Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(19)

On the way to her locker after algebra, two girls came over to her and blocked her way. She recognized them as having been in the gym. Karen something and Angie something.

Dana braced herself, expecting …

Expecting what? A punch? To be told what a creep she was? To be threatened in some way?

None of that happened.

Instead Karen said, “Were you telling the truth?”

“What?” asked Dana.

“Yesterday,” said Karen. “About Maisie. Were you telling the truth? Did you really see her?”

“I…”

Karen’s eyes were fierce but also wet. She looked like she was fighting to hold back tears, though her hands were balled into fists.

“You better tell me, or so help me…,” she said in a tight whisper.

The other girl, Angie, was shorter and broader and wore a field hockey sweater. She looked like she could break Dana in half, and looked like she wanted to.

“Tell me,” begged Karen.

“Yes,” said Dana, her own voice a whisper.

Karen grabbed her upper arms. “Was she in pain?”

Dana did not know how to answer. The truth seemed likely to earn her a beating. But so, too, would a lie. She braced herself, ready to use some of the jujutsu she’d been learning or the karate she practiced with her brothers. She wasn’t very good, but she would go down swinging.

“I think so,” she said. “She was bleeding and … she was screaming.”

The other girls stared at her, eyes wide, tears falling down. Dana could see that they believed her. Suddenly Karen pushed her back, spun, and ran away down the hall. The stockier girl lingered for a moment, caught between the need to follow her friend and a compulsion to say something.

“Maisie was her cousin,” Angie said awkwardly. “She tried to talk her out of going to that party.”

“I—I’m sorry,” said Dana lamely.

Angie shook her head. “It’s not…” She stopped and started to go, but Dana caught up and touched her arm.

“What is it? What were you going to say?”

The girl did not answer. She shook her head and walked away to find her friend. Dana almost followed.

“What was that all about?”

Dana turned quickly to see another older girl standing there. One of Melissa’s friends. Anne Hassett. A cheerleader, like Eileen. She had short brown hair and a very Irish snub nose. This was the first time Dana had ever seen her when she wasn’t smiling.

“Oh. Hi. It’s Anne, right?”

“And you’re Dana,” said Anne. She wore tight jeans and a shirt with a cartoon mouse on it. The mouse was the only one smiling right now. “What did those girls want?”

“Why?”

Anne walked over and stood close. She was the same height as Dana and looked her straight in the eyes. “Because I asked.”

Dana tried to think of a reason not to tell her, and couldn’t. It wasn’t that kind of day. “The one girl was Maisie Bell’s cousin and—”

“I know who she is. What did she want?”

“Well … she asked me about something that happened yesterday.”

“You mean in the gym?”

“You heard about that?”

“Everyone’s heard about it,” said Anne. “What did she want to know?”

“She, um, wanted to know if Maisie was in pain.”

Anne’s eyes searched hers. “Was she?”

“Yes.”

“You told her that?”

“Yes.”

Anne looked past her. “Oh, man…”

There was a sound, and they both turned and saw a teenage guy standing with his back to them. Dana recognized him as Angelo, who worked at Beyond Beyond. He was dressed in a janitor’s blue pants and shirt. She hadn’t seen him around the school before. Angelo removed the top of one of the hallway trash cans and began emptying it into a larger, wheeled plastic barrel. He didn’t glance their way, but Anne jerked her head and walked a few feet farther down the hall. Dana followed.

“Look, what’s going on?” she asked. “Everyone treats me like I’ve done something wrong here, but I’m not making it up. Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I saw Maisie in the locker room.”

“How come it was you who saw Maisie?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

A lot of different emotions seemed to come and go in Anne’s eyes. Anger, resentment, hurt, and others Dana couldn’t label.

“You know what everyone’s saying about Maisie, right?” barked Anne. “That she was a ‘dumb kid’ and she wrecked her car, and they make assumptions. That’s how it always is. Anything anyone our age does that’s not square is because it’s us acting out or being wild. Like we can’t think for ourselves. Like we don’t matter. Maisie’s dead, and they’ll always say that she did it to herself because she got high, and that’s wrong. It’s … it’s a lie, an insult. It’s just wrong.”

Dana nodded.

“And then you come along,” said Anne, “and you don’t even know Maisie and she appears to you for some reason. That freaked everyone out. It’s like a sign of some kind. That’s what I think. That was her trying to tell the world that she didn’t die the way people think she did.”