The Dance (20 page)

I’m no longer a little girl. I’ve grown up. I’m a bitch.

Searching for a handkerchief in her pocket to wipe away her tears, her fingers ran into a bobby pin. An idea occurred to her. Pulling out the pin, her back to Maria, she scraped off the rubbery black stuff at the ends. Then she stepped to the foot of the bed.

“They’ll only let me stay a minute longer,” she said, carefully lifting the sheet from Maria’s toes. Maria, her eyes again closed, didn’t seem to notice.

“A pity.”

“I’m still your friend, no matter what you may think right now. I’ll be back tomorrow to visit.” Holding the pin between her thumb and index finger, she poked it gently into Maria’s heel.

She should have jumped. If she could feel…

“Don’t put yourself out.”

She poked Maria harder, again and again. But the girl just lay there. She was paralyzed. Jessica began to back away from the bed, trembling. She had lied to her. Maria was never going to heal. Never.

“It’s no trouble,” she said, her voice choking. “If I can bring you anything, anything at all?”

“There is one thing I would like.”

“What?”

“A promise.” Maria opened her eye, but Jessica did not believe she could actually see her this close to the door.

“Yes?”

“Promise me I will never have to see you again.”

Jessica swallowed hard, tasting her friend’s bitterness, her own worthlessness. “Good-bye, Maria. I hope you feel better soon.”

Michael was waiting with Nick by the coffee machine in the hall next to the waiting room when Jessica reappeared. Ordinarily Michael did not drink coffee; it gave him heartburn. But since he had been staying awake all night worrying whether a girl was going to lose her life or not, he had considered it sort of absurd to be concerned about minor gastric upset. This was his eighth cup since three o’clock in the morning. Nick had just downed his tenth.

Jessica was crying. Nick grabbed her as she tried to pass them by without stopping. “What’s wrong with Maria?” he demanded. “Did she die?”

Jessica stared at him, her eyes big and red. She shook her head weakly. “She wants to see you now.”

Nick let go of her and dashed down the hall. Jessica took a couple of feeble steps forward and then sagged against the wall. Michael put down his coffee and placed his palms on her back, over her soft brown hair, feeling her shiver. “Tell me, Jessie?”

“The fall cut her spinal cord.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He had feared as much. “That’s very sad. But it’s not the end of the world for her. She can live a full life. But she’s going to need a lot of support. I know you have a lot to give her.”

Jessica stood upright, looked at him, her face a mess with tears. “She hates me.”

“What? No.”

“She told me she wishes it was me who was crippled instead of her.”

“She didn’t mean it. She’s just upset. Tomorrow—”

“There won’t be any tomorrow!” Jessica cried. “I told you, she hates me! She doesn’t want to see me again. She blames me for what happened to her.”

“She came out of surgery two hours ago. You can’t take what she says seriously. You didn’t do anything to her. You’re her friend.”

“Like I’m your friend, Michael?” She shook loose from his hands. “You don’t know who I am. I screw you left and right and you think I’m Miss Pretty Perfect. Well, I’m not. I don’t give a damn about anybody except myself.”

“We all watch out for ourselves. We have to because most of the time it seems no one is watching out for us. I know how you feel. You’re not a bad person.” He took a breath. “If you were, I wouldn’t care about you the way—”

“No!” she interrupted. “It’s all true. Everything I touch gets ruined. Alice and Maria and Clair—I do it on purpose I think!”

“Stop it. You’re carrying on exactly like I did after the funeral.” He lowered his voice, tried to hold her. “Jessie, listen to me, I need to tell you something.”

“No,” she moaned, pushing him away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t get near me. I’m no good, Michael. I’m not.”

“Jessie?”

She wouldn’t listen. She turned and fled down the hall. He didn’t go after her. Had people chased after him during the days following Alice’s party, he might have killed them. He would leave her alone, maybe forever. He would remain alone.

Nick returned a few minutes later. He was pale as a ghost. “Does she hate you, too?” Michael asked wearily.

Nick fell down in a chair. “She wants the person who tampered with the float,” he said. “She’s flipped out. She thinks there’s a plot against her.”

“Anything else?”

Nick nodded heavily. “She told me to find those responsible. She threatened me if I didn’t.”

“How?”

Nick bowed his head. “She said if I didn’t do what she wanted, she would tell the police I was running down the stairs, away from the bedroom, right after the gun was fired at the party.”

“That’s true?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I lied to you before. I was afraid the police would hear that and think I’d killed Alice.”

It was Michael’s turn to use the wall for support. “Why were you running downstairs?”

“I thought the gunshot came from there.” He shook his head miserably. “I don’t know, I was scared. I’m sorry, Mike.”

Kats also thought the shot came from downstairs.

Michael pulled himself off the wall and slapped Nick on the back. “Stay with her, buddy. Love her. It’s the best anybody can do. I’m going home.”

Nick nodded pitifully, beginning to weep. “She can’t feel anything in her legs. Nothing from the waist down.”

“I know. I wish—” He wished a thousand wishes, but it didn’t make any difference. There was nothing he could say. He left Nick and headed for the parking lot, where he climbed into his car. About to start the engine, he noticed Temple High’s yearbook on the passenger seat. On impulse, he reached over and began to browse through it again. He hadn’t really searched the book thoroughly the first time. Perhaps…

It could have been coincidence, like Kats and Nick both running the wrong way toward a gunshot they were closer to than anyone else.

Michael found Clark in a group photo on the lower-right-hand corner of the first page he turned to. It was a black-and-white, and the bright green eyes and red hair were not in evidence. But it was the bastard; there was no mistaking that twisted grin.

The picture had several people in it. None of them were identified at the bottom by name. Michael flipped to the end of the junior class and studied the list of names Of kids who hadn’t posed for pictures. There was only one Clark.

Clark Halley.

We’re going to have a talk, guy. A long talk.

To be continued…