Pressure (9 page)

“Then go tell Mr. Sevin what you did.”

Darren grinned. “I didn’t mean for me.”

“Are you here to make up or just to bug me?”

“We could make up.”

“Fine. We’re made up. Now I have to study.”

“Do you want to know how I got the test?”

I perked up at this. Would he really tell me? If he gave away his secret, he might also give away something that could point directly at him as the culprit. Sure, I only had two weeks of probation left, but still, to finally be able to prove my innocence…or, more specifically, Darren’s guilt…

“Yeah, I do.”

“Meet me outside of your building at midnight.”

I shook my head. “I’ll get caught.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will. I’ve got four roommates.”

“Would they say anything?”

“Of course they would. They don’t want to get in trouble for something I did. They don’t even like me.”

Darren considered that. “That’s too bad.”

“So tell me now.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.”

“If you really want to know, you’ll be outside at midnight. You’ll find a way.”

“What makes you think that I could possibly care enough about the stupid test to get in that much trouble over it?”

“How about this? Be out there at midnight or I’m coming after you next.”

“Screw you.”

“I’ll get you bad.”

“Go to hell.”

“I hope I do go to hell. Maybe I’ll see Peter’s dog there. Or maybe just its head.”

I said nothing further. I wasn’t going to let him goad me into doing something I’d deeply regret. Without a word, I looked back down at my book and resumed studying. Pretended to study, anyway.

“Alex…?”

I ignored him. I also tried to ignore the sweat trickling down my back.

“I’m talking to you.”

I said nothing.

He sat there for a full two minutes (two minutes that seemed like a thousand), staring at me, waiting for me to become so uncomfortable that I’d be forced to acknowledge him.

I didn’t give in.

“You are
so
dead,” he said, pushing back his seat, standing up, and casually walking away.

“That’s incredible,” said Jeremy.

“I know.”

“I mean…I just…I can’t even believe it.” Jeremy took another bite of his lasagna. “Did they fire the chef or something? This is delicious!”

“Maybe Darren got him,” I said. It was the best lasagna I’d ever had. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t even like lasagna all that much, but this was enough to turn me into a fan. I’d had so many awful meals in the Branford Academy dining hall that I’d almost reached the point where I truly believed that food, as an entity in itself, sucked.

We ate dinner in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the bliss of food that wasn’t complete crap.

I’d told Jeremy about my conversation with Darren. He was, quite predictably, pissed off. We’d tried to brainstorm plans of action, but there didn’t seem to be much we could do. Unlike mine, Jeremy’s new room had a window that faced the front of the building, so he assured me that he’d be on watch at midnight. If Darren did in fact show up outside, Jeremy would quickly see to it that he was busted.

But though Darren had gotten cocky enough to come out and admit that he’d been responsible for Peter’s removal, we didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to just stand outside the building waiting for me, especially because I’d indicated that I wouldn’t be coming. And if he
was
out there, he’d probably have some sort of sneaky plan up his sleeve. We weren’t quite sure what it could be, but we weren’t willing to rule anything out.

For about a tenth of a second we considered going to Mr. Sevin and telling him about the library conversation, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. Darren was a much more convincing liar than I was a truth-teller.

Instead, Jeremy and I settled for a vague plan of being incredibly vigilant. If Darren was going to try something, well, we’d make sure we were alert at all times. No journals protruding from book bags were going to get me this time.

Though it seemed unlikely that Darren would confess his crimes a second time, Jeremy and I decided that we needed to carry around tape recorders. Those handheld ones that we could fit in our pockets. Unfortunately, since we were stuck on the school grounds and were unaware of any tape recorders available on campus, there really wasn’t much we could do. So we were screwed in that regard, but we did vow to be vigilant.

I lay awake that night, listening as 75 percent of my roommates snored hard enough to make the bedsheets flutter (which was a 25 percent improvement over the usual situation). I wondered if Darren really was out there, waiting for me to meet him at midnight. If he was, what would he do when I didn’t show up?

You are so dead…

He could’ve meant that literally.

No. He was a sinister, morbid, rotten kid, but he was just a twelve-year-old. He wouldn’t be coming after me with a knife, or a gun, or even a staple remover. Physically, at least, I was perfectly safe.

I wasn’t going to live in fear because of him. He wasn’t going to have that kind of power over me. No way. He could make all the threats he wanted, but I was not going to let him control my life.

The best he could do is cost me a night of sleep.

And he did it very well.

Darren may or may not have tried to meet me outside. Jeremy, ever vigilant, admitted that he’d fallen asleep and didn’t keep watch. But it was a long shot anyway, so I kept the humorously phrased disparaging remarks down to fewer than eight.

I didn’t see Darren in the cafeteria at breakfast, which concerned me. I also didn’t see him in Mr. Wolfe’s class when it started. And I didn’t see Jeremy, which concerned me more.

What if Darren had gotten him?

What if he’d
killed
him?

It was a ridiculous thought, I knew, but still…

He’d had practice cutting things up. What if he had Jeremy hidden away in some bushes, opening him with his pocketknife, struggling to saw away his head and knowing that with time and patience it would eventually pop free?

Ridiculous.

Absurd.

Maggots in Jeremy’s eyes.

Laughable. Ha-ha. Ho-ho. Hee-hee.

His mouth filled with insects instead of a tongue.

Not even worth the brain energy to think about.

Perhaps still alive, unable to scream beneath the duct tape, watching as Darren makes precise incisions, staring curiously at his own blood pooling around the blade…

Jeremy hurried into the classroom, out of breath.

“You’re late,” said Mr. Wolfe, without looking away from the chalkboard.

“I know, I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t find my book.”

“Share with somebody else, please.”

He scooted his desk next to mine, and we silently read the math lesson while Mr. Wolfe wrote formulas on the board.

Five minutes later, Darren entered the room, bleeding.

His face was bruised, swollen, and bloody, as if he’d been punched several times, hard. There was also blood on his torn shirt, along with grass stains and dirt. He walked with a limp.

Everybody in the class stared at him as he went toward his desk and sniffled pitifully.

“What in the world happened to you?” asked Mr. Wolfe, glancing over his shoulder. He moved over to Darren in two quick steps and crouched down to check out his injuries.

“Nothing,” said Darren, sniffling again.

“This is
not
nothing. What happened? Did somebody do this to you?”

Darren shrugged.

“Who?”

Darren pointed at Jeremy.

My first reaction, I’m ashamed to admit, was glee that Jeremy had beaten the shit out of that little monster. That glee was mixed with a sense of disappointment that I hadn’t been there to hold Darren down.

But this reaction instantly vanished as I saw Jeremy’s face. He hadn’t done a thing to Darren. Our common enemy had threatened me, but gone after him instead.

“Is this true?” Mr. Wolfe asked Jeremy.

“No.”

“He did it in the bathroom,” said Darren, his words somewhat slurred. “That’s why I was late.”

“I did not!” said Jeremy, almost at a shout. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing to you and you know it!”

“Jeremy! Language! Get up!”

“I didn’t touch him,” Jeremy insisted.

“I said, get up. We’re going to visit Mr. Sevin.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t touch him.”

Mr. Wolfe stared at him with an expression of carefully controlled rage. “I beg your pardon, young man?”

“I—” Jeremy shouted this first word, but then quickly lowered his voice to an appropriate classroom tone. “I didn’t touch him, sir.”

“He was waiting for me when I came out of the stall,” said Darren, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“You did it to yourself,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, yeah, I did it to myself. Real funny. Why are you always lying about me?” Darren’s voice cracked, and if I weren’t so convinced of the truth behind the matter I would have absolutely believed him.

“I’m not lying,” said Jeremy, speaking calmly while shaking in fury.

“Darren, Jeremy, let’s go.”

“No.”

“That was
not
a request.”

“I don’t care. He’s not going to get me the way he did Peter.”

“Get up out of that chair this instant!”

Jeremy shook his head defiantly.

“Jeremy, get up,” I whispered in a panic.

“
I didn’t touch him!”
Jeremy shouted. In any other circumstances, the way Mr. Wolfe flinched would have been absolutely hilarious and fueled several dozen fond mealtime conversations, but now it just made me want to scream for Jeremy to please,
please
do what he was told.

“Stand up.”

“No!”

“I said stand up!”

“
No!
I’m not going with you just so you can take his side.”

The entire class watched with rapt fascination, collectively unable to believe what they were witnessing.

“Young man, you’re making this very bad for yourself.”

“You can call the cops. I don’t care.”

“You
will
care.”

“Jeremy, just go!” I said.

Jeremy looked at me, then back at Mr. Wolfe. Then, with a frustrated, furious sigh, he pushed back his chair and stood up.

“I didn’t touch him,” Jeremy said. “I didn’t do a thing to him.”

“That’s for me to decide,” said Mr. Wolfe.

“Mr. Wolfe?” asked Larry Peakin, raising his hand. He was the smallest guy in class, with one green eye and one blue one.

“Yes?”

“I saw Jeremy go into the bathroom after Darren.”

“You liar!” Jeremy screamed.

“Quiet!” Mr. Wolfe looked positively enraged. “Jeremy, Darren, Larry…the three of you come with me. Now.”

“Larry is lying, too!” Jeremy insisted. “I didn’t do a single thing to Darren. Look at my hands!” He held up both of his hands, palms facing Mr. Wolfe. “There’s not a mark on them!”

“He did it with his book,” Darren said.

“I did not!” Jeremy shouted. Then his shoulders fell as the impact of Darren’s words sunk in.

“Jeremy, where’s your book?” Mr. Wolfe asked.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy admitted.

“He had it with him when he went in the bathroom,” said Larry. “I saw it.”

“All right, let’s go,” said Mr. Wolfe. “Everybody else, read ahead. No talking!”

Mr. Wolfe left the room, followed by Darren and Larry, who seemed happy just to be included. Jeremy looked absolutely miserable as he walked out of the room after them.

I felt absolutely miserable, too, because I had a very good idea of what they’d find. Maybe in a bathroom stall, maybe in the wastebasket, maybe stashed under the radiator, but somewhere between this classroom and the restroom they’d find Jeremy’s textbook. His name in the front. Smeared with both his fingerprints and Darren’s blood.

I knew that Jeremy was telling the truth. This meant that Darren had stolen his textbook, beaten himself bloody with it, and then convinced (or coerced) Larry to lie for him. Perhaps Larry had stolen the textbook, or even been the one to use it as a tool of violence, but either way it was a preposterous-sounding scenario. Would Mr. Wolfe believe that, or would he believe instead that it was Jeremy who beat Darren senseless?

Things didn’t look good for my only remaining friend at school.

Mr. Wolfe returned fifteen minutes later without Darren or Jeremy. Larry followed him and sat down, looking smug.

“What happened?” I asked.

“That’s none of your concern,” Mr. Wolfe told me. “Everybody open to page two fifty-six. We have a lot to make up.”

Neither Jeremy nor Darren was at dinner. I walked over and sat down across from Larry.

“Go away,” he said.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“They saw that I was telling the truth.”

“You were not.”

“Mr. Wolfe found Jeremy’s book in the trash can.”

“Why would Jeremy be stupid enough to throw his book in the trash? He’d know they’d look there.”

Larry shrugged. “Why would he be stupid enough to beat up Darren? Everybody knows he hates him.”

“You’re going to get caught,” I told him. “You’re going to get in so much trouble you won’t even be able to believe it. You’ll get kicked out of school.”

Larry sneered at me. “Yeah, right.”

“You’d better believe me. Because I saw you steal Jeremy’s book.”

The flash of guilt that I hoped to see didn’t materialize. Most likely Darren had been the thief. “Uh-huh. You’re such a moron. If you don’t go away I’ll tell that you’re threatening me.”

“Try it.”

Larry immediately called my bluff, raising his hand and looking for the nearest adult. I grabbed my tray and moved to a safer dining area.

I didn’t see either Darren or Jeremy the next day. I even went to speak with Mr. Sevin, but was told that it was none of my concern, and that I would do well in life not to hang out with juvenile delinquents in the future.

I made periodic trips to Jeremy’s room, risking getting in a hell of a lot of trouble, but his roommates said he hadn’t come back.

The next evening, he was packing.

“What did they do?” I asked.

“Mr. Sevin said, ‘Under the circumstances, we have no choice but to believe Darren’s version of the story.’” It wasn’t a very good impression of Mr. Sevin, but I forced a smile nevertheless. “I have to start talking to a counselor and…I don’t even know what they’re going to do. Darren’s parents were all freaked out and they said they were going to sue the school and I’m
scared.
”

“I can’t believe he did that to himself.” I’d thought about it a lot. One smack to the face, maybe, but to either beat himself or allow himself to be beaten to that degree just for revenge required some serious mental problems.

“Well, I can! He’s a fuckin’lunatic! Why did you get him so angry? It wasn’t my fault! You’re the one he should’ve gone after!”

I stepped back, shocked at this outburst. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You said you did! You said that you made him mad in the library, and that he was going to come after you! Well, he didn’t, he came after
me
, and now I have to see a doctor and they’re probably gonna give me shots!”

“They won’t give you shots.”

“Yes they
will!
You don’t know what they’re going to do! It’s all your fault!”

“No, I didn’t do—”

“Get out of my room, Alex!”

I just stood there, completely stunned.

“
Get out!
”

I quietly left the room.