The Conclusion

I
gripped the cold metal railing of the fire escape and leaned toward the open dorm window. I kept close to the brick wall, ready to hide if anyone inside my room looked out.

The police were in there. Two young-looking officers, rubbing their chins, shaking their heads.

The three girls from room 13-A across the hall also had squeezed into my little room. Melanie, Margie, and Mary. The three M's.

I never liked those three snoops. So snobby and stuck-up. So perfect. Always acting as if they were the queens of Ivy State College. Listening to them talk to the police made me realize how much I
hated
them.

From my perch out on the fire escape, I could hear every word they said. I could hear every lie.

They were telling lies to the police about me and my roommates. Jasmine and Angel huddled close beside me on the fire escape. They listened to the conversation inside our room, their eyes wide with disbelief. And with fear.

“Hope doesn't have any roommates,” Melanie was saying. “I never heard of any girls named Eden, Jasmine, or Angel.”

Hearing that, a sob escaped my throat. I pulled my head back and pressed tighter against the brick wall, hoping no one had heard me.

Poor Eden, I thought. My poor roommate. Darryl had murdered her.

I shuddered, picturing the horrifying scene again. Darryl in one of his rages. Totally out of control. He lifted Eden off the ground and brought her down hard over his upraised knee. He snapped her back. Cracked her like a snap pea. Then he tossed her out the window.

The window I was peering in now.

Darryl killed Eden. And now the police were in our room, listening to Melanie's lies.

“I saw Hope talking to herself.” Melanie's voice drifted out the open window. “She always seemed to be arguing with herself. I was worried about her. Really.”

Melanie had her back to the window. If she took two steps back, I could reach in and grab her.

I wanted to. I wanted to strangle her for telling lies about us. For telling the police that Eden, Jasmine, and Angel were all in my head.

“We might be dealing with a looney,” one of the officers said softly. “A dangerous looney.”

“Maybe we have a multiple personality here,” his partner murmured.

What was he
talking
about? Jasmine and Angel were right beside me. And I knew Darryl was nearby too. All the cops had to do was stick their heads out the window. They'd see us.

“What about this boy Darryl?” I heard a cop ask. “We received a report that he lives down on the boys' floor.”

“There
are
no boys in this dorm,” I heard Mary reply.

Mary. Miss State Swimming Champion. She and Melanie both think it's so cool to be on the swim team.

Why don't you stick your heads in the pool and leave them there? I thought. Why don't you drink chlorine and die?

Bitter, horrible thoughts.

But why were they telling the police I was crazy?

“Maybe we do have a multiple personality here,” a cop said. “Do you think this Hope Mathis is all four girls? And Darryl too?”

“Maybe,” his partner replied. I could see only part of him. He was scribbling furiously on a little pad. “The question is—did Hope cut up those two boys? Those boys who were murdered on campus were real. They weren't imaginary.”

I heard Mary and Margie sigh. “It's all so . . . unbelievable,” Mary uttered.

Boo-hoo.

Of course I knew who murdered the two guys. Darryl murdered them. Darryl in a jealous rage. He never liked other guys to get too close to me.

It made him crazy. And I really mean crazy.

Darryl
is the crazy one, I thought unhappily.
Darryl
is the one you should be talking about in there.

The poor guy. I loved him so much. Since high school. Darryl is the only boy who ever really cared about me.

But he'd gone too far this time. He'd murdered two boys. Cut them up as if they were lunch meat. And then he murdered poor Eden.

Too far. He'd gone too far.

I knew I had to do something about Darryl. As much as I loved him, I had to get him away. Far away. Out of my life.

Inside the room, I heard Margie talking to one of the cops. “I
knew
Hope was crazy,” she was saying.

“But can she really be a killer?” Melanie cried.

I saw a blue uniform move toward the window.

Time to get a move on.

“They won't find us—will they, girls?” I whispered.

Angel and Jasmine shook their heads.

“And by the time the police find us,” I continued, “Melanie and her roommates will be dead. They will pay for calling us crazy—right?”

“Right,” Jasmine whispered.

“Right,” Angel agreed.

“Right,” Darryl whispered in my ear. I knew he was near. I knew he was with me.

“Let's go,” I whispered. Gripping the fire escape rail, I slid away from the window.

My shoe caught on the metal landing. It made a dull
clang.

My heart skipped a beat. Had they heard that?

Yes.

I heard a sharp cry inside the room.

And then a policeman shouted, “There she is! On the fire escape! Catch her!”

My hand slipped on the railing. In my panic, I lost my balance.

Move!
I ordered us all.
Move, everyone! Run!

Too late.

A cop—eyes wide, jaw set angrily—rushed to the window. He reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I've got her!”

A
s his arms tightened around me, my breath escaped in a long sigh of surrender. My shoulders slumped, and I felt my knees start to buckle.

I should try to run, I told myself. I turned my head—and saw Jasmine and Angel bolting down the rickety metal stairs, already two or three floors down.

I knew I should try to break free. But I suddenly felt so frightened and confused.

Why was this happening? Why was this happening to
me?
I didn't kill anybody.

Darryl, I thought.

Darryl, please—help me!

And as I thought of him, he appeared beside me.
His pale blue eyes were wide with rage. Tangles of long, dark hair fell over his face.

He swept his hair back with one hand. Then his other hand moved quickly to the police officer's throat.

I saw Darryl's fingers wrap around the thin neck. The cop's skin reddened as Darryl squeezed. Pinched and squeezed.

The cop opened his mouth in a choked gurgle. His arms slid off me. He appeared to fall back into the room.

I spun away. Dizzy. My heart pounding.

And started to run. The cold metal railing slid under my hand as I ran down the fire escape. My legs so heavy. My shoes clanging on the metal steps.

Clang . . . clang . . . clang
 . . . like bells ringing.

I heard angry shouts above me, but I didn't glance up.

I heard shoes thudding heavily. The fire escape trembled and shook. The ivy-covered brick wall became a red-and-green blur as I made a sharp turn, stumbled, grabbed the rail, and kept moving.

Kept climbing down. Down. Following Jasmine and Angel.

“Darryl—are you behind me?” I called. My voice came out tiny and choked. I knew he couldn't hear me over the clangs and thuds and angry shouts.

“Are you there? Did you get away too?”

“Stop right there!”
someone yelled. Someone right above my head. So close. So close . . .

I didn't think. I didn't plan it. I didn't even know I was going to do it.

I stopped running. And grabbed the rail.

And hoisted myself up with both hands. Lifted myself, wishing I weren't so heavy, so chubby, such a whale. Wishing I were as thin and light as my mother always wanted me to be. As thin and light and graceful as Angel.

But I pulled myself up. And with a loud groan, jumped over the side. Off the fire escape.

And sailed down. My hands high over my head.

How many stories did I fall?

I don't know. I didn't look before I jumped. I didn't look down. And even as I fell, I kept my eyes to the sky.

I fell for a lifetime. Or for a second or two.

And I died before I hit the ground.

N
o. I didn't die.

But the thought flew into my mind. I was still thinking it as I landed. So hard. On my feet.

Pain shot up one ankle. And swept up my body.

My knees gave way, and I dropped to the cold grass. The pain swarmed over me. It hurt so bad, I could
hear
it. I thought of someone covered in angry bees. Covered like a blanket. An electric blanket that kept shocking me and shocking me and shocking me.

Still alive, though. Sucking in deep breaths. Waiting for the swarming pain to lift.

And then I was running again. Ignoring the throbbing ache of my ankle. Running beside Jasmine and Angel.

Were people staring at us as we ran across The
Triangle, the big grassy area in the center of campus?

I don't know. I kept my head down and didn't gaze up. I listened for the thud of running footsteps behind me. Listened for the angry shouts of the two police officers.

And ran like a horse with blinders.

I crossed Pine Street and ran along the campus stores on Elm. A car horn blared as I ran across Elm. I hadn't stopped to check for traffic.

I heard the driver shout a curse at me. But I didn't turn or slow down.

I bumped into a man carrying two bags of groceries. He cried out in protest, struggling to balance the bags in his arms.

“What's your hurry?” he called after me.

I darted past the little post office and turned into the alley beside The Ivy, the shabby, old campus movie theater. Two high school kids were huddled against the theater's back exit. Probably making out.

I barreled past them, catching their startled expressions as I ran.

The alley opened onto Vermont Avenue. I stopped short, narrowly avoiding two girls on bikes. Then I turned and began trotting along the row of rambling, old houses.

No one behind me. No one chasing after me now.

I'd lost them. I'd jumped to safety.

Had I
really
done that? Did I
really
jump off the fire escape behind the dorm?

Where did I get the courage?

“What are we doing?” Angel demanded breathlessly. Her blond hair flew wildly about her face.
“Where are we going?” Leaves had caught in her purple sweater, but she didn't seem to notice.

Jasmine ran hard to catch up. She held her side, leaning against the pain as she ran. “We have to talk,” she choked out. “Why are we running? We didn't do anything!”

“Slow down, Hope,” Angel urged, grabbing my arm, forcing me to stop. “Jasmine is right. We have to talk.”

I swung around to check the street behind me. Two guys wearing Ivy College Athletic Department sweatshirts glided past on RollerBlades. One of them kept his eyes on me, but didn't smile.

“There's no one chasing us,” Jasmine reported. “We lost them.”

My eyes swept up and down the street. The broad, old trees were mostly bare. Behind them stood the big brick and shingled houses of Fraternity Row.

Hundreds of campus fraternity and sorority members lived in these old houses. I'd always wondered what they looked like inside. I'd never been invited to one.

Actually, some of the houses were starting to look ramshackle and run-down. The fraternities and sororities weren't as popular as they used to be. A lot of kids couldn't afford them.

Several buildings had been turned into rooming houses or student apartment houses. A few were boarded-up and vacant. I saw a
FOR SALE
sign in front of the big, white-columned house across the street.

Loud music roared from an open window in the sorority house across the tall hedge from it. The sound jarred me from my thoughts.

“Why did we run?” Angel demanded, still breathing hard. “Why didn't we stay and tell the police about Darryl?”

“How
could
we?” I replied sharply. “You heard what they were saying in that room. They were saying that I was crazy.”

“But, Hope—” Angel started to protest.

“Do you think they'd believe a word I said?” I demanded. “They believed Melanie and her friends. You heard the whole thing, Angel. You know they wouldn't give me a chance to explain.”

“Hope is right,” Jasmine told Angel. She straightened her baggy sweater. Then she pulled the leaves from the front of Angel's sweater. “We had no choice. We had to run.”

“They think I'm a murderer,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you believe it? They think
I
killed those two boys. They think I'm a crazy murderer. The three girls think it. And now the police think it too.”