by B K Stevens
He probably knew about Dad quitting his job, and about the fire at Wendy’s World. Hell, he might even know about Cassie’s problems. Mr. Quinn always seemed to have radar about stuff going on in kids’ personal lives. “It’s been rough,” I admitted, “but things might come together tonight.” If Cassie’s plan with Anita works, I thought, and Dad gets the kitchen renovation job, and Mom’s staff meeting goes well, lots of things could get better.
Mr. Quinn gave me a look. “That sounds encouraging. If you’d like to discuss it with me, I’m always ready to listen.”
“Thanks.” We’d reached my social studies classroom. “But we should be able to straighten things out.”
“Good.” He managed a smile. “So, how was that party you and Suzette went to Friday?”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“Just okay?” Another smile, but a faint one. “I expected more enthusiasm. Remember what I said. The right kind of girl can help you succeed, at Ridgecrest High and afterward. The wrong kind of girl, though, can hold you back. She can be a bad influence on you and damage your reputation. Any time you want advice about something like that, come see me. I may not be able to monitor your progress as closely next year, but I’ll always be eager to help.”
I watched him walk away. “The wrong kind of girl”—was he talking about Graciana? Had he overheard what we’d said in the hall, and realized we were getting close? If he thought I’d avoid Graciana and stick to Suzette just because he said so, he had a disappointment coming.
At lunch, I practically bumped into Suzette. She mumbled something about deciding to drop krav before rushing off to sit with girlfriends. Good. I headed for the basketball table and took the chair next to Joseph. Right as I was starting to relax, Paul Ericson came over.
“I heard you went to the emergency room this morning, Matt,” he said. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” I tried to act natural but couldn’t. I couldn’t even make myself look at him. And how the hell did he know about the emergency room?
“Good,” he said. “Carolyn and I are watching a video tonight at my house, maybe getting a pizza later. Maybe you and Suzette could come.”
Two weeks ago, I would’ve jumped at that invitation. It’d be the next best thing to having Paul nominate me for captain. “No thanks. I’ve got krav maga, and after that I have something else I need to do. Something really important.” Until now, I hadn’t considered studying for the trig test with Berk “really important.” Now, I was glad to have an excuse.
“Are you sure?” Paul gave me a big smile. “Carolyn’s looking forward to it.”
Don’t say anything more, I told myself. Don’t be stupid. But my anger and suspicions had been growing all morning, and I couldn’t hold back. “Guess you’ll have to find a way to make it up to her, then. Maybe you could take her to a doubly shady spot.”
Paul’s forehead creased. “A doubly—what’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged. “You tell me.”
He stared back at me, then shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Foley. Carolyn’s not that kind of girl. You should know that.”
Joseph waited until he’d left. “‘A doubly shady spot,’” he said quietly. “It is from the text message you showed us, yes? From Nina? Why did you say it now?”
“If somebody else sent the second message—the one that’s probably fake—maybe that person read the first message. I wanted to see how Paul would react.”
Joseph winced. “Was that wise?”
“No. But I had to see if he recognized it.”
“And did he?”
“I couldn’t tell.” I picked up my tuna sandwich. “He didn’t like it. That’s for sure.”
The day seemed to drag until finally I could be with Graciana. As she drove me home, I told her about Bobby Davis, and she got emotional several times. When I described everything that’d happened since then, she asked a lot of sharp, smart questions, as usual.
“I have some other things to tell you, too,” I said. “First, I think Mr. Quinn’s the new principal. We know it’s not Mr. Carver—like I told you, he’s leaving.”
“And Ms. Quinn said ‘this should be a happy time’ for her husband,” Graciana said. “That fits.”
“So does what Mr. Quinn said about not being able to monitor me as closely next year,” I said. “I guess he’s a logical choice. He’s been a guidance counselor here forever, and making a Ridgecrest High graduate the principal might seem like a good way to celebrate the school’s anniversary. No wonder everybody wants to avoid controversy this spring.”
“Makes sense,” she agreed. “There’s something else?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking. Bobby Davis knew where to find me. Every morning, I run laps in a church parking lot. Davis didn’t follow me there. When he showed up, I’d already been there several minutes. And he knew where to find my car when I took Suzette to the movie, and how to find Berk and me when we were driving home from krav. Someone’s been telling him about my schedule.”
“You’re right,” she said. “That’s scary. Do you know who it was?”
“Probably not Ted Ramsey. How would he know any of that? I think it had to be somebody at school. Almost everybody knew about my date with Suzette, and lots of people must’ve known we all go to krav Mondays and Wednesdays.” I paused. “One person knew I’ve been running laps at the church. Paul Ericson. Last Sunday, when we went to see him, he asked if I was keeping in shape, and I told him.”
“He could’ve told someone else.”
“Sure, but why? When would that come up in conversation? I don’t know, Graciana. I’d almost convinced myself it couldn’t be Paul. But this makes me wonder.”
“We’ll keep thinking about it,” she said. “Maybe there’s another explanation.”
I hoped so. But it was getting harder to believe.
Thirty-four
When I got home, Cassie ran to the door, pulled me up to her room, and started in.
“It worked exactly the way you said it would,” she said. “After homeroom, Nancy Dixon came up to me, smirking, with two of her friends, and she stuck her hand in my face and said, ‘High five, Cassie,’ the way she always does. And I blocked it—I did it exactly right, the first time—and I said, ‘Grow up!’ I didn’t shout, but I was loud. You should’ve seen the look on her face! She didn’t know what to say. It was like that all morning. Whenever anyone tried anything, I blocked it and said ‘Grow up!’ really loud. Then, at lunch, Whitney Miles tried, and she’s so popular. And I blocked it, and I shouted, ‘Get a life!’ And people laughed! They laughed at her, not at me! And when she passed me in the hall later, she didn’t even look at me. I think she was embarrassed. I think Whitney Miles was embarrassed! All afternoon, nobody even tried anything.”
“Amazing, Cassie,” I said. “You did great. Congratulations.”
“That’s not even the best part. See, yesterday Anita called lots of her friends and hinted at stuff, and she said she thinks it’s too bad people aren’t nicer to Duffy. So all day, whenever Anita and her friends passed Duffy, they’d give him high fives. It caught on, and soon lots of people were doing it. Even boys did it. Duffy looked so happy! All day, he kept smiling and smiling. That made me feel so good, Matt.”
“You gotta keep it up,” I said. “If anyone tries anything tomorrow, keep pushing forward. I hope Anita and her friends keep it up, too. It could make a real difference in Duffy’s life.”
“I know. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Her eyes got shiny. “It’s all because of you, Matt. You taught me how to block, and you got me together with Anita.”
“No, it’s all because of Graciana. Showing you the block was her idea, and so was introducing you to Anita. I don’t deserve any credit.”
“You deserve some.” Cassie’s voice sounded te
asing now. “But I don’t mind giving Graciana credit, too. She’s really nice. And she’s pretty. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
I started to get uncomfortable. “Sure.”
“I think she’s really pretty. Do you like her?”
I shrugged. “Sure. She’s nice, and she’s smart. And her side kick’s improving.”
“I don’t mean stuff like that.” Cassie grinned. “Anyway, I hope you like her, because Anita thinks she likes you. A lot.”
“That’s nice.” I stood up. “See you later.”
Mom and Dad didn’t want me to go to krav. I’d had enough rough stuff for one day, they said. Besides, Bobby Davis might be watching for me, or even Ted Ramsey. Then Lieutenant Hill called. A Delaware cop spotted Davis’ car a few hours ago but decided to wait for backup. While he was waiting, Davis slipped away.
“And you were right about Marie Ramsey,” Hill said. “As soon as I suggested her half-brother might’ve had something to do with her sister’s death, she started talking. She said he’d beaten her up because he wanted to know what she was talking to you about. She didn’t want to tell him the truth, so she made up some story about thinking the school was responsible for her sister’s suicide.”
“He was yelling about that at the bake sale,” I said. “He seemed drunk.”
“Yeah, he was drunk when we picked him up, too, decided to put up a fight. So now we’ve also got him on resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. The judge said no bail. That should give your friend some breathing room.” He hung up.
“Bobby Davis left the state, and Ted Ramsey’s in jail,” I told my parents. “So I don’t have to hide at home tonight. Plus Berk and I need to study after class.”
“All right,” Mom said. “You may go. Only to watch, though. Don’t risk getting injured again. Give yourself time to heal.”
So now I sat on a folding chair, book bag at my feet, watching students practice a new grappling technique. It felt frustrating. At least I’d gotten a chance to tell Aaron about what happened with Davis this morning, to have him shake my hand and get choked up when I thanked him. That’d felt good. And at least I had plenty to keep my mind busy.
I kept going over things. Yesterday, I’d felt almost sure Ted Ramsey killed Nina and hired Davis. Not anymore. No way could he have told Davis where I run laps. And could he have written the second text message? I reached into my book bag, took out my trig notebook, and looked at the words I’d copied. I need rest—I need peace. Never blame yourself. No, that didn’t sound like him. It sounded too smooth, too smart. Too nice.
It didn’t sound like Paul, either, but if he’d been trying to sound like a girl who read a lot, he might’ve come up with something like that. He definitely knew where I ran laps. Angie had confirmed that Nina called him Captain America and planned to seduce him. If he’d realized Nina planned to humiliate him, that could’ve given him a motive for striking out at her. And if he’d killed her more or less by accident, he’d have lots of motives for covering it up. So he sent the fake text message and planted a library copy of The Bell Jar in her locker to make it look like she’d committed suicide.
I frowned. Marie’s theory about how Paul could’ve gotten Nina’s locker combination still seemed lame. But Marie knew Nina well; I hadn’t known her at all. Or maybe Marie was wrong about the book, and Nina put it in her locker herself. After all, would Paul know The Bell Jar was about suicide? Maybe, but I sure hadn’t.
Then what? Marie told Coach Colson her suspicions, and he said he’d look into it. Would he go straight to Paul? He might—he was a direct kind of guy. And if Paul panicked, he might’ve decided killing Coach was the only way to save himself. That’s when he turned to Bobby Davis. Later, when Davis told him Hill asked about Ted Ramsey, the name “Ramsey” made Paul panic again. He was afraid I was closing in on the truth, so he decided Davis should kill me, too. When that didn’t work, Paul tried to bribe me with an invitation instead, to make me think I’d gain so much from being friends with him that I’d stop asking questions.
I guessed that made sense. Marie’s evidence didn’t seem like enough to make someone panic—the police had shrugged it off, and Graciana and I had come up with innocent explanations for it—but maybe Coach had found more evidence, too. I didn’t know what he might’ve found, and I didn’t know why he would’ve told Paul about it, instead of going to the police. And how did Paul know about Bobby Davis, and where did he get money to pay him? Two more things to figure out.
We still didn’t know where Nina’s special place was, either. For some reason, that felt important. Angie thought it might be near the Ramsey apartment, but who’d call a boarded-up store in the oldest part of town Sherwood Forest? And Marie thought Nina went there to change into a new top on the day she died. Would she have had time to go to the other side of town before meeting Paul at the bridge and sending a text message at 3:52?
I looked down at my copies of the text messages. Something still didn’t feel right.
Aaron clapped his hands twice. “Back to the center. Let’s discuss a core principle of krav maga. ‘Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.’ Who said that?”
Graciana’s hand shot up. “Henry David Thoreau. Walden, or Life in the Woods, 1854.”
Aaron grinned. “I’ll have to take your word about the date, but yes, it’s Thoreau. In krav, we repeat ‘simplicity’ as often as Thoreau does. Joseph, will you give me a hand?”
Joseph sprang to his feet, and Aaron picked up a rubber knife.
“So we’re in a dark alley,” Aaron said, “and I’m coming at you with a knife. Defend yourself.”
As Aaron advanced, Joseph lifted his right leg, his body spinning as he aimed a roundhouse kick at Aaron’s head. It was an incredibly high kick, precise and graceful.
Aaron didn’t bother blocking it. Instead, he ducked his head and stepped forward, shoving Joseph in the chest. Joseph fell over backward, and Aaron moved in with the knife, pretending to stab him.
“Great roundhouse kick,” Aaron said, helping Joseph up. “I wish I could still kick that high. But it was too complex, too indirect. You didn’t deal with the knife. You hoped the kick would take care of it, but I knocked you down before the kick could land. I like the roundhouse kick—I teach it in tae kwon do. But it can make you vulnerable. In krav, we don’t have fancy kicks, and we aim low. We go for the stomach, the groin, the knee. That’s more efficient, and doesn’t expose you to counterattacks as much. Now you attack.”
Joseph took the knife and moved forward. Aaron lunged at him, hooking his left arm under Joseph’s right arm, trapping it. At the same moment, with his right hand, Aaron grabbed Joseph around the back of his neck and kneed him gently in the stomach, shouting “kadima” and driving him back. Joseph couldn’t use the knife because his arm was trapped. Finally the knife fell from his hand, and Aaron let him go.
“Good job,” he said, shaking Joseph’s hand. “Thanks. So, that’s the defense. Not elegant, but it works. Notice I trapped his knife hand and kneed him simultaneously. Simultaneous defense and attack—that’s another core principle of krav. And I kept moving forward. That’s kadima. For tonight, the main point is simplicity. The more you complicate things, the more you increase your chances of making mistakes. Okay. Pair up and practice knife defenses. Remember—simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.”
Good lesson, I thought. Probably, it’s one of those lessons you can apply to other stuff besides martial arts. “The more you complicate things, the more you increase your chances of making mistakes.” But some people always have to make things complicated.
I frowned. Something was nudging at me, some connection I should be making. Most of the things I’d thought about Paul seemed to make sense, but I felt like there was another way of putting things together, a way that’d leave fewer unanswered questions. I looked at the copy of the first text message, the one Nina herself sent. Take th
at, Big Brother! If she wasn’t talking about Ted, who was she talking about?
Confused, I shook the questions off and looked up. Rubber knife in hand, roaring, Derrick was charging Joseph. Joseph countered, using the moves Aaron had demonstrated. Nice job, I thought, but I bet it was tough for Joseph not to use his roundhouse kick, with Derrick’s head such a tempting target. Joseph’s proud of his roundhouse, and I can see why. Even Coach had been impressed. Hadn’t he mentioned it, in his notes on the tournament?
I opened my book bag again, pulled out the yellow pad, and found the page bordered with doodles of dogs, of two flowering trees, of pizzas and cars and bikes. “Joseph—nice, high roundhouse kick,” Coach had written.
Then, for the first time, I focused on the doodles, not the words. Bikes—on that first night after the tournament, Joseph said something about Coach bicycling for hours on weekends, exploring areas outside town. Mrs. Dolby mentioned that, too. And two flowering trees. Coach had drawn those on every page, more often than he’d drawn anything else.
Two flowering trees.
A doubly shady spot.
Sherwood Forest.
“Great work, everybody,” Aaron said. “Give yourself a round of applause.”
They all stood clapping, smiling, trading jokes.
I shoved the pad back in my book bag. It’d be a stupid thing to do, I thought, especially at night. But if I wait till tomorrow, I might be too late. If I can figure it out, so can the killer. And I can’t trust Lieutenant Hill, and if I tell my parents, they’ll say no.
Berk ran over, face flushed from exercise. “Ready to hit the trig book?”
“I can’t,” I said. “Sorry. Can you and Joseph get a ride with Derrick or Graciana? I have to check something out.”
Berk looked confused. “Want me to come?”
“No. It’s probably nothing. And you should study.” Trig comes easily to me, but it’s tougher for Berk. “There’s Graciana. Ask her for a ride, okay?”
He didn’t look happy, but he did it. I saw him speak to Graciana, saw her stare at me, saw her shake her head and say something quick. Then she headed for me. Damn.