Sara (18 page)

Now, sitting in bed and reliving the whole conversation, I felt kind of stupid. Had we really sat around talking about all that?

There was just no way any of it was even possible. And even if it was—Glenn wasn't that kind of person—we all knew better than that. Sure, Glenn's reaction to Noah's death had caught me off guard, but it really did make sense. Noah was making his life miserable, so was Zack—why
would
he feel bad they were both dead?

We were hanging a whole lot of things on nothing.

And Candy was probably right about the dreams. It was some kind of mass delusion—I vaguely remembered learning about it in history last year. It was what happened in Salem during the witch trials.

And the real proof Glenn couldn't have possibly be involved in any of this was me. I was his best friend—as far as he knew I'd been nothing but supportive of him all along. I'd never given him the slightest hint that I wasn't really comfortable with him—

—
other than you won't sleep in the same bed anymore when you sleep over—

—
so there was no reason for him to want to hurt me.

As for Sara, well, if somehow she was responsible for everything, she'd have to be some kind of supernatural being. And those don't exist outside of books, movies, and TV shows. If this was an episode of
Supernatural
, then maybe I could believe she had some kind of powers that caused Noah to roll his truck, and gave her the strength to hang Zack.

But why on earth would someone with that kind of power come to rural Kansas, of all places?

If I had that kind of power I'd be using it to get to New York or Chicago or Los Angeles—anywhere but here.

I closed my eyes again.

Candy was undoubtedly right. She'd said, over and over again, “Maybe we're just looking for explanations where there aren't any. We may never know why Zack killed himself so soon after Noah's wreck, or right before yours, Tony. That's why we can only come up with a supernatural explanation. Maybe this all happened because it happened, and that's all there is to it.”

The rational side of my mind knew she was right, but I couldn't shake the feeling that
she
was the one trying to explain away the unexplainable.

Deep inside I knew Sara was somehow responsible for it all.

I hadn't imagined hearing Sara's laughter over the blaring of the truck's horn and the screech of its brakes before it plowed into us, no matter what Candy thought. I'd heard it and it scared the crap out of me. I wasn't remembering something that didn't happen because it played into my delusion.

I fucking heard her.

Maybe Candy was right about the dreams. But I'd found that key ring and had never been able to explain that away. I hadn't told her about it because I didn't have it with me in the hospital room—and Candy wasn't going to accept me just telling her I found it. It had to be in my hand when I told her. I knew exactly where it was, too. It was in the nightstand drawer. When Mom stopped by before church in the morning I'd ask her to get it for me so I could show it to Candy when she came by.

Noah's key ring was going to be hard to explain away as a delusion or mass hypnosis or hysteria or whatever the hell it was Candy had said.

I picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. This game was clearly going to be a blowout, and so I settled on the Mississippi-Tennessee game.

I couldn't focus on the game, though.

I hadn't admitted it to the girls and could barely admit it to myself. I was scared, really scared. I'd been lucky to survive the accident. The cops showed me the pictures of Glenn's car. My entire side of the car had been smashed into an unrecognizable heap of metal. That had brought it home to me more than anything anyone had said to me since I'd woken up with my leg elevated and my head hurting.

I easily could have been killed.

Two people had already died, and I had come pretty close to being the third in less than a week. That cop had said the brakes in Glenn's car had been fine. I wondered what Glenn had to say to that.

But Glenn wouldn't have done that. I'd seen him trying to use the brakes, pushing the pedal all the way to the floorboards, and the car not slowing at all. Glenn couldn't have faked that, nor could he have been faking the terror in his voice and on his face as we headed for that intersection with the truck coming at us.

Even if Glenn had been trying to kill me—something I refused to believe even for a second—there was no way he could have known he'd be able to just walk away from our accident with just some cuts and bruises. Having seen the pictures of the wrecked car, he'd been damned lucky he hadn't been seriously hurt.

Unless Sara was protecting him
, that horrible voice whispered in the back of my mind.

And I couldn't forget that the police said there was nothing wrong with his brakes.

Even weirder was that I hadn't seen Glenn since the day of the wreck. He'd texted me a few times and sent me a couple of e-mails, but he hadn't come to the hospital. That was weird, definitely not like him—at least the Glenn I knew. He was one of the most thoughtful people I knew. It was like he was deliberately staying away—and that made me question whether or not he'd want to hurt me deliberately.

I hated thinking like that. Glenn was Glenn, damn it, and if he was staying away from me, there had to be some other reason I just didn't know.

And besides, it wasn't like I didn't have visitors, but still—it would have been nice to see him.

I closed my eyes and must have drifted off to sleep because the sound of my door opening startled me awake. I opened my eyes to see Glenn grinning at me. He was standing out in the hall, holding the door open just enough to stick his head through.

I shifted in the bed and forced a smile on my face. “Hey, bud, come on in.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He looked sheepish, and more than a little guilty. He looked down at his feet. “I can come back if you want to sleep.” He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

“No, it's okay, I must have just dozed off a bit. My dinner's supposed to be on its way up here, anyway.” I smiled at him.

He grinned at me and from behind his back he produced a Vista bag. “I thought you might be getting a little sick of hospital food. I know I did when I was in the hospital.” He pushed the rolling tray over to my bed and handed me the bag. He also produced a can of Dr Pepper out of the pocket of his letter jacket.

My stomach rumbled at the smell of the cheeseburger. I tore open the wrapper and took a bite, moaning as I tasted it.

He produced another can of Dr Pepper from his other coat pocket and popped the tab. He didn't say anything, just let me wolf down the cheeseburger and fries. It seemed like I finished in less than a minute.

“Guess you were hungry,” he observed as he crumpled up the wrappers and shoved them inside the bag.

I burped and took a drink from my can of soda. “Laney and Candy were here earlier,” I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

His eyebrows went up and he grinned at me. “A three-way, and you in the hospital. Tsk, tsk.” He pulled up a chair and sat down next to me. “Don't you need your rest? Am I going to have to report you to your doctor?”

“I'm never too tired to pleasure the ladies.” I couldn't help but grin back at him. With him sitting there, listening to his voice, I felt like an idiot. Glenn would never do anything to hurt anyone deliberately. He just wasn't that kind of person.

We'd obviously been trying to make something out of nothing.

“Sorry I didn't come by sooner,” he said, lowering his voice and looking down at his hands. “I know it's not an excuse, but—” He swallowed and looked me right in the eyes. “I felt guilty, and I was afraid you'd be mad at me.”

“Guilty?” I stared at him, stunned. “Why? Why would I be mad at you?”

He made a face. “Tone, you wouldn't be here—” His voice broke. “If it weren't for me. I mean, it's my fault you're here.” He took a deep breath. “And now you're going to have to miss the rest of the season, Homecoming, everything. All because of me.” He bit his lower lip. “I wouldn't blame you for being pissed, Tone. Really.”

“Are you nuts?” I rolled my eyes. “What am I saying? Of course you're nuts. You always had a few screws loose.” I shook my head. “Dude, the brakes in your car failed. How is that your fault?” I could hear my heart pounding. “I mean, it's not like you drained out the brake fluid or anything, right?”

“Well, no.” He got up and walked over to the window. “Tony, the cops came to see me. They say there was nothing wrong with the brakes.” He shook his head. “But you saw, right? I was pushing the pedal all the way down to the goddamned floor and they weren't working!”

“That's what I told them.”

He spun around. “They came here?”

I nodded. “Yeah, they told me that. I told them they were wrong.”

He sat back down, his eyes glistening. “Thanks. I was so scared.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That was the scariest moment of my life, when I couldn't get the brakes to work…and that truck coming…” He closed his eyes. “And then, after, when they were taking you away in the ambulance…and they couldn't revive you…” He sighed. “I don't ever want to go through anything like that ever again.” He smiled weakly. “I kind of wondered, you know, if maybe God was punishing me for not being sorry about Zack and Noah, you know, like God was saying,
I'll show you
.”

“I don't think God works that way,” I replied.

“Yeah, well, I can't even remember the last time I went to church.” He shrugged his letter jacket off and turned to drape it over his chair.

I blinked a couple of times as he turned back around to face me.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

He was wearing a green Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt I'd seen him wear before. I'd liked it—he'd just gotten it when his dad had taken him to Wichita to buy new clothes for the start of school. He'd had it for what, three weeks? And it had fit perfectly when I'd seen him wear it the first time. But now it was too small—somehow he'd gone up a size in three weeks. The seams at the arms weren't at his shoulder where they should be—they were higher up.

How the hell had his muscles gotten so big in such a short period of time?

It wasn't possible.

“If you need any help with your homework or anything, let me know,” he went on, not noticing that I was staring. “If you want, I can bring my laptop by tomorrow to use, so you don't get behind on Facebook and e-mail and stuff—”

I cut him off. “It's cool—don't stress it.” I smiled and gestured at my suspended leg. “It's healing, and they told me this morning it's not going to be suspended any more after tonight. I'll be on crutches tomorrow, walking around, and I'll be out of here by the end of next week at the latest.” I smiled. “Hopefully sooner.”

“That's great, man!” He threw an air punch at my shoulder. “But I'll still bring the laptop over tomorrow.” He yawned and stretched. His T-shirt rode up, and I could see his abs. They were cut and defined.

I looked at him. “What's going on?” I asked, keeping my voice as light as possible. “Are you taking some new wonder supplement I don't know about? Tell me what you're using.”

“I'm not taking anything new.” He looked puzzled. “I'm just doing the protein shakes, same as usual. Why?”

I shrugged. “You look really pumped.”

He flexed his biceps. “Yeah. The weightlifting has finally started paying off.” He lifted his shirt, exposing his abs. He pointed his index fingers at them “Check it out—I'm ripped now.” He frowned. “All of my shirts are too small now, you know? Even the new ones. And my pants are getting loose in the waist. I don't know why all of a sudden my body started changing, but I'm not going to argue about it.” He flexed his right arm again, and veins protruded in his forearm. He stared at the muscle for a moment, then looked back at me with a wicked grin. “Clark should see me now. He'd be real sorry he dumped me.”

Clark doesn't know how lucky he is he's off at college.

Glenn looked at me funny, almost like I'd said it out loud rather than thinking it.

“Do you ever hear from him?” I said into the silence.

He gave me a funny look. “You know, you've never really asked me about him before,” he replied. “I figured you weren't comfortable talking about him, you know.”

I swallowed. He was right, but I wasn't about to admit that now. “Don't be crazy,” I said out loud. “I just figured you'd tell me what you wanted me to know.” I shrugged. “I didn't want to push, I mean—” I took a deep breath, “he was your first boyfriend, so I mean I figured you were probably figuring things out and I didn't want to, you know, put more pressure on you. Does that make sense?”

He gave me a sad smile and nodded. “I really loved him, you know.” He shook his head. “I used to think I was in love with Laney. It was so confusing, you know—but I…” His voice trailed off. “I miss him, you know.” His smile grew. “I never thanked you.”