Change of Heart

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Change of Heart Page 6

by Norah McClintock


  “Morgan?”

  Billy nodded. “You know what Sean said? ‘Piece of cake.’ Those were his exact words. And you know what else, Robyn? He saw me. Sean saw me. He knew I was going out with her. And he knew I’d heard what he’d just said. He smiled at me, like he was daring me to do something about it.”

  “You didn’t say that to the cops, did you, Billy?”

  He shook his head. “Your mother didn’t let me say very much.”

  “Did you tell her what you just told me?”

  He shook his head again. “We talked about some stuff. Mostly she asked me a bunch of questions. Do you think it’s important? Do you think I should tell her?”

  I didn’t know what to say. But I hoped that if Billy ended up on trial, I wouldn’t get called as a witness. I hoped no one would make me swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—because then what would I do?

  “What happened next, Billy—at the arena, I mean?”

  “After I told Sean that I wanted Morgan back, he laughed at me. Even I could see that I wasn’t going to get anywhere. So I left.”

  “That’s it? You just left?”

  He hung his head.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “I kind of shoved him first.”

  Terrific.

  “I was leaving, and he came off the ice and started hassling me. So I shoved him. And he shoved me back, a lot harder. I fell into a pile of scaffolding—you know, from that work they’re doing in there.”

  “Did you get into a fight with him after that, Billy?”

  “No,” he said without a second’s hesitation. “I don’t like the guy, but I’m not crazy, Robyn. He was in his hockey gear. He was wearing pads and a helmet and he had a hockey stick. You think I’d have a chance against that?”

  It was the first sign of straight thinking I’d heard from Billy in a long time.

  “So what did you do?”

  “I left. I went home. The next day I heard he was dead. Then the cops came to the house with a search warrant. They said they knew I had been at the arena—”

  “Because the janitor saw you.”

  He nodded. “They knew all about what happened at school, too. But, Robyn, the worst thing is, they found a piece of pipe. They said it was a piece of scaffolding from the arena. There was blood on it. They’re testing it for Sean’s DNA. There were fingerprints on it, too. It turned out they were mine.”

  I swallowed hard. It was as bad as my father had said—maybe even worse.

  “Where did they find the pipe, Billy?”

  “In my dad’s shed.”

  “How did it get there?”

  “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  “Yes, I will. I promise.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “It was stupid. The morning after I went to the arena, I was out back getting the trashcans and the recycle bins, you know, to put them out for pick-up, and I saw this piece of pipe lying in the yard, like someone had dropped it. And, well, you know my dad.”

  When he wasn’t out of the country working on mega-engineering projects, Billy’s father loved to tinker. He had a backyard shed that Billy’s family called his shop.

  “I didn’t know it was from the arena. It just looked like a piece of pipe to me. So I picked it up and put it in his shed.”

  That would explain Billy’s fingerprints. But obviously the police hadn’t bought his story.

  “Dumb, huh?” Billy said. “If I’d put it in the garbage, it would have been picked up before the cops came to the house. Maybe then they wouldn’t have arrested me. I didn’t do it, Robyn. I didn’t kill Sean. You believe me, don’t you?”

  His eyes burned into me while he waited for an answer.

  I nodded. Firmly. “I believe you, Billy.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “If you didn’t do it—”

  “It looks bad for me, Robyn. I’m scared.”

  “My mom’s really good, Billy. Everyone says so.”

  “I know. But the thing is, it’s not like the cops are looking for anyone else. They think I did it. They have a lot on me.”

  That was an understatement.

  “Your mother couldn’t get me out on bail. She tried, but she said with a murder charge, they usually keep you locked up until the trial date. You remember those guys that kicked that kid in the park, Robyn?” People who had kicked a child to death. “I heard they were locked up for a year and a half before their case even went to trial. A year and a half. I don’t know if I can stand being locked up for that long. You don’t know what it’s like in here. There are guys in here who are really messed-up. And they can really get to you, you know?”

  I wanted to touch him. I wanted to hug him and reassure him, to tell him it was going to be okay. But one of the rules was no touching. All I could do was look across the table at him and say, “You have to be strong, Billy.”

  “It’s not easy,” he said. “Especially in here, when people think you killed someone. There’s a couple of guys, they keep asking me about it. And when I don’t answer, they get mad.” He let out a long, shuddery sigh. “Will you come back and see me again, Robyn?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you talk to Morgan? Will you tell her what I said?”

  “I’ll try, Billy.”

  I was glad he didn’t ask me whether I thought she would listen, because I didn’t want to have to lie to him again.

  S

  ean’s funeral was held on Tuesday morning. The church was jam-packed. All of Sean’s friends and neighbors were there. And practically the whole school.

  I saw Sean’s brothers right up front. A man and woman were with them. I assumed they were Sean’s parents. Morgan was with the family. From where I was, the middle of the church, I could see that she was crying. Colin put his arm around her to comfort her.

  Sean’s oldest brother, Kevin, delivered the eulogy. He talked about how Sean had driven the whole family crazy when he was a kid because he always had a hockey stick in his hand. If he wasn’t playing on the ice, he was playing ball hockey in the street. His room was plastered with hockey posters. All Sean cared about was hockey, and his obsession had paid off. It wasn’t long before he was outscoring his brothers. Kevin said that it hadn’t been easy to concede that his kid brother was a better player. But he said that they were all proud of Sean. They were proud that he had been scouted by big colleges, that he would have been offered a full scholarship wherever he went. Would have been. Morgan wiped her eyes.

  Colin and Kevin and four of Sean’s hockey teammates, including Jon Czerny, accompanied the casket down the aisle at the end of the service. Sean’s parents followed them. His mother was leaning heavily on his father. Sean was going to be cremated, so there was no trip to the cemetery. I followed everyone to a reception in the church hall.

  I’d been to a few funerals, and I always found it strange to see people eating and chatting, even laughing, afterward, while family members tried to put on a brave face. I saw some friends from school and drifted over to talk to them. I looked around for Morgan and spotted her standing next to Kevin. They were talking to Sean’s hockey coach. I was trying to work up the courage to go and talk to her when a woman I didn’t know came up to me and handed me a huge empty tray.

  “Be a dear,” she said. “Take this into the kitchen and bring out some more sandwiches.”

  To be honest, I was relieved to have something to do.

  I passed Jon on the way to the kitchen. Now that the service was over, he had taken off his tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt. He winked at me as I went by. I ignored him.

  I pushed open the kitchen door and stepped right into the middle of a family scene.

  “You should have been there,” Sean’s mother was saying, sobbing and angry all at the same time. She was talking to Colin. “You told me you were going to pick him up. He was waiting for you. If you’d been there like you said you would, it would never have ha
ppened. My baby would be alive.”

  “Laura,” said Sean’s father. “No one can say what might have happened. It’s not fair to blame Colin.”

  “He’s older,” Sean’s mother said. “Kevin and Colin know, they both know—the older ones look after the younger ones.”

  “But he—”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Colin said. He looked miserable.

  Sean’s mother started to cry in earnest. Sean’s father—I later found out that he and Sean’s mother were divorced—tried to put an arm around her to comfort her, but she pushed him away. That’s when Colin spotted me.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Yeah,” said a voice behind me. Morgan’s voice. She had opened the door to the kitchen but hadn’t closed it again. “You didn’t even know Sean.”

  Being Morgan and being angry, she was also loud. I was sure that everyone in the hall could hear her.

  “I’m here because I care,” I said. “And because I know Sean was important to you.”

  “You went to see Billy.” She made it sound like an accusation. “His mother called me again last night. She told me you went. She asked me to go, too.”

  “Billy asked me to ask you—”

  “I told you, Robyn. I said you had to choose—and you chose Billy.”

  “He didn’t do it,” I said, keenly aware that no one who was watching me believed in Billy’s innocence.

  “They found the weapon in his dad’s shed. It had his fingerprints on it. What part of this don’t you get, Robyn?” She was screaming at me now. The room behind her went silent. “I think you should leave,” she said. Colin went to her and slipped an arm around her.

  “Morgan,” he said. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

  “I want her out of here.” Morgan glared at me as tears ran down her cheeks. “I want her out of here.”

  I turned and fled from the hall.

  I should have gone back to school, but what for? I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. So instead I started walking. The tears that I had managed to hold in when I left the church hall started to dribble down my cheeks. I kept seeing Morgan’s angry face. She hated me. She didn’t want me anywhere near her. Morgan and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. We had always gone to school together, always hung out together, always trusted each other. Until now. Now I was the enemy, and all because I knew what she should have known—that the sweetest, kindest guy in the world would never commit murder. What was the matter with her?

  I hadn’t had a destination in mind when I’d left the church, but I guess my feet had their own idea because I ended up on my dad’s street, looking up at his loft. I stood there for a few moments before deciding that the day had been bad enough. The last thing I wanted to do was run into Nick. I turned to leave—and there he was, coming toward me, his dog Orion’s chain leash in one hand, a book in the other. I might have slipped by him unnoticed—he was reading while he walked—if Orion hadn’t barked and lunged at me.

  “Whoa, boy,” Nick said, holding the leash tightly and looking up. His eyes met mine. At first they were cold and hard, but they softened a little as he studied my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’ve been crying. I know you, Robyn. You don’t cry over nothing. Is it about Billy? Your dad told me what happened.”

  “Morgan thinks he did it.”

  “And you don’t.” It was a statement, not a question. “Did you talk to him?”

  I nodded.

  “He’s scared, Nick. They’re keeping him in custody until the trial.”

  “It can be hard in there,” Nick said. “Most people they lock up, if they’re not messed up when they put them in there, they get messed up pretty fast afterward. If you see Billy again, tell him the best thing is to keep to himself and not to talk to a lot of people about his life or the case. And tell him that if anyone gives him any trouble, he shouldn’t just take it. If you don’t stand up to the bullies in there, they just make it harder. It’s better to fight back, even if you end up getting hurt. If you cause the other guy some pain, he’ll think twice about coming at you again.”

  And there I was, fighting tears again. Nick could take care of himself. He’d learned how—the hard way. But Billy? Billy wasn’t a coward, but despite what had happened outside school, he wasn’t a fighter, either. Billy believed that if you treated people right, they would treat you right.

  “Crying won’t help, Robyn,” Nick said.

  He was standing close to me now, and I wished more than anything that he would hold me. But he didn’t.

  “You helped me a couple of times,” he said. “You stood up for me when nobody else believed me and nobody else cared. You can help Billy, too.”

  “This is different, Nick. This is murder.”

  He stared into my eyes.

  “I know what he feels like, Robyn. He needs to know that there’s someone on his side, someone who believes him, no matter how bad it looks. He needs it more than anything, especially if some people think he did it.”

  Nick was right. The fact that Morgan was convinced of Billy’s guilt made it all the more important that I stand by him—whether Morgan hated me for it or not.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Hey, Robyn? If there’s anything I can do...”

  But there wasn’t.

  He tugged gently on Orion’s leash and headed for the door to my father’s building. I opened my mouth. I came close to calling him back and telling him that I wasn’t with Ben anymore, that I wanted to be with him instead, that I wanted us to be together again. But in the end, what was the point? If he was interested in being with me, he would have said something by now. Maybe he wouldn’t have come right out and told me, but he would have given me some clue.

  I turned and walked away, and as I walked I thought about Sean Sloane. There were only two ways to look at his death: either Billy had killed him or he hadn’t. If he hadn’t, then someone else had. The question was, who?

  L

  ater that night I was sitting in the room in my mother’s house that my father used to call his den but that my mother calls the family room. I was half-studying and half-watching TV, something that I could get away with only because my mom had stayed late at the office again. But my mind kept drifting to Billy and how scared he had looked the last time I’d seen him. I also thought about what Nick had said—how tough it could be, being locked up, and what some of the kids were like.

  I thought about something else Nick had said—that Billy needed someone to believe in him, no matter how bad things looked. It was obvious Morgan wasn’t going to be that person, so that left me. I decided that I was going to believe Billy, even if, in some deep corner of my mind, I could see how maybe he could have done it—not intentionally, but in the heat of the moment. I was going to believe him because he was my friend, because he’s one of the most decent people I know, and because I wanted to think that if I ever found myself in a similar situation, someone would believe me.

  Okay then.

  Billy hadn’t done it.

  So who had?

  I picked up the TV remote and started surfing through channels, click, click, click, rhythmically, while I pondered the question.

  Sean’s face flashed before my eyes for a second and then was gone.

  I blinked. Was I seeing things?

  I clicked back couple of channels and there he was again—Sean Sloane, on TV, looking handsome and very much alive. It was some old postgame footage. Sean had been good-looking in real life, but he was movie-star gorgeous on the TV screen. No wonder Morgan had fallen for him. His interviewer was an equally attractive young woman—Tamara Sanders, Sean’s ex-girlfriend.

  Tamara had been at the arena the night of Sean’s accident. I had heard her talking to him outside the players’ entrance. It sounded as if she were begging him to do something that was important to her—probably the documentary that Morgan had said Tamara wanted to do on Sean—
but he had told her no. Just how important was that project to Tamara? Important enough that his refusal had made her want to get even? I made up my mind to find out.

  Going to school the next day was torture. I spotted Morgan at the end of the hall while I was on my way to my first class. She looked directly at me before turning and disappearing around the corner. When I got to French class, she had traded places with someone else and was sitting up front. When Madame Leclos asked Morgan why she had moved, she said she was having trouble seeing the chalkboard.

  Right.

  Morgan was also in my math class. There, she sat two rows behind me on the opposite side of the room. But if she got to class before me, she usually waved at me on my way in. Not today. She didn’t even look in my direction. As soon as the bell rang, she scurried out of class and disappeared in the crowded hall.

  Fine.

  At lunchtime I made my way to the cafeteria and stood near the door, scanning faces, searching for Tamara.

  I didn’t see her. But I did spot a girl named Lissa who I had seen hanging around with Tamara. She was sitting with Colin Sloane. It wasn’t until I was halfway to their table that I saw who was sitting next to Colin—Morgan. Colin had slung his arm casually over the back of her chair. I hesitated and was about to retreat when Morgan’s eyes met mine. The expression on her face made me feel about as welcome as wasps at a picnic. How could she be like this?

  I steeled myself and made my way to their table.

  “Hi, Morgan,” I said. I don’t know why I bothered.

  She looked away as if she hadn’t heard me.

  I turned to Lissa.

  “I was wondering if you’ve seen Tamara around,” I said.

  Colin leaned over and whispered something in Lissa’s ear. She frowned at me.

  “So what if I have?” she said.

 

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