OCDaniel (21 page)

I watched in horror as the game stayed close into the fourth quarter. When Max tied the game with ten minutes left, the bench went crazy. I stayed where I was, feeling my insides churn. It was too close. It was going to come down to me. I already knew it. And I was going to miss.

It felt like the game was happening in slow motion. A few minutes later I saw Taj crunch into a running back. Kyle sacked their quarterback. Before I knew it, they were punting, and we were back on our ten.

There were five minutes left, and we were all tied.

I stood up and watched the drive, feeling my hands and knees trembling with every yard. I just needed Max to score again. We would win with the touchdown, and it wouldn't matter. For a second it looked like I would get my wish. He caught a long fly and was breaking for the end zone when they brought him down. A minute left. They would take a few more chances.

The first down was a loss of two. Then we gained five. Third down.

I was biting my nails as Tom caught the ball and dropped back, scanning the field. They were double teaming Max by now, but he was still too quick. He cut inside, leaving the defenders for just a moment, and Tom stepped into the pass, throwing a perfect spiral.

And then Max dropped it. I don't think I'd ever seen him drop a pass before. He just let it thud solidly into his chest, and then it bounced inexorably out again through his outstretched fingers.

It was silent on the bench. In the stands, too. I watched in disbelief as Max stared down at the ball and then his fingers. He couldn't believe it either.

Coach Clemons turned to me, his face white. “You're up, Leigh.”

It was like a funeral procession as I ran out to the field. We'd been stopped at the thirty-one—in my range but still a hefty kick. I had never been so nervous in my life. I could barely stop my right leg from twitching as I stopped in the huddle. Max was still too stunned to speak. I patted his helmet.

“It's okay, man,” I said.

He looked at me and nodded. I knew what he was thinking—
You're going to miss and we're going to lose.
I felt like I was about to faint. I stupidly looked at the stands and saw my parents holding hands. Steve and Emma watched nervously.

Raya was with Clara, and they were holding each other around the shoulders. Everyone stared at me.

The team lined up. Max took his position. I stepped back and swallowed down some acid reflux.

It was quiet. Neither set of fans wanted to speak. And then I saw her.

She was watching from behind the field goalpost, leaning against a tree with her leg propped up. My stomach did one last little flop. Even Sara was watching. Everyone I knew was there.

And then I noticed she was holding something. A sign. She turned to face me, smiled, and put the sign in front of her. It read:

FOOTBALL SUCKS

I laughed. I couldn't help it. The sound burst out with a nervous, pent-up energy that split through the silence. She just stood there, holding the sign and leaning against the tree like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. I kept my eyes on her.

“Hut!”

The ball flew back, and Max placed it. I didn't even think about it. It was just a game.

I swung through and connected as cleanly as I ever had. As the ball left my cleat, I knew the kick was good. The ball sailed through the goalposts, and everything became a mess of noise and jumping and laughter. I was picked up and carried to the sidelines, and Max wrapped me in a hug, almost crying, he was so happy. I remember ribbons and a trophy and my dad telling me he was proud, but most of all I remember Sara, standing against the tree with the sign and watching it all with a smile.

Winning the state championship was a pretty big deal, I guess, since we all went out for lunch and got ice cream, and my dad even drank a beer, which he never does. It felt like the whole rest of the day was a flurry of activity, all the way to the barbecue at Coach's house that night that went until ten.

When I got home, I was exhausted, but I'd managed to have almost a full day without any Zaps—or obsessions, I think they're called—and that was pretty nice. I felt as happy as I had in a long time when I got to my room and sat down at my computer. I thought for a second I might even be able to skip the Routine, but I knew the second I thought it that I would never be able to. Right away I felt ill.

It was okay. I would just delay it a little. I opened Facebook and looked at pictures from the game for a while. Some of the guys had posted them, and I was even tagged in one. That was the first time that had ever happened.

I wasn't even thinking about my cell phone. When I finally decided to go to bed, I checked it out of habit, and froze. There were five missed calls. All from Sara's cell phone. And all of them were from an hour or two before. Frowning, I called the number back.

Sara's mom answered immediately. She sounded panicked.

“Is this Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Sara with you?”

“No,” I said. “Why?”

I heard her mom stifle a sob. “She's gone. I haven't seen her all day. Her phone was here. She's gone.”

I was too stunned to say anything for a moment. Then I asked, “When was the last time you saw her?”

“After she got home from your game. We . . . got into a fight. I mean, as much as we can fight when she barely talks to me. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go to the library, and I wanted to drive her, but she wouldn't let me. But it's too far to walk. John gave her a ride. He said he dropped her off. But the library didn't see her. They know her. She was never there.”

I felt my insides go cold. “John drove her?”

“Yeah. He's out looking for her now. I called the police.”

I looked at the window. “I'm going to go look for her myself.”

I didn't wait to hear what she said. I shoved the phone into my pocket and hurried downstairs.

  •  •  •  

I searched all through the night. My mom went with me and drove me around for a while, but there was nothing. It was dark, and we found nothing but shadows. We drove in silence.

It was almost two when my mom drove me home.

“I'm sorry, Dan,” she said. “There's nothing we can do tonight. The police are looking.”

“I think it was her mother's boyfriend,” I said.

She looked at me. “What?”

“We've been investigating him. Sara thinks he killed her dad. She might have confronted him. If she did, he might have done something to her.” It was all rushing out now. “She could be in danger.”

My mom frowned. “Why would you even think that? Do you have any proof?”

“We have our reasons.”

She looked at me. “I'll call the police station. They're going to want to talk with you.”

I nodded. “Call.”

They were at the house ten minutes later. Two of them—a young man with a goatee and big arms and an older, graying sergeant with a big gut and unfriendly eyes. They sat across from me in the kitchen.

I was careful to hide some of the details—namely the whole breaking-and-entering part. But I told them about the recorded message and the apology John gave her and the fake note that was written by John.

They looked at each other a few times, and my mom and dad watched from the kitchen.

“We can go talk to John,” the older one, Sergeant Bent, said gruffly. “But we can't arrest anyone based on notes and apologies. I know John. Not a bad guy. We'll go talk to him, though.”

The younger officer turned to me. “Her mom said the girl doesn't talk to anyone but you. Why?”

I paused. “I don't know. I guess she knew I would listen.”

They glanced at each other again and went to talk to my parents in hushed voices. They didn't believe me. That was obvious. And I didn't care, but I cared about Sara.

“Who's looking for Sara?” I asked loudly.

Sergeant Bent turned to me. “We have three officers out now. They'll find her, kid. She's fine.”

Then they left, and my parents came back and told me to go to bed. They didn't believe me either.

My mom kissed me on the forehead and whispered, “She'll be fine. You'll see her in the morning.”

Then she left with my dad, and I was alone in my room again. I paced for a while. I wanted to do the Routine to feel better, but I wasn't ready to go to bed. All I could think about was Sara. What if he had done something to her? I sat down and stood up and wondered what to do.

How could I sleep when she was out there?

I thought back over the last few weeks. The day in the hallway. The touch game. The sign. The trips to John's. The night in the bushes. The walk through the field, when she told me she wanted to be alone.

I was out the door before my parents had even gone to bed.

  •  •  •  

“Sara?”

I was walking through the blackness, the grass up to my waist. It was like wading through the water at night, the only light the endless stars overhead and the streetlights behind me. It was cold, and I felt it slithering under my sweater and jeans and clinging to my skin like a wet towel. I shivered.

“Sara!”

“I'm here,” a faint voice replied, barely carrying even in the silence.

I found her a minute later. She was lying flat on her back, sunken right down in the grass. She was just staring up at the sky, not even moving when I appeared over her.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

I crouched down next to her, frowning. “Everyone is looking for you.”

She kept her eyes on the stars. “I guess that makes sense.”

“How long have you been here?”

She paused. “I don't know. I don't have my phone. Since lunch, I guess.”

I stared at her for a moment, and then lay down in the grass. It was cold and damp and kind of weird to submerge myself in the darkness, but sometimes you do strange things for other people.

I guess that's friendship.

“How is lying in the middle of a field at nighttime?” she asked.

“Different.”

The stars were beautiful, just visible through the wisps of blackness extending all around my vision like at the edges of a black hole.

She laughed. “Yeah. I'm sorry you looked for me. I should have gone home.”

“Why didn't you? What happened today?”

“I fought with my mom. She told me she was trying her best to take care of me by herself. I told her that it was her fault she was by herself. That I missed Dad. That I wished I had gone with him instead.”

“You
said
that?”

“Yeah. She started to cry. Told me I didn't know anything about it. John intervened. He offered to drive me to the library. I agreed. I wanted to talk to him anyway. Took him by surprise, as you can imagine.”

I glanced at her. I could only make out the gentle lines of her face in the darkness, and the stars reflecting in her eyes. “And?”

“I asked him if he knew my dad. He said no. I asked him if he knew where my dad was. He said no. I asked him if he had any regrets about the way everything happened.”

She fell silent.

“And?” I asked.

“He looked at me and said yes. And he said he was sorry. But he wouldn't say anything else.”

We listened to the crickets for a while.

“I told the cops that I thought John did something to you.”

She looked at me. “What?”

“They came over, and I told them everything. Well, not the breaking-into-John's-house and stuff, but everything else.”

“And they didn't believe you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I already wrote them a letter. They told me they can't do anything without proof.”

I sighed. “So we don't have enough.”

“No. But he basically admitted it to me tonight. So I came here. I couldn't look at them.”

I reached out and found her hand in the darkness. It was cold and clammy. Our shoulders were pressed together tightly, and there was just enough heat there to keep me from shivering. But she must have been very cold by now.

“We should go back,” I said quietly.

“Five minutes?”

I smiled. “Sure.”

We lay there in silence for a while, and then started the walk home.

Sara's mom ran out screaming and crying, and hugged her until Sara had to pry her off. She just nodded at her mom and John and the police officer who was there and went upstairs. It was up to me to answer the questions, but I just said she'd run away and I'd found her in a place where she liked to hide.

They asked me more questions, but I said I was tired, and they eventually let me go.

John offered to drive me, but I said no and walked.

My parents didn't even notice I'd been gone. I crept back into the house and went to my room and started the Routine at four in the morning. I got to bed at five and fell asleep immediately.

I woke up to an email from Sara.

Today is the day. Meet me at the corner by John's house at 2 p.m.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But it was too late. The sun was shining through the windows, and we were going to try to catch a murderer later. I climbed out of bed.

I ate breakfast with Emma. Luckily, my parents had slept in after the late night. I didn't want to have a talk about false accusations and my crazy friend Sara and whatever else was in store.

“I was listening last night,” Emma said.

I sighed. “To how much?”

“All of it.”

I looked at her in annoyance. “It was, like, one in the morning.”

“I was reading,” she said innocently. “I just overheard it.”

“Sure.”

She put her spoon down and looked at me thoughtfully. “You're investigating a murder.”

“Sort of.”

She nodded, as if this was perfectly normal news. She tapped her finger on the table.