Solitary: A Novel (12 page)

The family, which declined to be interviewed, was questioned and has cooperated with the police.

Algiers has a younger sister. She attends Harrington County High School, as did he.

I read it again, trying to figure out why Newt gave it to me.

Does Gus have something to do with this?

Algiers.

Have I met anybody with that name in my classes?

I fold up the article and plan on getting some details when I see Newt again.

Poe is the only one at our usual table. She sees me coming, so I can't back out. I drop my bag lunch on the table and sit down across from her.

She looks at me with suspicious eyes.

What have I ever done to you? I'd love to say. Instead I ask how's it going and make small talk.

Truly small, because it goes nowhere.

I'm still wondering about the article. So instead of more painful small talk, I launch the question like a unpinned grenade. "Have you ever heard of Stuart Algiers?"

Poe stops. Her eyes stop blinking, her mouth stops chewing, her body goes rigid.

"What?" I say.

She swallows and scowls at me. "That supposed to be funny?"

"What?"

"Who told you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did Rachel tell you? What'd she say?"

"She didn't say anything. I just-I heard about him."

"So you had to go there, huh?"

"Go where?"

"You really know how to make a good impression, huh, newbie?"

"What did I say?" My curiosity is becoming frustration.

"You don't have that many friends at this place, you know?"

"Yeah, I've gathered that."

"So why are you trying to make another enemy?"

"By what? What are you talking about?"

To add to my nightmare, I hear Rachel's laughter approaching.

I know I'm on thin ice.

Rachel sits down next to me with a grin and a greeting. Just as Jocelyn does the same across from us, Poe stands up.

"Did you tell him?" she snaps at Rachel.

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him about Stu?"

"She didn't say anything," I say again.

Rachel looks as bewildered as I am.

"Then how did he know?" Poe demands.

"I don't know anything."

"What happened?" Rachel says.

"You know-I'm sick of this. I'm sick of this place and I'm sick of people like you butting into things you don't understand and never will." Poe storms away leaving me with Rachel and Jocelyn.

Both of them look like they're attending a funeral.

"What?"

"What'd you say?" Rachel asks. "What just happened?"

"All I asked was whether she's heard of Stuart Algiers."

"Why would you do that?" Jocelyn asks.

Oh, thanks for talking to me now.

"I just-I was just curious."

"But why? How do you know about Stuart?"

"Joss," Rachel says.

"Well, I want to know."

"Someone showed me a newspaper clipping about him. He went missing last Christmas, right?"

"But why'd you ask Poe?"

"Why are you guys so defensive?" I ask. "I just asked a question."

"There's no such thing as just a question," Jocelyn says.

"Yes, there is," Rachel says.

"Who showed you that clipping?"

I scratch the back of my neck.

Newt had made it clear this was a secret.

"Who gave it to you?" Jocelyn asks again.

"Why?" I ask. "What's the big deal?"

"We can tell him," Rachel says.

"No, we can't."

"What's he going to do?"

"Nobody knows."

"A few people know."

I'm watching Rachel and Jocelyn talk as if I'm not there.

"It's not his business."

I stand up, then lean in close so that nobody else can hear what I say. "Listen-if somebody doesn't tell me what's going on, I'm going to get up and leave and never sit at this table again."

"Chris-please, just sit down," Rachel says, tugging at my arm.

"It's fine with me," Jocelyn says.

This girl wants me to go with her to the dance? This is the girl who, according to Rachel, likes me?

"Chris, listen, just sit," Rachel says. "Please? Listen, Stuart. He was a junior last year-and only a few people know this. He was seeing Poe for a while."

"Since the summer," Jocelyn adds.

"And that's it?" I ask. "That's why she went ballistic?"

"Nobody knows."

"So? How was I supposed to know?"

"They think that he died," Rachel says.

Jocelyn laughs in disgust.

"What do you guys think?"

"I don't know," Rachel says.

"He's gone," Jocelyn says. "And there's no point in bringing his name up. Especially around Poe."

"She loved him."

"No, she didn't," Jocelyn says. "Give me a break."

"She did."

"Sixteen-year-olds can't love."

"Yes, they can."

"Please."

Again I feel like someone just watching from the sidelines.

I want to ask how he disappeared and what people thought, but I decide to ask someone else.

Thanks, Newt. Thanks forpushing me into hot, bubbling water and leaving me to tread water.

"Maybe I should go find her," Jocelyn says.

"No, let me," Rachel says, standing quickly. "You guys can talk about tomorrow night."

Rachel smiles and leaves before Jocelyn can do the same.

Suddenly I feel the weight of five hundred students looking at us.

I'm not imagining this.

I try to ignore them.

"Look, I'm sorry for bringing up his name."

"It's fine," she says. "You didn't know."

"Maybe next time I can get the benefit of a shred of doubt."

"And maybe next time you can just keep your mouth shut."

Obviously something on my face shows how I'm feeling. The defiant look Jocelyn is showing suddenly deflates.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"It's all right."

"No, I just-I'm sorry. Look, I can be-I sometimes need to watch my mouth."

"I didn't know about Poe."

"I know. It's just that it's been really hard for her, and for all of us. There's just ... just so much that could be said, but shouldn't."

I want to ask her more, but I'm feeling a little shy.

"Look-I know that Rachel talked with you, and I understand."

"You understand what?" I ask.

"About the dance. And it's cool. It's fine."

"It's fine ... to go?"

"Yeah. She explained things."

I'm still a little lost.

"Explained things," I repeat.

"It's okay. I just hope-it's Harrington. It's North Carolina. There's not a lot of excitement at these things."

"That's okay," I force myself to say.

just shut up, Chris.

"We should probably talk about logistics."

"Yeah, sure."

"When can I pick you up?" Jocelyn asks.

"Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Why should I?"

"I don't know."

"I can pick you up and we can meet Rachel and her date at school."

"Is this a formal thing?"

For a minute, Jocelyn thinks I'm joking. "Yeah, make sure you rent your tux and have a corsage for me."

"No, I know it's not like prom or anything-

"It's a dance at Harrington. It's fine. Wear whatever you want."

"What time does it start?"

"How about I swing by your house around seven? Nobody says we need to be right on time."

"Yeah, okay."

Those eyes hook me, make me melt, make me dizzy, make me consider agreeing to anything she might say next.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

I'll jump off a mountain for you if you want me to.

"Really-I'm sorry for-for chewing you out a few times."

"It's fine."

"No, it's really not. It's just-" She looks around and thinks for a minute.

It's as if there's something she really needs to tell me. "I haven't always been like this," she says.

"Like how?"

"This-

I thought she said something more, but I couldn't hear it.

"I better go find the girls, okay? I'll see you a little later."

"Sure."

I gaze after her long figure in jeans and shirt as she leaves the cafeteria.

It doesn't get old, watching her.

Nor does it get old wondering exactly how in the world I ended up going to a dance with her.

Even if I do technically have a date to a dance tomorrow, I still find myself alone on a Friday night. I never used to be by myself on Friday nights. Back home there was always something to do. Someone having a party or going to see a movie or just hanging out.

Here there's nobody around to hang out with.

Nobody except a few groundhogs.

The evening is still young, and I've just finished helping Mom with cleanup after dinner. She tried something new-fajitas. Strips of steak and chicken along with undercooked onions and peppers put in flour tortillas along with cheese and salsa. They were fine. They didn't taste as good as they do at a Mexican restaurant, especially the little one we used to go to back home, but that's fine. I know Mom's trying to re-create it.

She's working on another large margarita when I tell her I'm going to go outside for a while.

Good thing she doesn't see the flashlight I'm carrying.

Even though the sky is still light, I know I'm going to need it.

I haven't forgotten about the little cabin in the middle of nowhere.

And I definitely haven't forgotten about the tunnel underneath.

The only thing it seems I've forgotten is how to get there.

I wander through the woods, going straight uphill behind my house, knowing it was this far up the mountain. But after twenty minutes of not finding it, I start heading right.

With each step it seems to get darker.

A clearing in the forest brush makes me stop for a moment. I discover a small trail with the leaves either gone or pressed down from use. It snakes alongside the mountain and heads in the direction I'm going.

Though I know deep down that the little cabin is far back where I started, I keep heading down this trail. Maybe I'll uncover something else.

Another ten minutes and I do.

In the middle of the dense trees of the forest, a ten-foot stone wall stands blocking my direction.

It heads straight up and down the mountain as far as I can see.

I almost don't believe it's real, so I touch it. The stone is cool and hard. It's very real, very unmovable. Very Middle Ages.

Who would build something like this?

I walk up the hill, trying to find a way around it. There are no entryways, no small windows looking in, nothing that can let me pass. I reverse direction, heading down the slope of the hill along the stone barrier.

I know who this belongs to.

This is part of the gate surrounding Gus's house.

Suddenly I really want to get over this wall.

I want to see what the house behind it looks like.

Who doesn't want to know what his neighbor's house looks like?

The gate I came across on the road below was just to prevent vehicles from going any farther. This stone wall is to prevent anyone from getting onto the Staunch property. To prevent people like me from snooping.

I decide not to go down the mountain too far. The closer to the road, the more likely I might run into someone. Or something.

Like a camera.

I head back uphill where I just came from, my legs getting a workout. It doesn't take me long before I come across a tree growing right next to the wall. I didn't notice it when I first passed. It's small enough to climb up, yet big enough to support my weight. Several branches jut out slightly over the top of the wall, which appears to be square and flat.

This is going to be easy.

Five minutes later, I land on the soft padding of the ground below.

I never even had to set foot on the wall. I just edged out on a branch and dropped over it.

As I look at the same scene facing me-just endless trees and bushes, now shrouded in dimming light-I have a not-so-great thought. How am I going to get back to the other side?

I suddenly notice how cold it's become. Cold and dark.

My arms are bare in my thin T-shirt. I shiver and move on down the hill, walking slowly, making sure I don't fall on a branch or crash into anything.