The Body of Christopher Creed

  "What are you babbling about, Richardson?" Renee muttered.

  Bo ignored Ali for the moment. "I mean ... your dad was screwing her all last year!"

  Ali let out a bloodcurdling screech and covered her face with her hands. She started sobbing and shouted, "Why did you have to tell her that! I'm never telling you anything ever again, I swear to God—"

  She started to take off toward the woods, and Bo ran after her. I couldn't hear what he was saying to her, but I could hear her sobbing, "That was stupid! Why do you have to be so stupid sometimes."

  I turned and looked at Renee and Alex. Somehow Alex had my macaroni-and-cheese container in his hand. I couldn't even remember how that happened. They looked stun-gunned, like somebody had given them an electric shock. From Ali's reaction, I could feel in my bones that it was true. It seemed incredible at first. My friends' dad, chief of police, fooling around on his wife. I didn't think after hearing about Ali's mom and that perv that anything could shock me. But this did a little. I remembered Chief Bowen's face from the other night at the station, when he was trying to get Ali and me to lie. He had a heartless streak. I had just never seen it so clearly before. Maybe I couldn't have handled it before, so I didn't let myself see it.

  I moved a step closer to Renee, enough to make sure she heard me but not close enough so she could get a swing at me. I was worried about her revenge system and what it could do to Ali.

  "Renee, whatever you do with that piece of information is your business. But remember this. Ali held on to that for a year so she wouldn't hurt you. Remember that when you get real tempted to open that big unending mouth of yours in school tomorrow."

  Her neck snapped a little, and she stood there swaying, like maybe I'd given her a different way to think of things. For a few seconds.

  "She's lying ..." She got tears in her eyes and her voice cracked. "My dad wouldn't touch that turbo slut-bag—"

  She took off down the road without finishing, and Alex followed after her. I could tell she was really upset, and I wondered if it was because she felt in her heart that her dad was capable of it. I didn't know what to think. I ran over to Bo and Ali.

  "I just couldn't help it," he spewed out. "Where does she get off passing her stupid judgment on everybody around here? She's calling your mom a slut while her dad was slutting, too? How can you just lie down for that, Ali?"

  "Because! She is the daughter of the police chief who would love to put you away right now! All she has to do is walk into her house and announce what you just told on him. He will find some way to get back at you! It could break up his marriage."

  "Ali, would you get the weight of the goddamn world off your shoulders, please!" He shook her. "You're not everybody's doormat! You don't have to protect guilty people! You don't have to make everybody love you! You don't have to do every guy just because he's there! The whole world is not your problem!"

  "You're going to get arrested!" she hollered back.

  "That's not your problem, either!" He pushed her aside and stalked off toward the woods.

  "Where are you going?" she cried.

  "I'm thinking I should disappear until Chief Bowen cools off. That girl could have her dad all over me before dawn—" He came back around to us and grabbed me by both shoulders. He muttered, "Listen. Look after her, but don't let her help anybody. Don't let her protect anybody. Don't let her carry the weight of the world on her shoulders." Then he kissed her really big and ran off into the woods.

  As we walked home, Ali was calm, almost cold. I figured there was no more crying left in her. I wondered where Bo would go. I really hoped he wouldn't drop into the black hole next to Creed. Ali went to sleep when we got home, or at least she pretended to. I wasn't tired anymore, and I remembered what I'd totally forgotten down at the Wawa. The last phone number.

  I looked it up again in our phone book, then sat up in my bedroom, just staring at the phone. Truth was, I wanted something to distract myself from the idea of Bo out in those woods. I finally picked up the phone and dialed. I got an answering machine. It sounded like a businessman's voice. "You have reached the Karzden residence. To leave a message for Doug, Athena, or Isabella, please wait for—"

  My heart jumped. Bull's-eye. I was so wound up I didn't know quite what to say. The beep made me try to find my voice.

  "This message is for Isabella. I'm ... uhm... I'm a friend of Chris Creed's. We're ... uhm... sort of looking for him? If you could, please call me back." I left my phone number and hung up.

  I lay on my bed, trying to clear my mind of so many things, but little images kept passing in front of my eyes. Bo sleeping out in the woods ... Creed's body lying dead in the woods ... Creed at a psychic's, hearing of his own death ... Creed and some sweet, innocent Margate girl down on the beach, doing whatever. I tried to dredge up some image of what she might tell me. But I couldn't get any. If I ever fell asleep, I don't remember doing it.

  Seventeen

  I tried to ignore everything and everyone in school the next morning, but I managed to catch an earful of a few things the first three periods. First, Bo had come to school. Second, Ali was walking around with him between first and second periods, talking to him and all the boons like it was nothing. And everybody was yakking about that, though I was pretending I didn't hear. After her blowout with Renee the night before, I decided, she'd probably just reached her limit and didn't care anymore what anyone thought or said. I couldn't forget her looking so zombified as we walked back to my house from the Wawa.

  Third, I heard that the cops were coming for Bo. Again. I got the word from Ali—in a note she passed me during second period—who'd heard it from a couple of teachers proctoring near the bathroom, when she took the hall pass. She didn't know what he had supposedly done now, or if the cops just wanted to question him. I prayed Renee hadn't blabbed that thing about Chief Bowen and Mrs. McDermott around her house and set her dad looking for revenge. I also hoped that computer disk was still lying dormant and no wide-awake cop had decided to stick it in a hard drive.

  As the bell rang, Ali and I nearly flew out of class, then found Bo in the cafeteria, sitting down with Shawn Mathers where they usually sat.

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Look, whatever Chief Bowen or Mrs. Creed are up to now, I made up my mind. I ain't running and hiding from that snake of a woman, and I ain't afraid of no Renee Bowen, Queen of the Mouth Patrol." He laughed. "Hey, I been arrested before. Besides, this time I got your old lady. She'll keep me out of the can, whatever it is."

  I was scared he thought my mom was God or something. I heard enough talk about my mom's work, and I wasn't sure she could keep Bo out of juvenile if Chief Bowen wanted him there.

  I plopped into a chair beside Shawn Mathers without really thinking, and Ali plopped down on Bo's lap. She was sitting on the edge of his leg, trying to look nonchalant, but I could see she was pretty pleased with herself.

  Shawn said, "Hey. Anybody want half an egg salad? Damn, I hate when my mom makes me egg salad."

  "So, what's your mother doing making your lunch?" Bo snapped at him. "You ought to be making your own lunch. How old are you, anyway?"

  "Fifteen." Mathers shrugged.

  "Think I bother my mom to make my lunch?" Bo went on. "I not only got to make my lunch, I got to make the little kids' lunches or they don't eat."

  "So, what do you want? A medal?" Mathers asked him. "My mom likes making my lunch."

  "Give half to Adams. He's losing weight." Bo held on to Ali with one arm, while reaching over for half of Mathers's egg salad, then dumping it in front of me. "Eat that sandwich, Adams. You look like shit."

  "He thinks he's everyone's mother." Shawn nudged me, like it was some big secret. I watched him, feeling surprised at how quiet his voice was. I had never heard Mathers's voice before. He had these fierce eyebrows and that face full of zits. I always thought if I heard his voice it would sound like a barking dog or something. He had almost a sweet voice, like a little kid's. He sounded a little
slow maybe. But definitely not scary or loud.

  My eyes moved off him and looked around the cafeteria. I caught at least twenty sets of eyes on me and probably fifty on Ali. I picked up the sandwich and said, "Thanks," and took a major, dramatic bite out of it.

  "And don't be leaving no crusts," Bo went on. "Yo, Mathers. Give him one of them Tastykakes. They got eggs and milk in them."

  Mathers grabbed his lunchbag. "What am I, the good fairy Give-it-all-away?"

  Bo reached around Ali and snapped the bag from him. "Yeah. His mom works, and she expects him to buy the shit around here and actually eat it. Your mom wouldn't know no job if she fell over it. Now give him one, fool."

  "Where's your lunch?" Mathers asked Bo, dropping a chocolate Tastykake in front of me.

  "I slept in the woods last night." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Think my old lady missed me? Not until she had to start making lunches, which she probably didn't do, anyway. Hopefully Darla did, if she managed to find her way off Billy Everett's garage couch. You hungry, Ali?"

  "No," she said. But he was reaching in his pocket and pulling out a dollar.

  "Go buy us french fries, huh? Maybe french fries won't kill us." Ali took the dollar and walked to the front of the cafeteria, and we watched her all the way. Everyone else was watching her, too, just about.

  "Shit, man, you're inspiring me." Mathers grinned at Bo. "If this goes good for you, maybe I'll ask out Jaleigh Overton."

  My eyes wandered toward some action at the door. Mrs. Creed was coming in, followed by Chief Bowen and the officer they called Tiny. Mr. Ames was with them, too, trying to grab Mrs. Creed's arm. She didn't seem to notice him. I couldn't remember the police showing up in our cafeteria, ever. Sometimes they came to the school, but always to the office.

  Bo laughed a little and said, "Ooo, here it comes, brothers and sisters. Now just be cool. They're going for the Academy Award—"

  Shawn said, "Bo, are they coming after you?"

  "None other."

  "What'd you do now?"

  "I don't know yet. Guess we're about to find out."

  I watched his eyes stick on this crowd like he was trying too hard to be fearless, but I know he was petrified under it all. He had to be. I was.

  He leaned back in his seat, so when Chief Bowen came up to him, he was looking at Bo upside down.

  "What am I arrested for now?" Bo asked.

  "You are wanted for questioning in the alleged murder of Christopher Creed." Chief Bowen's voice echoed through the air. "We have reason to believe you are involved, responsible, or had prior knowledge—"

  Murder of Christopher Creed. Murder. My eyes shot up and caught a thousand eyes staring at us in this suddenly quiet cafeteria. Some kids far away were standing on chairs. The word murder kept banging through my head.

  Bo was laughing, but I could hear an edge in his voice. "Oh. I murdered him. Okay." He laughed. "And how did I do that?"

  "Get up, Richardson," Chief Bowen said. It didn't seem like he was going to elaborate right there.

  "Does this have to do with a computer disk?" Bo asked casually.

  Chief Bowen kind of froze for a second. I could tell by his expression the computer disk was big on his mind.

  "If this is about that computer disk, you're about to make a fool out of yourself." Bo jerked his eyes on me, then turned around in his seat. "Ali, where'd the computer disk come from?"

  Ali had come tiptoeing up from behind with the french fries. Her hand was shaking as she spat out the story about going to the library on Friday and moving it out of the library's files because they were curious about what Mr. Ames had said about a possible suicide.

  If the cops' wanting Bo had nothing to do with the disk, they would have cut Ali off or asked what-the-hell disk was she talking about. Someone had actually discovered what was on it, I gathered. My mom had called it a sleeping dog that could look very incriminating. I guessed her sleeping dog had woken up. Mrs. Creed had actually been quiet through Ali's two-minute explanation, but then she came to life in her loud way.

  "No, no, no!" she blasted, making Ali jump. "Christopher did not write that note! My son had a happy life. There is no reason why he would—"

  "Your son was a social retard!" Bo blasted. "Ask Ames, if you're too blind to see the truth!"

  "Richardson, get up, before I cuff you and drag you out of here," Chief Bowen said.

  Bo stood but kept up his tirade to Mrs. Creed. "You know your son was losing it. With a psycho for a mother and—"

  "You're a fine person to be calling anybody names!" She turned to Chief Bowen, pointing a finger at Bo. "He already confessed to the phone call—"

  That was the end of my silent act. I jumped up and grabbed Chief Bowen by the arm. "He didn't make the phone call. 7 made the phone call."

  Chief Bowen stared at me for a moment, and there was anger in his face. He looked angry that I was messing up this whole thing. He tore his eyes away to Ali, who, good as her word, was trying to tell him, "Chief Bowen, 7 made the phone call."

  Fortunately, she spoke too quietly, and I don't think he understood her. He was pushing past me, with Bo beside him, and I had to grab on to the table to keep from falling backward.

  He said over his shoulder, "There's already a confession on the books. If you'd care to argue with Mr. Richardson about it, you're welcome to do that later."

  I watched in stunned silence as he and Tiny started off with Bo. I could not believe I had just stood there and told every inch of the truth about the phone call, and Ali told the truth about the disk before that, and Bo was still walking off in between two cops—one cop who was a wife cheat—with a sociopathic mother bringing up the rear. I think I was still more scared than mad. I was scared that these allegedly respectable people let this thing get so bad. I guess I thought seeing a situation clearly was just part of being a grown-up.

  I let fly at the backs of their heads, "You stupid people, you know he didn't kill anybody! You just have to find some way to keep your own screwed-up version of reality going—"

  A hand slapped over my mouth, and I felt a massive arm pulling me backward. I watched Chief Bowen turn and give me some don't-tangle-with-me stare, and it's good Mr. Ames had his hand over my mouth because I was running through every curse word I knew. Bo was laughing at the top of his lungs, though I couldn't figure out what was funny.

  Chief Bowen hollered to Mr. Ames, "Get him out of here."

  I saw Chief Bowen turn to Mrs. Creed and bark, "Sylvia, you're not invited."

  She stopped in her tracks, and that's all I remember until I was in Mr. Ames's office and he was pushing me into a chair. I fell into it hard. I didn't know he had grabbed Ali, too, and he flung her by the arm, but not as hard. She dropped into a chair, and I could hear Mrs. Creed's hagging voice from somewhere nearby.

  It got drowned out a little by Mr. Ames's voice, which was right in my face. "If you want to win people over, you need to work on your tact. You're taking lessons from Bo Richardson—"

  "...going to lie for that boy, you two will suffer very, very serious consequences!" Mrs. Creed's voice blasted.

  I turned to see Mr. Ames grab the door handle. She was standing in his doorway. I thought he was going to slam the door in her face. He got it about halfway shut, then stopped. They stared at each other. He looked like he couldn't take much more of her constant badgering, but it was his job to be polite to parents, and he was having a real inner battle here. She looked defiant, and my stomach was twisting.

  After a moment he cleared his throat and said softly, "You may come in. I think Torey and Ali and I would like to have a talk with you. We want to tell you about Chris."

  Eighteen

  Mrs. Creed sat down slowly on a couch under the window as Mr. Ames shut the door. Her eyes shifted to him, then back to us. She firmly stuck out her chin, high, but her voice was shaking. "Fine. I'm here to listen."

  She looked like listening was some sort of military paintest that she was being subje
cted to, and she would endure it because she was a great American. Mr. Ames sat behind his desk and said, "Torey, you've known Chris since you were born, practically. I would like you to ... share any thoughts that come to you. Sylvia, I want you to hear this. From another student."

  That wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

  "Well..." I hunted in my brain for something not too awful. "He was a good kid. I mean, he would never have thought to do drugs or cut school or curse somebody out—"

  "He better not have," Mrs. Creed said, with a grin that died as fast as it came. She had her legs crossed, arms folded across her chest, and she wouldn't look at me. It's like these loudmouthed remarks were always on the tip of her tongue and she was just trying extra hard right now to hold them back. I wished she had tried harder with Chris.

  "But he made it difficult to be a friend of his." I leaned forward. "I feel that—I think that ... he never had a chance to learn how to be a friend."

  She swallowed. "I always encouraged my children to be kind."

  "Oh, he was," I said quickly. "But not hurting people and knowing how to get along with people ... they're different. He was ... different."

  She stared at her corner of the couch like a robot and spat out robot words. "I wanted him to be different. I did not get into the Naval Academy by being like everybody else."

  I blurted out, "I can see why you wouldn't want him to be like some kids. But what's the matter with me? Or Alex?"

  Her face flushed like maybe she knew for once that she'd put her foot in her mouth. "I didn't want my son doing drugs or staying out late or hanging out or making other bad choices he would pay for later."

  "Well..." I stayed out until, like, three sometimes, but only at Alex's or Ryan's. I had been drunk a few times, yeah. But I didn't feel like a future convict. "Isn't there some way you could have thought of so he could have friends but not make bad choices?"