Wish You Were Dead (16 page)

Friday 8:43
A.M
.

THEY PUT NEW tires on the Audi. In the morning when I got in, I noticed something on the passenger-side floor and felt my breath catch. It was another folded plain white napkin. With shaky hands I unfolded it:

PEOPLE ARE STILL IN DANGER. WE NEED TO MEET AND TALK. YOU HAVE TO LET ME KNOW THAT I CAN TRUST YOU.

The Audi had been locked and the windows closed. It would have been impossible to slide the note in. Since no one had touched the car since it had come back from the garage, that meant someone had put the note in it between the time the tires were slashed and the car was returned to our house.

I glanced at the dashboard clock. If I wanted to get a coffee before I picked up Courtney, I’d have to get going. It wasn’t long before I was parked in Courtney’s driveway, sipping my café macchiato and waiting for her to come out. But my thoughts were
mostly on the note. How could I let the writer know I was trustworthy if I didn’t know who he or she was? But something else bothered me. Everyone wants to think that they’re trustworthy, so naturally, if someone asks you to prove it, you want to. But what if this was a trap? Maybe I
didn’t
want to be trustworthy for this person. I found myself wondering what Tyler would say. Tyler saw things differently. I wished he was there in the car with me. I wanted to know what he’d think.

I glanced at the clock and realized five minutes had passed. Where was Courtney? Her house looked dark and quiet, but it always looked that way. I called her on my cell phone but only got her message.

Had she overslept? Of all the wild and irresponsible things Courtney was apt to do, this wasn’t one of them. Not that she was compulsive about being on time; she just didn’t seem to need much sleep.

So now what? I called again. And again got her message. It was possible that she’d let the battery in her phone run down. I tried the home phone and got another message. The next step would be to knock on the door, but at the thought of it, I felt my stomach get tight and my heart begin to thump.

What if something’s wrong?

Don’t be silly. Nothing bad can happen if you just go to the front door and knock
.

But I couldn’t help picturing the front door opening and someone else being there, waiting to grab me. I reached into my book bag, took out the Safe Rides folder, and dialed Tyler’s number.

“Yeah?” he answered after the first ring.

“Hi, it’s Madison. Sorry to bother you. Are you already at school or still on the way?

“Actually, I’m kind of running slow this morning. Why?”

I told him where I was and asked if he’d stop by on his way to school. Another ten minutes passed before his car pulled into the driveway behind me. I got out of the Audi. “Thanks for coming.”

“No prob.” He looked up the driveway at the vast ranch house and the large lawn that surrounded it. “What makes you think she’s there?”

“I pick her up every morning,” I said. “If she wasn’t there, she would have called and told me.”

Tyler took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, let’s go see.”

We walked up the driveway, past Courtney’s VW Bug under the light green tarp, to the front door. Tyler rang the doorbell and waited. There was no answer. He rang it again.

“What about her parents?” he asked.

“Her mom’s in India taking care of a sick grandmother and her father’s a traveling salesman. He’s usually only home on weekends.”

“There’s no one else?”

“A sister in law school. She’s supposed to come home at night, but she usually stays with her boyfriend.”

Tyler knocked loudly on the door. If anyone was inside, they would have heard. A queasy, uncomfortable sensation began to spread through my stomach.

“Know where her bedroom is?” Tyler asked.

“Yes, but—”

He jerked his head. “Come on.”

We walked around to the back of the house. Tyler gazed out at the tennis court and pool in the large backyard. Since it was a ranch, all the rooms were on the ground floor, but the bedroom windows were above eye level.

“I think it’s this one.” I stopped under a window with green curtains.

Tyler reached up and knocked on the glass. The queasy feeling continued to grow in my stomach. When Courtney didn’t come to the window, Tyler reached up to the ledge and pulled himself up, trying to peek through a crack in the curtains.

“I don’t think she’s there,” he said, lowering himself.

Oh, God, now what?
I thought, my insides convulsing.

As we walked back around the house to the driveway, I began to feel like I might throw up—something I hadn’t done in years. “I just hope she’s at school,” I said, but at the same time I knew the chances were slim. How would she have gotten there?

Tyler didn’t answer. I wished he’d say something reassuring, but he didn’t. We got in our cars and he followed me to school, my stomach cramping the whole way. “She has homeroom in the physics lab,” I told him when we met again in the student lot. I started toward the entrance, not realizing how fast I was walking until I noticed that Tyler was practically jogging beside me.

We got to the physics lab and I pushed open the door without knocking. Sitting at his desk, Mr. Stanton, the physics teacher, frowned.

“Is Courtney here?” I asked.

“I’ve marked her absent,” Mr. Stanton said. “Shouldn’t you be in your—?”

I turned away and started quickly down the hall. Tyler fell into step beside me. I felt like I was on autopilot, moving fast and trying not to think but thinking just the same.
This can’t be happening. It just can’t be. Not again. Not to Courtney!

In no time Principal Edwards had one secretary trying to track down Courtney’s father and sister and another secretary on the phone to the police. Tyler and I sat in the main office. My heart was trying to force itself into my throat and I felt so sick I wasn’t sure I could move.
This can’t be happening
, I kept thinking.
It just can’t!

Principal Edwards paced between the two secretaries, then looked at me. “Who else could possibly know where she might be?”

“Maybe Jen Waits,” I said.

The principal turned to a secretary. “Get Jen Waits down here, pronto.” He turned back to Tyler and me. “You two go to class.”

I heard what he said, but it didn’t process.
Go to class? At a time like this? Why? What for?

Tyler touched my arm. “Come on, we better go.”

I went with him out into the hall. Everything was spinning and I felt light-headed. With each thump of my heart, the word
no
thundered in my head.
No! No! No! Not Courtney!

“There have to be explanations we’re not thinking of,” I heard myself say in the hallway. “She could turn up in an hour and everything will be fine.”

I wanted Tyler to agree, but he said nothing. It was almost as if he knew something I didn’t know. Was that possible? Or was I slowly going insane imagining crazy things?

Down the hall, a classroom door opened and Jen came out. “Oh, uh, hey, guys.” Her smile and greeting were both subdued.

“Do you have any idea where Courtney is?” I asked.

Jen turned pale. “No. Why?”

I explained that she wasn’t home or at school. “That’s why Principal Edwards wants to see you. Did you talk to her last night?”

Jen’s eyes darted left and right, and I could tell she knew something. She nodded slowly. The little color left drained out of her face. “Oh my God,” she half-gasped, half-whispered.

“What?” I asked.

“Some of us got together at Greg’s house last night. We just, you know, felt like hanging out. We didn’t stay late. Like not past ten. When it was time to go, Courtney said she’d walk. A couple of us said we’d drive her, but she said it was dumb because she lived on the next block.”

Tyler and I stared at each other. That was not the explanation we were hoping for.

*  *  *

Oh, isn’t this fun? Now that there are three of you, we can have a party. Sorry, Adam, you say Lucy is cold? Yes, we always thought she was. Yes, Adam, we know that’s not the way you meant it. Oh, please, Adam, don’t be so hard on Courtney. She has a right to cry if she wants. Frankly, we thought you’d be delighted to have your two favorite women beside you.

Did you just call us a sadistic psychopath? Oh, my, such harsh words! Oh, now, don’t try to grovel or apologize. We know that’s what you always do. Don’t you know that once the words are out, the damage is done? You can’t apologize away the hurt you cause. You can’t go around thinking that just because you apologize, everything goes back to the way it was.

*  *  *

Dad always had Frank at Soundview Gulf work on our cars. A small, wiry, bald man, dressed in neatly pressed olive green coveralls, Frank had a reputation for being honest and hardworking. Part of the reason he worked so hard was because it was difficult in a place like Soundview to find young people willing to be pump jockeys or assistant mechanics. Parents didn’t want their children taking part-time jobs at the garage when they could be doing schoolwork, or playing sports, or pursuing music or theater or whatever.

I found Frank under a car on the lift, removing a long rusty pipe.

“Hello, Madison,” he greeted me. “Everything okay with the Audi? Not having a problem with those new tires, are you?”

“No, they seem fine, thanks.”

Frank gave me an uncertain glance, clearly wondering what I was doing there. “So, how can I help you, young lady?”

“Were you the one who got the car from the stables?” I asked.

“Yep, that would be me.” Frank reached up under the car again.

“Do you happen to remember seeing a folded white napkin on the passenger-side floor?”

“Nope. Are you missing it? ’Cause we don’t take anything out of cars, even the ones that come in with more garbage in them than a sanitation truck.”

“No. I found it in the car this morning and wondered how it got there.”

“Well, we don’t eat in cars, either,” Frank said with a smile. “So it’s a hard one to figure.”

One explanation was that the person who’d slashed the tires had left the note. Once I’d seen that the tires were slashed, I’d never looked inside the car. But why would anyone slash my tires and then leave a note saying that people were still in danger and we needed to meet and talk?

There was another possibility, as well. “After you put the new tires on the car, you put the car in the lot next to the garage, right?” I said.

“Yep.”

“Was it locked?” I asked.

Frank stopped working and looked at me again. “Might have been, but I couldn’t say, Madison. I mean, it was just a napkin, right? No harm done?”

“No, Frank, no harm done. I was just wondering how it got there. That’s all.”

Frank gave me a puzzled look, as if he couldn’t understand why anyone would care so much about a napkin. “Sorry I can’t help you, Madison.”

“It’s no problem.” I turned to leave. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Say hello to your folks for me,” Frank called from behind.

I got in the Audi and left. At the intersection, I stopped at the light and looked in the rearview mirror. A purple car had just pulled into the gas station and Tyler got out, wearing olive green coveralls.

Str-S-d #11

This is the last blog I’m writing. I’m really scared. I wished three people would die, and now they’re all gone. I don’t believe anymore that it’s a coincidence. Someone’s been reading this blog. Someone crazy enough to do what I wished for. If you’re reading this right now, you know who you are. You’re the one person in the world who is always nice to me. But today in school you said something. I’m not sure you even realized what you were saying, but it totally creeped me out. Now I don’t know what to do. I could go to the police, but they’ll want to know how I know and then they’ll find out about this blog and blame me. The parents will blame me. Everyone will blame me. Everyone already hates me. But this is the worst thing that ever happened. Maybe I should kill myself. I could kill myself, but then someone would figure it out. I don’t want to be blamed for this. Even if I’m dead
.

2 Comments