That evening, with help from Rick, Cree and I got Evan’s car back to where it belonged. Cree drove the car, I drove my own car to take her home afterward, and Rick drove shotgun.
By that time, Evan’s parents were home. Rick rang the doorbell to let them know the car was back. He asked how Evan was doing.
Evan’s mother seemed surprised at that. “He’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?” She knew he had spent the night in jail. It didn’t seem to bother her.
Lack of love, I thought. No wonder he was a psychopath.
Or maybe they thought jail would teach him a lesson. They hadn’t been the ones who bailed him out.
Rick drove Cree home, and then came back to my house. He suggested a movie, since he’d missed the one about the exes. But he understood that I didn’t feel up to it.
We sat out on the patio, where we could be alone. I poured us each of glass of iced tea.
“How’s Rosie?” I asked.
“Coming along,” he said.
“Is she still in the hospital?”
“Getting out in a couple of days.”
I watched him, but didn’t see any sign that his heart was with her. Still, he was good at keeping things to himself.
“That’ll be nice,” I said.
He nodded. If only I knew how he really felt.
But I wasn’t going to know, unless he wanted me to. So instead, I asked, “What am I going to do about Evan?”
That interested him. He leaned forward, setting his iced tea on a rattan table where it nearly tipped over.
“We have to build a case,” he said. “Tell me everything that happened, from the moment he grabbed you.”
“It’s kind of boring.” But I did know about building a case. So I told him all of it, boring parts and all. Right up to the end.
“He wouldn’t let go of me.” I wondered if his actions would add up to attempted homicide. “He looked for a rope to tie me up. Again.”
“Had you done anything? Given him any reason to tie you up again?”
“No, I just wanted to get out of there and go home. I think he was surprised to find us out of the basement.”
“So he wanted to tie you up and put you back. And all you did was get out of the basement and want to go home.”
“That’s all we did. It’s his word against mine.”
“Uh huh.” Now it was Rick doing the watching. Of course, he believed me. I didn’t know who else would. Did I have to spend the rest of my life trying to keep away from Evan?
“I didn’t know what he was doing it for,” I said. “Whether he has it in for me and Cree just happened to be there, or he was trying to keep us from testifying about Kelsey. He didn’t seem to know we aren’t eligible to testify. We weren’t even there.”
“Uh huh,” he said again. Nobody could know what motivated Evan, except Evan. And maybe even he didn’t know.
I asked, “What about Kelsey?”
“What about her?”
“She’s so upset, she keeps—she tried it again, you know.”
“I didn’t know. What did she do this time?”
“She jumped out a window. Broke a few things but landed on the cafeteria roof and didn’t get killed. She’s really in a swivet about what they did to her and—and she’s determined.”
He settled back and emptied his glass. I poured him another.
“It’s not your problem,” he said. “She’s the hospital’s problem right now. Even when she gets out of there, she’s still not your responsibility.”
I couldn’t accept that. “She is my responsibility. Forever and ever. I feel responsible. So what can I do? She’s back in ICU. I can’t even get in there and talk to her. She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”
“I’ll try to think of something. Come here.”
He patted his lap. I went over and sat on it. Police time was finished and now we were going to get mushy.
That was fine with me. I forgot all about Kelsey and even about Rosie. All that mattered was Rick and I.
I felt him stir, and knew he was thinking of leaving. He had to get up even earlier than I did.
I tried to think of a way to keep him longer.
“Would you,” I asked, “join an organization called WAP?”
He said, “It depends. What does WAP stand for?”
“It’s my campaign. At first, I thought it should be Women Are People, Too. But the one response I’ve gotten so far suggested We Are People. It’s clumsy, but reduced to its initials it comes out a little better than WAPT. That sounded like the call letters for a radio station. We Are People can include others besides women. Which is both good and bad.”
I had thought I’d be deluged with responses to my plea for members and suggestions for a name.
It was early still, I told myself. The article only came out on Sunday. I don’t know why I expected the mailbox to be overflowing. It certainly wasn’t.
“That’s all I’ve had so far,” I said, “is that one answer.”
“But you only just started,” he reminded me.
“Yes, but in another week they’ll have forgotten all about it.”
“So write another article.”
“I can’t think of anything else to say.”
“Give them a progress report.”
I grumped at that. “Some progress.”
“It’s early still.” He kissed me again. That was all he cared about, was kissing me.
Once again, I lost myself. I felt his tongue exploring my mouth, and my tongue explored his. We stayed that way for such a long time. I thought I would float away.
Until he said he really had to leave. He had an early start in the morning, and told me I should get some sleep.
So he left. After another long kiss at the door.
I watched him leave and wished he didn’t have to.
I went back out to the patio and thought about my campaign.
That one response was a male, or so the letter said. I suspected he might be gay. He didn’t want to join the group, but he suggested the name We Are People. It spelled WAP, which sounds like a blow. That could work. We Are People could work, too, as it includes other disaffected sorts besides women. That would dilute my message, but I didn’t want to leave anyone out who needed us.
Why does life get so complicated? Rhoda’s always asking that.
I would have to wait and see what future mail deliveries brought.
* * * *
In the morning, I overslept. Rhoda said she hadn’t waked me because she figured I needed the sleep.
“But I have to go to school,” I said.
“Tomorrow you can go.”
“I’m going to be alone here all day? What if Evan comes?”
“Keep the door locked. You can let the dogs out but you stay in.”
“What if he hurts the dogs?”
“Don’t borrow trouble, Maddie. I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
It wouldn’t be soon enough for me, especially since she had all those people she canceled yesterday.
I went back to bed and slept until noon. It was such fun not being in school and it was my own mother who made me stay home. That in itself was a first.
And she was right. I’d have fallen asleep in every class.
It seemed odd being alone at home in the daytime. In the afternoon I usually was, but not the early afternoon.
I wondered if Evan went to school. Or whether he got re-arrested. Didn’t he ever learn? Didn’t he think? He was the one who needed therapy, badly. But psychopaths can’t be cured.
“Forget about Evan,” I told myself. Out loud, because I was alone. “Just forget him. But stay careful.”
I transferred my thoughts to Kelsey and wondered how she was doing.
There was a way to find out. I looked up where I’d written down Velda’s number, and called it. The phone rang several times before she answered.
“Oh, Maddie,” she sighed. “Thank you for calling. I’m so worried she’s going to try something again.”
“So am I,” I said.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t either. I can’t even get in there and talk to her. She wouldn’t want to see me anyway. How’s she doing?”
“She conscious, but that’s about it. I just don’t know what to do. I already said that, didn’t I? Oh—just a minute.”
I waited. She forgot to put me on hold. I heard voices but couldn’t hear what they said.
She came back to me and announced that her time was up. I hadn’t meant to interrupt her brief visit with Kelsey.
She said, “There’s a policeman wanting to talk to her. He’s arguing with the girl at the desk.”
“I thought nobody was allowed in except you and your parents.”
“That’s what they’re arguing about. I’ll leave them to it, but I’ll be back here in two hours. Thanks for calling.”
She disconnected. I wished I could go and keep her company, but Rhoda was right. Today I had better stay in until something was done about Evan.
The policeman must have meant they were building a case. Good for them. Make it really, really strong, guys.
* * * *
Kelsey went to sleep before Velda left. It was hard to sleep when she was in pain, but staying awake was harder still. She tried to imagine getting to the window with a broken leg. And the nurses were right out there keeping an eye on everything.
She turned her head as a policeman walked into the room. For a moment, she was confused. Was she under arrest? Maybe it was illegal to try to kill yourself in a hospital.
He smiled. He had very green eyes.
“Kelsey?”
He knew her name. Of course he knew her name if he was there to arrest her.
He stood next to her bed. “Kelsey, I’m from Southbridge.”
What could she say? She couldn’t even talk. Her vocal cords were all rusted.
He pulled over a chair, the only one in the room. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a couple of minutes?”
Did she mind? She had no idea. Her brain was rusted, too. All she could do was blink. The rest of her face didn’t move.
He talked anyway, whether she minded or not.
“Someday,” he said, “I’d like to ask you about what happened the night of the Lakeside party. But that can wait till you’re feeling stronger.”
She didn’t want to talk about it, ever. She wanted it not to have happened. Everything would be so different if it hadn’t happened.
“So we’ll talk about what’s been going on after that.” He gave the chair another tug. It couldn’t get any closer.
He said, “I understand you took a plunge out of a window the other night.”
She thought he was watching to see what she would do or say. She felt something happen, maybe a little flicker on her face. Other than that, she didn’t do or say anything.
What was there to say? He already knew. She thought he sort of understood.
“Did you do it on purpose?” he asked.
Of course, she had. How could it happen otherwise?
“Actually,” he said, “I know you did. I just thought it was polite to ask. You could always say it was an accident.”
He smiled. He had an attractive smile.
“In any case,” he went on, “you survived it. Something wants you to live. It could be something in yourself or something from outside. I know what happened at the Brandons’ house seems like the worst thing that could have happened and it probably was, but it will fade. At least a little. It didn’t get much past those boys who did it. The pictures they took are already off the Internet. You have nothing to worry about there.”
She thought they could be put back on the Internet, unless they’d been destroyed. She could not imagine anyone doing that. Probably the police would be watching. And whoever took them off must have seen them. How awful that that was the legacy she would leave.
“Those boys,” he said, “it might have been four. We’re rounding them up as we speak. They’ll probably get some jail time, so don’t worry about them. No one admires them for what they did. They’re trying to claim they were drunk, but who got them drunk? They did that to themselves. They have no defense, but you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away. Talk to somebody about what happened and get it clear in your mind that you are blameless. They’re the ones who did it. They’re the ones who should be ashamed. Not you.”
He was trying, but he didn’t understand. Nobody understood. She lay there and stared alternately at the wall and at him.
His eyes traveled over her. Such green eyes. He said, “Kelsey, you are so beautiful.”
That did it. He was all blarney. She closed her eyes.
He insisted. “You really are. You have an ethereal look about you. That shouldn’t be wasted. I want you to live, and go to college, and have a wonderful life. Please don’t throw it away. It’s so precious. And you haven’t done anything wrong.”
She tried again to speak. Her voice came out, very faintly. “I . . . got . . . drunk.”
“So?”
“I . . . shouldn’t . . .”
“But that’s not wrong. What they did was wrong, not what you did. You have a right to get drunk, as long as you don’t try to drive. They, too, had a right to get drunk, but not whatever else they did. And the law will punish them for it.”
He looked over at the window where the desk was. He nodded to whoever was out there. He even put the chair back where it belonged.
“So,” he said, “are you going to live?” He looked at her very intently. He was trying to extract a promise.
She didn’t answer.
He hesitated for another moment. Then he bent down and smoothed back her hair.
She felt his touch long after he left.
She wasn’t beautiful. He made it up, just like the touch. To keep her alive. It was a policeman’s job to keep people alive.
She wondered if she did have an ethereal look. She was skinny enough. And pale. She hated her hair.
She could try letting it grow longer, like Glynis Goode’s. Then she remembered she wouldn’t be around to do that.
Still, she thought about it. She had nothing else to do besides think.
Her own hair had a definite curl. Glyn’s was just frizzy. Would her own hair frizz if it were longer, or would it be a mass of curls? Either way, she didn’t think she would like it. But it might be better than it was now, cut short into a curly mat. They would have to bury her with that curly mat.
It was just as well. That was the way people knew her.
How much longer? How could she get to the window with a broken leg?
She could hop. It wasn’t far. Would the window open? And what about people always being at that desk just outside her room? She was thinking so hard she didn’t realize how much time had passed, until Velda came in.
“How’s my sweet little sister?” Velda kissed her forehead.
They were all so gentle with her. All afraid she would try it again.
They would get over it. She never would. She was glad she had been drunk and wished she had been unconscious.
The day after it happened, she had been bleeding. She supposed some people knew that. Her family and the people at the hospital. She hadn’t wanted to use a tampon. It would have hurt too much.
Velda was talking. Velda always talked, even when she had nothing to say. She made it up as she went along.
“How’s my sweet little sister doing? Did that policeman ever get in here? What did he have to say?”
She was probably curious, but didn’t seem to expect an answer. She just talked.
“It’s a lovely day outside. Warm, but not too humid. If you weren’t in ICU we could get a wheelchair and I’d take you outside so you could enjoy it.”
Not only in ICU, but attached to all those tubes.
Was she attached to all the tubes? She could see the one in her arm. It was in a different place from where she took it out. They’d had to re-puncture her.
The other one—she could feel that, too, with her hand. That one was easier to take out.
If only Velda would leave. Then she would have to watch carefully for when nobody was at the desk. And somebody nearly always was.
But she didn’t want to wait until she was back in a regular room. She was lucky to have a window and only hoped it would open.
Velda asked a question. She hadn’t been listening. She tried to shrug an indifferent answer but it hurt her shoulder. She was hurt in so many places. Why did she have to hit that roof on her way down? She had noticed it just in time and tried to push her way beyond it. She wasn’t strong enough.
“Would you like that?” Velda asked again.
Kelsey tried to form the words with her lips. “Like what?”
“To go out walking, if they’ll let us.”
“Too . . . many . . . tubes.”
“Most of the wheelchairs have a prong to hang an IV bag from. If they’ll let us, we could do that.”
“No . . . thank you . . . too tired.”
“I see. Well, maybe another time.”
Velda was spending nearly all day, every day, with her. Kelsey felt tears come into her eyes.
Velda leaped out of her chair. “Oh, honey!” She had a tissue out, and blotted the tears.