Blood on My Hands

CHAPTER 34

Tuesday 5:42 P.M.

I’M HOLDING MY breath underwater. Something pokes gently at my arm, and I slowly glide up to the surface to see what it is. I splash into consciousness and blink. It’s dark. I’m lying on the backseat of a car.… Wait, now I remember.… It’s Slade’s truck. A shadowy face tilts over the front seat, looking down at me.
“Uh, excuse me,” he begins before I turn fully toward him, “but what—” In the shock of recognition, he catches himself. “Cal!” His voice rises and I sleepily press my finger to my lips. He twists his head around as if looking through the windows to make sure no one heard him, then whispers harshly, “Are you crazy?”
“I need your help.”
“For God’s sake!” He looks around again, then back at me as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Please, Slade.” I start to sit up.
“Stay down!”
I do as he says. I wish he were happy to see me instead of irate.
“Slade, I know you’re still upset—”
“You don’t know anything!”
“Does it have something to do with this?” I lift the panty hose up to his eye level.
He twitches with surprise, then frowns. “Where’d you find that?”
“On the floor back here. Is this what you wanted to tell me about this morning?”
The frown becomes a scowl. “What are you talking about?”
“That there’s someone else?”
His eyes leave mine. “That’s not what I wanted to tell you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d know,” he answers. Now his forehead bunches. “Is that Alyssa’s sweatshirt?”
I nod.
“How’d you …?” he begins, then realizes the answer. “You went into my house?”
“I was hungry and dirty and needed a new disguise.”
He shakes his head. “You are a piece of work, Cal.”
“Please don’t be angry,” I whisper, nearly begging.
That seems to take the anger away. Slade leans his forehead against the headrest. I stay low in the backseat and wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder what I’m thinking. Nothing, really. I’m just here for now, happy to be with him, to feel connected to him.
Not knowing what else to say, I ask, “How’s the preparation going?”
He raises his eyes over the headrest. “Well enough to fake it. Congresswoman Jenkins will come and make a speech. They’ll take pictures and video for the news. As soon as the crowd leaves, we’ll come back in and finish the job.”
I forgot that Dakota’s mother is going to preside over the official opening tomorrow morning. She’ll be right here, in the town center.…
I have a crazy, desperate idea.
“I have to see her.”
“Who?”
“Dakota’s mom.”
Slade stares at me. “You really are out of your mind.”
“Yes. Next question?”
“Seriously, Shrimp, it ain’t happening.”
But the more I think about it, the more certain I am that it’s probably my last chance. If I can sow a seed of doubt in Congresswoman Jenkins’s mind … “It could happen … if you’ll help me.”
“Sorry. No way.”
“Why not?”
Slade sighs with frustration and runs his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t seem to have a reason, other than, like me, he must realize how crazy and risky it is.
“What if it’s the only way I can prove I’m innocent?” I ask.
He turns away and gazes out the window. Why should he risk being arrested for me? True, he’s already helped me, but I’m the only person who knows that and I swore I’d never tell. And I never will. Not after what I’ve already done to him.
But I can’t do this alone. I have to convince him to help me. “If I can get Griffen Clemment to testify that Dakota sent him death threats that mentioned killing Katherine, then all I have to do is get Congresswoman Jenkins to check the knives in her kitchen. And if she does that, she’s going to find that one of the knives is missing. Because it’s in police custody as evidence.”
Slade looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You think Dakota would be stupid enough to take a knife from her own kitchen and use it to kill Katherine? As if no one would think to check?”
“I—I’m just saying it’s possible,” I stammer meekly. “I mean, I saw the knife. It was the same brand.”
He snorts derisively. Instead of me convincing him, he’s making me doubt. But there’s still so much I don’t know. And I can’t think of anything else to do. “It’s my only chance,” I whisper. “You may be right, but if I don’t try this, I’m going to go to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. Is that what you want?”
Silence.
Two days passed and I didn’t tell Mia she couldn’t sit at the table. She sat with us, and Katherine pretended like nothing was wrong. But I knew that she wouldn’t forget.
On the third day, I went into the cafeteria and Katherine and the other girls weren’t sitting at the regular table. They were at a smaller round table. There was room for six and all the seats were taken. It was Zelda’s beach house all over again. Katherine was shutting me out until I did what she wanted me to.
Only this time I knew something I hadn’t known the last time. Even if I did what she wanted, it wouldn’t end. There’d be more distasteful tasks. Why? Because I served no other purpose for her. She kept Jodie around because Jodie appeared in ads and was a school celebrity. She had Zelda because she was rich, and Kirsten because her mother provided access to cool things to do in the city. She had Brianna because Brianna was her new project, much the way I had once been a project. And why had she kept Dakota?
Maybe she was thinking like the Chinese general who said, “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
I sat down at a lunch table by myself, not surprised to be shut out but feeling stung just the same. Someone sat down near me with a tray, but I didn’t focus on her until she asked, “What’s going on?” It was Mia.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“But why?”
There was no point in telling her why. It would only make her feel bad. So I said, “I don’t know.”
Mia bit into a cheeseburger and chewed rhythmically, her eyes downcast. As bad as I felt for myself, I felt equally bad for her. She’d done nothing wrong. All she wanted was to be in that crowd. The more I thought about how unfair it was, the angrier I got. Only I wasn’t sure who I was angrier at—Katherine for being so cruel, or myself for being so stupid.
Mia swallowed, then said, “You know why she dumps on us?”
I shrugged and shook my head.
“What’s the one thing all those girls have in common?” Mia asked.
I glanced over at the table. “I don’t know, what?”
“Money,” Mia said. “Lots of it.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Not Katherine.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Her dad doesn’t have a job,” I said.
Mia leaned close. “She’s a Remington. Her dad doesn’t need a job. Her mom comes from, like, a totally wealthy family. That’s why we’re not at that table, because our families don’t have as much money as theirs.” Her cheeks bulging with food, she shook her head. “God, I hate her.”
Deep down, I didn’t agree. It was hard to imagine that it was really about money, but maybe that was the easiest way for Mia to rationalize it.
“What’s so great about Katherine, anyway?” Mia asked. “So what if she has rich friends and a snobby attitude? I don’t need her friends and I don’t need her. I can have my own table and my own friends. How about it, Callie? Want to sit at my table?”
Why not? I thought. I had nowhere else to sit.