The Confession (14 page)

“I went over to Sandy's after school,” she began, her eyes on Taylor. “I mean, Julie dropped me off. I—I—”

Her voice cracked.

She took a deep breath and began again. “I decided I couldn't take it anymore. Knowing what Sandy did—knowing that Sandy murdered Al—it was ruining my life. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't think about anything else. It was driving me crazy.

“Every time I saw Sandy, I felt like screaming,” Hillary continued. “Every time I saw him, I felt like crying. Like grabbing him and shaking him. It—it was too much to take. Too much.”

She took another deep breath. She tugged at her braid and continued to pace.

“So I went over to Sandy's this afternoon to
beg
him to go to the police. To tell them the truth. If Sandy told them that Al was blackmailing us, that he was bullying us and threatening us, that Al was ruining our lives, maybe they would understand.”

Hillary uttered a loud sob. It took her a few seconds to get herself back in control. “So I begged Sandy to go to the police. But he wouldn't listen to me. He refused. Then I said if he didn't go to the police, I would. When I said that, Sandy turned violent. He—he totally lost it.”

Hillary pulled a wadded-up tissue from her jeans pocket. She lifted her glasses and dabbed at her eyes with it.

“He—he went into a rage,” she continued, squeezing the tissue in her hand. “I—I couldn't believe it. I never expected … ” Her voice trailed
off. She dabbed her eyes again. The tissue was crumbling in her hand.

“He picked up that heavy sculpture his mom did. You know the one of Sandy? He was screaming at me. Telling me I was going to ruin everything. He said he couldn't let me destroy his life. He—he picked up the bronze head. He raised it up high. I think he wanted to hit me with it, to bring it down on my head.”

Another sob made Hillary's chest heave. But she continued to choke out her story. “I grabbed the bronze head too. It was so much heavier than I thought. Sandy and I—we wrestled around.

“I was so scared. He really wanted to hurt me. He was so out of control. So panicked. I think Sandy really wanted to
kill
me!”

I gasped. I wiped my cheeks. My face felt wet from tears. I didn't even realize I'd been crying.

Hillary dabbed her eyes one more time. Then she tossed the tattered tissue to the floor.

“Sandy was screaming at the top of his lungs,” she continued. “He kept screaming, ‘You can't ruin everything! I won't let you ruin everything!' Then—then …

“Then I grabbed the heavy sculpture away from him. And it fell. It fell onto his head. I'm not sure how. It—it caught the back of his neck. Sandy let out a cry. Just a squeak, really. A horrible squeak. I'll never forget it.

“He crumpled to the floor. The sculpture fell with him. It landed on his head. It made such a terrible cracking sound. I—I guess I was in shock or something. I'm not sure what happened next. I
guess I bent down. I pulled the bronze head off him. But …

“But he wasn't moving. The sculpture—it had cut open something in his neck. A blood vessel or something. Blood was spurting up from his neck—from his head. Spurting up like a water fountain.

“I tried to stop it. Really, I did. But I was so panicked. I couldn't find anything to wrap his neck with. I—I couldn't find anything to stop the bleeding.

“His skull—it was crushed. I knew it was crushed. And he just kept bleeding and bleeding. So much blood, I thought I could swim in it.

“Sandy was dead. I—I killed him. And then … I ran. I just ran. Ran out into the rain. Ran and ran until I got home. And then I called you.”

“Noooo,” Taylor moaned, hugging herself, hugging herself tightly, her eyes shut. “Noooooo.”

“I killed Sandy,” Hillary repeated, her voice sounding dull now, hollow. Her eyes faded, lifeless behind her glasses. “It was an accident. But I killed him.”

She turned to me. “I'm going to call the police now. I'm going to call them and tell them how it happened. But I thought … I thought you should know first. You're my friends, and I wanted you to know the truth.”

“But
why?”
I turned as Taylor uttered a shrill shriek. “Why? Why? Why?”

Once again, she staggered toward Hillary. “Why did Sandy have to die? Why? Why Sandy?” she wailed.

“Taylor, I tried to explain—” Hillary started.

But Taylor's cries drowned Hillary out. “You don't understand!” Taylor screamed. “You don't understand anything at all! Why did Sandy have to die? He didn't do anything! He didn't do anything at all! Don't you understand? Sandy didn't kill Al!
I
did!”

Chapter

24

I
suddenly felt so dizzy, I had to slump back in the chair.

I was still shaking from Hillary's story. Still gripped with the horror of what had happened at Sandy's house. Still picturing their desperate fight, picturing Sandy on the floor, the spurting blood, the heavy sculpture cracking his skull.

Still picturing Hillary's terror—when Taylor changed it all. Changed everything. Everything. With just two sentences:

“Sandy didn't kill Al. I did.”

“Is it
true?”
The words burst from my throat in a dry, tight voice I didn't recognize.
“You
killed Al?”

Taylor nodded. She glared at Hillary, her green eyes flashing with fury. “You killed the wrong person, Hillary.”

“It was an accident!” Hillary protested. “A horrible accident!”

I climbed to my feet. I slid an arm around Hillary's waist and led her to the couch. Vincent grabbed her hand. He squeezed it soothingly.

Hillary's whole body was shaking, as if she had a high temperature. A small, square plaid quilt was thrown over the back of the couch. I pulled it off and wrapped it around Hillary's shoulders.

“Doesn't anyone want to know
why
I killed Al?” Taylor demanded. I turned and saw that she had taken my chair. She leaned forward, hands gripping the chair arms. Leaned forward as if confronting the three of us on the couch.

“I was going out with Al,” Taylor confessed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Behind Sandy's back. Well … it's too late for me to feel bad about it—isn't it?”

She uttered a bitter sigh. “I've always had a weakness for dangerous guys. And Al was kind of dangerous. A lot more exciting than Sandy, anyway. I liked Al because he was bad, he was dangerous. But Al was also trouble.”

She sneered, shaking her head, eyes lowered. “A few months ago, I stole some money from my parents. About a hundred bucks. To get Al out of a jam. What a mistake. I don't know what I could have been thinking of.”

She stopped talking. Her eyes watered over. Her chin trembled.

We waited for her to finish her story. We waited a long time. She appeared lost in her own thoughts.

Finally, she started again. “Al was such a creep. He demanded more money. And then more money. He threatened to tell my parents that I'd stolen money from them. Even though I stole it for
him!”

“Unreal,” Vincent muttered.

He and I had our arms around Hillary, trying to calm her down.

“Such a creep,” Taylor muttered. “I told him I never wanted to see him again. I never wanted him to
talk
to me again. But he forced me to meet him after we went skating that night. He pulled me into the alley. He said he needed another hundred dollars.

“I told him no way! I said, ‘Go ahead and tell my parents. I really don't care anymore.'

“So then he started to get rough. He grabbed me. He slammed me against the wall at the back of the rink. I—I was really scared. He started to pull the skates from around my neck.”

Taylor swallowed hard. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away.

“That's when I lost it,” she continued, gripping the chair arms so tightly that her knuckles whitened. “I grabbed the skates back. We wrestled. The laces were tied together. Somehow … somehow they ended up around his neck. I guess I put them there. I really don't remember.

“But I remember pulling them, pulling them tight. Pulling them with all my strength. With the strength of my fury. My insane fury. Strength I didn't know I had.

“I strangled Al. I hated him so much. I went into
a fury, I guess. Like a trance. As if I was blind. As if I wasn't inside me. I was on the outside, watching my body—watching
someone's
body—choke Al. Choke him. Choke him. Until he stopped struggling and didn't move anymore.

“And then … ” She sucked in a deep breath. The tears stained the shoulders of her tank top. “And then I ran to Sandy. I told him everything.”

Taylor let out a sob that made her whole body shudder. “Sandy was so wonderful. No guy ever cared about me that much. Sandy cared about me
too
much! He confessed to the murder. To save me.

“He told you that he killed Al. He knew you were his friends. He knew you wouldn't betray him. He trusted you. And—and—” Taylor's voice caught in her throat.

“And what did you do?” she managed to scream at us. “He trusted you—and you turned on him!” She glared across the room, her eyes locked furiously on Hillary. “You turned on him. And you
killed
him! How
could
you? He was innocent! He was totally innocent! How
could
you kill him?”

Taylor jumped up. She balled her hands into tight fists and started toward Hillary.

She stopped as the doorbell rang.

The sound made us all cry out.

Hillary leaped to her feet and tossed away the plaid quilt.

The doorbell rang again.

Vincent and I followed Hillary to the front door.

“Did you call the police?” Taylor demanded. “Is
that who it is, Hillary? Did you call the police before you invited us over?”

Hillary didn't answer.

We stepped into the front hall.

She pulled open the door.

And Sandy walked into the house.

Chapter

25

I
can't tell you what happened next.

I felt so much emotion, I was dazed. The room started to spin. Lightning flashed in the open doorway, and I felt as if its white-hot current was exploding through my body. Blinding me with its brightness. Making the whole room vibrate and whirl.

And then a shrill voice broke into my consciousness.

“You
tricked
me!” Taylor shrieked.

I turned in time to see her collapse to her knees. “You
tricked
me! You
tricked
me!”

Sandy grabbed her up. He wrapped his arms around her. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered. “Taylor, believe me. I'm so sorry.”

He was still holding her as Hillary and I hurried to the phone to call her parents.

“Sorry I had to pretend with you too, Julie,” Hillary apologized, holding the receiver to her ear. “I figured out the truth and confronted Sandy with it. Sandy couldn't live with the secret any longer. He and I agreed we had to shock Taylor into confessing. But I needed you to be shocked too.”

“It's okay,” I told her. “At least we finally know the truth.”

Hillary talked to Taylor's father. She told him to hurry over.

“I owe everyone an apology,” Sandy said. “I—I wanted to protect Taylor. But I don't know why I started treating you guys so badly. Following you around. Trying to scare you and everything. I guess I didn't want you to find out the truth. And I guess I wanted to show Taylor that I could be as dangerous as Al.”

Sandy sighed, holding on to Taylor tightly. “I know the whole thing was crazy and stupid,” he said sadly. “I never should have confessed to the murder. Never.”

“I think we've had enough confessions around here to last a lifetime!” I exclaimed.