“I went up there,” Charlie said finally. Slowly. “Right after school. I was hoping to get there before any of the jocks did. But Ethan was already there. He told me to get lost. I tried to talk to him—”
“About what?”
“It’s personal. And like I told you, he told me to get lost.”
“And?”
“And I did. I didn’t have much choice.”
“Where’s your jacket, Charlie?”
The question became irrelevant as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Looming behind Charlie were Detective Martin and Mr. Chen.
“Your parents are around today, right?” I asked Charlie.
He nodded.
“Call them as soon as you can. Insist on calling them. Don’t say anything until you call them.”
“Riley, what are you—”
Detective Martin tapped him on the shoulder. “Charles Edison?”
Charlie turned to face him. I felt sorry for him. If he was being taken in because of his jacket, then he was in for a hard time no matter who interviewed him, Aunt Ginny or Detective Martin. First they would ask him about Ethan. If they had managed to locate Charlie based on a description of his jacket, I had no doubt that they had also questioned a few people—kids and adults—about him too. They wouldn’t have to dig too deep before someone told them about Ethan and Serena, and me, and Charlie. For sure Aunt Ginny would take note of those scabbed knuckles. For sure she would ask about them. She wouldn’t like it if Charlie was evasive. They would make him account for his day—every minute of it. They would pay particular attention when they got to the end of the school day. If he didn’t bring it up himself, they would ask him about the roof. Had he ever been up there? When was the last time he was up there? Then they would ask about his jacket. They would want to see it. If he didn’t hand it over, they would get a warrant. They would send the jacket for forensic tests—blood, DNA, maybe fibers. They would ask him the same questions over and over, but in different ways, until they were satisfied that he was telling the truth. Or until he could convince them to believe him.
If he could convince them.
I watched Charlie being led away. Then I went looking for Ashleigh.
She found me first.
“I heard the cops just arrested Charlie.” Her voice was loud enough to attract the attention of a group of girls nearby. “I heard he was on the roof just before Ethan died.”
I shushed her, but it was too late. The girls had heard her and started buzzing to each other. At least two of them were also texting.
“They didn’t arrest him.” I made sure the girls heard me as clearly as they had heard Ashleigh. “They want to ask him some questions.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Ashleigh said. “I heard he was definitely arrested.”
I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the girls’ washroom, which, fortunately, was empty.
“They didn’t arrest him, Ashleigh.”
“Melissa Forbes was in the office when the police came looking for him.”
“I was with Charlie when they found him. I was standing right beside him. He wasn’t arrested. He was taken in for questioning. It’s not the same thing.”
“But the cops have an eyewitness who saw him on the roof right before Ethan died.”
“Who told you that?”
“Are you kidding? Everyone is talking about it, Riley.”
“Well, everyone is wrong. All they have is a security guard who says he saw someone carrying something yellow come down from the roof that day.”
“Security guard?” Ashleigh frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about? What are you talking about?”
“Andes. He told the cops he went looking for Ethan after school, but when he got to the roof, Ethan was having a huge argument with Charlie, so he left. He says he doesn’t think Ethan or Charlie saw him.”
“Aunt Ginny talked to Andes and some other guys from the football team the day it happened. She talked to them again the day after. Nobody mentioned Charlie then.” I thought for a moment. Nobody had mentioned Charlie to me. But that didn’t mean his name hadn’t come up when Aunt Ginny spoke to Andes. It’s not like she would have told me if it had. Neither would Andes.
I thought about what I knew. That Charlie had skinned his knuckles and told two different stories about how it happened. That despite all the teasing he’d been subjected to, he hadn’t stopped wearing his yellow jacket until after Ethan died. That he had gone up on the roof and had seen Ethan. And that Andes had seen him there. Andes, who, according to the rumor mill, had been pining for Serena and was doing his best to comfort her now that Ethan was gone.
What I didn’t know was why had Charlie gone up to the roof? And where was his jacket?
First things first.
“What if Andes is lying?” I said. “What if he had an argument with Ethan over Serena? What if he’s getting nervous, so he decided to point the finger at Charlie?”
Ashleigh stared at me. “Andes? I seriously don’t think he has enough functioning brain cells to come up with something like that.”
“Well, we’re going to find out.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to talk to him.”
“We?”
“I don’t know where to find him.”
Ashleigh did.
Andrew “Andes” Maracle was in aisle six, snack food and soft drinks, at the local supermarket where Ashleigh worked as a cashier. When we got there, he was restocking family-sized bags of potato chips. We watched him for a few seconds from the nacho-chip end of the aisle.
“Well, go on. I thought you said you wanted to talk to him,” Ashleigh said into my ear.
Go on? “Aren’t you coming with me?”
She looked up the aisle, which was almost totally blocked by Andes’s massive body. “Nope. You want to go and accuse The Hulk of lying, be my guest. But I saw the movie. I know what happens when he gets angry.”
I took another look. Andes was at eye level with the packages on the top shelf. He was the human equivalent of the little brick house that the Big Bad Wolf couldn’t blow down, no matter how hard he huffed and puffed. It was easy to see how he’d gotten his nickname. He had fallen into a rhythm as he worked, dipping into a huge box, scooping up bags of chips, swinging around to place them on the shelves. I imagined those hands curled into football-sized fists. I imagined the power his whole body could put behind a punch. I imagined a body sailing over a railing high above me.
“What are you waiting for?” Ashleigh hissed. She gave me a little push.
That’s when Serena appeared at the other end of the aisle. Andes stopped stocking. He turned to face her, so I couldn’t see the expression on his face. But hers was clearly visible. It was pinched into a look of fury. She said something to him that I couldn’t hear and then spun around and walked away. Andes dropped the chip bags he had been holding and ran after her. I followed.
He pushed through a door between the dairy display case and the meat counter at the back of the store. I reached the door, but my way was blocked by a man in a green jacket with a store name tag pinned to the breast pocket.
“Employees only.” He pointed to the sign on the door. “If you need help with something…”
I ran to Ashleigh and shoved her toward the dairy counter.
“They went out there. Go see what they’re up to.”
I raced in the other direction, through the checkout counters, out the front door and around the side of the store.
I found Ashleigh outside the rear exit. She was standing alone on the asphalt.
“They’re gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? Did Andes go back to work?”
“I listened to them from the door. They were having some kind of argument.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Serena was telling Andes she was going to do something.”
“What?”
<
br /> “I don’t know. He said he didn’t think that was a good idea, not now.”
“Do you think it has something to do with Ethan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know that either. But he went with her.”
“I thought he was supposed to be working.”
“He is. But I saw them go. They went that way.” She pointed down the street that ran behind the store. There was no one in sight. “She was really upset.”
If she was that upset, it had to have something to do with Ethan. Something Andes knew but didn’t want her telling. But what? Did it have anything to do with Ethan’s death? If it did, why didn’t Andes want her to tell? What, if anything, did it have to do with Charlie?
“I have to talk to him,” I said. “And her.”
“Andes might talk to you,” Ashleigh said, “but Serena? No offense, but not after what she’s been posting about you.”
“She posted stuff about me?”
“Well, you did steal her boyfriend. According to her, of course.”
“I didn’t steal him. I wasn’t even interested in him. I’m not interested in anyone.”
Her eyes popped open. “Not even Charlie?”
“He’s my friend.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, somebody should make that clear to him.” She looked pointedly at me.
“I just hope he didn’t do anything stupid.” Translation: I hoped he had an explanation for his skinned knuckles and missing jacket—one that would satisfy Aunt Ginny and Josh Martin. “Do you know where Andes lives?”
“You don’t want to go there.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s way out of town, almost in the woods, and it’s creepy. His dad runs a junkyard. Well, he calls it a salvage operation. The place is full of old cars, scrap metal, all kinds of stuff. It’s surrounded by a fence, and there are two vicious pit bulls guarding the place. You know what pit bulls are like, right, Riley? They go for that hold-and-shake kind of biting. And when they grab hold of you, they don’t let go until they decide to.”
“I don’t want to go to his father’s junkyard. I want to go to his house so I can talk to Andes.”
“The house is in the middle of the junkyard. Inside the fence. Trust me, you don’t want to go there. Wait until school tomorrow.”
I hate waiting. But I also hate guard dogs, especially pit bulls. They scare me. A lot. I decided to wait until football practice the next day.
EIGHT
I fell asleep soon after that but woke up when Aunt Ginny got home. I found her raiding the fridge.
“There’s spicy chicken and noodles,” I said. “They’re just as good cold as they are hot.”
She pulled out the dish they were in, removed the lid and dug in with a fork.
“What happened with Charlie?” I asked.
She sighed. “You know I can’t—”
“I just want to know if he’s okay. He’s my friend, Aunt Ginny.”
“They’re holding him.”
“You mean he’s under arrest?”
She nodded.
“His parents have hired a lawyer who everyone says is pretty good. He’s going to try to get Charlie released on bail, but I don’t know what his chances are. I think if he said that he got into a fight with Ethan and pushed him, but that he didn’t mean for him to die, he might get bail with some strict provisions. But he hasn’t admitted to anything.” She paused. “I’m telling you this because you’re his friend, Riley, not because I want you to spread it all over school tomorrow.”
I stiffened. “I would never do that, Aunt Ginny, and you know it. And maybe Charlie hasn’t admitted to anything because he didn’t do anything.”
“I can’t go into details, Riley, but it’s pretty clear he had some involvement—”
“Why? Because someone says he saw Charlie on the roof just before Ethan fell? How do you know that person is telling the truth?”
“That’s why we’re investigating, Riley. Someone tells us something, and we check it out. If we can get corroboration, we know we’re on the right track.”
“Corroboration like the security guard who says he saw someone carrying a bright-yellow jacket like Charlie’s? And the fact that Charlie has skinned knuckles and that the medical examiner says Ethan was in a fight before he died, which I assume means he has some bruises or other injuries that didn’t happen because of the fall?”
“You’re certainly well informed.” Aunt Ginny chewed chicken and noodles while she looked me over thoughtfully.
“Charlie isn’t the kind of person to settle disputes by fighting,” I said.
“That’s not what I hear. Charlie is a small guy. He’s been picked on all his life by bigger guys like the ones on the football team. Apparently he took a martial-arts course this summer. There are kids, Riley, who have seen him use some of those moves successfully on guys who used to bully him. What if he did that on the roof that day? What if he and Ethan got into it and Charlie tried to use one of those moves, tried to throw him or something, and it went wrong and Ethan ended up falling?” She finished up the chicken and set the container in the sink. “If it went like that, Charlie should say so. At the very worst, it would be manslaughter. He’s a minor. Even if he were convicted, he probably wouldn’t end up in prison. Maybe a year in detention and a couple of years of supervision in the community. If he keeps quiet, though, it’s going to look like he has something to hide. That won’t be good. He could end up being charged with murder.”
“He can’t confess to something he didn’t do, Aunt Ginny. Besides, he has the right to remain silent. It’s not up to Charlie to convince you or anyone else that he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Ethan. It’s up to the police and the Crown attorney to prove that he did—and to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Aunt Ginny sighed. “I know you like him, Riley. He seems like a nice kid. If he’s really your friend, you should try to convince him to cooperate with the police. Refusing to talk isn’t going to help him.”
When I got to school the next morning, there were more kids than usual milling around outside. They crowded the walk leading up to the main doors. Some of them were reading papers that a couple of girls were handing out. Others were watching as a chair was produced and someone climbed on top of it. It was Serena. She was holding a bullhorn.
Someone pressed something into my hand. Ashleigh. She was breathless.
“I’ve been texting you.”
“Sorry. My phone is in my backpack. What’s this?” I held out the three stapled pieces of paper she had given me.
“Take a look.”
The papers turned out to be a compilation of articles from the Internet. They were all about Coach McGruder and all from ten years earlier. He had been fired from the university where he’d coached a winning team. The reason for the firing was that he’d helped some of the team members get hold of and take steroids, which was against university policy. One article quoted Coach as saying that all he was trying to do was “level the playing field.” According to him, even though most universities had strict policies against drug use, including steroids, not all of them enforced their policies. “When my guys go out on the field,” he told a reporter, “they often have to compete against teams that use steroids all the time. It’s not fair.” Those teams had bigger, heavier players who were stronger because of steroids. Included with one of the articles was a short item on the dangers of steroid use: mood swings, trouble sleeping, aggression, high blood pressure, greater chance of injuring muscles and tendons, jaundice or yellowing of the skin, liver damage and an increased risk of developing heart disease, blood clots, stroke and some types of cancer. It made you wonder why anyone would risk so much.
This was more or less the message Serena was shouting out to the crowd. She accused Coach McGruder of giving steroids to Ethan. He had pressured Ethan to
use them. Ethan had refused. He had also done his research. He had found out about Coach McGruder’s past. The articles she had passed out were ones she had found in her computer’s history, and Ethan was the only person besides her who ever used that computer.
“Ethan tried to get Coach McGruder to stop pushing steroids on players. That’s why he’s dead.”
“Prove it!” someone shouted. “Prove any of it.” It was Tonka. Andes was standing beside him. He didn’t yell at Serena, but he didn’t look happy about what she was saying.
“You want me to prove it?” Serena held something up—a plastic bag with a small glass vial inside. It glinted in the morning sun. I strained to get a good look at it. There was a label on the vial, but it wasn’t a pharmacy prescription label—I was sure of it. “I found this in the pocket of Ethan’s sweatshirt.”
A door opened behind Serena, and Mrs. Dekes stepped out, followed by Mr. Chen. Mrs. Dekes focused on Serena.
“That’s enough, Serena. Now give me that.” She reached for the bullhorn.
Mr. Chen shouted at the crowd to disperse. “The bell is going to ring in ten seconds. I’m sure no one wants to be marked late.”
No one moved until the bell sounded. Then, like a drop of ink dispersing in a pot of water, the crowd thinned and vanished.
I was reluctantly heading inside when an unmarked police car rolled up to the curb. Aunt Ginny and Detective Martin got out and made their way to the main doors where Mrs. Dekes was waiting, toe tapping impatiently, for Serena to get off the chair.
“I think we have this under control, officers,” Mrs. Dekes said.
“We received a call,” Detective Martin said. “Someone said to come to the school if we want information about the circumstances of Ethan’s death.”
“That was me. I called.” Serena jumped down to face the two detectives. “Ethan was being pressured to take steroids. That’s why he was acting strangely before he died. I found this.” She held out the baggie to Detective Martin. He examined the contents.
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