It was the worst possible moment for her to defend Ollie’s character. Makani cringed, holding her breath, as Darby and Alex exchanged a dark look. They hadn’t known that she’d seen him again. She neutralized her expression and prayed that they wouldn’t use this opportunity to report their insane suspicions to her grandmother.
They didn’t. After another silent communication and a warning glance at Makani, Darby changed the subject. “Do you think school will be canceled again tomorrow?”
Her legs weakened in relief. “They should cancel it for the rest of the week.”
“Matt was killed on school grounds.” Alex kicked her toe against the counter, pointedly avoiding Makani’s gaze. “They should cancel it until someone is arrested. Assuming the police are looking at every suspect.”
Before Makani could respond, or even decide how to respond—anger, guilt, and defensiveness warring with her knowledge that Alex was truly suffering—an old man with a cowboy hat and sun-worn wrinkles appeared in the doorway of the manager’s office. He was checking to make sure that his employees weren’t gossiping instead of helping customers.
Grandma Young gave him a nod. “Good afternoon, Cyril.”
He nodded back. “Sabrina.”
“We’ll let you get back to work,” she said, as pointedly to Makani as it was to Makani’s friends. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything. Anything at all.” This, she directed toward Alex with tenderness.
Alex wilted. Darby placed an arm around her shoulders. Makani and her grandmother left. And as the door’s decorative cowbell gave its plaintive clang goodbye, the first snowflakes of the year began to fall.
Evening crept into town. Patches of white snow gathered in the blue shadows, but the flakes were still melting on the roads and sidewalks. Makani imagined the soft powder drifting onto the memorial at school, dusting the flowers and cards and stuffed lions. Because of classes being canceled, no one had been able to place any tokens on the mound for Rodrigo. It was almost unbearable.
The official texts, emails, and voicemails arrived after dusk. All Osborne schools would be closed the following day. Classes would resume on Wednesday, and deputies outsourced from the Sloane County sheriff’s office would be stationed on each campus.
The sky blackened. The snow began to stick.
Grandma Young stared out the front window at the quiet street. “Maybe the killer won’t strike tonight. They’d leave behind tracks in the snow.”
Makani tasted fear in the wind. “Maybe.”
They closed the curtains and double-checked the locks.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
School was back in session, but the classrooms were half empty. Even Grandma Young had debated whether or not to send Makani, and, as a former teacher, she never let her stay home. Makani had to have a fever or be vomiting, neither of which had happened since moving here. Her attendance record was perfect. Her grandmother had only decided in favor of school because of a last-minute call from a sleep specialist in Omaha. They’d had a cancellation and could get her in that afternoon. Apparently, she was more concerned about her sleepwalking than she’d been letting on.
“My appointment wasn’t for three more months,” Grandma Young had said. “It’s impossible to get in. I should go.”
Makani had agreed. And when her flustered grandmother had rushed her off to school, Makani didn’t mention that she could have gone with her. She’d wanted to go to school. Something about not going felt cowardly, like they were letting the killer win. But as she sat in her deserted first-period class, she wondered if she’d lobbied for the wrong choice. Neither Darby nor Alex was here. Darby’s parents hadn’t let him, and Alex had asked to stay home. A morose spell had been cast over the campus. It felt otherworldly in its emptiness and melancholia.
After three minutes of silence during the morning announcements, one minute for each loss, Principal Stanton—who never did the morning announcements—broke the news that Sweeney Todd had been canceled. He claimed that the decision had been made out of respect for the victims with special regards to Haley and her family. This was true enough, although everyone understood that a musical about a barber who kills his customers with a straight razor was far too grisly for their grieving community.
Makani felt bad for the drama kids who’d been working so hard and looked so crestfallen. Two desks ahead of her, Haley’s best friend, Brooke, lamented. “Haley would have wanted the show to go on.”
Everywhere. They were everywhere.
Those who had left them and those who had been left behind.
In second-period physics, Makani stared at Rodrigo’s empty seat as if it contained a phantom. David sat beside the physical vacancy in hollow silence.
The rest of their group—Rodrigo’s other friends who’d decided to brave school—kept her focus at lunchtime. Through the strange osmosis of tragedy, she suddenly knew their names: Kevin, Emily, and Jesse. They shared David’s anguish, though their body language expressed it in different ways from his numbness.
Kevin, fear.
Emily, devastation.
Jesse, helplessness.
Everyone’s reaction was unique, including the football players. On game days, they always dressed in button-downs, khakis, and ties, and that’s what they’d chosen to wear today. Still a team. But their pressed clothing couldn’t disguise their emotional upheaval, or how similar their mourning was to the gamers. Hulking Buddy even clapped gangly Kevin on the shoulder as he waited behind him in the pizza line. They’d never been on equal terms before, but now they would forever have this terrible October in common.
Social boundaries were being crossed everywhere. Students still ate with their own kind, but each group sat a little closer to the other groups, and they weaved in and out of one another’s conversations. They were all talking about the same thing, anyway.
It was sad that people only got along when everybody was unhappy.
Makani and Ollie sat beside each other in the back corner of the cafeteria. Last night’s snow had almost completely melted, but no one wanted to be outdoors. It didn’t matter that the murders had all taken place indoors. Walking through the open quad felt like wearing a bull’s-eye. It seemed safer to remain in the thick of the crowd, although thick was still relative. They were the only two people at their table.
Makani hoped this was because of the low attendance as opposed to a general distrust of Ollie. It was growing in all the students, not just Darby and Alex. Ollie hadn’t revealed any outward signs of acknowledgment, but it was impossible for Makani to believe that he hadn’t noticed the darted glances and heated murmurs. It had never been so clear that he didn’t fit in—and how much that rankled them.