Beth and I started walking home together after school. It still didn't feel right to date somehow, but we went to lunch a couple of times and bowling once. Then one Saturday afternoon, we went to a movie together. There were a lot of movies at the malls in town, but we didn't go to one of those. We went to a little theater on a small street near the airport. The theater was kind of run-down and the pictures that played there were months old, but it was a nice place to be sometimes because it was out of the way and you were less likely to see any of the people you knew. I guess there was something about me and Beth being together that had begun to feel kind of private at that point.
Anyway, we were sitting in the theater before the lights went down, passing a popcorn bag back and forth and just kind of staring at the advertising slide show on the screen and talking about stuff.
And Beth said, "I feel a little strange about this."
"What do you mean?" I asked her. "About going to the movies?"
"I don't know. I still think about Alex and everything. I mean, I know life goes on, but… do you feel like it might be wrong for us to be here?"
There was a silence. Then I said, "I feel…"
But before I could finish, the lights went down and the movie trailers started.
When we came outside after the movie, it was dark. We decided we would go back into town and have dinner at a place called Marie's where a lot of the kids hung out. As we were walking to our cars, I took hold of Beth's hand. It was the first time I had done that.
When we reached her car, we stopped and stood facing each other. I was looking into her eyes. Her eyes were blue, but they were a sort of pale blue with flecks of gold in them. The color reminded me of flowers.
"What were you going to say?" she asked me. "Before the movie started. I said it felt a little wrong for us to be there and you said, 'I feel…' and then you didn't finish. What were you going to say? Do you remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. I was going to say: I feel like nothing about you and me being together is wrong. I feel like when we're together, it's just right, like it's supposed to happen. It's weird, too, because it's not like in the movies with music playing or fireworks or-or anything that I expected. It's just like… I don't know, like a little click, like- You ever do jigsaw puzzles? And you find the right piece and it clicks in? It feels like that."
Beth said, "It feels like that to me too," and I kissed her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Worst Thing Ever The wind outside had fallen off, but, all the same, a chill drifted in through the broken window of the Ghost Mansion's parlor. Beth paused in her story. She shivered and I shivered and we both looked away.
It was kind of embarrassing, that's all-sitting there, listening to Beth describe what I said to her and how I kissed her. It was embarrassing-and it was molto weird, too, because I didn't remember any of it. I didn't remember saying that stuff about the jigsaw pieces fitting together and everything-although, I have to admit, when she told it to me, I thought it was a pretty cool thing to have said. Because, the thing was, I could feel it, even now. I could feel it was true right that second, sitting there with her.
"I bet that was nice," I said. "Kissing you for the first time. I wish I could remember what that was like."
"It was like this," she told me.
And then we didn't say anything for a while.
And for a while, Beth told me, Alex and the murder fell into the background of our lives. Just about everything did, except for us being together. Walking home together, going out together, being around each other. It was as if we had made some kind of discovery-as if we had discovered something that had been right there in front of us and yet hidden away at the same time. I guess we'd fallen in love. Which, I guess, happens a lot in the world. But it felt to us like it had never happened to anyone before. It felt like nothing that special and yet so incredibly right could happen any more than once in a million years.
We were together every minute we could be. We did homework together and watched TV together. We talked and talked to each other, telling each other the stories of our lives, everything we hoped to do after we got out of school and all the secret stuff we thought about that we never told anyone.
"It's like we're two different computers downloading our programs into each other," I said to her. "It's like we're becoming a two-machine network running the same software."
She laughed at me. "Only a guy would say something like that."
"Why?" I said. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's, like, the least romantic thing I think I've ever heard. In fact, it may be the least romantic thing anybody's ever said."
I laughed too. "Come on! You think it's the least romantic thing anybody's ever said? Ever? What about, like, cabbage. Or mud. Or, Hey, Al, I dropped my cabbage in the mud."
"Even that is more romantic than comparing us to two machines with the same software."
"It's a very romantic concept."
"To a guy!"
"It's like a love song or something." I sang it to her: "You're the software that makes my computer full-and that's why I think you're so beauter-full…"
That made her laugh even more. Or maybe it was just my singing voice, which, I've noticed, makes a lot of people laugh.
Anyway, it seems we spent a lot of time together talking about stupid stuff like that and then laughing about it. And we would wonder to each other sometimes why anyone would ever do anything else, why everyone didn't spend all of their time just saying stupid things and laughing. It seemed like the best thing two people could possibly do.
But then we stopped. Suddenly. We stopped laughing. We stopped saying stupid things. All our happiness came crashing down around us.
It happened on a Tuesday, early morning, before school. I called Beth and told her we had to meet at our place. I told her it was important.
Our place was the path by the river, the path where we'd walked that first time together. We met there sometimes in the early morning when there were no crowds, no one except the occasional young professional getting in some biking exercise before the day began.
The autumn had gone on now and the leaves were falling. The branches of the birches were almost bare and the yellow leaves lay in the grass beside the path and blew rattling across the pavement. The weather was turning too. The sky that morning was steel gray, and there was a damp chill in the air that told you winter was coming.
Beth got to the path before me and waited. When she saw me coming, when she saw my face, she knew right away that something was really wrong.
"Charlie? Are you okay? What's the matter?" she said.
She reached out with both her hands to take my hands. But I wouldn't give them to her. I stood at a little distance with my thumbs in my pockets. I looked at her and my face was hard, she said, as if I was trying to look angry or mean. But she saw something else in my eyes.
"Look," I told her. "I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but we have to stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop seeing each other. We can't see each other anymore."
"Charlie, what're you talking about? Why?"
"Well, because… We just should. That's the way I want it, all right? It's-I don't know-it's just getting too serious for me. After a while, we'll go to college or whatever and… what's the point, you know? Look, I just think it's the right thing to do. I don't feel the same way about you anymore and I-I just want to end it, that's all."
Beth stared at me a long time. She had a sick feeling in her stomach, but it wasn't what she expected. She wasn't sad, as if we were breaking up. Instead, she was afraid and she wasn't sure why.
She shook her head. She stepped closer to me, studying my face, studying my eyes.
Then she said, "You're lying to me, Charlie. I never saw you lie before, but I know it when I see it. Why are you lying to me?"
"I'm not…"
"Yes, you are. I know it when I see it. You're not doing this because your feelings have
changed. You feel just the same…"
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do, Charlie. Don't lie." I looked away from her and she knew she was right. "Tell me what's the matter."
When I looked at her again, my face was still set, still hard, but she could see the doubt in my eyes.
"Look," I told her. "It just… it isn't right, that's all. You and me. It's a mistake."
"Don't say that. You know that's not true."
"You're just going to get hurt, Beth. That's all I'm trying to tell you, all right? I just don't want you to get hurt."
"You have to tell me what's wrong."
"Look…" I tried again. "Look, I can't. I can't tell you. Okay? We have to end it, that's all. Can't we just leave it at that?"
"No," Beth said. "We can't. I mean, haven't you been paying attention? We don't have the right to just end this. We didn't make it and we can't end it."
"I don't even know what that means," I said sourly.
She put her hand on my arm. This time I let her. "Charlie, look at me." It seemed to her I had to force myself to meet her eyes. "Charlie, this thing happening with us-it doesn't happen to everyone. They say it does in the movies, but it doesn't. It's special. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. I know it."
"Then you know we can't just throw it away because there's some kind of trouble."
"I'm not trying to throw it away, I'm just… Aw, Beth." I bowed my head and dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. "I don't even know what to do."
"Just tell me what's happening."
It was a long time before I could raise my head and look at her again. "It's the worst thing," I said. "The worst thing ever." Now all the hardness was gone from my face. Now it was me reaching out for her, taking her by the shoulders. "They're coming for me, Beth."
"Who? Who is?"
"The police. They're going to arrest me."
"Arrest you? For what?" But she already knew. "For Alex? How do you know?"
"I know. That detective… That detective Rose. He called my dad. They… they found a knife. A combat knife. It's the murder weapon and… Well, they say it has my fingerprints on it and my DN A. And they say there are traces of Alex's blood on my clothes."
She stared up at me. "There has to be some kind of mistake. I mean, how could that happen?"
"I don't know, I…" She saw my shoulders sag. I closed my eyes a moment as if I were surrendering to something inside myself. When I opened them again, Beth said, it was as if a mask had fallen away from my face. As if I had been pretending to be someone else and now I was Charlie again. I said to her, "Listen to me, Beth. All right? Listen because… well, because I need you to get this. I didn't kill him. Okay? No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, no matter what it looks like, I didn't kill Alex. You looked at me before and you knew I was lying. Now I need you to look at me and believe I'm telling the truth."
"I am," she said softly. "I do."
"Never stop. Okay? Never stop believing it. No matter what happens."
"I won't."
I took her into my arms and held her against me. "You were right," I said, my lips against her ear. "You were right and I was wrong. The stuff I feel for you-I didn't make it and it isn't mine to throw away. And I won't. I can't."
"I can't either. And I won't, Charlie. I promise."
"No matter what happens."
"No matter what."
When I got to school that morning, the police were waiting for me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An Incredibly Stupid Plan When Beth was finished telling me about that, we sat together holding hands. As the chill air blew through the parlor window, a smell of autumn leaves came to me from outside. The smell brought a touch of memory with it. That happens a lot, I've noticed-smells bring memories and memories bring smells. For a moment, as I breathed in the scent of the fallen leaves, I felt as if I could almost recall the days Beth and I had had together. All the stuff she was telling me about-I felt it was there, in my mind, just beyond my reach. I felt if I could just concentrate hard enough, it would all come flooding back to me. But the harder I tried, the further away it seemed.
Then the smell was gone and the memory was gone and I let out a long breath and shook my head.
"What?" said Beth.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter." She was still here anyway. Beth was still here, still looking at me that way-the same way she must've looked at me on the path that day. "Why did you believe me?" I asked her suddenly. "When I told you I didn't kill Alex. I mean, the police had fingerprints, they had DN A, they had bloodstains. Why did you believe I didn't do it? I mean, maybe I'm just a really good liar."
"You probably are a good liar when you want to be," she said. "But it wasn't that. It wasn't that I believed you. It was that I knew you. I mean, we hadn't been together very long, but in some ways I knew you better than I'd ever known anyone. It was like… like we'd always known each other… like…"
"Like we were two computers running the same software," I said.
She smiled and I smiled.
"Right," she said. "I mean, I'm not gonna say you could never kill anyone, Charlie. You could kill someone, I think. If it was a war or something or if someone was trying to hurt someone you loved and there was no other way to stop him. I think you could kill someone then. But you couldn't murder anyone. Or maybe it's not that you couldn't-you wouldn't. You wouldn't just kill someone for no reason or because you were angry at him or anything like that. You might feel like it, but you wouldn't let yourself. It just isn't who you are."
I shook my head. "I wish I knew that."
"I wish you did too. I think you did know it once. I think you just can't remember it, that's all." She reached out and put her finger on the corner of my mouth, as if trying to push it up and get me to smile again. "It wasn't just me, you know. Rick and Josh and Miler-they all knew you were innocent. Your parents knew. Your sister knew. Your karate teacher-Mike. He came to the trial a lot. So did Mr. Sherman."
"Mr. Sherman? I always thought he hated me."
"He didn't hate you. He just disagreed with you, that's all. But he knew you weren't a murderer. He stood by you the whole time. You guys really became close."
"We did? Go figure. I guess you never know who your friends are until there's trouble. Tell me more. Tell me about the trial."
"It was weird. It happened really fast. Everyone said so…"
She was about to go on, but just then there was a noise downstairs: the door opening.
Instantly, I was on my feet. I was at the door, crouched in a fighting position. I gestured to Beth to be quiet.
But the next second, I relaxed. It was the guys. I could tell just by the way they came galumphing up the stairs like elephants. After another second, I could hear their voices too.
"Don't drop it." That was Rick, trying to whisper and whispering so loudly they could've heard him in the next town over.
"Hey, do you want to carry it?" That was Miler, loud-whispering back. Then, just before they came into view on the second-floor landing, he spoke more clearly in what was possibly the worst Russian accent I've ever heard. "We are comink to find you, younk lovers. No more kissy-kissy face, da?"
I rolled my eyes. "What an idiot."
There they were. Miler first, then Rick behind him. Miler was swinging a plastic shopping bag in his hand. Rick had what looked like a laptop computer case strapped over his shoulder.
Miler went on making kissing noises as he came toward the door. "Mwah, mwah, mwah. We are not being, I hope, interrrrrruptink anytink?"
"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" I said.
"Aren't you supposed to be in prison?"
"I'm a fugitive. What's your excuse?"
"I'm a senior. My first period is lunch. Then I have PE. Then I wave at the stats teacher for credit. Then I have my driver take me to the Savoy for afternoon tea."
"The school finally figured out they couldn't teach Miler anything," said Rick, coming up be
hind him. "They're just keeping him around 'cause we're used to him, like the stuffed lion at the basketball games."
They came into the parlor and set their packages down on the floor.
"Has this man been bothering you?" Miler asked Beth. She laughed.
"What's all this stuff?" I said.
Rick planted himself cross-legged on the floor in front of the laptop case. He opened it. "This," he said, "is the stuff we need for Josh's incredibly stupid plan."
"For instance, here's a cell phone with two-way capabilities," said Miler. "Because Josh doesn't have a remote headset for his computer." He brought the phone out of the plastic bag and tried to hand it to me.
I wouldn't take it. "I can't use a cell phone. The police can trace them in about ten seconds."
"Not this one. It's not registered to you and it's disposable. Just like the drug dealers use."
"Great. If drug dealers are doing it, it must be good. Man, this really does sound like an incredibly stupid plan. What is it?"
"Voila," said Rick-only he pronounced it Voy-la. He had set the laptop up on the floor now and pressed the Power button. The machine had obviously already been booted up and in sleep mode because it came on right away. The monitor winked on and…
"You gotta be kidding me," I said.
But they weren't. There on the monitor was Josh. It was a live webcam shot of him sitting behind the wheel of his mom's black Camry, driving down the road.
"Josh knew this house picks up the hot spots from the mall," said Rick. "How he knew, I have no idea, but he knew."
Miler flipped the cell phone open and spoke into it. "Calling Agent Dipstick. Calling Agent Dipstick."
On the computer monitor, Josh put his finger to his ear as if he had a headset on. It must've been a pretty small headset, though, because I couldn't see it. It must've been like one of those hearing aids you stick inside your ear.
The long way home h-2 Page 10