The Long Sleep (7 page)

“Um...yes.” She couldn’t look at me.

“To the whole school? All of Lakeside?”

“Um, just a few people, but it got
around.”

“He said
he
broke up with
me?
Did anybody believe him?”

“Maybe some people did. But everybody knows
you, Maddie. And they know what he can be like.”

Cree listened, wide-eyed. “What a rat! I’m
glad you got rid of him.”

“He’s worse than a rat,” I said. “He
hit
me. He’s violent.”

“And has the muscles to prove it.” Glyn put
back the starry tube.

“Not to worry, Mads.” She gave me a weak
smile. “He’s gone.”

At first I thought she meant dead, and I was
shocked. Then I realized. “You mean New Hampshire.”

“It’s got to be a couple of hundred miles. Do
you think that’s far enough?”

“Not with phones and Internet. Last night he
kept calling. Playing music.” Who else could it be but Evan?

“Sounds as if he still has the hots for you,”
Glynis said.

And I said, “I wonder why he went to New
Hampshire.”

She giggled. “I think it was the only place
that would take him. Right in the middle of the school year. He was
lucky to get in anywhere.”

Evan led a charmed life. If he needed luck,
he always got it. “I suppose,” I said, “he’ll be back for the
holidays.” That was a chilling thought.

“I’ll be your bodyguard,” Cree offered.

So loyal. But I knew she’d rather spend time
with my brother.

As for bodyguards, I thought of a certain
green-eyed cop. And then I thought of Hank.

“We have to get going,” I said. “Where would
the markers be?”

“Try the stationery aisle.” Glyn went back to
her lipsticks.

* * *

We supplied ourselves with markers, poster
board, and whatever else we needed, and set out for the hospital. I
wasn’t at all sure I could see Hank. Cree had brought a magazine to
read while she waited in the lobby.

I avoided the volunteers at the information
desk and made straight for the elevator. By then I knew my way. But
the nurses’ station outside the ICU was as far as I got.

I could see him through his big window, but
they wouldn’t let me in. All I could do was ask how he was.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” a nurse said almost
apologetically.

“I wish I could talk to him. I have some news
that might cheer him up. Is it true that people like that can often
hear and understand what’s going on?”

“They can unless it’s a very deep coma.” But
she still wouldn’t let me get any closer.

“Are they ever going to move him out of
ICU?”

“That would be up to the doctor, and it would
depend on his condition.”

Hank, wake up. Please.

I was sure it would help if I could talk to
him. Touch him. But the hospital wasn’t going to change its policy.
People in ICU were not robust. I could understand that traffic had
to be regulated. The best I could do was look through that window
and try to send healing thoughts.

Chapter Six

On Monday I began my
campaign to track down the newspaper staff. I didn’t know most of
them except by sight, and Southbridge High had hundreds of kids. I
knew some schools have thousands. But after Lakeside, Southbridge
seemed big to me. It included kids from Northbridge and several
other outlying districts. There was a Northbridge community, even
though the North Bridge itself was long gone.

But Cindy Belcher I did know. I corralled her
next to her locker. It felt strange talking to her about Hank.
She’d been so antagonistic.

She stared at me, blank-faced. Then said,
“Why can’t we stick to school news the way we always did?”

“You mean fluff?” I said.

That gave her an idea. “We could start a
gossip column!”

“Do we need more fluff?”

“It’s what people are interested in. Who
cares about the right to ... I can’t say it.”

“Cindy, it’s an important issue. We don’t
want to be fluffheads all the time. And by some strange
coincidence, now Hank is there himself, or he might be. He’s still
unconscious. Did you know that? I think we should go ahead with his
plans.”

Her lips moved very slightly. I imagined her
saying “It serves him right,” but I had no idea what she actually
said.

“Okay, that’s up to you,” I told her. “I’ll
see what the others want to do, and Mr. Geyer. We can meet—”

“Hey, I’m late for class!” She rushed
off.

I was late, too. She didn’t even wait to hear
me out. For all I cared, she could drop the whole newspaper
thing.

I knew I should talk to Mr. Geyer, but it was
hard to get hold of him before three o’clock. I didn’t see how he
could object if we wanted to keep things going.

At three, I found him busily scooping papers
into his briefcase. He wore a rumpled blue shirt that looked as if
he’d slept in it. His socks didn’t match and he seemed in a hurry.
I didn’t have much time either. Ben would be waiting for me. It was
a real pain not having my own transportation.

“Mr. Geyer, I assume we’re going ahead with
the newspaper even though Hank is, um—in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”

“Maddie Canfield. I was here last week. That
was my first time. I know you left early, and Hank and I were—I
mean, he was with me. In my car . . .”

“Oh, you’re the one.”

“Yes. So I was wondering are we going ahead
with it?”

I fidgeted while he thought it over. Maybe I
didn’t really need to consult with him. He seemed more of a
background figure. It was Hank who ran the show. Except for
now.

Finally he spoke. “Are you taking over the
editorship?”

“Well, no. I just thought—don’t we have an
assistant editor?” I thought we did but couldn’t remember who it
was. All those people were so new to me.

He laughed. “Besides Hank? For this paper,
he’s the sun and the moon and the stars.”

What an endorsement! Maybe Geyer really
wanted to write poetry instead of teaching chemistry, or steering a
bunch of kids on a school paper. I said, “Cindy Belcher thinks we
should have a gossip column.”

“Then let her do it. She’s the only one who’s
come up with any ideas.”

That wasn’t true. I said, “I kind of liked
Hank’s idea. It has depth. It’s not just fluff.”

How else would you describe a gossip
column?

Geyer was still on Hank’s idea. “It’s very
controversial.”

“That’s what gives it depth. It’s a serious
subject.”

He pondered the idea. I hoped Ben wouldn’t
leave without me. Home was a long way off.

“I’d be happy to carry on with it,” I said.
“If you approve. Hank did a lot of research and I’ve been doing
some, too.”

“You have? Really? Then go ahead, if that’s
what you want.”

By myself? Research? Write it? I could do
that. But—“Who should I submit it to?”

“Me, I suppose.” He looked up at the wall
clock and closed his briefcase.

“Who’s going to put it all together?” I
asked. “I don’t know how to do layouts and stuff.”

“We’ll manage.” He gave me a quick smile and
was out the door.

I hurried down to the parking lot. As soon as
Ben saw me coming, he turned on his engine. I got in back because
Cree was in the front. “Sorry,” I said.

Cree turned around. “We’ve been waiting
hours.
What happened?”

“Hours? I thought it was more like five
minutes. I had to talk to Mr. Geyer. The whole newspaper is up in
the air.”

Neither of them seemed terribly concerned
about that. For most people, the paper was not a big priority.

Ben drove me home first. I knew he wanted
time alone with Cree.

But Cree was my friend, too, so she stayed at
our place awhile. We munched on chips and dips and put the
finishing touches on our history project.

We were just showing it to Ben when the phone
rang. Again there was no name on the ID. And no one spoke, or if
they did, I couldn’t hear. Instead, a Sousa march blasted from the
answering machine.

It was one we used to play at football
games.

Didn’t that prove it? As Rhoda said, a phone
call could be made from anywhere.

How could he do that? He was supposed to be
in New Hampshire. How would he know when I’d be home? Nervously I
looked out the window.

All I saw were rhododendrons. No yellow car
with oversize tires. Our driveway made a sharp turn onto Lake Road
and we had those bushes everywhere. I almost couldn’t see the road
from our house and I was not about to go outside.

I couldn’t forget that time in October when
he broke in. It was just after I changed schools. He tried to drag
me away even as my family surrounded us. What was he planning to do
with me? I didn’t want to know. He might have gotten away with it
except Ben and the dogs peeled him off me while Daddy called the
police.

Didn’t he know my family would come to the
rescue? And what about those two big dogs? Why would he be so
stupid? I couldn’t help thinking it was mostly a demonstration to
show how madly, desperately in love he was. If that’s love, I can
do without it.

The phone calls and music kept up. Ben said,
“Isn’t that one of your band pieces? Did you play it at games?”

Ben never went to football games. He couldn’t
stand the noise.

“All the time,” I said.

He erased the so-called message. “You’d
better watch it. Doesn’t this bother you at all?”

“A little. But I have it on good authority
that Evan is safely tucked away in New Hampshire.” If Glyn wasn’t
good authority, who was?

The phone rang again. Ben muted the ringer.
“Ready to go?” he asked Cree. To me, he said, “Keep everything
locked.”

“I
know
that.” I knew my family was
doing their best to keep me safe, but all that babying really got
to me. How stupid did they think I was?

Stupid enough to get mixed up with Evan in
the first place. But how could I have known what he was really
like? He had a way of turning on the charm and that’s what he did
until he had me roped, tied, and branded.

I almost asked if I could go with them while
he took Cree home. But I didn’t want to butt in and be a clingy
nuisance. He wouldn’t be gone long, and I had the two dogs and a
deadbolt.

Ben ushered Cree out the door, then looked
over his shoulder. “Lock up,” he told me again. I rolled my
eyes.

I kept the phone muted and settled on the
living room couch to do my trig. It seemed less isolated than my
room upstairs. The dogs stretched out on the floor beside me.

Suddenly they jumped up and ran to the door,
barking.

At the sound of a car, I turned off the
light. It couldn’t be Ben already. Maybe Rhoda? I crept to a window
and pulled aside the curtain.

It wasn’t Ben’s blue truck. Or Rhoda’s ivory
sedan. It looked like my red Chevy. At least it wasn’t big and
yellow with oversize tires.

It
was
mine. And Rick Falco was
getting out of it. I unfastened both locks.

He waved, and then swept his arm toward the
car, as though presenting it. He wasn’t in uniform and the car had
a new windshield. The dogs greeted him with squeals of joy.

“Looking pretty good, don’t you think?” he
said as he came in.

“What did you do? You got it out of hock and
you—got—”

“A new windshield. You like it?”

That car came with terrible memories and
probably still a blood-soaked front seat. But it was all I had.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“Nothing. It wasn’t really in hock, you know
that, and this whole thing was not your fault.”

He was evading me. “I mean the
windshield.”

He waved his hand dismissively.

“Office—I mean Rick, you shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? You took the brunt of it all. It’s
the least I can do.”

The least
I
could do was try again to
offer him coffee. I wondered how he was going to get home. And
where he lived.

“How about a rain check?” he said. “I was
thinking you should take a test drive. See if it’s running okay.
You know that car better than I do.”

I didn’t want to drive it, but I’d have to
eventually. And I did like having Rick with me. An armed guard, if
it was true that police officers carry their weapons at all times,
even off duty.

“It’s getting dark,” I said. “I’m not
supposed to drive after dark.”

“You can if I’m with you. Come on, let’s
go.”

It might be kind of fun, I thought. And good
to have company for my first drive in that car after what
happened.

I got my coat, and let the dogs know they
weren’t coming with us.

As we settled in the car, I got
self-conscious. “I’m a little nervous,” I told him. “What if you
don’t like the way I drive?”

He laughed. “I’m assuming you passed your
test.”

“Yes, but I’m not perfect.”

“Is anybody?”

“I’ll bet you are.” I fastened my belt and
remembered that’s what Hank and I were doing when the bullet
came.

I turned on the engine. “Is there any more
word about Hank Dalbeck? I called the hospital and they said he’s
still unconscious.”

“He is,” said Rick. “I really need to talk to
him but they tell me he shows no sign of waking up.”

I drove out to Lake Road and headed for
Lakeside School. So far the car was okay. “You still don’t have any
leads?”

“Not one. That’s what I want to talk to him
about. See if he knows anybody who’d be pissed enough to do
that.”

“Maybe they didn’t mean to actually hit him.
You know, sort of like a warning. But they miscalculated.”

Falco thought that over.

I said, “It’s kind of far-fetched, isn’t
it?”

“Maybe not so much. We’ll see.”

Lakeside School was white brick. It gleamed
in the dusk, a low sprawling building with a lot of wings and
windows. I circled the parking lot to turn around. “This is where I
used to go,” I told him.