This Is How It Ends

“Nah,” I said, knowing I had exactly one dollar in my wallet. “I probably shouldn’t.” But it was like Trip could read my mind.

“It’s on me, Ri. Don’t be lame.” He turned down the street toward the Hull without waiting for my response. “It’s Friday night and I’m starving.”

CHAPTER 15

I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I was looking for Richie Milosevich the following week until he was there, two feet ahead of me, walking down the hallway toward art. He was one of those kids I probably passed twenty times a week and never noticed. And vice versa. We just weren’t on each other’s radar. Until now.

He stopped to talk to a guy who was in my history class, and I paused, pretending to be looking in my backpack for a book.

“Didja see his goal against United?” Richie asked.

The other guy nodded. “Sick, right?”

They yammered on about soccer, a sport I, and the rest of Buford, couldn’t have cared less about. Vaguely I remembered Trip telling me that was how Richie had wound up playing football. The soccer team had disbanded because they hadn’t been able to field a full squad. Richie and the other guy chatted for another few minutes, then moved on. I zipped my bag up, sticking with Richie, even though he was walking away from the lunchroom, where I meant to go.

He was tall and skinny, pale like most of us Northerners. I tried to remember if I’d ever had a conversation with him, or even heard his voice—deeper than you’d expect—before eavesdropping on him. I didn’t think so.

We turned down another corridor, leading toward the back door, and I stopped, seeing Moose and his gang of thugs at the other end. He was still angry, had spent a good part of this weekend at work giving me the evil eye. I really wasn’t up for any more of that and was about to turn back toward the lunchroom, when I saw him wave to Richie.

I leaned against the wall, watching, hoping they wouldn’t notice me as Richie went over to talk to him. Their conversation was short. A few sentences, a smile. A fist bump.

Not at all what I’d have expected.

***

I walked into the lunchroom still wondering about Richie and Moose. Tannis and Sarah were already at our table. “Hey,” I greeted, turning to slide in next to Tannis.

“Hold it,” she said. “That one’s reserved.”

“Oh.” I started to get up. “For who?”

“Tom Brady. Have you seen him?” She eyed the cafeteria doors. “He’s very late.”

“And very married,” Sarah added.

“Maybe that’s the holdup,” Tannis said. She shoveled in a mouthful of food.

I sat back down, elbowing Tannis. “You’re a dork, Janssen.”

Across the room Trip and Natalie came in, and a slight hush fell over the room as people stared. I watched them weave through tables, knowing by the wooden way Nat walked and how Trip stayed so close that something was wrong.

Sarah did too. “What happened, Nat?”

“The police called me this morning,” Nat said, dropping her lunch bag onto the table.

“They didn’t change their minds about clearing you, did they?” Tannis blurted.

“No.” Nat scowled. “They’re ‘pursuing leads,’ whatever that means.”

“That they still don’t know jack,” Trip said.

“I guess,” Nat said, sitting. “But they’re done with the house, and they’re releasing it to me.” Her hands were visibly trembling. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

I was surprised the police would do that, just turn over the place where her dad had been murdered. But I guess they couldn’t keep it, and Nat was the sole beneficiary, not that there was much benefit to it.

“What do you want to do with it?” Trip asked.

“Burn it?” Nat made a sound halfway between a sob and a snort.

“What about your things?” Trip asked.

Natalie waved a hand dismissively.

“Nat,” Sarah said gently, “I know you don’t care now, but you’ve got to get your stuff.”

Trip chimed in. “Your trophies and medals are all there.”

“And your scrapbook,” Sarah added. “Your dad’s stuff too. I know it’s the last thing you want to think about, but someday you’re going to want it. All of it.”

Nat’s face was a grimace of sadness and anger. She tried to stifle it all behind her hands, but the tears ran over.

Sarah put an arm around her, tugged her close, squeezing. “We’ll help,” she said. “We’ll all go together.”

CHAPTER 16

I HAD CHILLS AS I walked up the weed-choked path to Natalie’s front door. I thought about the last time I’d been here—police everywhere—and the time before that, with Moose.

“You okay?” Tannis whispered.

I don’t know if I’d flinched or stopped or what, but I knew I looked a little queasy. “Not really.”

She nodded. “Me either.”

I gave her a half smile, and she rewarded me with a punch on the shoulder that, in light of what we were about to do, actually felt good. Normal.

The five of us stopped by the single front step. Yellow police tape was still strung across the door.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Trip asked Nat.

“They said it was mine,” Nat said dully, making no move to touch the tape.

“I didn’t mean that,” Trip said. “I meant you. Are you okay to go in there?”

Natalie shook her head. “No.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s just try to do this quick, okay?” She gritted her teeth, then swiped away the yellow tape and reached for the handle. Locked. Nat fumbled in her purse for the key, found it, dropped it, picked it up. But she was shaking too hard to get it into the lock.

“Hey.” Trip put his hands over hers. “D’you want me to go in first? You take a minute, maybe catch your breath?”

Nat nodded quickly, handing him the keys, and bolted for the front yard. Sarah followed and put her arm around Nat, talking quietly to her.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I said to Trip.

He was watching Nat and Sarah. “Maybe,” he said, turning to me, “but we’re here now, and I don’t really want to come back. Let’s just get her clothes and ski stuff and the other things she asked for.”

“Right,” I agreed.

Trip fit the key into the lock and pushed in the front door. I was completely unprepared for what we saw.