by Kim Mckade
Toby wondered what he was going to say next. Was it moments like these, crucial seconds in a person’s life, that determined the next direction, the choice between one road or another? He wished suddenly, fervently, that Corinne were here. She would know what to say.
Thinking of Corinne gave him an idea.
“You can throw your whole life away just to get even if you want to, but the only person you’re going to be hurting is yourself. You have a bright future ahead of you, no matter what Dan Buchanan says. Mr. D. told me you have keen insight.” Toby pulled a face and shrugged. “Of course, we have to take into account his questionable state of mind.”
Jeremy smiled feebly at his joke, surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and sniffing.
“And Miss Maxwell says you’re the best writer in the school.”
“I’ll just bet she did,” he said, sniffing again. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure she told you all about my essays.”
Toby raised his brow. “Not really. Just that you had a good imagination and a flair for vivid descriptions.”
“Yeah, right. She never told you how I was trying to scare her, I’m sure.” Jeremy’s voice was full of derision.
Toby’s blood chilled. “What are you talking about?”
Jeremy looked at him warily. “She really didn’t tell you?”
“No, but you’d better. Now.”
Jeremy stuck his hands in his back pockets and studied the floor. His obvious regret didn’t stop Toby’s rising anger.
“The first day of school, we were supposed to write an essay. I was really—well, I didn’t want to be there, and so...”
“And so what?” Toby went perfectly still, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I was going to scare her. So I wrote this story about this reporter who, um, who got shot in the face.”
Toby’s blood went from hot to cold and back again. It didn’t matter that the person standing before him was a kid, a kid who obviously regretted what he’d done. It didn’t matter that a moment ago, he had recognized that the boy was lashing out from his own pain and sense of betrayal. He’d lashed out at Corinne. And that changed everything.
“You sorry son of a—” Toby took two steps forward, then hung there on the balls of his feet, trembling with impotent rage.
“I know, I know,” Jeremy said. He took a few cautious steps backward. “I shouldn’t have done it. I wish I hadn’t, now.”
“Then why the hell did you?” Toby roared.
“I don’t know. She thought she was so smart. I was just—I was really mad. I thought she’d tell Sammons and my probation officer. I thought I’d get sent somewhere. I didn’t want to go to school where everyone knew me. But no matter what I did, nobody would really do anything to me except tell me to straighten up and then they’d look at me and I knew they were feeling sorry for me, and I just—”
He broke off and grimaced with frustration. “I mean, what does a guy have to do to get sent away around here? I tried everything I could think of.”
He shook his head miserably. “I was just really mad. And she was so cool and sure of herself. And I don’t know why, but that made me even madder. I just took it out on her, I guess.”
Toby nodded, his jaw clenched tight, anger humming through his veins. “Yeah, I guess you did. Just like Dan takes it out on Carl, and Carl takes it out on you. Everybody’s angry, and everybody’s passing it around.” His mouth flattened into a grim line. “Just get out of here. Get the hell out.”
Now that he was free to go, Jeremy hung there, hesitant.
“Go on,” Toby said, walking back behind the desk.
Jeremy took a step backward, but didn’t leave.
Toby worked his jaw and picked up a handful of papers, having no idea what he was looking at. He could happily have throttled the kid, right then and there.
“Was that the only time?” His voice grated between his lips. “That first day?”
Jeremy scratched his forehead and cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”
“Tell me, exactly,” Toby said icily.
“Later, when she told us to write a short story, I wrote about this English teacher that gets..umm...gets harassed by her students.”
“Harassed?”
“Yeah, you know, students giving her a hard time.” He bit his lip and shuffled his feet.
Toby put down the papers and leaned his fists on the desk, glaring at Jeremy. “And in your story, what did these students do to her?”
“They, um—well, actually it was just one kid, and he threw a rock through her window one time, and another time he kidnapped her from the Halloween carnival and held her hostage out in this little shack in the middle of this pasture.”
In a flash, Toby was around the desk and had Jeremy by the collar.
“Hey, it wasn’t me, man. It wasn’t me.”
“You’re about to get your wish, Huckaby. I’ll have you locked up so fast, it’ll make your head swim ”
“It wasn’t me, either time. I just heard about it, and I wanted to give her a hard time. I didn’t do it, I swear.”
Toby’s face curled into a snarl. “Why should I believe a word you say?”
“I promise, man, it wasn’t me. I just heard the others guys talking about it. And I wanted her to think it was me.”
“Then who was it? If it wasn’t you, who was it?” Toby jerked Jeremy by the collar and glared into his eyes, inches from his own.
Jeremy hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room.
“It was Buchanan,” he finally said. “It was Carl, both times. He said that if it wasn’t for her, you would probably back down and drop the charges. And he would still get to play football. He blamed her for the whole thing. He said she should keep her mouth shut and stick to what she was good at—keeping you happy.”
Toby let go of Jeremy and walked around the room, his mind numb with rage. He would kill him When he got ahold of turn, he would tear him apart. “He’s a—” He rattled off a few choice words inappropriate for the company of a teenager. “He was going to kidnap her?”
“He said he wasn’t going to hurt her. He was just going to drag her off into this old shack out there. Scare her. Said he wanted to see her cry. Then he would say it was all a part of the act, the whole haunted hayride thing. She couldn’t do anything to him. He’d get away with it, scot-free. But then you chased him.”
“Why would he do that to her? I’m the one who arrested him.”
“What, do you think he’s going to do something to you? He’s a putz. He only messes with people weaker than him.”
Toby dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief. “Why would he do that? Why would anyone want to hurt her?”
Jeremy chewed on his lip. “I guess he just wanted to get to her because she was tight with you. He couldn’t get to you, so he did the next best thing.”
Toby walked around the office, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Just get out, Huckaby. I don’t care anymore what you do.”
Jeremy stood there and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I thought she would tell you about the essays. I thought she would tell you I was dangerous and should be sent away. I did everything I could think of. I tried to convince that stupid shrink in Abilene that I was unstable. And what does he do? Sends me home and tells me to get more involved in after school activities. That’s why I wrote the one about the hayride. Because I thought she would tell you it was me, and you would...” He trailed off as he realized Toby wasn’t listening anymore. “I thought she would tell you,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, you would think she would tell me,” Toby said grimly. He leaned a hip on the desk and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I wish—I wish I hadn’t done it. It was a stupid thing to do She’s pretty cool. She’s a good teacher.”
Toby remained silent. Corinne had called him idealistic. He must have been blind. His town. His people. Where had all this hate come from?
; “Maybe you should try to talk her out of going to Atlanta,” Jeremy offered tentatively.
Toby snorted.
“You could ask her to stay. She likes you. She would, maybe, if you asked.”
“Why would she want to stay here? So you idiots can threaten her and harass her and make her life hell?”
“You could tell her that...that I’m sorry. That I didn’t mean anything. I was just—”
Toby shook his head and moved back behind the desk, feeling wiped out. “You have something to say to her, say it yourself. I’m not going to clean up after you.”
Jeremy nodded unhappily. Toby didn’t care how remorseful he looked. He thought of Corinne, and he was ashamed. Ashamed of Carl, of Dan, of Jeremy. Of himself. Here he’d been trying to convince her this place was some kind of Utopia, and it was really just a hateful little hole-in-the-wall town. He’d gone wrong somehow. To think she’d come back for some peace—
The phone rang.
“Sheriff’s office,” he mumbled into the receiver. He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “What is it this time, Mrs. Kirby? Someone break in and change the channels on your television?”
He listened for a minute and sank into his chair. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said tiredly. “You’re only trying to do your part as a good citizen. Yes, I appreciate it. No, I do. Really. Now, what is it?”
A second later he jumped from his seat. “What? What the—why didn’t you say so? Okay, okay, I’m sorry—when? How fast was he going? She was in there with him? Are you sure?” He listened for a second longer, his body taut as a pulled bow. “Which way did they go? Think!” He picked up the Rolodex from the desk and hurled it at the wall. “Think! Are you sure? Okay.”
He slammed down the phone and headed for the door, grabbing his hat off the rack as he shouted to Jeremy, “Call Luke and tell him to get down here. Carl Buchanan just ran down a row of mailboxes and took off, hell-bent for leather Corinne’s with him.”
Corinne’s hands trembled as she dug between the seat cushions to find the clip to the seat belt The knowledge that she’d made a huge mistake screamed in her mind. She tried not to think about how fast Carl was driving.
“Carl, pull over and let me drive. We can go down to the Dairy Queen and get a hamburger.”
“Go to hell. Nobody asked you to come along.”
Corinne took a deep breath. She’d covered a few hostage situations in her life. Hell, she thought wildly, she’d actually been a hostage. Surely she had learned something.
“Carl,” she said evenly, though her heart rocketed along almost as fast as the pickup. “I understand that you are upset That was a bad scene today at the school, and I know that it’s bothering you. But believe me, we can work it out. We can talk to Mr. Sammons, and I’m sure—”
He slammed down on the accelerator and the pickup fishtailed. “Shut up!” he yelled. “You just shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me,” Corinne said. “Pull over and let’s talk about it.” She reached a hand out to him.
He jerked, and the pickup hit the shoulder of the road. Gravel spun up and knocked loudly against the undercarriage.
He pulled hard back onto the road, sending them into the oncoming lane. Corinne gasped.
“Carl! Watch the road!”
Carl laughed. “Scared ya, huh?” He twisted the wheel back and forth, swerving over the road, laughing. Corinne shrieked and put her hand on the dash to brace herself.
“Stop it! Pull over now.” She forced some authority into her voice. “Pull over, and I’ll drive.”
Carl grinned idiotically at her. “Okay.” He slammed on the brake. Tires squealed, and Corinne flung forward until her seat belt caught her.
“Psych!” Carl yelled, and accelerated again.
Corinne closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat, bracing her feet against the dash.
Carl saw her and laughed again. “Where’s your snotty attitude now, you interfering bitch? Knocked you down a peg or two, didn’t I? Should have done it that night Shoulda gone through with it”
Corinne started to ask what he meant, then decided she didn’t want to know.
But evidently the thought had reminded Carl of something. “Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll take a little trip out there and show you what happens to people who screw up my life.”
He mumbled to himself and looked out at the black night around them. For a moment he seemed to forget she was there.
But then he turned on her again, grinning maliciously. “Gonna take a little trip to the middle of nowhere. Where there ain’t no lover-boy sheriff to save you.”
He nodded to himself. “Yeah, see how you like it. You should have kept your mouth shut and got it over with at Halloween. I was just gonna scare you then. Who knows what I’m liable to do now?” He smiled again and reached across to pinch her cheek, hard.
She jerked away. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know—”
“Shut up!” Lightning fast, his mood grew dark again. “I’m talking about Halloween. I had it all planned out You were gonna come out to the pasture and stay a while with me. Then I’d let you go, and it would all be like a big joke. Part of the Haunted Hayride experience,” he said mockingly. “But then you and lover-boy got back together, so I changed my mind. He can’t take a joke.”
He scowled and swerved off the road. Corinne choked on her own breath, her heart lurching as the pickup bounced hard off the pavement and barreled down a dirt road.
“That was...that was you?” she asked, one arm braced on the seat beside her, the other against the door. “The one who pulled me off the hayride?”
The scene Jeremy described in his story came back to her. Except it had been Carl, not Jeremy, who had planned to stand over her with a gun, laughing hysterically as she pleaded for her life. Carl behind the mask. “But you would never have gotten away with it. Someone would have found me—”
“Of course they would have found you, eventually. I wasn’t going to do anything to you, just scare you. Bring you down a notch or two—” The pickup swerved and went into the ditch The pickup leaned hard to her side, and for a second Corinne could see weeds slap against her window. Carl wrenched the wheel hard, and they lurched back up to the dirt track.
“Carl, please, pull over.” The pleading was strong in her voice. Just like before, she was begging for her life. Just as he’d planned.
He ignored her. “Gonna take a little trip out to the country,” he sang off-key. “Gonna have a little fun with the teacher.”
“Why did you do that?” Corinne asked, as much to keep his attention as to know. “Why did you want to scare me?”
“Because, you interfering bitch, you mined my future. If you hadn’t opened your fat mouth, Haskell woulda dropped the charges and I still would have gotten to play. But no.” He threw her a hateful glare. “You holier-than-thou, self-righteous, interfering...” He trailed off. Corinne was glad. If he called her a bitch one more time, she was going to slap him and damn the consequences.
“And now I have nothing!” His furious voice filled the cab. He turned angry eyes to her, ignoring the road. Corinne stared straight ahead, watching in terror as they hurtled over a hill. She caught flashes of wooden fence posts, and tumbleweeds built up against them. They bounced hard over the road, and in the impact her teeth cracked together and she tasted blood.
Another hill, another hard bounce. Carl’s face drew tight, and he growled low in his throat. He stomped hard on the gas, and the pickup fishtailed in the dirt. This made him angrier. He wrenched on the wheel.
Corinne saw fence posts looming ahead, and screamed. They hit the dirt embankment with a loud thud, and sailed over the ditch. For a moment, they were airborne. She heard a metallic scrape and a loud knock. Barbed wire and a crooked wooden fence post hung from the passenger mirror. They touched down with a mighty crash. The bed of the truck bounced up. For a heart-stopping moment, Corinne thought they were going
to flip end over end.
She heard a loud inrush of air, and looked over at Carl. His door was open. He was gone.
It was then that she looked up and saw the tree, straight ahead. It was the last thing she saw.
The first thing Corinne saw when she came to was a thin, crooked branch of mesquite, half an inch from her face. She blinked, licked her lips, and stared at it for a moment, before pushing it away. It broke off and fell to the seat beside her.
She looked across the cab. The driver’s door hung crookedly open, letting in the frigid air Carl was gone.
“Carl?” she tried to call. Her voice was weak and rusty. Silence weighed heavily around her. She wondered how long she’d been unconscious. The moonlight was barely bright enough to make out the shapes around her—an empty cotton field, slim stalks plucked bare in the recent weeks, and a small stand of mesquite trees, directly in front and to the left of them. The branch that cracked through the windshield extended to a tree, imbedded in the front bumper of the truck.
She tried to get out of her seat so she could find Carl, but a heavy weight held her fast. She opened the door with an agonized metallic screech, and tried to slide out. Her mind fogged and her muscles felt weak as pudding. She struggled for a moment, then collapsed back against the seat with a tired sigh.
Maybe she had died in the accident. The inane thought flitted through her head that it was probably her just due to end up in a cotton field. A bit ironic. Then she thought of Toby. He would be upset that she’d left him again. She was always leaving him. He would never know that she’d fallen in love with him again. That she’d never fallen out of love with him.
Then she realized her seat belt was still fastened. She pushed the red button and stumbled onto the cold field.
She moved around the front of the pickup, tripping on tall grass and stumbling over low branches. She moved around the tree, pushing aside branches that scratched at her face and arms. Carl lay on the ground, under the back wheel.
Corinne froze when she saw him. He was very still—a dead stillness that went beyond mere absence of movement. He was dead, she knew. And she didn’t want to know any more.