Driver's Dead (7 page)

Kirsten drooped against the wall. It had been twice in two days for his stupid tricks.

Mrs. Wilkes shook her head in disgust.

“Not a smart move, Nathaniel,” Dr. Wilkes said. “I don't ever want to see you do that again.”

“You know,” Mrs. Wilkes seethed, “it's after one o'clock in the morning—”

As her parents lectured Nat, Kirsten took a step into her room.

Shivers seized her. The closet area was pitch-black, out of range of the slanting hallway light.

Girding herself, she flicked on the switch by her door.

Desk. Computer. Bookshelves. Bed. Closet. Carpet. All blinked into her vision.

Kirsten stared at the carpet next to the closet door. She closed her eyes. Shook her head. Opened her eyes again.

What she saw made her skin crawl.

“You feel better now?” her mom said over her shoulder.

Kirsten could not answer.

This was impossible. The carpet was as blue as always. Not a trace of blood.

She walked in slowly, touching the area with her toes. It was bone-dry.

But she had seen it.
After
she had awakened.

“Where was it, honey?” her dad asked.

“Under the closet door,” Kirsten replied, her voice a whisper.

Dr. Wilkes went to the door and opened it. Kirsten's clothes hung undisturbed, her shoes lay in an unruly pile on the dry floor.

“It was a bad dream, sweetheart,” her mom said, putting her hand on Kirsten's shoulder.

“I guess.”

“It's been tough moving from our old house, hasn't it?” Mrs. Wilkes folded Kirsten into a warm embrace.

But not even her mother's arms could warm the icy chill that had formed inside her.

When the traffic light turned green at 8:45 the next morning, at the corner of Burnside and Merrick, Kirsten Wilkes was waiting.

“All right, you know what to do,” Mrs. Wilkes said.

Kirsten let her foot slip off the brake and stepped on the gas. Her signal clicked softly, then stopped as she turned.

“Good job! Wow, you really are getting the hang of this!”

Kirsten smiled.
Thanks to Rob Maxson,
she wanted to say.
Who also tried to seduce me last night in the park, by the way, Mom.

No. She couldn't talk about it. Not yet. Not before she gave Rob his chance. Even he deserved that.

Her mom had gotten very close to bringing Rob into the conversation over that morning's breakfast. Kirsten had managed to veer away from the topic by agreeing to make everybody's pancakes.

She'd also managed to slip a little too much salt in Nat's. Enough to ruin them in retaliation for the night before. He spit them out—and got in trouble.

She felt guilty about that. A little.

By now, she was convinced the pool of blood was a dream. She had slept on the living room couch that night, then double-checked her room in the morning.

Sometimes dreams seemed so real.

As she drove past the park, she noticed flashing lights in the wooded area behind the pond. They distracted her just enough to make her veer into the oncoming lane.

“Hey! Don't kill us!” Mrs. Wilkes said. “The ambulance over there's already taken.”

Kirsten snapped back to full attention and pulled smoothly to the front of the school.

Her mom applauded as Kirsten shifted to Park and undid her seat belt. “What an improvement! I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

They kissed good-bye, and Kirsten slipped out of the car.

Homeroom was still thirteen minutes away. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she walked toward the park.

As she passed the hedgerow that separated the park from the school, she could see the flashing lights clearly. Two police cars were parked at a skewed angle on the grass, along with the ambulance—in the same area she'd been in the night before.

A crowd had formed behind a yellow police tape, strung between trees. Her view of the accident site was blocked by the people, but over their heads she could see the ambulance doors swing open.

Kirsten picked up her pace. Sobs and murmurs floated toward her, growing louder, drowning out the incessantly cheerful birds overhead.

At the edge of the crowd, Kirsten stood on her toes and angled herself to get a view. Paramedics were loading a body on a stretcher into the ambulance. The body was covered by a white sheet from head to toe.

She caught a glimpse of deep tire marks, slashing through the soil. They seemed to come from the pond itself. A trash basket lay flattened near a bench, papers and wrappers strewn beside it.

Kirsten shouldered her way to the front of the crowd, most of whom were stunned schoolmates.

She almost didn't see Maria, weeping in Virgil's arms.

“Hi, Kirsten,” Virgil said softly.

“What happened?” Kirsten asked.

Maria lifted her head. Her eyes were red, and mascara ran down her cheeks like witch's fingers. “He—he was—run over,” she said between sobbing gulps. “Some kid found him this morning.”

“Who
was run over?” Kirsten's pulse was racing.

Virgil patiently took hold of her wrist and for some reason she wanted to slap him.

In a barely audible voice, he said, “It was Rob, Kirsten.”

“N
OT FUNNY,
V
IRGIL!”

The words leaped from Kirsten's mouth. They protected her. Kept her from believing Virgil's sick joke.

Nat, Rob, Virgil—all of them thought they could walk over her. Scare her brains out. Take advantage. Lie.

But Maria just burst into tears all over again.

And because of that, Kirsten knew. She was fooling herself.

Rob was dead.

She pushed her way to the front of the crowd. The paramedics were angling the stretcher into place. Putting straps across the body.

One of the straps lifted a section of the sheet. A corner of a black leather jacket flapped out.

Kirsten felt her knees give way.

She grabbed on to the nearest person, who didn't seem to notice. Around her, colors drained away to black and white. People were moving in slow motion. Faces loomed in front of her, pasty and distorted.

Then a soft, muffled sound welled up in the back of her mind. It began to grow louder, garbled and human and oh, so indescribably sad.
Ohhhhh …
The black and white colors before Kirsten became suffused with red, blood red, pouring from the sky.

The trees were red. The faces around her wept red tears. The clouds moved across the sky like floating bloodclots.
OHHHHH …
The moan grew louder and pushed against the inside of her head.

Kirsten felt her eyes crossing. She put her hands to her ears. She pressed against her skull to stop the pressure. To contain the moan before she exploded.

She felt herself buckling, falling to her knees, wanting to scream—

Smack!

The ambulance door slammed shut. Kirsten looked up. Tear-streaked faces were staring down at her. Grief and shock, interrupted by curiosity.

Color had returned. And normal movement.

Between bodies, Kirsten saw a paramedic glance toward her with a tic of concern, then turn away. He joined a coworker, who was comforting a distraught woman in a raincoat and bedroom slippers. Rob's mom, Kirsten realized.

The men and the woman got into the ambulance. With a roar of the engine it drove away, its siren wailing.

Kirsten felt two hands lifting her upward. “Hey, are you all right?” Maria asked.

Am I all right? Sure. I killed Rob, that's all. I left him in the park. Alone. I just up and walked away from him. He didn't think I'd do it. He held his ground. He thought I'd come back to him. He thought he was teaching me a lesson. But I showed him.

Kirsten wanted to throw up.

“Yeah,” she croaked. I'm … fine.”

Around her, the crying continued, louder. Kids were huddling together to comfort each other, the huddles growing rapidly as more kids arrived.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kirsten spotted a flash of electric purple. A lone figure standing apart from the throng.

At the edge of the park, dressed in a purple anorak, Gwen Mitchell stood against a stout, peeling sycamore tree. Her eyes stared blankly, calmly, as if she were watching a chess game, but her fingers vigorously worked the locket around her neck.

“Come on, Kirsten, let's go,” Maria urged.

Gwen's eyes turned. Now they locked on Kirsten's, and her blank expression changed.

She began walking toward Kirsten, a small, cruel smile growing on her face. Her hand dropped from the locket and reached inside her anorak.

What was she doing?

“Gwen?” Maria whispered.

Kirsten swallowed. Maria and Virgil flanked her on either side.

A dreadful thought shot through Kirsten's mind. Gwen was here last night. She saw. She waited until Kirsten left. Until she could be alone with Rob. And then she …

She killed him.

Gwen's hand pulled something from her anorak. Between her fingers it caught the glint of the morning sun.

Where were the police?

“Here.” Gwen stood two feet from Kirsten, holding out her right hand. “I think you left these behind.”

In her palm was a set of keys. Dangling from it was a small block of wood carved into the name KIRSTEN.

“Where—?” Kirsten whispered.

“He
had them,” Gwen said, gesturing toward the ambulance. She shrugged. “They won't do him much good now, will they?”

Rob had taken her keys! After she had given him her jacket.
We want your arms to be free.
Another lie. How could she ever have believed him?

What was he planning to do? Sneak into the house at night? She would never know now.

“What are
you
doing with these?” Kirsten grabbed the keys and stuffed them into her own pocket.

Gwen's smile was gloating, triumphant, icy. It cut through Kirsten like a dagger. “I found them. When I found him.”

“Gwen, you are sick,” Maria said in a choked voice. She tugged Kirsten backward.

But Kirsten could not break herself from Gwen's murderous gaze.

As Gwen took a step forward, her lips drew back from her teeth like a wolf about to pounce. Kirsten felt the hairs rise along the back of her neck.

“I—” Gwen choked on her words. Her eyes began flashing with emotion, like clouds across the moon. Hatred wrestled with confusion, finally giving way to a wash of sudden tears.

With an anguished cry, Gwen turned on her heels and sprinted away.

“Hey!” Virgil shouted. “That little—” He let go of Kirsten's arm and ran after her.

“Virgil, no!” Maria called after him, but he was lumbering across the sloping, well-trampled lawns, halfway to the sidewalk.

Maria shook her head. “Big hero. He picked today to turn macho. Let's go, Kirsten.”

Kirsten let herself be led. She was not aware of walking. Her head seemed swollen and she felt nauseous.

Rob stole my keys. I left Rob alone in the dark. Gwen killed Rob.

Three sentences. Each was like a blow to the stomach.

Maybe Rob had taken the keys accidentally. Maybe he would have given them back today, with a charming apology.

Maybe everything would be just fine.

But Gwen had been in the park. And now the world was turning inside out. Good was bad, dead was alive, hope was fear.

Rob was dead.

“Oh …” Kirsten's legs gave way again. She slumped to the ground, taking Maria with her.

A sob exploded from deep within her. Kirsten could hold it back no longer. She wailed with a strangled, anguished fury so loud and strange it seemed to be coming from somewhere else.

“Who-o-oa, sshhhh …” Maria said, drawing her closer, massaging her back. The two of them rocked back and forth, sitting on the dewy grass. “It's okay.”

Kirsten pushed away. “It's
not
okay, Maria! This is all my fault!”

“Ssshh, what are you talking about?”

“You saw Rob pick me up yesterday. Well, he gave me a driving lesson, and it was—it was phenomenal. I felt so confident, so …
cared for.”
Kirsten sniffed back her tears. “We went to a movie and dinner, and then—and then we ended up here.”

Maria's eyes widened.
“You
came to the park with Rob last night?”

“We didn't—oh, Maria, he tried to—
you
know, and I told him off. Stomped away. Left him here.”

“But he was alive … right?”

“Of
course
he was alive! You didn't think
I
—”

“No! No, Kirsten. Go on.”

“I walked home. That was it. Until now.”

Maria looked away and let out a huge sigh.

“What should I do?” Kirsten continued. “Call the police?”

“No. I don't think so.”

“But it's my fault, Maria. I was here. I'm the only one who knows that!”

“You didn't kill him,” Maria said levelly. “Gwen did. That seems clear to me.”

Kirsten looked at the grass. “I … I guess.”

“You'd be a fool to tell the police you were at the park with Rob. They'll just suspect
you
and not Gwen.”

“But
why,
Maria? Why would she do such a thing?”

Maria shook her head. “Gwen's crazy, Kirsten. She's been that way for months.”

“I want to kill her!”
The words escaped Kirsten's mouth before she could stop them. But she had no desire to take them back.

“Shh, don't say that.”

“Okay. Does New York have the death penalty?”

“Nope.”

“All right, then I want to get her locked up for life.” Kirsten picked herself up and looked at the accident scene. One of the police cars was still there
.
“I
am
going to talk to the police. I'll tell them everything Gwen said.”

“Uh, guess again, Kirsten.” Maria stood up next to her. “Look, I know you're upset, but think straight. Gwen gave you
your
keys, remember? She said Rob had them. How's that going to look?
You're
the one that has to worry about the police. If Gwen goes to them, you're in trouble.”