Testify

by Valerie Sherrard

  I sink into an armchair and wonder how much longer the show is. A strange lump grows in my throat as I sit there, in a chair I’ve occupied so many times. An urge comes over me to ask Carrie about everything that’s been happening. I want her to offer an explanation even though I know very well that there is none. I want everything to be okay, and for Carrie to still be the friend I’ve believed she was for the past three years. But in my heart, I know that’s not going to happen.

  A commercial comes on and Carrie stretches, turns to face me, and grins. “Sorry,” she says. “You know how addicted I am to reality TV.”

  I force a smile. “Sure, no problem,” I tell her. Then inspiration hits me. This is the perfect time to start looking around — while Carrie’s engrossed in the show she’s watching. I wait until the commercials end and then casually ask if I can borrow a sweater.

  “Sure,” she says without looking away from the TV. “Get whatever you want.”

  I go to her room, feeling guilty. It gets worse as I open her dresser drawers and run my hands along the bottom of each one, trying not to mess up the contents in the process. At the same time, I’m trying to listen for any sound of metal clinking, in case there’s anything hidden in among her clothes. And, of course, I’m listening for any sound in the hallway, just in case Carrie tears herself away from the show and comes along.

  I find nothing in the dresser or her desk. The closet is next and by now I’m so nervous that my skin feels a bit prickly. Even before I open the door I know it’s going to be hopeless. You never saw a closet stuffed so full! Besides being jammed with clothes hanging from the rod, there are more bags and boxes than you’d think a person could squeeze into a space this size. I poke at a few things half-heartedly but I know there’s no way I can go through even a tenth of what’s in there. Instead, I stand there staring, like there might be clues that will jump out and tell me where to start. If there’s anything that might give away a secret hiding place, it sure isn’t obvious to me. And I’ve been in her room long enough that Carrie is bound to start wondering what’s up. There’s no choice but to give up for now.

  I sigh and start to close the door, but then I remember that I’m supposed to be getting a sweater, so I yank it back open. And that’s when I hear it.

  On the inside of her closet door, Carrie has a hanging shoe holder. It’s red vinyl, kind of ugly, with sixteen compartments. There are a few pair of slippers stuffed into the compartments, but most of them hold other things. There are scarves, hand fans, ornaments that have fallen out of favour and an assortment of other odds and ends.

  And something that made a metallic tinkling sound when I jerked the door.

  I run my hands along the bottoms of each row of shoe pockets, feeling the contents as quickly as I can. I find what I’m looking for in a pocket holding Carrie’s old Brownie sash and badges. Tucked in the bottom is a small collection of jewellery. It takes only a quick glance through it before I recognize Lori’s ring.

  I have my proof.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  If I were in a movie right now, this would be the moment where Carrie would appear in the doorway. She’d demand to know what I thought I was doing and I’d stand there like a mannequin with its mouth stuck open, trying to think of something to say.

  Fortunately, this isn’t a movie and no one comes along. I hesitate for a second and then shove the jewellery back where it was, grab a sweater, and hurry back to the front room. Another batch of commercials is on and Carrie is sitting up, looking around.

  “I can’t find the remote,” she says. “I had it just a minute ago and now it’s gone.”

  “You’re probably sitting on it,” I suggest.

  She stands up and turns to inspect the couch. The remote is half hidden between cushions and she digs it out.

  “Good thinking,” she says, waving it. She flops back down and then thinks to ask, “What took you so long to get a sweater?”

  “Sorry. I was texting.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who was it? Was it Krysti? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her since I got home.”

  “No, not Krysti,” I say. I feel my face getting warm. “It was, uh, my cousin. You don’t know her.”

  “You’re the absolute worst liar of anyone I know,” she says, laughing. “It’s like you’re wearing a big sign that says you’re lying. So, really, who was it? Was it Jake? It was, wasn’t it? I told you he was going to make a move.”

  I’m trying to think of what to say when the commercial break ends and her attention shifts back to the television.

  I wish I could leave. The idea of spending the evening with her after what I’ve just discovered makes me feel a little ill. I even toy with the idea of telling her I’m sick, but I don’t want to do anything that might make her suspicious. So I stay, and when her show ends we hang out until my school-night curfew.

  When I hit the sidewalk to head home, my knees are almost rubbery with relief to be out of there. I gulp fresh air like I’ve been breathing something toxic, which is exactly how I feel.

  The question is: what do I do next? The temptation to confront Carrie with the stolen jewellery had been almost overpowering, but I know it would have been a bad mistake. She’d have denied knowing anything about it. She’d likely have tried to claim that Hayley was setting her up.

  And, honestly, I’m afraid she’d have worn me down. Carrie can be so persuasive and once she starts she goes on and on until she’s won. I’ve been there before, although never over anything this serious.

  If I’m going to confront her, I need the others present. It’s almost certain that she won’t be able to persuade everyone.

  When I get home I give Hayley a quick call. When she hears that I’ve found the stolen items, her voice begins to quaver.

  “I thought it was hopeless, and I’d lost my friends for good,” she says. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you believed me, Shana.”

  We talk a few more minutes before she brings up the big question.

  “So, does this mean you’re going to go to the police and tell them the truth about Joe Kelward?”

  “I guess I have no choice,” I say. “I just wish there was some way I could find out one hundred percent that Carrie made that up. I mean, isn’t it possible that she’s telling the truth?”

  “Then why set me up the way she did?”

  “Maybe she was just worried you’d think she made it up — because of what she said to you about the boarder.”

  “I hope you know how lame that sounds,” Hayley says. “Who would come up with such a complicated plan if they weren’t guilty?”

  “You’re right. I guess I’m just scared.”

  “I don’t imagine Carrie’s stepfather is feeling all that great, either,” she says dryly.

  Shame fills me at the thought of Joe Kelward. If he’s truly innocent — and I’m pretty well convinced he is — it must be horrible for him. Imagine being locked up in prison for something you didn’t do. Especially when that

  something is a crime as disgusting as molesting your own stepdaughter. How horrible and helpless and angry he must feel.

  “Anyway, Shana,” Hayley continues, “you don’t need to be sure about whether or not Carrie made it all up before you do something.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I mean that there’s at least one thing you do know. You know that your testimony was a lie. And that’s what you need to tell the police.”

  There’s dead air on the phone for the next minute. I know Hayley’s waiting for me to speak. I find my voice at last, and it’s a cowardly one.

  “What do you think will happen when I tell them?” I ask.

  “I have no idea. I just know you have to do the right thing. It’s terrible, what’s happened to that man — and honestly, I never thought he
did what she said. You’ve got to do whatever you can to make it right.”

  “I know I do,” I say.

  “You should start by talking to your parents,” Hayley adds. “They’re going to have to know, and they can probably give you some advice.”

  That suggestion fills me with hope and dread all at the same time. I don’t know how I can face my mom and dad and admit what I’ve done. On the other hand, if anyone will know what’s likely to happen, it’s my true-crime-expert mother.

  I’m off the phone and almost ready to take a deep breath and go confess everything to my parents when I realize something else that makes me call Hayley back.

  “What about the jewellery?” I ask as soon as she answers. “If I go to the police now, they’ll talk to Carrie. She’ll know I’m not on her side anymore. That will mean I won’t have a chance to expose her as the real thief.”

  “Oh! Right,” she says. “You need to take care of that first, don’t you?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Well, then, you have to do something about that as soon as you can,” she says.

  “I will. Promise. It shouldn’t be a problem, anyway. We’re all supposed to get together at Carrie’s place on the weekend. I’ll figure out what to do by then.”

  “Look, Shana, I know I’m being pushy about this.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I understand why.”

  “I don’t want you to be mad at me,” she adds. “You’re the only friend I have left.”

  “I swear, I’m not mad, Hayley. I get it.”

  After I hang up I feel so totally exhausted that all I can do is crawl into bed and fall asleep. The last thought on my mind is that I wish I could go back in time and undo my part in this whole mess.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Saturday is finally here. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ve gotten through the week. Now I’ve just arrived at Carrie’s place, and I’m about as nervous as a person could possibly be. No wonder, since I’ve spent the whole day thinking about what I’m about to do. It’s one of those things you can’t plan too much, because you never know how it’s all going to play out. I’ve tried to imagine how the others will react when I “find” the jewellery in Carrie’s closet, but the only thing I can really picture is Carrie trying to deny everything.

  Everyone else is already there except Lori, and she shows up fifteen minutes later, breathless from hurrying.

  “My mom picked today to make me clean out the aquarium,” she explains. “I swear she does things like that on purpose when she knows I have somewhere to go.”

  “Sure she does. She knows that’s the only way she can actually get you to do anything,” Jen says. She laughs when Lori pretends to be insulted.

  It tugs at my heart, seeing the easy friendship, the way they know and understand each other — just the way it was with me and Carrie such a short time ago. As angry as I am over everything she’s done, I have to admit there’s a horrible ache in me, knowing I’m about to do something that will end our friendship forever. It seems strange, to care after all I’ve learned in the past few days, but I do.

  I’m here today for one reason only. I need a chance to confront Carrie about the jewellery. The only thing that has to happen first is for all of us to be in her room, and this happens almost right away, when Lori suggests we do designs on each others’ toenails. Carrie has a huge supply of polish and stickers, so we all gather in her room to pick out colours and nail art.

  It’s a perfect opportunity because her nail supplies are in a plastic bin that she keeps in her closet. She opens the door and kneels down to pull it out, which is when I step forward.

  “Hey, what’s this?” I ask as I reach toward the shoe holder and dip into the pocket with the Brownie sash and badges. I tug them out, trying to look casual.

  “I didn’t know you were ever a Brownie,” I say, hoping my voice sounds normal. “Are these all your badges, or are there more?” I dip my hand back into the pocket like I’m checking. My fingers reach and touch the bottom and find … nothing!

  Confusion floods me. I look toward Carrie automatically and find her watching me with hard, cold eyes. There’s a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

  “Were you looking for this by any chance?”

  I turn to find the others staring at me. Krysti is between Lori and Jen, and she’s holding out her hand. Clustered in her outstretched palm is the missing jewellery.

  “I wondered what you were really doing in my room the other day when you were here,” Carrie says. She’s fought the smirk off and now looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Then I noticed a badge on the floor and when I went to put it back, I found the stuff you’d planted.”

  “I didn’t plant anything,” I say, “It was already there!”

  “Sure it was,” Krysti snaps. “Carrie called me right after you left that day. She told me what she’d found. It was obvious to both of us exactly what you were planning to do and you just proved we were right. What I don’t understand is why you’d do this to Carrie.”

  “I’m trying to understand it, too,” Carrie says. “I have a feeling that Hayley put you up to this, Shana. I just don’t know how she convinced you. Does she have something on you? How could you try to set me up like that, when we’ve been best friends for so long?”

  “The only person who was set up tonight was me and you know it,” I say. I feel as though I’m watching a scene that’s happening to someone else. Lori and Jen are clearly shocked, but I can see that they believe what Carrie and Krysti are saying.

  All eyes are on me as I stand there, mouth flapping and nothing else coming out. As I look around at them I see that Carrie’s eyes are laughing at me. Her face is smug and triumphant, although I know that expression will disappear and she’ll go back to her big act the second anyone else turns toward her again.

  “You know what you are? You’re pure evil,” I say, keeping my gaze level on her. I have nothing to offer the others to prove my innocence and I know it would be pointless to try. This room is full of hostility and betrayal and the only thing left for me to do is leave.

  I pick up my bag and make my way to the door. Behind me, I hear the buzz of whispers. My throat is tight and tears are threatening to come, but I take deep breaths and fight to stay composed.

  As I make my way toward the sidewalk, something makes me turn and look up at the house. And there she is, watching from a window. It’s easy to imagine how she managed that. I can picture her telling the others she needed a few moments alone. They would have been so sympathetic toward her as she slipped out of the room, pretending to be overcome with sadness over my deceitfulness.

  A smile breaks across her face when she sees me looking at her. She lifts a hand and wiggles her fingers in a strangely gleeful wave. I don’t move. I stand there, stone-faced, staring at her as she conducts her bizarre performance. I wonder if I ever knew the real Carrie Freeman at all.

  It’s amazing, what that moment does for me. It’s like I’ve been living in an illusion all this time, seeing her as one person when in reality she was someone else altogether. Any feelings of regret I have slide away.

  I don’t blame the others — not even Krysti. They’re just more victims of Carrie’s lies and manipulation. If any of them found her out and dared to cross her, she would turn on them just as surely as she turned on Hayley and me.

  There’s one thing puzzling me, though. I can’t figure out what alerted Carrie to the fact that I’d found the stolen jewellery in that holder. Today, she claimed that she’d found one of the badges was on the floor, but I know that wasn’t true. I was super careful to make sure there was nothing left around that would give me away. Unfortunately, the only person who knows the answer to that is Carrie. Somehow, I don’t think I’m likely to get the truth out of her.

  CHAP
TER

  FIFTEEN

  I’m not looking forward to telling Hayley what happened, but I can’t think of a reason to put it off. I call her when I get home.

  Her voice sounds just as disappointed as I expect. We had both hoped that exposing Carrie as the real thief would make everything right with the rest of the group.

  “Now what?” she asks.

  “Now I go to the police and tell them the truth about my testimony,” I say. “There’s nothing else we can do about what’s happened between us and our other friends. And actually, I feel guilty that I put that off for something so much less important, especially with the way things turned out.”

  “At least you tried,” she says. “And one good thing came of it, anyway.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Lori got her ring back.”

  “That’s true,” I say. “That actually makes me feel a little bit better.”

  “Me, too. That ring means so much to her. I remember how upset she was when it went missing.”

  I remember, too — and that makes me even angrier at Carrie. How could she have done something that mean to a friend? It makes me wonder, if I hadn’t found the stolen things in her room — would Lori ever have gotten her ring back? Somehow, I doubt it.

  I end the call with Hayley and wander down the hall to the laundry room. Mom is in there ironing. I tell her that I need to talk to her and Dad when she’s done. She turns off the iron that very second and goes to get him. She tells me to go to the living room and that they’ll be right there.

  It’s so awkward — I wish I’d suggested the kitchen instead. I’m sitting in the armchair while they’re across from me, sitting close to one another on the couch. Their faces are worried.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I start, “but I have something to tell you and it’s kind of serious. It’s about Joe Kelward.”

  “He did do something to you!” my mom says. She grabs my dad’s hand and looks like she’s going to burst into tears.