I start to descend the stairs, which creak under my weight. “Cat?”
I should probably name her or something. Maybe another time.
“Cat?” I call out again.
It’s only when I get to the last step that I hear a sound. I expected a meow, but this is something different. This isn’t a feline sound. This is a human sound. A low, horrible moan.
I look to my left, behind the stairs, and through the darkness, I can just barely make out a body tied to a wooden chair. A body covered in blood, which has leaked aroundthe chair, forming a considerable pool on the floor. I clasp my hand over my mouth, my knees trembling beneath me, unable to comprehend what I’m looking at. I’m only dimly aware of the gun pointed at my chest.
I should have called the police when I had the chance. And now it’s too late.
Chapter 44
26 Years Earlier
Marjorie has her back to our table again in the cafeteria. You’d think by now, she would know better.
We have not said a word to each other today. She didn’t even look at me when she came into the classroom this morning, like what happened yesterday was erased from her memory. That’s probably a good thing.
“Her hair is so gross,” Tiffany says. “I wonder if she even washes it.”
A discussion follows about whether or not Marjorie washes her hair. It seemed clean enough to me when we were walking together.
Tiffany removes her straw from her drink and starts shaping a scrap of a napkin into another spitball. “I’m going to bet you guys,” she says, “that if I throw one spitball into her hair, it’s going to stay in there all afternoon. Maybe all week!”
I watch her stick the napkin into her mouth to moistenit. “Hey,” I say.
She grins at me. “You want to do the honors, Nora?”
I don’t smile back. “I think you should leave Marjorie alone. Enough already.”
“Seriously?” Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Marjorie totally deserves it. She’s so gross.”
“She doesn’t deserve it.” I fold my arms across my chest. “What you’re doing is really mean. You need to stop.”
“Oh yeah?” Tiffany’s pretty green eyes meet mine across the table. “Or else what?”
“Or else,” I say quietly, “you’ll be sorry.”
For a good minute, Tiffany and I just stare at each other. It’s the ultimate staring contest. She blinks first.
“Fine.” She tosses the straw back onto her tray. “Whatever. It’s getting boring to make fun of Marjorie anyway. It’s too easy.”
I hope this is the end of the bullying. I hope after today these girls quit making fun of Marjorie for good. But I’m never going to find out. Because at that moment, the loudspeaker blares out: “Nora Nierling, please report to the principal’s office!”
The other girls giggle and make “oooh” sounds. I grab my tray and I bring it to the garbage to dump out the remainder of my lunch. I know I’m not coming back.
When I arrive at the principal’s office, I pause outside the door for a few seconds. As soon as I go in there, my whole life is going to be different. There’s nothing I can do about it, but I just want to wait a little bit longer. I want to hold onto my old life just a little bit longer.
When I get into the principal’s office, Mrs. O’Leary issitting at her desk. She’s been the principal for about a zillion years, and I’m willing to bet this particular situation has never come up before. Also, there’s a policeman next to her. They both have matching frowns on their faces. It’s the kind of look adults get when they have to give some really bad news.
Nora, your parents were killed in a horrible car accident.
Nora, your house has burned to the ground.
Nora, there’s a meteor headed towards the earth, and we’ve all got about an hour left to live.
“Nora,” Mrs. O’Leary says, “Officer Varallo would like to have a word with you. Would you have a seat?”
