Out of the Ashes (15 page)

This is what I had:

Secrecy — because of shame, guilt, embarrassment, or fear of what the person who had hurt them might do if they told

Withdrawal from others, loners (they feel this has never happened to anyone else)

Unable to trust (difficulty forming strong attachments)

Academic problems (performance below abilities)

Depression

Fear or dislike of certain people or places

May not be willing to change clothes in front of others

The book had stressed that lots of people can have some of these things for other reasons. Lots of girls at school don't like to change in front of anyone in gym class, but that could just be shyness. Most victims showed more than one of the symptoms.

It was clear that even if I identified possible victims, it was by no means going to tell me who the fire setter was.

There had to be other clues, things related to the fires themselves. I had a nagging feeling that there was something right there in front of me, if only I could figure out what it was.

It had been my intention to go to Broderick's and talk to Greg first thing after breakfast on Saturday. Whether or not he listened to me and accepted my apology, I figured it would be good to get it over with. Somehow, though, every time I thought about going out the door I came up with a reason to wait. I must have been more nervous than I realized, or maybe part of me was scared. After all, I only had one shot at it, and if he put me off there'd be no second chance.

I'd rehearsed what I was going to say to him a few times in my head, but I knew from experience that was usually a waste of time. There had been lots of times in the past that I'd gotten myself all hyped up and ready to say exactly the right thing about something, and then I'd opened my mouth and it had come out all jumbled and dumb.

That's almost as bad as when you think of all the things you could have said after something's already over and done. That happens to me a lot too.

Anyway, by one in the afternoon I had run out of excuses for putting it off, so I tossed on my jacket and headed out. I didn't exactly rush on the walk over, but even so I seemed to get there in no time.

When I first arrived, Greg was inside talking to Mr. Broderick. He's a nice old guy who sometimes lets us have car wash fundraisers for school sports teams on one side of the lot. He'd always joke with us, and I think he really liked kids, although he and his wife never had any of their own.

Anyway, as I said, Greg was inside at first, so I stood off to the side and waited. Before long a car drove in, and he came out and tended to the customer. I almost lost my nerve and turned around to leave, but then he happened to look up and saw me standing there.

Well, it was now or never. I took a deep breath and started walking toward him, wondering if he'd even wait around or just go back inside. He waited.

“Hi,” I said when I'd almost reached him.

“Hello,” he said stiffly.

“I'd like to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

“I suppose.” On a scale of one to ten, the enthusiasm in his voice was about zero.

“Look, Greg, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything. I made some pretty bad mistakes, but I wish you could believe that I didn't mean anything personal in what I did.”

“It was a bit personal to find out someone I thought was my friend was only hanging around so she could dig up evidence against me, or whatever it was you were doing.”

“I know that, Greg. I do. And I wish it never happened. It was just that I got carried away with the idea, and I didn't stop to think things through well enough.”

“Well, just forget it. It doesn't really matter now.”

“It does matter. You're a good guy and you didn't deserve to be treated like that.” I stood there feeling kind of awkward and not knowing quite what to say next. It was clear that Greg didn't really want to talk to me.

“Well, you said you were sorry.” He paused. “I don't suppose that was easy.”

“It was hard to come here and face you, but I had to do it.” My voice was catching because my throat was all dry and tight. “Anyway, I hope you can forgive me.”

“It's not really a question of forgiving you, Shelby. It's more a matter of being clear about where things are between us. And I think I'm pretty clear on that. So let's just say it happened and it's over and that's the end of it.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait, there's something else.” I felt panic rise in me. For some reason, I just couldn't stand the thought of our conversation ending like that, with things the way they were.

“What?”

“I want to thank you too, for a couple of things. First of all, for not telling everyone at school about it.”

“Why would I do that?” He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Well, to get back at me, I guess.”

He shook his head. “You have a remarkably high opinion of me, don't you?”

“I didn't mean...; I just thought...; most people would have talked about it, and, uh...;,” I gave up on what I was trying to say, but he finished my sentence anyway.

“And embarrassed you,” he sighed. “Unlike some people, I'm not in the habit of deliberately hurting my friends.”

“Greg, please! I didn't mean to hurt you.” I felt tears filling my eyes and blinked hard to hide them. I had this crazy thought that I wanted to throw my arms around him and make him understand how I felt. I guess that was the moment that I actually understood it myself.

Greg Taylor was the nicest guy I'd ever known. He was smart and funny and decent. I burned with shame to think that I'd missed seeing all of those things until
it was too late, and all because I had this big crush on a total jerk like Nick.

“Okay, okay,” he looked alarmed, and I knew he could see I was fighting tears. “I'm sorry for saying that. It wasn't called for.”

“And I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me with Nick.” There! I'd said everything I came to say. All I wanted to do now was go home and cry and get it all out of my system.

“You didn't need any help, girl,” he smiled, and I could tell he was picturing the scene again. “You were doing just fine on your own.”

“Even so, it was really nice of you.”

A car pulled in to the pumps just then, and Greg nodded towards it.

“I have to go,” he said, but the door of the gas bar opened and Mr. Broderick came out.

“I'll get them,” he called to Greg. “You finish talking to your little friend.”

“Well, I guess that's all I had to say anyway, except maybe that everyone was amazed that you were ready to take Nick on.”

“You mean in a fight?” he asked. When I nodded he laughed, “I didn't think it was going to come to that. At least, I hoped it wasn't. I'm not much for fighting.”

“But it sounded as if...;”

“Don't get me wrong, I wasn't going to back down. I just figured he would.”

“How did you know?”

“Because guys like Nick are really cowards at heart. It scares them when someone stands up to them. He had to be wondering why I wasn't afraid, and that made him so nervous he couldn't take a chance.”

“You were bluffing!”

“Of course I was.”

“But what if he'd called your bluff?”

“I'd probably have gotten my butt kicked.”

I realized suddenly that we were smiling at each other, and a little lurch of happiness ran through me. Almost at the same time I could see that Greg had become aware of it too. His guard went back up immediately. It was as if a cloud came over his face.

“Anyway, I've got to get back to work.”

“Uh, okay then. See you.”

He went back inside without once looking back to where I stood, even though I willed him to with all my might. Then I went home, threw myself across my bed, and cried.

Sunday was a lazy kind of day, and I decided it was a good time to do some more work on my investigation. Well, I like to call it an investigation anyway, although it's probably just a waste of effort.

I took out a fresh tablet and wrote down the different symptoms, with a page for each one. I spread them out on my desk, picked up my lists of names, and started through them.

That took a long time, and I soon saw that some of the categories were going to be really hard to fill in. Like depression. How did I know if someone was depressed or not? Everyone has different personalities, and I really didn't know if the kids who might seem depressed were just naturally quiet or moody or whatever.

It got discouraging pretty fast. I was doing my best, but a lot of it was guesswork. I realized that it would
take a trained professional to properly diagnose most of these things. They probably have tests they can give people to prove whether or not they're depressed or withdrawn or can't trust others.

Still, there were a few that seemed to fall naturally into place. Like Annie Berkley. She has a suspicious attitude in general, which means she probably isn't very trusting, and she seems really down a lot. She never changes in front of anyone in gym, but that could be because of her weight problem. It probably is. Her grades are good though, so academic problems didn't fit. I didn't know if she had any particular fear or dislike of certain people or places.

Now Jane Goodfellow was easy to figure out for that one! Anyone could see that she
hates
her stepfather. And Jane always goes into a bathroom stall to change even though she has a good figure. I also remembered that she had to go to summer school one year, but mostly her grades are average. I hesitated and then put her name under academic problems anyway, because there are lots of times she gets ragged on for not having her homework done, and it seems as though she's smart enough to get much higher marks than she does. Sometimes she's really tired too, and almost falls asleep in class.

That reminded me of something I'd read in the book, and I picked it back up and flipped through until I found what I was looking for. It was about depression,
and how people who are depressed often can't sleep or sleep too much. Being tired in class could mean she wasn't sleeping well. Under the depression category, I added the names of every student I could think of who sometimes seemed really tired in class. Then I put a question mark after them, because I really wasn't sure about it.

Secrecy. That was a tough one too! After all, if someone's keeping a secret, how would you know about it? This wasn't even one of the things you'd tell your best friend. I tried to think of who were best friends with Annie and Jane, but drew a blank. They didn't seem to have any really good friends, although there were a few girls they hung around with at school. That gave me a new idea.

I decided to write the names of anyone who didn't have at least one really close friend under secrecy. After all, if you were secretive it stood to reason that you would keep yourself somewhat distant from others and would be cautious about getting too tight with anyone.

Then I realized that might also suggest you were withdrawn, because people who are withdrawn are generally loners. Anyone without close attachments to other people could be considered loners, at least to some degree.

It surprised me to realize that neither Nick nor Graham had a close friend. They both seem popular but actually don't hang out with anyone in particular. I
added their names under academic problems too, because their grades are barely average. I started wondering about the fact that they both tended to date girls for a short time and then dump them. Did that mean they couldn't trust anyone enough to become attached?

As an afterthought, I put a little note beside Graham's name about how good he was at mimicking a female. There are probably lots of guys who can do a girl's voice convincingly though, so that didn't really prove anything.

Then I was jolted by the memory of the evening I'd done Nick's essay. That was the same night the Lawfords' garage had burned! Where had he really been for the two hours after practice, while I'd been working in his kitchen? I knew he'd spoken to Jane, but Nick wasn't the sort to get into long, meaningful conversations. It seemed unlikely he'd been talking to her all that time.

I struggled to recall what he'd said the next day, when he was explaining why he hadn't come back to his house at eight o'clock, as he'd promised. It had been something about a friend needing help, and not being able to tell me the whole story. You couldn't get much more vague than that. It certainly wasn't much of an alibi. Besides, Nick wasn't the type to go out of his way to help anyone. I wondered if my infatuation with him had blinded me to something that was right there in front of my eyes.

Still, there were a lot more names on my lists, and I had learned my lesson about jumping to conclusions. I moved on. As I worked, I thought of some other kids I knew whom I'd missed when I first wrote out the names. I added nearly twenty names, then realized with a start that I hadn't included Betts. That made me smile. Feeling a bit silly, I scribbled her name down, even though the idea that she could be the fire setter was ridiculous. In spite of that, I faithfully went through the information to see if she fit any of the categories.

Betts definitely has academic problems, but then she's just not interested in school. That didn't mean anything. And she never changes in front of anyone, not even me when we're sleeping over at each other's places. Of course that's true of lots of girls. I laughed when I looked at the word “secrecy” seeing as how Betts is such a gossip. She'd be the last person who'd ever keep a secret! It was foolish wasting my time on her when there were so many others in my lists.

When I'd finally finished my task I went through the list of names again, putting a check mark beside each person's name for every time his or her name appeared in one of the categories.