Midnight Games (8 page)

Now, I sat in Nights Bar at one-thirty on a Wednesday morning, staring at the yellow neon Budweiser sign behind the bar.

I shared a table with Jamie and Lewis. They had both been so sweet to me ever since Saturday night. I don't think I could have survived without them.

You can imagine the cold stares I got when I returned to school Monday morning. And at Ada's funeral, I could tell that everyone there was accusing me of her murder.

Yes, I went to Ada's funeral. I know it would have been easier to stay home. But I wanted to show everyone I am innocent. I had just as much right as anyone else to go to that funeral.

As we made our way from the church, Aaron, Whitney, and Galen deliberately pushed past me. And I heard Aaron murmur the word “murderer.”

Now, the three of them sat in a booth in the back of the bar, staring at me coldly, leaning across the table, talking softly, probably about me.

I tried to ignore them. But I felt uncomfortable and totally tense being near people who thought I could do something that horrible.

I wanted to run to their booth and scream, “Yes, I'm a Fear. But that doesn't mean I'm a killer.”

Of course I didn't do that. Instead, I tried to make small talk with Jamie and Lewis.

And then Nate walked into the bar.

He kissed the bronze plaque of the Fears and then stared right at me.

Had I talked to Nate since the night of the skating party? No.

Did he call me to ask how I was feeling? Did he call to say he believed in me, he knew I wasn't the murderer? No.

Did he say a single word to me in school?

Three guesses.

My breath caught in my throat as he slowly began walking toward our table. I'd been feeling so hurt all week. Hurt that Nate was like all the rest.

I tried to understand it from his side. Yes, he'd been going with Ada. Yes, he'd cared about her too.

But I thought he had real feeling for me. Isn't that why he invited me to the skating party?

He nodded his head to Jamie and Lewis. Then he took my arm. His dark eyes locked on mine. “Dana, can I talk to you?”

He pulled me to the bar. “Nate, where've you been?” I asked. I couldn't hide my anger.

He shook his head. “In a daze, I guess.” He didn't let go of my arm. “I'm sorry, Dana. I wanted to call you, but—”

“But what?” I demanded.

“I stayed home,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I couldn't think about anything. I know I should have called or something. But I didn't call anyone. I was . . . scared.”

I pushed his hand away. “Scared of
me
?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No way. Just scared. I mean, look. It's frightening, right? Two girls in our class are dead.”

“And . . . you think that I—?”

“No,” he said again. “I don't know what to think, Dana. I—just—”

“I didn't even know Candy,” I said. “She died before I came to Shadyside.”

“I know,” he said.

“How can anyone suspect me?” I cried. “I'm a good person. I'd never kill anyone.”

Nate finally raised his eyes to mine. “I know,” he said again. And then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.

For a moment, pressed against him, I felt safe. I held my face against his and hugged him tightly.

Suddenly, I realized we weren't alone. I turned to find Whitney, Aaron, and Galen standing in front of us, cold glares on their faces.

“Oh.” I let out a startled cry and let go of Nate.

“We heard what you were saying,” Whitney said. “Well, why don't you tell us this? If you'd never kill anyone, Dana, what about your boyfriend back home? Tell us you didn't kill him, too!”

19

My breath caught in my throat. I felt
my heart skip a beat.

“Dustin?” I choked out. “You found out about Dustin?”

Whitney stared at me coldly, challenging me, her hands pressed tightly at her waist. She nodded. “I have a friend at your old school. She told me the whole story.”

I sank back against the wall. I struggled to catch my breath. “But . . . no one
knows
the whole story.”

“I do,” Whitney sneered. “You killed him, too.”

“That's a LIE!” I screamed. “It was a horrible accident. That's what the police said—and that's the truth.”

Whitney, Aaron, and Galen stared at me,
waiting for me to tell them more. Nate put his arm around my shoulder. “Jamie told us you've had a hard year,” he said softly. “I didn't know your boyfriend died.”

I fought back the tears, but I could feel them running down my cheeks. “It was an accident,” I said. “Dustin and I . . . we were hanging out in my pool. In my backyard. It was a beautiful afternoon. I went in the house to make us some sandwiches.”

I kept my eyes on Nate as I told the story. I couldn't stand the cold, accusing expressions of the other three kids.

“I wasn't feeling well that day. I had a big fight with my father that morning. It messed me up, made me feel horrible. I . . . I was finishing the sandwiches. I heard a splash outside. And . . . and . . . ”

Nate squeezed me gently. “It's okay,” he whispered. “You don't have to go on if—”

I took a deep breath and continued. I wanted Whitney and the two boys to know the truth.

“I carried the sandwiches to the pool. I . . . dropped the tray when I saw Dustin. He—he was floating facedown in the pool. And the
water around him—it was pink. The tray broke and the sandwiches scattered around me. And I just stared at the pink water.

“It took me so long to realize what made the water pink. It was Dustin's blood. I started shouting his name. I thought maybe it was a joke. Maybe he was trying to scare me. He liked to do that. But, no. He was . . . dead.

“I just stood there, frozen, and watched his body bob in the pink water. I didn't scream or anything. I just stood there, not moving, not breathing. Not believing it, I guess.

“The police decided Dustin had tried a dive and hit his head on the side. It must have knocked him unconscious. His head was cracked open and he drowned.”

I used my sleeve to wipe the tears from my face. My whole body was trembling. Nate held me tightly.

I turned to my three accusers. Their cold expressions hadn't changed.

“Good story,” Whitney muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Whitney, that was the worst day of my life!” I cried. “I really loved Dustin. How
dare
you accuse me! How can you be so cruel?”

Whitney let out a furious shout. She grabbed my T-shirt with both hands and jerked me close to her. “How can I be so cruel?” she screamed. “How can I be so cruel?”

“Let go of me,” I said, struggling to pull her hands away.

“How can I be so cruel?” she repeated, spitting the words in my face. “You killed my best friend—that's how. I know you did.”

She tightened her grip on my shirt and jerked me hard, back and forth. Her face was bright red now, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

“You killed my best friend!” she shrieked. You killed Ada—just to get her boyfriend and her scholarship!”

“No!” I cried. “No! Let go of me!”

Jamie and Lewis pushed between Aaron and Galen. Jamie grabbed Whitney around the waist and tried to pull her off me.

“You killed Ada!” Whitney screamed. “You killed her! You killed her! You're a Fear—and that means you're a killer!”

Wailing and sobbing, Whitney started pounding me with her fists. Covering my face, I tried to squirm away.

I heard Ryland shouting.

Someone pulled Whitney away.

I lowered my hands and saw Galen and Aaron holding her, helping her out of the bar. She was sobbing at the top of her lungs, shaking her fists wildly in front of her.

Trembling, my heart racing, I turned to Jamie. “What am I going to do? She's crazy,” I whispered. “She'll convince everyone I'm a murderer. How can I stop her?”

20

Friday night I was hunched over my
laptop trying to do some homework when Nate IM'd me:

Dana, r u there? Can I come see u?

I was in a bad mood. I messaged him back:

Aren't u afraid to be alone with a murderer?

He ignored my question and wrote:

c u soon.

I jumped up and hurried to change out of the torn T-shirt and baggy jeans I was wearing. I pulled on a bright pink sweater over straight-legged black pants. Very sexy. I pulled a necklace from my dresser drawer and slid it around my neck.

Then I put on lip gloss and brushed my hair.

I kept thinking about Nate, how he held me in the bar, how he hugged me. How he tried to protect me from Whitney's attack.

But a lot of questions nagged at the back of my mind.

What did Nate really think?

He didn't call me for three days after Ada died. Why not? Because he thought I killed Ada?

If not, who did he think was the murderer?

Jamie was standing by me. When Whitney glared at me in the hall at school, Jamie glared right back at her. Lewis believed in me too.

And I wanted Nate to trust me. I really did. I needed someone to rely on, and I hoped that someone was Nate.

The doorbell rang. Jamie and Lewis were at a movie. Danny was staying with a friend. Jamie's parents were out too. I was the only one home.

I ran down the stairs and pulled open the front door.

Nate had a smile on his face. But when he saw me, his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

I realized he was staring at my chest. “Nate? What's wrong?” I asked.

“That pendant,” he said, pointing. “Where did you get it?”

My hand went to the necklace. “I made it,” I said. “Why? What's wrong with it?”

He didn't answer. He grabbed it gently and smoothed his hand over it. The pendant was made of silver wire with blue glass cut to look like jewels.

“It's not old?” he asked finally. He let go of it and took a step back.

“No. I told you. I made it,” I said.

It was a cold, blustery kind of night, black storm clouds low in the sky. Nate stood there with his denim jacket open, a black T-shirt underneath. “Aren't you cold?” I said.

I stepped aside and motioned for Nate to come into the house. I closed the door behind him. He was still studying the pendant.

“It just looks old,” I said. “I copied the design from old photos of Angelica Fear.”

He swallowed. “You did? You have photos of Angelica Fear?”

I nodded. “Well, yes. I told you I've studied the history of the Fears. It
is
my family, after all.” I tugged his arm. “Want to see the photos of her?”

“For sure,” he said.

I led him up to my room in the attic. He looked around, ducking his head under the slanting ceiling. “Cozy,” he said. He grabbed my arms and tried to pull me on top of him on the bed.

“Hey, I thought you wanted to see old photos,” I said.

He kissed me. We kissed for a while. I held the sides of his face, held him there, needing him, needing someone to care about me.

Then, breathless, I pulled away and dropped down to my file drawer. He sat on the bed and watched me as I searched for the Angelica Fear photos.

“Here.” I handed both of them to him. “The date on the back says eighteen ninety-five. They're pretty faded. I had to tape that one back together. It kinda crumbled.”

He studied the first photo for a long time, then moved to the second one. “That's the amulet,” he murmured.

“Do you know about it?” I asked.

He didn't answer. Just stared from one photo to the other.

“Angelica Fear was obsessed with immortality,”
I said. “I read a lot about her. She was one of the most interesting Fears—and one of the most evil. She was into all kinds of witchcraft and sorcery. She did a lot of experiments, trying to bring dead people back to life. She said she would live forever. She told people she had found the secret.”

Nate finally put down the photos. He gazed at me. I didn't know if he'd heard a word I said. “Why did you copy her amulet?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I just thought it was kinda cool. You know. Mysterious looking. I was really into jewelry-making for a while. Jamie isn't the only artistic one in the family.”

He turned back to the amulet. “Did Angelica wear it because it had magical powers? Was that her secret for living forever?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe she thought it had powers. I didn't read about that anywhere.”

I turned the amulet over in my hand. “Do you believe in that supernatural stuff, Nate?”

He snickered. A strange smile spread over his face. “I may know more about the amulet than you do, Dana,” he said.

I stared at him. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

He let out a sigh and leaned back on my bed. “Can I trust you? I've been dying to tell this to someone.”

“Of course you can,” I said. I dropped down beside him on the bed and took his hand. “What's wrong, Nate? What is it?”

“This is a secret,” he said, lowering his voice. “I know how Candy died. I mean, I was there. It was because of this amulet.”

I grabbed the amulet. “Not
this
one.”

“No,” he said. “Another copy of it. A plastic copy of it. Candy wore it all the time. Shark and I—we didn't know it was plastic. We thought it was really Angelica Fear's amulet. And we thought Candy was using it to put a curse on us.”

I squeezed his hand. “A curse? You mean the cockroaches? The blood spurting from your ears?”

He nodded. “There's more. One day my car drove into the river with four of us inside it. We almost drowned.”

I shook my head. “Wow. And you thought Candy . . . ”

“Yes. We thought Candy was doing it. You've got to swear not to tell anyone, Dana. I've had this secret inside me for weeks. Late one night, Shark, Nikki, and I sneaked into Candy's house. We knew she was all alone. We wanted to steal the amulet. But . . . ”