by Clara Kensie
With a chuckle, he takes my wrist and pulls me back down. “This is too easy. The only snakes I’ve seen around here are garter snakes. I swear.”
“But Indiana has cottonmouths and copperheads. And two kinds of rattlesnakes. One hundred thousand people die from snakebites every year worldwide. And there are field mice, and squirrels, and raccoons out here. What if you get rabies?”
He gives me a grin. “Okay, tell me. How many people die from rabies every year?”
He still has his hand on my wrist. “Fifty-five thousand. Worldwide.”
“You worry too much,” he says.
“You don’t worry enough.” I slip my hand away and wrap my arms around my knees.
“You’re probably right. But did you really go through all this espionage just so you could lecture me about death stats?”
That’s right. I’m here for a reason. May as well come out with it. “Do you really believe your father killed Lily Summerhays?”
He stares at me, his black irises endlessly deep, angry yet vulnerable. “I don’t like to talk about my father.”
“So you do believe he killed her,” I say.
“Why do you care? You trying to trick me or something? You got the scholarship, Ever. It’s over. You won.”
“I’m not trying to trick you, and this isn’t about the scholarship.”
“Then what is this all about?”
“I just really need to know.”
With a disgusted grunt, he stands. “Whatever it is you’re trying to do, it won’t work. I’m out of here.”
I grab his hand before he can walk away. “Ash. Please. I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’m just trying to figure out how.” I’m literally on my knees, begging him. “Please.”
He looks down at me. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I still don’t trust you, but you got me curious at least.” He sits back down and reclines against the trunk, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. I’ll hear you out.”
Chapter Twenty
Lily ~ Eighteen Years Ago
Dad was wrong. Mom was ecstatic when I told her about the business trip to New York City. She immediately called to make reservations for dinner one night at The Plaza. I told her to make it for two. She and Dad could use a romantic evening together. And while they were busy being romantic, maybe I would sneak away to explore the largest city in the world on my own.
Our upcoming trip kept us all buoyed that week, but I didn’t forget about Neal. I’d been keeping my eye on Will, even making special trips across the school to find him. He went to his classes, went to baseball practice and games, attended the student council meeting and the FFA meeting. He slapped his buddies on the back, laughed, goofed around. Helped a freshman pick up the lunch tray he dropped. So far he’d been perfect.
He was bound to slip up sometime.
Diana, though, was a mess, although you’d never know it to look at her. Despite breaking up with Brandon last week, she still wore her Batgirl gear that Friday, her perfectly-styled chestnut head held high. The Warriors and the Batgirls were holding a clinic, like a mini training camp, for the little kids of Ryland after school, and Diana wasn’t going to let Brandon stop her from fulfilling her duties as president of the Batgirls. I was the only one who noticed how her gaze always returned to Brandon when he wasn’t looking, and the tiny tremble in her smile.
I knew that trembly smile well. I’d seen it a million times on my mother.
“Want to come over tonight after the training camp?” Diana asked me.
I was only half-listening to Diana as we walked down the hallway. I was busy concentrating on watching Will a few feet ahead of us. He strode quickly, with purpose, and when he passed by Neal’s locker, now empty and repainted, his steps lost their rhythm for just a moment. His head turned toward the locker, just a millimeter.
When he saw me behind him, he rushed through the exit. The look on his face was clear: That boy felt
guilty
about something.
He was going to that training camp. I couldn’t let him get away.
“Diana,” I said, coming to a stop. “I want to be a Batgirl.”
Joy lit her face for the first time in days. “You do? For real?”
I shrugged innocently. “I’m friends with all the guys on the team. I should do something, you know, to support them. I can help with the training camp today. Right now.”
“Yay! We don’t have a lot of time. I have an extra shirt in my locker. Hurry!” She dragged me back upstairs to her locker and tossed a T-shirt at me. Like all the Batgirls’ shirts, it was yellow and featured the maroon silhouette of a curvy girl holding a baseball bat. So
so
so
gross. I was about to protest but clamped my lips shut. I had a mission, and I needed to be a Batgirl to do it.
I slid it over my blue tank top and slipped my diamond pendant under the neckline to keep it safe. Diana used a hair elastic to knot the shirt tightly around my waist. “You can wear one of my ribbons too.” She pulled one of the twisty maroon-and-gold ribbons from her hair and clipped it into mine, on top of my ponytail. “You look so cute!” She rushed me back downstairs before I had time to feel like an idiot.
The ball field was already filling up with grade-school and middle-school kids, and the Warriors and Batgirls were taking their places at their stations, showing kids how to pitch, bat, catch, or slide. Batgirls passed out Gatorade. Diana pretended not to notice Brandon and Coach Nolan on the bleachers, talking to a newspaper reporter and photographer. At the photographer’s request, Brandon smiled, flashing his lopsided grin.
One of the Batgirls called Diana over. “Just pick a station,” she said to me. “Where do you want to go?”
I spotted Will by the dugout, teaching a group of kids how to hold the bat. “Um, there area lot of kids over by the dugout,” I said. “I’ll guess I’ll go over there.”
Diana hustled away and I went to the dugout. Will was slouched behind a little girl of about seven, showing her how to grip the bat. He straightened when he saw me. “What are you doing here, Red?”
I modeled my new shirt. “I’m a Batgirl now,” I said. “Diana sent me to help you.”
With a cocked eyebrow, he turned to the kids. “Say hello to Lily. She knows nothing about baseball.”
I grinned. “Don’t listen to anything this guy tells you. I know everything about baseball. If you want to be a good baseball player, just do what I do.” I held the bat upside down and swung it like a golf club.
The kids laughed, and surprisingly, so did Will.
We spent the next hour showing each group of kids how to grip the bat and swing, with Will using me as an example of what not to do. I was horrible at batting and didn’t hit a single one of his pitches, but the kids were having a blast, and I was laughing so hard that I didn’t care.
Diana came by with some cookies for the kids, clearly ignoring Brandon, who was trailing behind her. “Diana,” he begged. “I’m sorry! Just talk to me! Please!”
When they left, Will rolled his eyes at me. “Are you as sick of those two as I am?”
“More.”
We instructed the kids to sit in a circle to eat their cookies. I served them Gatorade while Will told them about winning the state championship last year.
“Are you going into the pros?” a little boy asked.
“Me? No.” Will took a deep, satisfied breath and lifted his face to the sun. “I’m staying right here on my farm.”
Diana blew the whistle: time to rotate again. That girl kept a tight schedule. Still chewing their cookies, the kids moved to the next station while Will and I met the next group at home plate. These were the seventh-graders, and Devi Mallick was among them, with her long, black hair and wide, sad brown eyes. I gave her a wave. Did she know I took that calendar page from Neal’s bulletin board?
When it was her turn, Will was extra patient with her as he positioned her hands
the right way on the bat.
“Hey, Devi.” I pulled the ribbons from my hair. “You want these?”
Her face lit up a bit, warming my heart. “Wow, yeah. Thanks!”
“Maybe you’ll be a Batgirl when you get in high school.”
The light extinguished. “We’re moving,” she said. “My mom doesn’t want to live in Ryland anymore.”
“I don’t blame her.”
There was that look again, just for a moment, but I saw the way Will
froze
averted his gaze
swallowed hard.
He tried to hide it, but I saw it:
Guilt.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ever ~ Present Day
Still on my knees under the giant oak tree by the creek, I repeat my question. “Do you really think your father killed Lily Summerhays?”
Ash dips his head so I can’t see his face behind his long, black hair and doesn’t speak. I’m going to have to ask him a third time if he believes his father is guilty.
But then he answers me. “I used to believe he was innocent,” he says, “until I was about thirteen.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I was at Kammer’s Pharmacy. Just buying a Red Bull, but of course Kammer assumed I was shoplifting. So he called Paladino. He was furious when he couldn’t find any stolen merch on me. But he said I was a loser and I would wind up on death row with my father anyway. I got pissed and said my dad was innocent. So he hauled me to the station and showed me the proof.”
“The diamond pendant.”
Starting with his thumb, he numbered with his fingers. “The diamond pendant. And the police reports. And the court transcriptions. And the tape of his confession.”
“You watched the tape?”
“He doesn’t remember killing her, but he had a history of getting violent when he was black-out wasted. After they showed him that they found Lily’s diamond necklace in his apartment, he confessed that yeah, he probably did do it.”
“And that’s proof enough for you?”
“He confessed. Should be proof enough for anyone.”
“But what if he didn’t do it?” I asked, fiddling with my daisy charm.
“He killed her, Ever. I know it, the judge knows it, even my father knows it. Why do you care so much anyway?”
“Because,” I say, whispering, “I know he didn’t kill her.”
“How could you possibly know something like that? Were you even alive yet?”
No, I wasn’t. I was born a few seconds later. But Ash’s curiosity has turned back to anger, and I still can’t tell him how I know his father is innocent. I can’t tell him about my intimate knowledge of Lily’s last moments, how the last words she heard were her killer rumbling, “You left me no choice,” how the last thing she saw was the tattoo of two crossed hatchets on his wrist as he slammed a pink sparkly paperweight into her skull.
The deathpain hits, and I cry out, holding my head over my eyebrow.
“Jesus, you okay?” Ash asks.
“Headache,” I croak, then I breathe the pain away.
One…
Two…
Three.
When I recover, I say, “You said that Miss Buckley promised you the scholarship. Did you ever wonder why?”
“I know why. Everyone in this town treats me like shit, and she knows how unfair that is. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be in prison by now, just like Paladino said. But freshman year she called me into her office. She said that she knew I was smart, that I had potential. She said if I stopped getting into fights, stopped doing drugs, and started going to class, that she would help me get into college and figure out how to pay for it.”
“That’s when she promised you the Lily scholarship?”
“Not at first. She said there were lots of scholarships out there I had a better chance at. Scholarships for people like me, who overcome the odds.” He snaps a twig in half, then chucks both pieces far into the creek. “They even have scholarships specifically for kids with parents in prison. But I wanted the Lily scholarship. I wouldn’t back down. So she finally agreed. She said if that was what I really wanted, she would do whatever it took to get it for me.”
“So she pushed your application through to the final round,” I say. “But how was she going to convince the committee once they found out it was your application? Especially Mr. and Mrs. Summerhays. Did you ever think about that?”
“All the time. I asked her once what she was going to do.”
“What did she say?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. She just got all quiet and told me not to worry about it.”
“Ash. There’s only one thing she could say that would convince Mr. and Mrs. Summerhays to give you that scholarship.”
“What, that my father didn’t kill their daughter?”
He says it sarcastically, but I’m serious. “Yes.”
He sputters, and his sarcasm turns back to anger. “If my father didn’t kill Lily, then who did?”
“Principal Duston,” I say in a whisper.
That earns me a solid, barking laugh. “Nobody on Earth hates that guy more than I do, but why would you think he killed Lily Summerhays?”
“I overheard them talking about it. Principal Duston and Miss Buckley. At… Kammer’s Pharmacy. They were in the next aisle over.” It’s a lie, but there’s no other way to get him to believe me.
“Do you have proof?”
“No.” That is the truth. I have no way of proving the last thing Lily saw was the hatchet tattoo on Principal Duston’s wrist.
“Why are you telling me this?” Ash asks. “Why don’t you just tell the cops what you overheard?”
“I did,” I say. “Chief Paladino didn’t believe me.”
“Ah.” Ash nods. “That’s why he accused me of threatening you. He thought I forced you to blame Duston. Asshole.”
Slowly he stands, then paces around the tree. “Okay. I’m going to pretend for one second that you’re not totally delusional, that you’re not lying, and that you’re not doing something to sabotage me. If what you’re saying is correct, then my father has been rotting in prison for almost eighteen years and Miss Buckley knew the entire time that he was innocent.”
“Maybe not the entire time,” I say.
“Why didn’t she say anything?”
“She was about to. That’s what she was telling the principal at Kammer’s.”
“No. No. You must have misunderstood them. You can’t be right about this.”
“But what if I am?”
“Because that would mean…” A low rumbling fills the air and the ground vibrates as a train approaches, and Ash’s steps become faster, fiercer around the tree. “That’s why she was nice to me?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t look angry; he looks like he’s been stabbed in the heart by the one person he trusted.
The train rushes past, close enough to shake the tree, but not loud enough to disguise Ash’s anguish. “She felt guilty?”
I stop him forcibly when he rounds the tree again. “She was going to do the right thing in the end, though. Whatever her reason, Ash, she turned your life around.”
Defeated, he sinks to the ground again. “But then she had to go fall down the stairs. My dad’s being executed next month, and she could have stopped it.”
“That’s the other thing. Falling down the stairs? I don’t think it was an accident. Principal Duston was rushing back and forth in the hall right before I found her body.”
“Yeah, I remember seeing him out there. I thought he was watching me.” Through his tangled hair, he gives me a sideways glance, putting the pieces together. “She told him that she was going to expose him so I would get the scholarship, so he pushed her down those stairs to shut her up.”
“I think so. He tried to stop me from going down the stairwell.”
It takes Ash a long time to speak again. A long time to look at me. “Tell me, Ever,” he says f
inally. “Why should I believe you? You have no proof, you said so yourself. How do I know you’re not making this whole thing up?”
“Why would I? I’m the one who stands to lose the scholarship.”
Another long look. Judgmental, suspicious. Lips twisted in doubt. Then his features relax, and he nods. “If you’re right about this, Ever… everything will change. Everything.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lily ~ Eighteen Years Ago
It was almost midnight, and I was still awake, packing my suitcases for New York. We weren’t leaving until Monday, but I was trying to distract myself from thinking about Will Duston. I’d watched him closely this week. I’d really watched him instead of shooting insults at him or ignoring him. Surprisingly enough, most of the time he seemed like a
nice
kind-hearted
caring
guy. I’d actually had fun with him at the baseball training camp, and if he weren’t a Duston, I could even be friends with him. The more time I spent with him, the harder it was to believe he killed Neal. But he couldn’t hide that occasional look of guilt on his face. Not from me. I saw it every time. And just following him around and catching his guilty glances wasn’t helping me prove anything.
My room suddenly became stifling and airless. I slammed my suitcase shut. I’d never prove Will killed Neal unless I took some action.
I slid into a pair of jeans and tossed my denim jacket over my tank top, threw on my red Converse low-tops, then snuck past my parents’ bedroom and down the stairs. As I passed through the family room, I noticed a lump on the couch. My father, asleep under a blanket.
Huh. That was new. Maybe.
I made my footsteps even quieter and, instead of heading for the side door in the kitchen, I navigated around the squeaky floorboards of the foyer. Making sure to leave the front door open just enough so the lock didn’t catch, I slipped out into the clear, cool March night.
Now I was out, but where should I go?
Railroad Bridge. The place Neal died. Maybe I’d find… something.