Chain Letter (7 page)

“I didn’t tell anybody!” Fran said in a loud whisper.

Alison studied her pinched face, her trembling lips, and believed her. Fran would
more likely have talked about the nude poster of Brad Pitt that she had painted. The
only reason Alison knew about it was because Brenda had told her. She did not know
how Brenda had found out about it.

“OK, don’t get upset. I know you’re good at keeping secrets. But why did you have
to keep this a secret? I would have helped you.”

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble if a janitor came by.”

The bravery was uncharacteristic of Fran. It made Alison wonder, just a tiny bit.
“Did you send the letter to Kipp?”

“This morning. I whited out my name and typed it in the second column.”

“You could have just given it to him.”

“But the instructions said to mail it.”

“How would whoever know? Oh, never mind . . . Oh, damn!”

“What is it?” Fran asked, springing to her toes. Joan Zuchlensky, strutting a black
leather skirt and a silky white blouse, was plowing toward them.

“Here comes the Queen of the Roller Derby,” Alison whispered. She smiled brightly.
“Hello, Joany!”

Joan hated being called Joany. She wasn’t fond of small talk, either. “Where’s Tony
and Neil?” she demanded.

Alison put her hand to her mouth. “Why, for the life of me, I can’t remember where
I tied their leashes.” Nowadays, it was always this way between them. “Why ask me?
I’m not their master.”

Joan smiled slowly, chewing her lower lip, not out of nervousness, but because she
was
bad
. “That’s right, you don’t got no guy at your beck and call.” She shifted her gray
eyes. “I loved your goat, Fran.”

“Thank you,” Fran mumbled, eyes downcast.

“It looks just like you.” Joan went on, “So, Ali, what do you think of this Caretaker?”

“That he might be the perfect one to put you in your place.”

Joan liked that and laughed. “Whatever he wants me to do, it won’t be bad enough.”
She glanced at her hand, which she had propped against the tree, and her face changed.
Joan had a phenomenal tan—rumor had it that she sunbathed nude in her backyard, and
not always alone—but suddenly she turned bedsheet white. “Eeeh!” she shrieked, slapping
her hand frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Alison asked, at a complete loss.

“A spider!” Joan stamped the ground with her hard-tipped black leather boots.

Alison chuckled. Big Bad Joan. “So what? It won’t bite.”

“It did bite me!” Joan stopped her tribal dance and took
a couple of hot breaths, quickly regaining her composure. She knew she’d overreacted
and was embarrassed. “So,” she said evenly, “you don’t know where Tony is?”

Alison turned to Fran. “Do you think we should insist she go to the hospital? Before
the venom can reach her heart?” She couldn’t resist the prodding, though she knew
from experience it was not a good idea to humiliate Joan. The jerk had a long memory.

Joan raised one finger. “This letter reminds me of something I always wanted to tell
you. I know you purposely faked car problems that night of the concert so you could
ride home with Tony. What do you have to say about that?”

“That you’re absolutely right,” Alison lied.

“Ali!” Fran whined.

“Sounds like you’re pretty hard up,” Joan said.

“Sounds like you’re afraid of losing what you don’t have,” Alison said.

Joan moved her finger to within an inch of Alison’s nose. The purple nail was long,
sharp. “Just keep your distance from Tony,” she said coldly.

Alison threw her head back and laughed. “Why? Will I be . . . ” The Caretaker’s letter
flashed before her eyes. “Will I be
hurt
?”

Joan smiled again, a sly sort of smile that seemed to cherish forbidden pleasure.
“Remember,” she said. “You’ve been told.” She patted the top of Fran’s head as if
she were a pet, then walked away.

Just words
, Alison thought, doubtful.

They saw Tony and Neil minutes later, approaching from opposite the direction Joan
had disappeared. Alison had never before had the pleasure of having Tony walking straight
toward her.

Neil struggled by his side, a head shorter, his long brown hair in need of a brush.
Yet he was the first to smile, and Alison was quick to smile back. Neil’s smile, next
to Joan’s, was like putting the Easter bunny beside a boa constrictor.

“Neil’s with him,” Fran whispered nervously.

“This is the chance you’ve been waiting for,” Alison whispered back, speaking for
both of them, her heart cruising along at a comfortable eight hundred beats a minute.

Fran gulped. “I could wait a little longer.” She began to inch away. Alison grabbed
her arm.

“If you split now, I’ll tell Neil that you had an erotic dream about him last night.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“And I’ll tell him you drew a picture about it when you woke up.”

Fran decided to stay. The boys arrived moments later. Alison was pleasantly surprised
when Neil offered his hand to both of them; politeness was never out of place in her
book. Tony looked
sooo
cool.

But before they could so much as finish their hellos to one another, the principal
of Grant High, Mr. Gregory Hall,
joined their foursome. No doubt Alison would have panicked and Fran would have fainted
had he looked the least angry. A tall thin man with a scarecrow face, Mr. Hall took
care of his duties from behind the scenes. Less than half the student body even knew
he existed. He must have had a photographic memory, however, for he greeted each of
them by their first names.

“It was mainly you, Fran, that I wished to speak to,” Mr. Hall said when they were
through saying hello and commenting on the hot weather.

“Me?”

“Yes, about the terrible thing that happened to the gymnasium mascot.” Fran went as
still as the tree beside them. Mr. Hall nodded sympathetically, for all the wrong
reasons. “I know how you must feel. I can promise when I find out who was responsible
for this desecration, I will personally see to it that he is expelled.”

“Personally,” Fran said.

“What I was wondering is, would it be possible for you to redo the picture? Not necessarily
right away, but whenever you feel sufficiently ahead in your schoolwork. I’m meeting
with the board of supervisors this afternoon. I’m going to ask if we couldn’t pay
you for the job.” Mr. Hall smiled. “How does that sound?”

Fran could have swallowed her tongue. Alison spoke up. “She would be happy to do it,
wouldn’t you, Fran?” Fran nodded. Alison added, “I think the job should be worth at
least a hundred bucks.”

“I was going to ask for two hundred.” Mr. Hall looked hopeful. “So, do we have a deal?”
Fran managed to move her head up and down a couple of times. “Wonderful! Now if I
could steal you away from your friends for a few minutes to sign a paper to that effect,
it would make my proposal to the board that much easier.”

Mr. Hall practically had to carry Fran to the administration building. He must have
thought the poor girl was heartbroken over the ruin of her creation. The three of
them got a good laugh out of it. But once again, before they could even start a conversation
they had another interruption—Neil this time, trying to excuse himself.

“Where do you have to go?” Tony asked, surprised.

“My locker.” He flashed a quick smile. “Have a nice lunch.” He turned to leave.

“Hey!” Tony said.

“Got to go,” Neil called over his shoulder, limping away.

“Could he be chasing after Fran?” Alison asked hopefully.

Tony stared at her thoughtfully, a strand of blond hair touching near one of his blue
eyes. She had to resist the temptation to brush it aside. “No, he’s not,” he said
quietly.

His seriousness, his certainty, startled her. “She likes him at any rate. I wasn’t
sure if he knew.”

Tony went to speak, caught himself. “Neil likes everybody,” he said.

“He’s a great guy.” She hardly knew him.

Tony leaned against the tree and smiled. “Not wishing to change the subject, but isn’t
this a fine mess we’re in? Any profound revelations strike you during the night?”

“Not really, unless you call nightmares revelations.” During the brief spells when
she had dozed off, she’d had this dream, over and over, where she had been trying
to open the front door of her new house. What had been disturbing about the scenario
had not been so much that the door had been stuck but that her hand had been stuck
to the door.

Tony nodded. “I had a few of those myself.”

“No,” she said in disbelief. He seemed so much in command, it was hard to believe
he was scared. On the other hand, he had been driving and stood the most to lose.
It occurred to her then that, although she had watched Tony Hunt for four years, she
knew absolutely nothing about the way his mind worked. He reinforced the idea when
he remarked:

“You would be surprised.”

“One thing did come to me. Maybe we weren’t alone that night. It would explain a lot,
someone watching us, I mean.”

“No car drove by, I’m sure of that. But it’s as reasonable an idea as any we kicked
around yesterday.”

“Brenda and I both gave Fran the third degree. I don’t think there’s much chance she
talked.” Tony nodded quickly, like he hadn’t put much credence in the possibility.
Alison continued, “What did you guys come up with? I would be very interested to know.”

Tony shrugged. “The obvious, mostly. Except for Neil. He had two interesting theories.
He thinks the Caretaker might be someone in the group, and that he or she is serious
with their threats to harm us.”

Alison thought of Joan but decided it would be a mistake to mention her name at this
point. She didn’t know how involved Tony was with her. Many times Joan had hinted
that they were lovers—perish the thought. Tony seemed too discriminating to become
that involved with someone whose only redeeming quality was that she did not carry
a gun. Still, Tony was a guy, and Joan was so obviously available . . .

“What was Neil’s other theory?”

“It’s . . . hard to explain.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, have you eaten?”

She shook her head. This was it! He was going to ask her out. He was going to fall
in love with her.

“Would you like to go have a greasy hamburger at the mall?”

“No.”
What?
She had meant to say yes! Of all the moronic times for the connection between her
brain and her mouth to fizzle. “What I mean is,” she stammered, “I’m on a diet.”

He looked her over. “Are greasy french fries on your diet?”

“Oh, yes!”

He took her by the arm. “You’re an unusual young lady, Alison.”

I
t’s been seven days,” Kipp said with satisfaction, “and lightning hasn’t struck yet.
I tell you, the Caretaker was bluffing.”

Four of them, Tony, Neil, Brenda and Kipp, were hanging out in the school parking
lot next to Kipp’s car. The early summer was showing no sign of an early departure.
Heat radiated off the asphalt in rippling waves. A film of sweat had Tony’s shirt
glued to his chest and he was having a hard time imagining that in less than fifteen
minutes he would have to start working out on the track.

The week-old event to which Kipp was referring was the appearance of the second command
in the
Times.
It had employed initials rather than a name but otherwise it had been like the first,
brief and to the point.

K.C. Flunk Next Calculus Exam

Kipp had gone right ahead and gotten an A on the test.

“No time limit was put on when you would be hurt,” Neil said, brushing brown hairs
off his shoulders. The diabetes or the stress or simply bad genes had him shedding
like crazy. Tony was worried about him. Neil had been out of school all last week
and he’d dropped five pounds from his already famished frame. He’d had the flu, he
said, and was having trouble sleeping.

Kipp laughed. “It was a joke. Isn’t that obvious?”

“I hope all this blows over before the play opens,” Brenda said. “Neil, I saw you
at our rehearsal this morning. What did you think?”

Neil beamed. “I thought you were wonderful. I left laughing.”

Brenda fairly lit up. “Thank you. How sweet.”

“I really like Alison as Alice,” Kipp had to go and say. “That girl’s got talent.
You can see it just in the way she walks across the stage.” He patted Brenda on the
back. “I think you’re great, too.”

Brenda’s lightbulb dimmed. “But not as great as Alison.”

“Now I didn’t say that.”

“She has better lines than me! She’s the star! What am I supposed to do? It isn’t
my fault that fat phony teacher thought I didn’t look the part.”

“Please,” Kipp said, “let’s not start this again. You’re a fine actress. Alison is
a fine actress. You’re both fine actresses. In fact, you are probably the
finer
actress.”

“You mean my style is not dramatic enough. That’s what you mean, I know.”

Kipp groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Look, let’s fight about it on the
way home. I’m tired of standing in this oven.”

Brenda folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going home with you. Who said I
was?”

“I give you a ride home every day. I assumed . . . ”

“Well, you assumed wrong, porpoise nose!” Brenda whirled and stalked away.

“I love you, too!” Kipp called. He shook his head. “I sort of hope the Caretaker is
for real. Maybe he could scare her out of a few personality quirks.” He climbed in
his car, fastening his seat belt.

“Can I have a ride?” Neil asked. He usually walked home. His leg must be bothering
him.

“Just don’t ask me to comment on your talents,” Kipp said, starting the car. Neil
got in the front seat.

Tony leaned on the open window. “I notice you’re buckled up. Since when did that start?
Last week, maybe?”

Kipp was not amused. “I’ve always worn a seat belt.” He put the car in reverse. “Have
fun killing yourself in practice.”