Slam Book

  Paige, as white as a sheet, looked like a cornered animal. Her hands shook and she bit at the nail of one pinky, but she didn’t move from her seat.

  “What’s funnier,” Anna continued, “is that Paige wrote the comment that broke up Gooz and Casey. And she invented the whole thing.”

  “You little liar!” cried Paige. “I did not! It’s not written in my handwriting! Any fool can see that.”

  “It’s not written in your usual handwriting,” said Anna, “but it’s in your disguised handwriting. And you know perfectly well who will back me up on this.” Anna looked down the table at Randy and Jessie.

  Both girls glanced from her to Gooz. Did Anna really want them to confess right in front of Gooz?

  “We were all with you, Paige,” said Anna. “You wrote it, and you admitted you made it up. Am I right, Randy?”

  Randy didn’t answer. Anna couldn’t even guess at what was going through her mind.

  “What’s the matter, Oreo?” Paige taunted her. “Can’t talk? Miss Goody Two-Shoes can’t make up her mind?”

  The silence following that was louder than any Anna had ever heard. The heads, which had swiveled to Paige, now swiveled—slowly—back to Randy.

  Randy stood up. “Yes, Paige wrote it and she made it up,” was all she said. She began to gather her books together.

  Then Jessie stood up. “What Randy is too polite to say,” she said, “is that Paige wrote that, hoping it would break up Casey and Gooz. She wanted Gooz for herself.”

  “Thanks a lot, Jessie,” said Paige sarcastically.

  “Any time,” replied Jessie. She followed Randy out of the cafeteria, leaving Anna and her mess behind.

  “Is that true, Anna?” asked Gooz quietly.

  How had the situation gotten so out of hand? What had happened? Anna had set out to show Paige for what she really was and had ended up telling Gooz the one thing that was capable of hurting their relationship. What would Gooz think of her? She’d known all along how the comment about Casey had originated, and she hadn’t said a thing—especially not after she and Gooz had started going out.

  “Anna?” asked Gooz again.

  “Yes,” Anna admitted. “It’s true.”

  Gooz shook his head. Then he too gathered up his things. Before he left the cafeteria, he said, “I don’t know who you girls think you are, but believe me, you’re not God. God shows a little mercy.”

  “Nice going, Anna,” Paige said softly, as Gooz disappeared into the hall, followed by Tim.

  “Oh, shut up, Paige,” Anna snapped.

  “Permanently, please,” added a sickeningly sweet voice from the next table. Anna turned to see Casey Reade. “You’re a real witch, Beaulac. You know that? But you’re not too bright. Your plan backfired nicely.”

  How long the fight would have gone on was anybody’s guess, but it was ended by the bell. When it rang, Casey stared at Paige a second longer, then turned and marched off.

  Anna made her way numbly to the other end of the table for her things. Paige and the rest of the students silently walked away.

  Anna could not remember a day as black as the day she tried to tell Paige off. Somehow, she dragged herself through the rest of her classes. Then she walked home without waiting for Randy, certain that Randy wasn’t speaking to her. That evening, neither Randy nor Jessie phoned. Anna called Gooz four times, and each time his mother answered and said that he couldn’t come to the phone and would have to get back to her. When he hadn’t called by eleven o’clock, Anna knew he wasn’t going to call. At 11:05, she tried him one more time. The Drumfields’ line was busy. Purely to torture herself, Anna then dialed the Reades’. Their line was busy, too.

  “You die, Beaulac,” Anna whispered. “You die.” Paige had started the whole mess with her lies, and Anna wasn’t finished paying her back.

  She sat at her desk with a blank sheet of paper in front of her. Paige hadn’t suffered nearly enough, she thought. There was no way to get her to apologize—to anybody for anything. And no way to undo the damage that had been done that day. But Anna could torture Paige a little. All it would take was some imagination.

  Anna sat in thought for a while. She doodled on the page. She practiced Paige’s penmanship. At long last, she set a clean sheet of paper on the desk and wrote:

  Cheryl—

  Guess what? Kirk Norris likes you! He wants to go out with you, but he’s too shy to tell you. He asked me what to do, and I suggested a double date—Kirk and you, Harry and me. Meet me at my house tomorrow night (Saturday) at 8:00. Wear something nice. And don’t mention this to Kirk. You’ll embarrass him.

  —Paige Beaulac

  P.S. I live at 27 Stone Mill Way.

  Anna didn’t have to make the story any more complete or believable than that. She knew Cheryl would fall for it unquestioningly. That was how desperate Cheryl was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  FINDING THE NOTE FROM Paige Beaulac in her locker was the most exciting thing, and the happiest thing, that had ever happened to Cheryl Sutphin. It was right there on Friday morning, sticking out of the little air vent. Cheryl had read it through three times, then had tucked it in her English notebook and hugged the wonderful secret to herself all day.

  Twice, Cheryl tried to talk to Paige. She wanted to ask her what to wear, but Paige seemed to be in a hurry all day. Both times that Cheryl approached, Paige ran off. Since the Sutphins had no phone, it was either talk to Paige in school or try to get to the pay phone sometime Friday night or Saturday. But at last Cheryl told herself that she was a big girl; she didn’t need Paige’s advice. No siree. She could figure out what to wear all by herself. And she knew where Paige lived, so that was no problem. Stone Mill Way was out where all those big houses were.

  But how would she get there? Bud was going to be hauling again that weekend, so there was no one to drive her. Well, Cheryl had an old bicycle. If she could just find an outfit that she wouldn’t spoil too much by riding a bike, she’d be all set.

  Bud Sutphin spent Friday night out, which was fine with Cheryl. On most Fridays, Bud took himself over to McNamara’s Bar and blew a good portion of his earnings on beer and chasers. On other Fridays—“Bad Fridays” were how Cheryl thought of them—he sulked at home because he didn’t have enough money to join his drinking pals. Cheryl preferred the loss of their money to Bud’s shouting and abuse.

  Cheryl woke up Saturday morning feeling fine all over—the second time in less than a week, which was a miracle. She waited until Bud left for his hauling trip to West Virginia later that morning before she began to get ready for her date. The double date with Paige was Cheryl’s very first date ever. According to the magazines she read in the library, it should be one of the most special nights of her life. For Cheryl, it would be a private wonderfulness.

  As soon as Bud was gone, Cheryl began to dress. She knew exactly what to put on. The beautiful pink prom gown was really the only choice, bike or no bike. Not only was it the sole dressy dress in the Veronica box, but it made Cheryl feel more connected to her mother than ever.

  “It’s like being with you again, Ma,” Cheryl said as she stood in front of the broken mirror in the bathroom. “If I’d known it was this easy, I’d have looked in that box long ago. It just goes to show, it’s what you always said: ‘You’d be surprised what you can do when you stop being afraid.’ Well, I’m not afraid so much anymore, Ma. And tonight I’m going out on my first date. Even if I do have to get there on my bike. I hope you’ll come along.”

  It wasn’t easy, but Cheryl biked all the way out to Stone Mill Way. When she reached the Beaulac mansion, she was surprised to see that hardly any lights were on.

  Cheryl told herself not to worry. She parked her bike near the front door. Then she smoothed down her lovely dress and patted her hair. Good. All the bobby pins were in place. Only a few wisps of hair had escaped on the ride over. It was probably just as well that she hadn’t washed her hair in a while.

  She rang the doorbell.
Then she waited so long that she almost rang it again.

  Suddenly the door was flung open.

  There was Paige. She looked as beautiful as ever.

  She looked a little surprised, too.

  Paige blinked.

  Cheryl put on a big smile. “Hi, it’s me,” she said. “I’m here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I mean, I got your note. Is he here already? Kirk?”

  “What?” snapped Paige.

  Cheryl shuffled her feet nervously. “Is Kirk here? I came right at eight o’clock, like you said. I’m not late.” At least she didn’t think she was. She didn’t have a watch, though.

  “Like I said?” Paige repeated.

  “You know, in your note.”

  Paige frowned. She looked slightly disgusted.

  “Can I come in?” asked Cheryl timidly.

  “No!” exclaimed Paige. “You can’t come in.”

  “But … but …” Lower lip trembling, Cheryl tried to collect her thoughts. She got control over her wobbly voice. And she remembered what her mother would have said at a time like this: Stop being afraid.

  (“Stay near me, Ma,” begged Cheryl silently.)

  Cheryl drew in her breath. “Look here, Paige,” she began. “I—I know you’re the richest girl in town and I’m just about the poorest, but that doesn’t give you any right to be rude to me.” Cheryl bit her lip. This wasn’t how her first date was supposed to start off.

  “Excuse me,” said Paige coldly, “but I am not the one standing on your front porch interrupting your evening. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but why don’t you just go on home and leave me alone.” Paige started to shut the door.

  No, thought Cheryl. (“Help me, Ma.”) What had gone wrong?

  Cheryl stuck her foot against the door so that Paige couldn’t close it all the way.

  Paige began to look both frightened and angry. “Go away, pig!” she yelled. “Take your fat self and go away!”

  Cheryl gasped, but her mother wouldn’t let her give up so easily. “You said … you said Kirk Norris likes me. Now—”

  “I said Kirk Norris likes you?” Paige gave a snort of contemptuous laughter. “Oh, you mean that joke in the slam book? Get real. What are you—a psycho?”

  “No—no.” Cheryl backed up a few steps.

  Paige could have closed the door then, but instead she opened it wide and stepped outside.

  “Kirk would have to be deaf and blind to like you,” she said, leaning into Cheryl’s face.

  Cheryl was startled to find that Paige had liquor breath, just as Bud often did.

  “Look at you,” Paige went on. “You’re dressed like some prom queen from 1952, you’re fat, your hair’s an oil slick, and you smell, Cheryl. Have you ever heard of deodorant? It’s a wonderful invention.”

  Cheryl continued to back away. She stumbled down the steps, managed to find her bicycle, and heaved herself unsteadily onto it.

  Paige was still shouting at her.

  As Cheryl teetered into the darkness, she shouted over her shoulder, “I hate you, Paige Beaulac! You’ll be sorry!”

  All the way home, she thought, “Oh, Ma. Oh, Ma. It’s happened again, and I can’t take it anymore. So I’m coming. I’m really coming. Then we can be together for always.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  CHERYL WAS NOT A planner, but she planned things very carefully that night. Her mind was working fast, fast, fast. By the time she was parking her bicycle at the front door to her house, she knew what she was going to do and how she would do it.

  It probably wouldn’t even take very long.

  First she slipped off her mother’s prom gown. She put it back in the Veronica box just the way she had found it the first time. Then she wiped away her makeup and took the bobby pins out of her hair.

  Next to the back stoop she found a large cardboard carton. She brought it inside. She thought it would be nice to give her father a head start, so she labeled the box “Cheryl,” filled it with her things, and placed it next to the Veronica box. Then she laboriously wrote a note to Bud and taped it to the side of the Cheryl box.

  That done, Cheryl went into the bathroom and drew a tub of warm water. While she waited for the tub to fill, she stripped, folded her underwear neatly, and put it in her dresser drawer.

  It was amazing how easy everything was. It just showed that Cheryl was no dummy. Not too many other kids at CHS could do what she was doing as well as she was doing it.

  When the tub was full, Cheryl looked through the medicine cabinet. Bud didn’t shave often, but he did shave occasionally. Cheryl found a brand-new pack of razor blades. She was pretty sure one was all she’d need, but she took two anyway. She didn’t want to have to get out of the tub once she’d gotten in.

  Cheryl rested the razor blades on the edge of the tub. Then she climbed in. The warm water was to draw the blood out. And the cutting had to be done a certain way. Long vertical lines right along the veins, not short ones across her wrists. The blood flowed out faster that way. Oh, Cheryl knew what she was doing all right. She’d read about it in a book once. Ha, ha. What would that author think if he (she?) knew how Cheryl was using those bits of information?

  Cheryl tried to relax.

  “Okay, Ma. Here I come. It won’t be long now,” she said. “The waiting is almost over.”

  Cheryl picked up a razor blade and poised it above her wrist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “CHERYL SUTPHIN IS DEAD.”

  Anna heard the news first thing at school Monday morning. It was all anyone could talk about, even the students in the upper classes who hadn’t really known Cheryl.

  Anna glanced at Randy aghast. “Excuse me?” she said to the student they had just passed in the hallway. “What did you say?”

  “Cheryl Sutphin is dead,” the girl repeated. “Did you know her? She killed herself. Her father found her yesterday afternoon.”

  “Oh, my God.” Anna’s head began to whirl.

  “Anna? You okay?” asked Randy. Anna had apologized to Jessie and Randy over the weekend, and the girls had managed to pick up their friendship. Gooz was a different story.

  “I just need to sit down,” said Anna. “I’m a little dizzy. I—I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

  Randy led Anna to a windowsill and forced her to put her head between her knees and take deep breaths.

  What had happened over the weekend? Anna wondered. Had Cheryl gone to Paige’s? She had to find out.

  By the time she was sitting in her first-period class, waiting for the teacher, Anna felt better. The room was buzzing with talk of Cheryl. Anna leaned over to the student across the aisle from her, a boy she knew slightly named Garrett Meyer. “Did she leave a note or anything?” she asked, pretending that her morbid curiosity had run away with her.

  Garrett was eager to talk. “She sure did,” he replied. “I heard it was quite a note, too. I’m on her bus route. Everyone was talking about her on the way to school this morning.”

  Anna leaned over farther, as if to say, “I’m all ears.”

  “The note said,” Garrett continued, “something about her life being gray and everybody hating her. But this is the weirdest part. You know how her mother’s dead?”

  Anna nodded.

  “Well, she said she wanted to be with her mother again. She was going to join her or something.”

  That really was weird. Maybe Cheryl was just plain crazy, thought Anna. Maybe her death had nothing to do with the slam book or Saturday night.

  Anna sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief. That, however, was before the funeral.

  There is nothing drearier than a funeral in the rain. Anna hadn’t been to many funerals (just one other), but she found Cheryl’s utterly depressing. She couldn’t figure out if it was because she felt so guilty or because it was, in fact, just utterly depressing.

  The funeral was held in a small church on the outskirts of Calvin. Anna wondered if Cheryl had belonge
d to the church or if it was simply convenient for Cheryl’s father to make arrangements there. She realized how little she knew about Cheryl. For years, rumors about the Sutphins had flown—Cheryl was retarded, Cheryl’s father was a criminal, Cheryl’s mother was in the loony bin, the Sutphins only took one bath a year. What was the truth? What had Cheryl’s life really been like? Anna would never know. All she had seen was a quiet, fat, pimply-faced, slow-moving girl in shabby clothes who had shuffled her way, day after day, year after year, through the Calvin public schools with a classful of students who made fun of her.

  Cheryl’s funeral was held on Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock. CHS students had been given permission to go to it. Ordinarily, an invitation to escape classes for a couple of hours would have met with an enthusiastic exodus from school, but Anna didn’t know anyone else who planned to attend. She rode silently to the church with Cheryl’s homeroom teacher.

  Apart from Anna and the teacher, only a handful of mourners arrived. One of them was Mr. Roscoe from CHS, looking uncomfortable. Two more were middle-aged women Anna did not recognize, a third was a middle-aged man she also did not recognize. Then there was the man whom the people of Calvin knew simply as Bud.

  But he was a different Bud than the scruffy one Anna had occasionally seen shoving his way out of McNamara’s Bar. That Bud was often drunk and always dressed in the same clothes—the Bud Sutphin uniform, Anna’s brother-in-law once called it. Without fail, he had worn a plaid shirt (flannel in cool weather, cotton in warm weather, the cuffs usually fraying), the dirtiest, greasiest pair of blue jeans imaginable, and heavy work boots. In very cold weather, he would add a plaid hunting jacket and cap to the uniform.

  The Bud in the chapel was clean, shaven, and wearing a suit and polished shoes. His face bore a look of anguish and disbelief that shamed Anna. She had always thought Bud had been cruel to Cheryl. But what did she know? Did the man sitting ten pews in front of her miss his scapegoat and housekeeper? Or was he mourning the death of his daughter? Was it possible to be cruel to someone and love that person at the same time?