Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [78]
If only he could talk to someone about it—someone who knew the whole story and could understand the guilt he was feeling.
His folks hadn’t helped. Oh, they’d meant to, but their consolations were based on the assumption that Jack was down because he’d lost a schoolmate he’d looked up to. Nothing was further from the truth.
But it only got worse.
He’d struggled through his homework and finally finished it. Now he was trying to read a science fiction novel—one of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s old Mars tales—in the hope that it would grab him and give him a break from thinking about Carson Toliver. It wasn’t working. And then his mom called from the kitchen.
“Jack? Kate’s on the phone.”
Kate … good old Kate would help.
“Oh, Jack, I’m so shocked to hear about this boy at school. You must be feeling terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” Had to be careful. His mother was over by the sink, hanging on every word while pretending to be busy with something else. “No one saw it coming.”
“I took a few psychology courses in college and that’s too often the case. But usually, when you look back, there were signs.”
“Um, someone was kind of harassing him.” He needed to bring this up somehow, and figured this was the best way. “You know, breaking into his locker and leaving stuff. It kind of embarrassed him. And then he had to be benched during the game against North. Do you think all that could have had anything to do with it?”
“Could have. Mom told me he was the most popular boy in school.”
Jack could feel his stomach tightening. Come on, Kate. Help me out here.
“He was. Who could have thought that stuff would make him, you know, kill himself?”
“You never know, Jack. Some people who look like they’ve got the world on a string are barely holding it together. They’ve learned to hide all sorts of inner turmoil and put on a good front. But when things start to go wrong, they can’t cope. Things that would simply upset you and me bring the world crashing down around them. They decompensate, and some of them … some of them see no way out, so they end it all.”
Jack closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. He’d picked on a guy who’d been walking a psychological high wire. He’d made him lose his balance and fall. The fact that he hadn’t known about the high-wire act was some defense, but if Jack had stayed away from the locker, Toliver would still be alive.
Then again, if Toliver had left Weezy alone, Jack wouldn’t have gone near his locker.
What a godawful mess.
“Thanks, Kate,” he said, hoping he sounded sincere through the growing wave of nausea. She’d tried her best. She didn’t know the whole story. “You’ve been a big help.”
Jack managed a little small talk with her, then hung up and wandered back to his room.
He could tell he had a long, sleepless night ahead of him.
WEDNESDAY
1
A second bomb dropped the next day.
The bus to school was not as quiet as yesterday’s ride home. The kids were talking, but only about Carson Toliver. No one was crying … yet.
In school Jack forced himself to walk by the locker, now draped in black bunting. Nearby he saw three senior girls in a tight group hug, sobbing. The sight built a lump in his throat.
The school brought in counselors who went from class to class and talked about coping with death and loss. Jack barely listened. He wished they were talking about coping with causing death and loss.
The teachers tried to teach but they knew the kids were only half there so they didn’t pull any pop quizzes. Mrs. Schneider even canceled a history test she’d had scheduled.
All the kids who thought they were feeling about as bad as they could feel in school were wrong.
Things were about to get worse.
2
Jack knew something was up the instant Weezy dropped into the last empty chair at the table where he and Eddie were eating lunch. First off, sophomore girls didn’t hang out with freshman boys, and second, her usually pale face was dead white—as white as Saree’s. Even her lips were white. Which made the redness of her eyes even more startling.
“What’s wrong?” Jack said. He