Echo Bridge

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Echo Bridge Page 17

by Kristen O'Toole


  “You kept him away from Molly.”

  “This time. If I had reported what he did to me—”

  Lexi blew an exasperated breath into the phone, and I could picture her throwing up her hands. “And if Farnsworth had listened to me, then Hugh may not have had a chance to hurt you. And he’d probably still be alive. A sex offender, but alive. It’s not your fault, Courtney. You were one link in a chain that Hugh forged himself. That’s what led to his death, not you.”

  “I guess,” I said softly.

  Lexi lowered her voice, too. “Anyway, if you’re going to do the shoulda-coulda-woulda thing, remember that we might not even know each other, if this had all happened differently.”

  I put the donut down on the kitchen table. It was suddenly far too cloying and sweet. I was remembering the taste of Lexi’s mouth: cigarettes and raspberry lip gloss and underneath, something that was just her, the way every kiss has its own flavor, no matter how many Altoids you chow in anticipation. But I didn’t know what to say to her, whether my feelings were too much or not enough or just brought on by shared experience.

  Lexi sensed my hesitation. “And Farah and Rahim probably wouldn’t even know each other’s real names,” she said, laughing, trying to lift the tension I had put into the conversation.

  I was grateful to talk about something other than my own mixed-up feelings for a minute. “Yeah. What’s going on there?”

  “I think he’s giving her hacker lessons. Stanford scholarship or no, Farah’s attracted to the dark side,” Lexi laughed.

  I remembered the day I first talked to her, the message over the darkroom door: Welcome to the Dark Side. The painting depicted Darth Vader in painstaking detail, but he seemed like a cartoon to me now. Farah spying on everyone on the Belknet; Lexi drugging Hugh; Rahim’s gleaming glass building—that was the dark side. Not being sorry that Hugh was dead—I was on the dark side now.

  Chapter 19

  If Hugh had been a high school hero in life, in death he was practically a saint. School was canceled on Monday for the funeral, which was enormous. At 10 a.m., when I’d thought I would be at the police station with Lexi and Farah, waiting for the cops to bring Hugh in, I was sitting in Belknap United Methodist Church, clutching a program that featured Hugh’s senior class photo and the lyrics to “Waiting On An Angel,” by Ben Harper. I was sitting between Lindsay Stevens, who was obviously stoned, and Melissa, who was sobbing like she’d lost her own brother. Hilary and Selena filled the rest of our pew. The boys, as pallbearers, were all seated up front, and behind them, the varsity hockey team. A lot of Country Day’s rival teams were there, too, filling a dozen pews in the back. It seemed like half of Belknap was in the church, including most of the students and teachers from Country Day. The casket up front was closed, and next to it stood a poster-sized photo of Hugh on the ice, in full pads and holding a hockey stick, surrounded by a wreath.

  I could see Ted a few rows up, his shoulders rigid in his black suit, his head bent, neck still tan from soccer season. I hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday, other than a quick hello when we’d met up in front of the church and he’d kissed my forehead. Between the cops, his parents, and the Marsdens, he hadn’t had any time to talk over the weekend. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was up to playing the supportive girlfriend. I had caught a glimpse of Lexi with Farah at the back of the church on my way in, and my neck prickled at the thought of her somewhere behind me.

  “I just can’t believe it,” wailed Melissa. She patted the area under her big black sunglasses with a lace hankie. “Poor Huey. You know he pinched my ass not five minutes before he went out to the barn? I’m going to miss him so much.”

  “It is pretty surreal,” said Lindsay. I looked at her red-rimmed eyes and guessed that everything was pretty surreal for Lindsay just then.

  “You didn’t even like him, Melissa,” said Hilary nastily.

  “How c-c-c-can you say that?” Melissa hiccupped loudly and people in the pews ahead of us began to turn around.

  “Both of you, shush,” said Selena. “We all feel messed up.”

  Melissa buried her face in my shoulder, and I patted her back awkwardly.

  Mr. and Mrs. Marsden sat in the first pew, across the aisle from the pallbearers. They were as beautiful and icy as ever, accepting condolences with blank nods when people came up to them. There were rumors they were going to sue Ted’s parents, but there were a lot of rumors flying around, and it was hard to know what to believe.

  As if on cue, Hilary leaned over Melissa and said in a hushed voice, “I heard he took the same stuff he was on at Rivalry Revelry. So he had, like, no idea what was going on.”

  “What was this stuff he was on, exactly?” asked Lindsay. “And where did he get it?”

  “Don’t be dumb, Hilary,” said Melissa. “Revelry was an accident with allergy medication. Hugh wasn’t a druggie.”

  Lindsay had the wherewithal to look mildly offended at the note of disgust in Melissa’s voice.

  “But how many times do you think he’s been to Ted’s house? If anyone would know to avoid the root cellar in the barn, it would be Hugh. I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to miss when you know it’s there, right, Courtney?”

  “I guess?” I mumbled, barely audible.

  “So he must have been, like, really wasted.” Hilary was smug.

  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to speak ill of the dead?” snapped Melissa.

  “You’re both being disrespectful,” hissed Selena.

  At last, the priest stepped up to the podium, and the crowd in the church quieted down. “We’re here today to celebrate the life of Hugh William Marsden.”

  He droned on, and I zoned out. I wasn’t there to celebrate Hugh’s life. I wasn’t there to celebrate his death, either—as much as I’d hated him, as much as I’d wanted him locked up and/or far away from me, I felt guilty about what had happened to him. If only Molly hadn’t come to the party. If only we’d gone to the cops on Wednesday night like Lexi had wanted, or earlier, like we should have done all along. I had stayed silent about Hugh in hopes of my life returning to status quo, but it turned out that doing nothing had its own butterfly effect. I had put all of this in motion when I’d pulled my skirt down and curled up in the bathtub at Melissa’s house.

  The priest’s voice was a low background buzz, the church a distant blur in my mind’s eye. I felt like a zombie. It made me think of the day Lexi and I had gone to Harvard Square and thought up our imaginary B-movie, Rapist Hockey Zombies, and for an awful moment I thought I might laugh. The hysterical braying rose in my chest like vomit, and I choked it back. Melissa offered me her hankie. Hugh had seemed invincible then, coddled and protected by everyone who was now mourning him.

  After we sang “Waiting On An Angel,” with Benji and Horse playing acoustic guitars in front of the altar, Ted stepped up to the podium. I realized that he was delivering the eulogy. Even after everything that had happened, it seemed odd that I would not have known this, that as chaotic as the weekend had been, we had not had five minutes to speak on the phone. I wondered where this rift had come from, if it had been happening for a while or if it was the result of Ted’s grief. It crossed my mind that growing apart might not be such a bad thing for us, and I was surprised at myself. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, but it was still hard to picture my life without Ted in it. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke I could hear the tears he was holding back in his voice.

  “Hugh was my best friend,” he said into the mike. “He was an only child, and he told me all the time that I was like a brother to him. I have a brother myself, so I know how much that really means. Hugh was a second brother to me.” Here he had to stop, brace one hand on the podium, and put his head down before he could go on.

  “I haven’t just lost a friend. I’ve lost a part of myself. I’m sure many of you feel that way.” He looked down at Mr. and Mrs. Marsden. “And that’s why it’s so important that we all remember him, because we�
�re also remembering the parts of ourselves we gave to him, and the parts of himself that he gave to us.” I shuddered. I didn’t want to remember what Hugh had taken from me anymore.

  “The thing that Hugh gave me, the thing he taught me, was how to compete. I know he taught a lot of us about that, certainly the rookies on the hockey team.” Ted nodded at Coach Jessup. “From the first day I met him, everything Hugh did was a competition, a chance to prove himself. He was always looking for a record to break. He had the highest shooting percentage in the history of Belknap Country Day hockey, the fastest sprints down the rink. But it wasn’t just on the ice—Hugh scored our whole lives, from who got to school first to who could eat the most brownies after lunch in the refectory.”

  I stared up at Ted. I wondered how much he knew about Hugh’s habit of keeping score. I felt my neck grow hot as I pictured Lexi and Farah in the crowd behind me, eyes on the back of my head. I wondered how many other girls in United Methodist at that moment were represented by dates on Hugh’s list. Black spots swam at the edge of my vision, and I suddenly felt sure that I would never make it through the rest of Ted’s eulogy or the slow parade out of the church to the graveside.

  “Are you okay?” whispered Lindsay. “You look kind of funny. But that might just be me.”

  Up front, Ted was still talking. “The very first time I met Hugh, on the first day of my sophomore year, he bet me five bucks that he could talk to more girls in the student lounge during our free period than I could. And he beat me by half.”

  The crowd tittered. I caught sight of Molly and Elaine on the far side of the church. Neither of them was smiling, and Elaine had one arm protectively over Molly’s shoulders. The girls in the pew behind them kept nudging each other and whispering. One of the more absurd rumors making the rounds was that Hugh had actually killed himself because he’d been in love with Molly and she’d rejected him. Another, less outrageous version pinned Molly as the reason he’d been so drunk as to accidentally kill himself.

  “The thing is, by putting our whole lives on the score sheet like he did, Hugh pushed me to do better, be faster, do more. I hope I did the same for him. I don’t know. All I know is that the person who made me be my best self is gone, and now I have to find a way to go on without him. We all do. It’s what he would expect from us. I can hear him now, proposing that we see who can hit all five stages of grief the fastest.”

  Ted was weeping now. I stared at him. Hugh made him be his best self? I wondered if Ted had ever really known Hugh. Or if I had ever really known Ted. Mr. Marsden climbed to the podium to clasp Ted’s shoulders and to invite the crowd back to the Marsden McMansion for refreshments. Benji and Horse moved to their folding chairs again, playing an instrumental “Tears in Heaven” as the rest of the boys took their places and heaved the coffin to their shoulders. Once they’d left, the crowd rose to its feet and began to mill about, slowly funneling out the double doors at the back. It was moving much too slowly for my taste, and next to me Melissa was sobbing again.

  “Courtney?” asked Lindsay. “Are you okay? I don’t think it’s me. You do not look good.”

  Selena turned around. “Whoa. Courtney?”

  But I was falling away from them. My body dropped sideways, my ribs and right arm slamming into the wooden pew, but I didn’t feel it, because my mind kept falling, down into a sweet, cool blackness.

  * * *

  By fainting, I actually accomplished exactly what I’d wanted: a path was cleared, I was helped to my feet, and Horse Riley carried me outside and sat me on the steps.

  “I think the Marsdens will probably understand if you don’t go by the house,” he told me. “You need a ride home?”

  I put my arms around his neck and buried my face in one of his huge shoulders. The hysteria I’d been fighting in the church came gushing out, a Niagara Falls of tears, snot and drool dripping onto his pinstriped shoulder. Horse pawed my hair awkwardly before helping me up, guiding me across the parking lot, and opening the passenger door of his station wagon.

  Chapter 20

  I stayed in bed all day Monday, staring numbly at the ceiling. I ignored calls on my cell from Lexi, Ted, Melissa, Selena, and Horse. The house phone rang a few times, but if any of the calls were for me, my mother didn’t mention it. She left me alone until dinnertime, when she brought me a bowl of the turkey soup she’d made to use up the leftovers.

  “Honey?”

  I rolled over in bed and looked at her standing in the doorway.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I managed to shrug visibly without actually sitting up. She came into the room and set the tray with the bowl of soup and a piece of bread on the nightstand.

  “I know it’s very upsetting to lose someone unexpectedly like this,” she said quietly. “And when the person is so young… I don’t know what I would have done if it were you.” She brushed my hair away from my face. “This will be a very difficult time for the whole town. I’m glad that you and Ted have each other to lean on. How is he doing?”

  I stared up at her. I had no idea how to respond to this. “He gave the eulogy,” I said.

  “Good for him. I’m sure that meant a lot to Hugh’s parents.” She sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Courtney…Hugh’s death was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Of course it was.” I snuck a look at her face. “What else could it be?”

  “Well, that detective called a little while ago. She wants you to come in again tomorrow morning, before school. I guess they’re still questioning everyone who saw him Friday night.”

  I pressed my face into the pillow. “Do I have to?”

  “I think so, yes. I know this must be hard, but they’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened. God, when I think of how much time you’ve spent over there… did you ever go in this barn? Why on earth didn’t Ted’s parents fix the door? Or at least keep it locked when they’re not home?”

  “It was locked,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Mom looked at me, confused.

  “I mean, they usually do. Keep it locked,” I backpedaled.

  “Still, if something like this could happen, it obviously wasn’t secure.” She smoothed the covers over me, a little frown forming between her eyebrows. “I just can’t believe the Parkers would allow something like this,” she shook her head as she stood up. “This is going to ruin their lives, you know.”

  “It was an accident, Mom.”

  “Yes, but they’re still responsible. It’s their house. Their property insurance will probably go through the roof.” She clucked her way to the door, and then turned back to me. “Try to eat something, honey. I’ll drive you to the police station and wait there to take you to school.”

  * * *

  “Tell me, Miss Valance.” Detective Soleto steepled her fingers over a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee. “How would you characterize your relationship with Hugh Marsden?”

  I picked at the rim of my own cup. The smell of the coffee was making me ill. Why was she asking me this? What clue had come up in their investigation that she needed to talk to me again? I was terrified.

  “We were friendly,” I said.

  “You must have been more than that.” The detective leaned forward on her elbows. She was aiming for girly gossip sesh, but came off as totally fake and prying. “You’ve dated his best friend for over a year. I imagine you’ve spent a lot of time together. You must have been close.”

  I shrugged, trying to seem casual. “We ran with the same crowd, yes. But I’m much closer with the girls than any of the guys. Other than Ted, I mean.” But I didn’t know how close Ted and I were anymore. We had barely spoken in three days—just that brief moment on the church steps. I had no idea what he must be going through. In spite of his eulogy, which had rang with a horrible truth that Ted couldn’t have possibly understood, it had been hard for me to see him so upset at the funeral.

  “So he never made a pass at you?”<
br />
  “Hugh?” I stared at Detective Soleto. What did she know? “Um, no. I mean, I’m his best friend’s girl. You don’t do that.” You just lock her in the bathroom and pin her arms behind her back.

  The detective raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Courtney. We both know that teenage boys don’t necessarily play by the rules.”

  She knows, I thought. Oh my God, she knows. I stared at her, petrified.

  “You must have flirted a little, though, I bet. I mean, that’s only natural.”

  “Um,” I said. I tried to remember last year; had I flirted with Hugh before he raped me? Even in the light, meaningless way I did with Jake? “Maybe, I guess. Not for real, though. Just the way my friends and I talk to each other. It could be considered flirtatious, but most of the time we’re not, like, actually trying to make something happen.”

  “Courtney,” said Detective Soleto. “Whatever you tell me will stay between us. Ted doesn’t have to know.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second and wondered if I should be insulted that she thought I was that dumb, but I was also terrified of what she was driving at and what she might have discovered in the Parkers’ barn or among Hugh’s affects.

  “You seem pretty nervous.” She was trying to change tactics now. “Is he the jealous type? Ted, I mean.”

  “No,” I said. “Not at all. I mean, I’ve never given him reason to be. My friend Melissa is always telling me I should play harder to get. But I love him.” The words echoed emptily in my ears.

  “Courtney,” said Soleto. “Has he ever scared you?”

  I looked down at my coffee cup, the whole rim now ragged and torn away and the coffee full of white flecks of Styrofoam. Her question recalled the first time I’d tried to talk to Molly about Hugh. If he ever scares you… I wondered if she remembered that too, if she had thought of it while he had her in the darkroom.

  The detective sighed in exasperation and set her notes aside. She laid her palms flat on the table and leaned toward me. “Courtney, is there any reason that Ted might have had a grudge against Hugh?”

 

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