Blood on My Hands

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 Ps,” 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.