I’ll be able to hear them coming first.

Or will it be Slade who comes? My shoes sinking into the
mud, and chilly water seeping against my feet, I wonder if he saw me go into the reeds. If the police leave before the soccer game ends, will he come in here and find me?

I hear a rustle and my heart leaps. It’s him! I swivel my head around anxiously, trying to peer through the reeds, searching for a glimpse.

And then I hear a growl.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I can’t breathe. Now more rustling and another growl. My heart’s racing.

Now a snarl so close that I don’t understand why I can’t see the animal making it. I turn my head in every direction. Where is it?

The fear is so intense I feel light-headed.
Oh God, Callie, whatever you do, don’t faint!

Then I see movement through the reeds.

Bared white fangs and yellow wolflike eyes.

The snarling dog with bared teeth has a brown-and-black face; the fur on its back is raised. A German shepherd. I can hardly breathe.
They’ve brought a police dog!

I am frozen with fear and clench my hands so tight that for a moment I don’t realize that the pain I’m feeling is from my own fingernails digging into my palms. Big dogs have always terrified me. And no big dog scares me more than a German shepherd. This one probably weighs more than I do. Its long teeth and ferocious growl make me want to cry out for help. Suddenly I can’t wait for the police to get here and arrest me. Anything as long as they take this dog away.
Please!

The dog has stopped four feet from me. As our eyes lock I wait for the crash of the police officers through the reeds.

But all I hear are parents yelling and cheering for their children. The dog snarls but doesn’t come closer. I stay frozen, my feet now icy cold and soaked in muddy water. The sun is still setting, the light grayish and filtered. Where are the police? Why aren’t they coming?

But wait. Does Soundview even have a K9 unit? I don’t remember ever seeing one before. Is it possible this isn’t a police dog?

I’ve hardly completed the thought when a woman calls, “Franklin! Here boy! Franklin!”

Without taking its yellow eyes off me, the shepherd perks up its ears.

“Come on, Franklin!”

Franklin’s fur relaxes. The teeth disappear under the snout. He turns and trots away. A rushing wave of relief leaves me feeling light-headed. Instinctively I squat down and close my hands tightly around the base of some stalks to steady myself.

“Shrimp?” A voice, hardly more than a whisper, comes through the reeds.

Except for that one time when Slade excitedly announced that he wanted to become a commercial fisherman, our video chats were gloomy and depressing, with Slade going on and on about how much he hated being at Fort Benning, how lonely he was, and how worried he was about being sent overseas. It got to the point where I began to dread speaking to him and wished he wouldn’t tell me everything he was thinking and feeling. I certainly wasn’t doing the same. I didn’t tell him about the fun I was having with
Katherine and her crowd, and I definitely didn’t say anything about the pressure from Katherine to break up with him.

But not being honest made me feel guilty, and it was hard to hide that guilt when we were face-to-face on our computers. By August I was making excuses to speak to him on the phone instead of video chatting. But that just meant more lies and made me feel even worse.

“What’s wrong?” he asked one night on the phone when I said my computer was acting up.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Cal. You told me two weeks ago your computer was broken. You’re telling me it’s still broken?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I was sick of hearing myself make up excuses and lies.

“Cal, be honest. Tell me what’s going on,” he urged.

What I could be honest about were my feelings. “I miss you. I wish you’d come home. It’s hard when you’re so far away.”

“What’s hard?” he asked. “Staying faithful? Not going out with other guys?”

“No!” I gasped, stung by the accusation. “Nothing like that! What makes you say that?”

“The three
P
s,” he said.

I had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”

“It’s something they teach in the army. To succeed and survive you need patience, perseverance, and paranoia. When I first heard that, I understood the patience and perseverance right away, but paranoia? Who wants you to be paranoid? But they say if you want to survive in war, that’s how you have to be.”

“This isn’t war.”

“Right. But you know what? Part of war is survival, and right now I feel like I’m fighting for the survival of Cal and Slade. Because my gut is telling me something is wrong, and paranoia is telling me that it’s more than just a broken computer. It’s already happened twice in my unit.”

“What’s happened?”

“The e-mail comes. The one from the girlfriend saying it’s over. That can’t happen to us, Cal. It’ll kill me.”

“I haven’t seen anyone,” I said.

“You sure?”

I don’t know why that question bothered me so much. Maybe because his neediness felt like more pressure on me.

“I think I’d know if I was seeing someone,” I said. But even as I said it, I felt my insides twist with guilt, because Slade’s instincts were right. It wasn’t another guy I was seeing, but another life, one that promised to be a lot more fun and carefree than the one I was having with him.

Instead of accepting my reply, Slade pressed again. “I need to know that I don’t have to worry about that, Cal. Not with us. You need to promise me.”

Something inside me snapped. “Or what? God, Slade, you make it sound like your whole life depends on me. I can’t stand feeling like I’m the only thing responsible for your happiness. I want to have some happiness, too. I’m only seventeen, for God’s sake. Is this what I’ve got to look forward to for the rest of my life? Because if it is, no thanks.”

I hung up.

Chapter
24

Monday 6:17
P.M.

WE STAND IN the muddy, cold shadows of the reeds. The cheers are still coming from the soccer field.

“What were you doing there?” he asks.

“I just … I don’t know.… They spotted me in town and I had to run. Then I felt so scared and alone, and so tired of hiding. I just wanted to be near people. And then I saw you.”

He looks at my face, clearly puzzled. “Are those real?”

For a second I don’t know what he’s talking about. Then I pull the ring off my lip and he smiles as if he’s relieved, then shakes his head. “Did you
have
to cut off your hair?”

“Yes.”

“What happened last night? You disappeared in the middle of our conversation.” It sounds like he really cares, like he was worried about me. Just knowing that is like breathing in pure oxygen. It makes me feel hopeful and reenergized.

“I couldn’t stay on,” I tell him. “The police were coming. They must be tracing my phone. But I have to tell you what I’ve
learned.” I tell him about Griffen Clemment. “He thinks Dakota sent those text threats. So you see, Slade? She
did
have a motive for killing Katherine.”

He draws in a breath and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to argue that girls don’t go around killing their friends just because one stole another’s boyfriend. But he doesn’t know Dakota. Then again, a week ago I might have argued the same thing, and I
do
know her. It’s just that you learn things and start to put together the pieces and that’s when the seemingly impossible begins to look possible.

“Listen …,” he begins.

“I know what you’re going to say, Slade,” I say, cutting him short. “And—”

“No, you don’t.” He cuts
me
short. “The police came to my house. They interviewed me for a long time. I had to tell them we talked, Cal.”

It’s another unexpected jolt, but I know immediately that I shouldn’t be surprised.

“They interviewed you about me?”

“Not just you. Everything.” He looks down at our muddy feet. “Almost made me feel like they thought I was a suspect.”

“You think they do that just to make sure you’re telling the truth?” I ask.

He shrugs and shakes his head. My mood begins to plummet again. They were bound to get to him sooner or later. It feels like the police are getting closer and closer. I must be crazy to think I can skulk around this town, trying to prove that Dakota killed Katherine, when everyone’s looking for me.

*  *  *

I’d never hung up on Slade before. I sat there, feeling a crazy storm of emotions rage inside me. Anger, relief, guilt, resentment. Was I facing a choice? Tedium with Slade or fun with Katherine? Security or uncertainty?

The phone rang again. “Hi,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. It’s not fair to dump all this on you.”

“I shouldn’t have hung up on you,” I said.

“I love you, Cal.”

“I love you, Slade.” I believed it in my head, but it wasn’t what I was feeling in my heart.

Chapter
25

Monday 6:22
P.M.

I SUDDENLY REALIZE that there are no more cheers coming from the soccer field. It’s now nearly dark and the game must be over. Slade glances over his shoulder. “I have to get back.”

“Okay.” I hate to see him go, but Alyssa must be wondering where he is.

He doesn’t leave me just yet. “Still think you can prove Dakota did it?”

“I don’t know, but what other choice do I have?”

He nods. “Okay.” Then he’s gone, and once again I’m all alone.

By the time it’s dark enough for me to leave the marsh, my teeth are chattering and my wet feet feel numb. I walk down a quiet street and pass houses with windows lit, houses in which I know families are gathering around kitchen tables for dinner even if I can’t see them.

“The higher-ups say the reason we’re there is to bring those people freedom. But just about every guy who’s been over there says the
same thing: the people don’t want us there to help them be free. They don’t want us there, period.”

“I know. It’s a terrible situation.”

“I just don’t see the point in it.”

“I wish I could help you.”

Sometimes I wondered if Mia was only interested in me because she wanted to know why Katherine seemed to favor me over her.

Mia:
Did U ask Y she didnt invite me 2 the city?

Cal:
Told U I cant ask things like that

Mia:
It really bothers me

Cal:
Y not just make other friends?

Mia:
Know what Groucho Marx once said?

Cal:
???

Mia:
Hed never join a club that would let a person like him be a member
.

Cal:
LOL?

Mia:
Like, we only want what we cant have
.

Cal:
But shes so mean 2 U
.

Mia:
Things change
.