People Like Us(7)

I head back to my room, wolf down a couple of energy bars and a Vitaminwater, then open up my laptop to google the news story. I learn that Jessica’s family is local, and she started a nonprofit that helps the homeless find jobs and gives them basic computer training through an online learning program she designed herself. Pretty impressive for a high school student, even at Bates. Other than that, there isn’t much. The news stories report that she was found in the lake shortly after midnight, cause of death undetermined. I read several more articles. No mention of her wrists.

None of the articles say foul play is suspected, but one says that her death is under investigation. I glance at the remaining match dates circled on my calendar. The clock is ticking. Each one of those dates is a desperately important deadline, and there is no reason to believe an investigation is going to be wrapped up in time for our games to resume so I can be scouted. My parents are going to flip.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes and I glance down at it. It’s my father. I hesitate, but pick up.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How was practice, buddy?”

“I had to cancel.”

“Why?”

“Someone died. A student.”

“Oh, buddy. One of your teammates?”

“No, someone else.” I sit on the bed and draw my knees up to my chest. I usually check in with my parents on Sunday and it makes me a little nervous that he’s calling off schedule. As if he’s going to drop a bomb about something.

“Hmm.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Maybe you should just stick to the routine. Keep up that stiff upper lip. You know, for the sake of the younger girls. To set an example.”

It suddenly occurs to me that he probably read about Jessica’s death already and that’s exactly why he’s calling. “It wasn’t up to me, Dad. The school suspended athletic activities while the death is being investigated.”

“What?” I hear my mother’s voice in the background. Great. I should have known she was listening in. You can’t mention death around my mother. I dig my fingernails into the back of my neck to punish myself for making that mistake. “Ask her about Monday.” I hear her take the phone. “What about Monday’s game?”

I curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut. “It’s canceled. There is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I am no happier than you are. Believe me.”

I hear my father curse in the background.

“That is unacceptable,” my mother says. “Have you talked to Dr. Klein?”

“No, Mom. I did not reach out to the headmistress. I can’t just call her and demand change. She’s not Congress.”

“You didn’t even try? Do you want me to try? This is not the time to just sit back and hope for the best. We need to follow the plan.”

“Someone did just die,” I say quietly. But deliberately. Because I need this call to end.

She starts to say something but the words melt into a low sigh.

I bite my lower lip. There’s a long silence. Then my mother speaks again, her voice unsteady. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, sweetie?”

“No,” I say, holding my breath until it feels like my face is going to explode.

“Let’s talk again soon,” she says.

My father gets back on the phone. “Time to brainstorm, buddy. Make phone calls, write letters. Whatever it takes to get your offers locked in. You’ve worked too hard to let it all slip away. You ride this out like everything else. Right?”

“Right.”

I hang up and let the breath out finally in an enormous whoosh, then punch my mattress and hug my pillow tightly to my chest. I wish Spencer wasn’t eminently unfaithful. I wish Justine hadn’t finally woken up so I could call Brie and vent. I wish my parents would just shut up and listen for once. None of that is going to go down the way I want it to. I can’t play on Monday. I have no control over that. Damn you, Jessica Lane.

Then I sit up and force myself to take a deep, calming breath. I know the manner of death, I saw the body, and I know the family and her business are local. Cut wrists, high-pressure school. If the police can’t open and shut a suicide case, it’s because they’re spread too thin. But I’m not. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve stood there helpless while it swirled around me, too slow to stop the moving pieces until everyone was in ruin. My best friend and my brother dead, my father devastated, my mother prepared to throw her life away, too. And me, encased in ice.

I close my fingers over my phone and turn it to silent, my mother’s voice echoing in my head. I can fix this. I can. Before the next game is canceled.

A ping alerts me to a new email, and I glance over at my computer screen. The subject line reads “Athletic Scholarship Update.” My heart begins to race and I pull my laptop over and open the message.

Dear Kay,

I regret to inform you that certain unsavory activities in your past have come to my attention and your eligibility for winning an athletic scholarship is at risk. I myself will be unable to attend college, so you have my sincerest sympathy. Therefore, if you agree to help me complete my final project, I may be able to overlook your transgressions.

Click on the link at the bottom of this email and follow my instructions. When you have completed each task, a name will disappear from the class roster. If you fail to complete any task within 24 hours, a link to the website along with proof of your crime will be sent to your parents, the police, and every student at Bates Academy.