The Face (10 page)

“Yes. I'm remembering things,” I said coldly. “But, Aaron—you and I …?” My voice trailed off. I didn't know what to say. I felt so much hurt. And my hurt was quickly giving way to anger.

“I'm really sorry,” he murmured. He lowered his eyes. “We know you're still in shock. Since what happened.”

I guess that's when I totally lost it. I grabbed his shoulders with both hands. I started shaking him. Hard. “What happened?” I demanded. “Tell me, Aaron. Tell me now. What happened? What happened to Sean?”

His mouth dropped open in shock. He grabbed my hands and held on to them, forced me to stop shaking him. “You—you remember Sean?” he stammered.

Aaron took a step back. He seemed to stagger, as if overcome with shock. “You remember Sean?”

I nodded, studying Aaron's startled expression.

Why does Aaron look so frightened? I found myself wondering. Why is he frightened that I'm starting to remember?

“Tell me what happened,” I insisted. “Tell me
now,
Aaron.”

“I—I can't,” he stammered. He turned away from me. “It's too … horrible.”

A
fter school on Wednesday I heard shouts as I made my way to my locker.

I turned the corner and saw two boys wrestling, shoving each other in the middle of the hall. A crowd had gathered. Kids were screaming and cheering.

I heard an angry cry. One boy sprawled backward into a metal locker. The sound of the collision rose over the excited screams of the crowd.

As I jogged toward them, the boys grabbed each other. A hard punch made a head snap back.

Some kids screamed.

I saw a trickle of blood puddle the floor.

Gazing up, I saw Ivan.

Ivan throwing himself on a boy I didn't recognize.

Blood gushing down Ivan's chin, staining the front of his gray shirt.

“Ivan—stop!” I shrieked.

They were down on the floor now, grunting and shouting, punching each other. Ivan, red-faced, sweat drenching his forehead, grabbed the boy's throat with both hands.

I dove beside him. Reached for Ivan's shoulders, determined to pull him off, to pull him away.

He was choking the other boy. His hands tightening around the boy's throat.

Choking him. Choking him.

They rolled away from me.

“Ivan—stop!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs. “Stop!”

And then there were other hands tugging at the two fighters. Other voices. Harsh shouts.

I climbed to my feet and saw Mr. Hernandez, the principal, tugging Ivan away.

The other boy lay on his back, rubbing his neck, groaning. He had blood down the front of his denim shirt. Was it his blood? Or Ivan's?

I couldn't tell. I gazed at the blur of bodies, the excited faces. Two teachers were helping the boy to his feet. He groaned, and blood gushed from his open mouth, thickly down his chin.

“What was
that
about?” somebody behind me demanded.

“Ivan started it,” I heard a girl mutter.

“Who was the other guy?”

“I don't think he's goes to Shadyside.”

“Well, what were they fighting about?”

“Look. One of them lost a tooth.”

“Yuck!”

I stepped away from the excited conversation. I really didn't want to hear it.

I felt so bad for Ivan.

I turned the corner and saw Mr. Hernandez pulling Ivan down the hall. Ivan had his head lowered, his black hair toppling down in front of his face.

Like a criminal, I thought.

My friend. Adriana's brother.

Being taken away like a criminal.

I sighed. “Ivan—what is your problem?”

The phone was ringing when I finally got home from school. I tossed down my backpack and hurried to answer it.

“Hello?” I said breathlessly, pulling off my coat with my free hand.

“Martha, it's me.”

Laura.

“Did you hear about Ivan? He got suspended from school,” Laura said, speaking rapidly, excitedly.

“I was there,” I told her. I let my coat fall to the
floor and stepped away. “I saw the fight. It was a really bad one.”

“I guess,” Laura replied. I could picture her rolling her eyes. “Hernandez suspended Ivan for two weeks. His parents have to come in for a conference tomorrow.”

“Wow,” I murmured. “They're not going to be happy about this.”

“What was the fight about?” Laura demanded.

I shifted the phone to my other hand and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. “I don't know. They were already killing each other when I showed up.”

“The other boy was from Drake Academy,” Laura informed me. “He doesn't even go to Shadyside. He's one of Ivan's friends from—”

“Some friend!” I interrupted. “They really were trying to kill each other.”

Laura let out a long moan. “I can't believe I used to go out with Ivan. Thinking about it just gives me the creeps. He's such an animal. I'm so glad I broke up with him.”

I had a flash of memory. So surprising, I nearly dropped the phone.

“Laura—” I said, swallowing. “You broke up with Ivan to go with Sean!”

I heard her gasp on the other end of the line. I waited for her to reply. But heard only silence.

“Laura—?” I urged her to answer me. The
memories were washing back, bright pictures sweeping into my mind.

“Martha—you remember Sean?” Laura finally said, in a tiny voice.

“You broke up with Ivan that week,” I told her, shutting my eyes. Shutting my eyes and letting the pictures come back to me.

“Yes. I—” Laura started.

But I didn't let her finish. I didn't want to interrupt the flow of my memories.

“You broke up with Ivan at the cabins. He was so upset, he and Sean almost got into a big fight there.”

“Yes. That's right.” Laura's voice suddenly sounded cold. Distant. “I—I don't want to talk about it,” she stammered.

“You
have
to talk about it!” I cried. “You have to tell me, Laura—”

“No—!” she insisted. “No. I don't. I can't. I have to go now, Martha.”

“Wait!” I cried. “Did you call me the other night? Did you leave a phone message for me?”

“I have to go,” Laura repeated. “Really.”

“Laura—answer me!”

“Call me later,” she said breathlessly. “I have to go. We'll talk later, okay? Bye.”

The phone went dead. But I stood there with the receiver in my hand, staring at the wall. The white wall.

The memories were flooding back.

I shut my eyes and let them come back.

The pictures were so vivid, so clear. This time I was going to see everything.

I was going to remember it all.

All the fun.

All the trouble.

All the horror.

A
s Ivan pulled the sled toward the cabin, Sean did a bellyflop onto it. “Give me a ride, man,” Sean called, grinning up at Ivan.

Ivan grinned back. “I'll give you a ride. Off the side of the mountain!” He dropped the sled rope. “Get off, Sean. No way I'm pulling you up the hill.”

Sean laughed and rolled off the sled, into the deep snow. He grabbed two handfuls and heaved them at Ivan. “Think fast!”

I watched from a short distance down the hill. I pulled a sled behind me too, an old wooden Flexible Flyer. My legs ached. I had been sledding all afternoon.

We had all been sledding. Me and all of my friends.

Justine, Adriana, and Laura. Aaron, Ivan, and Sean.

Sean wasn't really part of the group. Well, I guess maybe he was the newest member.

Sean was Ivan's friend. Ivan had met him at a bowling alley or some place. Sean lived in the Old Village. But he didn't go to Shadyside High.

I liked Sean. I thought he was interesting looking, with his dark eyes, his serious expression, and the tiny white scar that cut across his eyebrow. The one flaw that kept him from being perfectly handsome.

“Stack the sleds against that wall,” Adriana instructed us.

Adriana had been in charge for the whole long weekend. Her parents owned the two cabins we were all staying at. But her parents never used them.

Too busy fighting, I thought with some sadness.

So Adriana was in charge. They were Ivan's cabins too, of course. But Ivan wasn't the kind of guy to give instructions—or be helpful in any way.

Ivan only cared about sneaking off and being alone with Laura.

I dropped my sled beside the others. Aaron helped me stack it on top of the pile. He smiled at me. “That was awesome sledding!”

I started to reply. But he hurried away to join Justine and Laura.

“Skiing next!” someone shouted.

“Yeah. Let's hit the slopes!”

A narrow ski run dropped down beside the cabins.

Such luxury! I thought. To have your own private ski slope!

I glanced around. Justine and Adriana had opened the shed and were pulling out skis and ski poles and tossing them onto the snow. Ivan and Laura were head to head, arguing heatedly about something in front of the boys' cabin.

Aaron had disappeared into the cabin. Then Ivan and Sean were throwing snow at each other again beside their sled.

I took a deep breath. The air smelled so fresh and piney. The late afternoon sun still floated high in a cloudless blue sky.

“Come on—let's ski!” Adriana urged, calling everyone to the shed. “We want to go into town for dinner, right? It's getting late.”

I gazed down the ski slope. Not very difficult, I decided. Not too steep. A straight path between two rows of tall fir trees.

Pretty easy, even for a beginner like me.

“Who's going first?” Laura called, hurrying away from Ivan.

I saw Aaron step out of the boys' cabin and come jogging across the snow. Aaron was an expert skier. This slope was baby stuff to him, I knew.

“We have to go one at a time,” Adriana told us. “The slope is so narrow.”

I turned to see Aaron dragging Ivan over to the skis. “We have a volunteer!” Aaron shouted.

Ivan scowled and angrily pulled away from Aaron. I saw Aaron react with surprise. Ivan spit in the snow and muttered something to Aaron.

“Hey—what's your problem?” Aaron asked Ivan.

Laura had walked over to Justine, and the two of them were talking, serious expressions on their faces.

“Who's going first?” someone asked.

“I think Martha goes first!” Adriana replied. She grinned at me and handed me a pair of skis.

“Why me?” I demanded.

“You were the champion sledder,” Adriana declared.

A few kids cheered.

“You've won the first spot,” Adriana continued.

“Are you kidding? I fell off my sled three times!” I exclaimed. “I nearly smashed into that tree!”

“I'm going second,” Sean announced.

“Good. Then you can rescue me when I break my leg!” I told him.

I bent to fasten the skis. My heart started to pound. I had only skied two or three times before in my whole life. I really didn't have much confidence.

I knew I was about to make a total fool of myself in front of my friends.

I couldn't get the straps right. I turned and saw Adriana, and Justine, and a couple other kids watching me.

“Somebody else go first!” I shouted. “These straps are messed up.”

“Okay. Here goes!” I heard Sean yell.

I fixed the straps. Pulled them tight. Then I stood up in time to watch Sean start his run.

I moved to the edge of the hill, the skis crunching in the crusty snow.

Sean pushed off with both poles and started down.

It was steeper than I thought. He bent forward and picked up speed. His skis slid over a bump. He kept his balance and swooped down faster.

And then up ahead of him, I saw the silver line.

A silver line across the ski run.

So slender. A glimmer. A glimmering thread against the white snow.

Shimmering in the sunlight, it cut straight across Scan's path.

I stared at it, puzzled. Trying to figure it out.

What was it?

It was as if someone had taken a silver pen and drawn a straight line across the ski run from tree to tree.

A silver line.

It took me so long to realize it was a wire.

It took me so long to realize that someone had strung a silver wire across the ski path.

It took me so long, there was no time to scream.

No time to warn Sean.

No time to move.

And a second later—maybe less—Sean skied into it.

The wire caught him at the throat.

Cut through his neck.

A straight line. A silver line.

It cut through his neck.

Bright red splashed on both sides of the silver line.

I still didn't move. I didn't believe it.

No one moved.

We all stood at the edge, staring down in silence.

The silver wire sliced off Sean's head.

I watched his body continue to ski. The skis carried it for several yards before it collapsed.

And Sean's head bounced onto the snow.

And emptied out. Emptied out. Emptied out.

Staring up at us.

Puddling the snow dark red.

I
finally remembered. Remembered it all.

And now I stared down at my desk, cluttered with drawings of Sean. Stared down at his serious face.

And pictured his head, his handsome head, lying on the pure, white snow. His dark eyes staring up the slope at us, staring so accusingly.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop my body from shivering.

But the chills wouldn't stop. They rolled down my body. I felt so cold, so cold and frightened.

As if I were standing on the slope again. As if I were back in the snow, staring in horror at the thin silver line.