I hate horror movies. I haven't seen one in over a year. I remember the last one I saw, it was horrible. I don't remember the title though. There was a decomposed corpse, most of it's flesh eaten away by lice and maggots, leaving almost nothing but a pile of bones. Disgusting if you really think about it. I mean, who in their right minds would find that kind of thing entertaining? Not me.
Now, here I am walking through a graveyard, following Andie, Jen, and Abby, to who knows where. Now I think of that movie. Not the perfect place to have these kinds of thoughts. Just think, under all those stone markers are decomposing bodies.
I shivered and forced those images from my mind. I gripped the can of beer that Andie had shoved into my hand a few minutes ago and kept up the pace behind them.
"I thought you were going to bring the flashlight," Andie whispered irritated. Andie is a senior at my new school, Capeside High. Her complaint was directed towards Abby, also a senior.
"You said you'd bring it," Abby said, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to another.
"I did not, "Andie snapped. "I bought the beer! I took the chance buying it with the fake ID! The least you could've done was bring a flashlight!"
"Come on, you guys," said Jen. She is a junior in my lit class.
"It'll be scarier in the dark anyway. A whole night in the graveyard! This'll be fun!"
"At least I remembered the beer," Andie said. "I can have fun anywhere if I've got enough beer."
Fun? A cold drunken night in the graveyard? These girls have a strange way of having fun. I folded my arms across my chest to try and keep warm.
A full moon is overhead, shining over the autumn-stripped trees and cold granite headstones, cast eerie shadows. I am too old to be scared of the dark. It's just that everything tonight is so unfamiliar: the girls, the beer, and to top it off, I am surrounded by dead bodies.
"I like this place," Andie said. ""It's kind of creepy. But then, that's why we came." She glanced over her shoulder at me. "Juts the right place for a party."
Abby laughed. Jen touched my arm and gave me a reassuring squeeze.
I know this is some kind of test. Andie and Abby are sizing me up to see if I would fit in with them.
Jen already liked me, that was obvious from the first day of school. I know this party is not Jen's idea. I just hope I could take a few gulps of beer and let the others drink the rest. I've never been drunk before, and didn't want to try it now.
I have lived here less than a month, and I badly miss all my old friends back home. I moved to Capeside High with my sister and her boyfriend. They've raised me after our parents died in a car accident when I was younger.
For the first two weeks I ran up expensive phone bills calling all my friends who lived in California. Feeling a little guilty, I realized if I wanted to enjoy life here, I was going to have to make new friends.
That's how I happen to be groping my way through a graveyard at eleven o'clock on a Friday night. I told Bessie that I was spending the night with Jen. I didn't want to tell her more, because I don't think that she would really approve of this.
They told me to bring nothing less than the clothes on my back. They said that they would take care of everything else. They all wore backpacks strapped to their shoulders stuffed with blankets beer, soda and junk food.
"Don't worry Joey," Andie said. I could see her grin in the dim light. "We're perfectly safe out here unless there's a murderer or rapist hiding behind one of these trees. Or maybe a ghost. The graveyard is haunted, you know."
Abby spoke up. "That's true. There're lots of stories about ghosts roaming around out here. One is of a headless man who was decapitated about twenty years ago. His killer was never found. Neither was his head.
Andie snickered.
I didn't respond. I knew that Andie and Abby were baiting me, trying to make me nervous, frightened, or scared. I am just not sure which one. I'm not really frightened, but I'm not really sure of myself either. These girls, especially Andie, are not like my friends back home.
We slowly made our way to the center of the graveyard, carefully stepping around the headstones.
A footstep sounded behind us.
"What was that?" I whispered
"What?" Andie said turning to me. "I didn't hear anything."
"Behind those bushes," I said keeping my voice low.
"Maybe it's the headless ghost," Abby said. She laughed.
"Or a serial killer," said Andie. She didn't laugh.
"Didn't you hear it?" I asked Jen.
Jen shook her head.
Maybe I am imagining things. Could two swallows of beer do that to a person? No, of course not. I didn't want to look foolish, but I am sure I heard something.
"I think someone's over there," I said. " Hiding behind that bush.
"Waiting to kill you," Andie said. I felt a surge of anger rush through my body and I glared at Andie. God did I want to punch her.
A long moment passed. Then Jen grabbed my arm. "Come on," she said. "Let's find a place to have our party."
"Look," Abby whispered, pointing into the distance.
Looming up ahead was a building. It wasn't large. In fact it wasn't much bigger than a shack but in the middle of the graveyard it looked dark and forbidding.
"It's the caretaker's house," Andie whispered.
Maybe it was the caretaker behind the bush. I glanced around again. I couldn't see anyone, but I felt his presence. He was watching us, I am sure of that.
"Does somebody really live in that house?" Jen asked.
"I don't know," Andie said. "Let's find out."
Jen grabbed Andie's arm. "You can't just walk in there. Maybe the caretaker's asleep."
Andie jerked her arm away. "Maybe this place is empty."
"Maybe," I said glancing over my shoulder into the bush, "he wouldn't like us barging into his house."
"There's only one way to find out." Andie led the way to the small door.
"Come on Andie," Jen whispered. We were going to spend the night in the graveyard. Nobody said anything about bothering some poor old guy---"
"Shhh!" Andie wrapped sharply on the small wooden door. The noise echoed through the silent graveyard.
The door hadn't been shut securely, and it swung open slowly on creaking hinges.
"Let's get out of here, Andie," said Abby. She sounded nervous. "This is creepy."
Andie turned to face the others. "I'm going inside. You cowards can do whatever you want."
"Don't, Andie!" Jen whispered urgently. "Maybe somebody's inside. I mean, anybody could be in there!"
Andie didn't answer. She pushed the door wide open and peered inside the small house.
"What's in there?" Abby whispered.
Andie edged her way into the house and disappeared into the darkness. There was a long silence.
"Andie?" whispered Abby.
"Come on out now, Andie," said Jen. "You've proven you are braver that we are."
There was no answer.
"Andie?"
"Come on," Abby said. "She's just trying to scare us. Let's leave her in there. She'll come out when she gets bored enough."
I couldn't move. I don't know if it is from the image of the corpse from the horror movie or the talk of headless ghosts or the frightening thought that someone was watching from the bush. Whatever the reason, I was scared. Andie had gone inside the small house and had not returned. I don't really like Andie, but I don't want to see her get hurt either. If this were a horror movie, a serial killer would be inside chopping Andie to pieces.
"Andie?" I whispered stepping over the doorway. "You okay?"
Inside the house there was a heavy thud.
"Andie!" Jen cried. "What's going on?"
"I can't see, that's what's going on!" Andie shouted.
"Would this help?" Abby asked, stepping forward. With a flick of her finger, a small flame burst to life at the edge of a silver cigarette lighter.
Andie reappeared in the doorway. "Now you offer the light?" she said sourly. "I just banged my shins on something big in there. And hard."
"Sorry," Abby said. "I'd forgotten I brought it."
Andie grabbed the lighter and headed back into the house. This time we all followed her. The interior was still dark, but the lighter provided enough light for them to see a few feet ahead of them. The house held a lawnmower, weed trimmer, hoses wrapped in loose coils, hoes, tree-trimming equipment, and smaller hand tools-an axe, hammer, and saw lined the edge of the room.
"Nobody lives here," Abby whispered.
"No kidding," said Andie sarcastically. She rested her hand on a large barrel. "This is what I just bumped into."
"I wonder why the house wasn't locked," Jen said. "Anybody could just walk in and steal this stuff."
"Someone must have forgotten to lock it up," I said.
Andie turned to face the girls. "Let's spend the night here."
"In here?" Abby said. "I'd rather be outside under the stars."
"Me too," said Jen.
"Yeah, me too." I piped in.
"Guess you're outvoted, Andie." Said Jen.
"Well, at least we can eat our food in here," Andie said. "Get me another beer." She turned to Abby. "Hold the light, will you?"
She handed Abby the lighter, threw off her backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a blanket. Jen handed her a can of beer. "Get comfortable, everyone."
Andie spread the blanket on the floor, collapsed on top of it, and popped open her beer. We all sat down cross-legged on the blanket.
"Beer for everyone," Andie said. She pulled out two six packs and one liter bottle of Coke.
Jen and Abby opened their packs and brought out bags of chips, dips, and deli sandwiches.
"Great," said Jen. "I'm starved. I hope the caretaker doesn't come while we are here."
I took this opportunity to look around the house. There is only one-way in and out. What if that person outside throws the door open and blocks our exit. I didn't feel safe at all.
"Is there much crime around here?" I asked, keeping my tone light. "I mean, in Capeside."
"No," said Jen, "Not much."
"There've been some break-ins over the last year," said Abby. "But it's about a couple of years since we've had a murder."
"About time for another one," said Andie with a little smile.
What a bitch. You would never know to look at her that she was such a bitch. She was small and blond and pretty. It was only when she opened her mouth that all the ugliness came out.
"There was a hit-and-run last year," said Jen. "A kid in the senior class was killed."
"That's awful," I said.
"The driver was never found." Jen's voice was sad. "Chris-he was the kid who was killed-he was kind of like a male whore. Still, it's a horrible tragedy."
Andie glanced back over her shoulder. "What was that?" she asked, her voice rising.
She jerked the lighter out of Abby's hand and thrust it into the darkness behind her. She let out a scream like I have never heard before.

“A snake! A snake!”
Andie threw her arms up in the air and ran hysterically from the room. She took the lighter with her, throwing the rest of us into perpetual darkness.
Shouts and shrieks rang out through the room as we scrambled for the door. Personally, I have seen plenty of harmless snakes in the garden. That doesn’t mean that I like them. Besides, there is no way to tell if this snake is harmless or not. So being the last out, I grabbed the blanket and ran for the door. I found Abby and Jen a short distance from the house, they were breathing heavily and talking in shaky voices.
“Where’s Andie,” I asked.
“She ran on,” said Abby. “She ran over to the black angel.”
“The black angel?”
“It’s a sculpture, made out of iron.”
“Andie was sure scared of that snake!” Jen giggled nervously. “I never thought she was scared of anything. I only heard screams like that in horror movies.”
I looked into the direction that Andie took of in. I could see the outline of the angel. It looked eerie, bathed in moonlight. Standing below the angel was Andie, with her arms wrapped protectively around herself.
“Come on, let’s see how Andie is doing,” said Abby.
We made our way over to where Andie was standing. She was shaking.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“I hate snakes! I loathe them!” Andie shrieked.
“What’s so scary about snakes?” Abby asked. “ I mean, they’re creepy, but the way you screamed, I thought that there was an axe murderer behind you. “
“Shut up Abby.” Andie snapped. She turned away from us. She was still breathing pretty hard; I thought she was going to start hyperventilating or something.
“Sorry,” Abby said. “Are you ok?” She placed her hand on Abby’s shoulder, but Andie swatted it off and stalked away.
“I hate snakes!” she said again. “I hate them.” Her breathing was coming out in short gasps; I was really starting to worry.
“So do I,” Jen said softly.
“My brother used to find bull snakes in the weeds behind his friends house,” Andie said, her voice barely under control. “He terrorized me with them. Once on my birthday he gave me a present wrapped with a pretty pink bow and when I opened the box, there was a-a-a three-foot long bull snake inside. It was coiled like a rattler ready to spring with its tongue flicking at me.”
She really started shaking there. I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anger.
“It’s ok Andie,” Abby said. “Let’s find a place to rest.”
“This is a good place,” Jen said. “I like the angel.”
She took the blanket from my hands and laid it on the floor. “Where’s the rest of the stuff?” She asked.
“Here.” Abby said.
We didn’t get everything from the house in our hasty departure, but we managed three blankets, some chips and two six packs.
“This’ll do,” Jen said. “Sit down, everybody.” She looked up at Andie. “Come on, Andie.”
Andie remained standing with her arms wrapped around herself.
“Have a beer, Andie,” Abby said.
Andie slowly sat down to accept the beer. I swear she was it all dramatic and everything.
“One for you,” Abby said, as she handed me my second can of beer that night, the first being back the caretaker’s shed.
“Who’s got the first ghost story?” Jen asked.
“I’ve got one,” Abby said.
“Let’s hear it,” Andie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Abby told an old camp story about two kids getting lost in the woods and coming upon a scary old man with a razor sharp axe. I heard the story several times before, but Abby told it well, adding her own twists, that it seemed new and I was almost as scared the first time I heard it.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Abby asked.
“I do,” answered Jen. “I believe the soul lives on after we die, so why not ghosts?” Maybe they’re lost spirits who can’t find their way to heaven.”
“Or hell,” Andie added. “Have another beer.” She pushed another can in my direction. I swear it was like Andie wanted to get me drunk so she could violate me. I shudder at that thought.
“Thanks, but I’ve had enough. By the way, where’s the bathroom around here?”
Andie raised herself to her knees, for a moment there thought she was going to escort me. “See that tree over there?” she asked. “Go there. Just to the other side of the tree.”
After looking at the tree, I hoped Andie or someone would go with me, but no one moved. Then I got to thinking that maybe the person who was in the bushes earlier had followed us, and now I was walking towards my impending doom.
“Ok.” I said. I didn’t want them to know I was spooked, so I got up and made my way over to the tree, alone.
“Don’t wake up all the ghost!” Andie hollered. “They’ll haunt you all night if you do.”
At this point I would rather be haunted by a ghost then spend another five minutes with Andie. I hate that I had to move here. I miss all my old friends.
I approached the tree in the dim light of the moon. Just to the other side of the tree like Andie had said. I stepped around the tree, where the ground sloped down.
Something on the ground at the edge of the shadows caught my eye. Something lying there, something very still.
I squinted into the darkness, and all at once realized what I was looking at: sprawled in the ditch was a body. A boy to be exact. He was dressed in a polo shirt splattered with blood. His face was turned towards me, and with my luck, I could see his eyes staring at me, his mouth open, permanently fixed in an expression of unspeakable horror.

"Oh God."
My hand flew to cover my mouth. I was surprised that that had come from me. I heard a twig snap behind me, so I turned around.
"Who's there?" I whispered.
I couldn't see anyone.
"He's dead isn't he?"
I didn't need any more motivation. I took off in the direction that the other girls were. They all rose to their feet when they saw me coming.
"What's wrong?" Andie asked.
"There's--there's a guy--" I stammered, struggling to catch my breath. I pointed towards the tree.
"What's wrong?" Andie said. "Calm down."
Calm down? I just saw a dead body, how the f*** did she expect me to be calm?
"A boy." I said. How much more dense could she be? "A guy about our age. He's dead!"
"A dead body?" Abby asked. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" I cried. This was really starting to get repititious.
"But it's so dark," Abby said. "How could you see--"
"I could see it!" I insisted. "By the light of the moon. It--he--he was splattered with blood! And someone else was there, too."
"Someone else?" Andie asked. "Who?"
"In the shadows," I said. "I don't know who it was."
There was a long silence. I looked at Andie. She stared back at me, with an eyebrow raised. I realized what she must have been thinking.
"You don't believe me, do you?" I asked. "Why would I make up a story like this?"
"Maybe because I kidded you about being afraid of ghosts?" Andie said. " You paying me back, Joey?"
My mouth dropped open. What is with this girl? " Of course not! If you don't believe me, come see for yourself! No, that's too dangerous. Someone's there, behind the monument. We should go to the police!"
"No way," Andie said. "Joey, you're pushing this game of yours way too far."
"It's not a game!"
"I won't go to the police," Andie said calmly.
"Then come to the tree with me. See him for yourself. Maybe it'll be safe if we all go."
No one said anything. I was starting to feel really lost. I looked pleadingly at Jen. "You'll come with me won't you?"
"Well, I think we should all go," Andie said calmly. "But I still don't believe you. What do you guys think?"
"I think we should all go and see," Jen answered.
Abby shrugged, "So let's go."
I sighed with relief. I have never been so happy. I started back towards the tree.
"Come on," I called out. "Hurry!"
"If there's really a dead body there, he's not going anywhere," Andie said.
When we reached the tree, I pointed towards the ditch.
"He's down there." I looked in the ditch and stopped short. The body was gone.
"So where's the stiff?" Abby asked coming up behind me.
I pointed to the spot. "Here, it was here."
"Uh-huh," Andie said.
"It was here!" I cried. "He was lying in the ditch, splattered with blood!"
Andie smiled triunphantly at Jen and Abby. "Nice try, but we didn't go for it."
"But he was here!" He was dead! His eyes were open and staring straight at me, he was covered with blood--"
Andie turned and started back towards the black angel. "Come on, you guys," she said over her shoulder. "Excitement's over. Let's get back under the blanket. It's getting cold out here."
I stared after her like an idiot. Abby was already starting off in that direction. Something odd was going on.
Jen put her hand on my shoulder. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's go back."
"But Jen," I said. "There really was a body here. And someone spoke to me. He was standing behind the monument." Maybe he was still there.
"Stay here just a minute more," I begged. "Please?"
"Ok."
I looked behind the monument. I swear if anyone had touched me, I would have fainted.
"He's gone."
Jen's voice was soft. "Let's go back."
"But I swear the body was hear."
"Ok," Jen said. "But it's not here now. So let's go back--"
"Don't you belive me?"
Jen looked pained for a moment. "Yeah, but I don't know what to do about it. It's not here now."
"But what could have happened to it?"
"I don't know," Jen said. "Come on." Jen gently nudged me towards the black angel.
"I just don't get it," I mumbled. "The man in the shadows must have taken it away."
"Maybe," said Jen.
"It had to be that way," Joey said. "The man behind the monument must have been the killer. He dragged the body away after I ran to get you guys."
"Sounds reasonable."
"Jen, we have to go to the police." Jen didn't respond. "We have to tell them about the murder." Jen still didn't respond. "Jen!"
Jen kept walking. "But there's nothing to tell them. I mean, you thought you saw a dead body, but there's no body there now. There's no evidence for them at all."
"I didn't just think I saw a body--"
We arrived at the angel where Abby and Andie were waiting.
"We have to go to the police," I insisted. "Even though the body's disappeared, we have to report the murder. "Joey, we're not idiots," said Abby. "You can drop this charade of yours. There's no body, there was no murder, and the game's over. We didn't buy it, ok?"
"But someone was behind the tall monument," I insisted. "He must have killed the boy and dragged him away after I left."
"I don't think there was a body in the first place," Andie said.
"I don't either," Abby said.
"But you believe me, I said to Jen.
Jen hesitated and glanced at Andie, who glared at her.
"I don't think going to the police makes sense," Jen said. "There's nothing for them to see."
I Stared at them in disbelief. "So we're not going to do anything? We're going to let a murder go unreported?"
"We're going to let a dead body that you made up go unreported," Andie clarified.
"Come on," Jen said. "Let's get back under the blanket."
I watched the three girls seat themselves on the ground.
"Come on, Joey," Jen coaxed. "It's getting cold."
"Why don't we go home then?" I asked.
Andie replied, "Oh grow up, Joey. There's no dead body. We're here and we're spending the night."
There was a war going on in my mind. One half wanted to go to the police, with or with out evidence. The other half argued that I would lose the only friends I'd made since moving to Capeside. I didn't consider Andie a friend, but Abby an Jen were ok, especially Jen. Jen seemed torn between her loyalty to Andie and me. This wasn't right. We should go to the police. But Jen was right about one thing, there was no evidence. If they don't belive me, why would anyone else? They probaly think that I am crazy. I sat down next to Jen on the ground, and covered myself with the blanket. I won't do anything now, but maybe when the night was over I would decide to whether or not to report what I saw.

It was a long night. I didn't sleep much. With three blankets between the four of us, it was hard to keep warm. That, plus the fact that I couldn't get that dead body out of my mind. Who was he? Why was he murdered? Did I see his murderer behind the monument? Well, I didn't really see him, but I heard his voice.
The sun came up and we grabbed our stuff to go home. I didn't know if they accepted me now, but I was too tired and cold to care.
I said goodbye after they drove seven miles to drop me off at my house. I greeted Bessie and Bodie who were sitting at the table eating breakfast.
"Hi, Joey," called Bessie. "Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah," I lied. "It was fine."
I figured why bother them about a dead body that disappeared, that would only make them upset. That and the fact that they would be mad that I had lied about my whereabouts.
"Come and have some breakfast," Bodie said.
Thanks guys, but I'm not very hungry. We didn't sleep a lot, so I think I'll just go up to my room and take a nap.
I trudged up the stairs and changed. I slipped underneath my covers. I fell asleep.
I don't know how long I was asleep when the phone rang. I figured Bessie would get it. Just when I was about to fall back asleep there was a soft knock on the door.
"Jo?" Bessie asked, peeking around the door. "The phone's for you. I told her you were resting, but she insisted on talking to you.
I rolled over. "Thanks Bess." I reached for the phone next to my bed. Bessie nodded and shut the door, heading back downstairs.
"Hello?"
"Joey, this is Jen." She sounded like she was going to burst into tears at any second.
"Hi."
"Joey, something awful has happened! We've got to talk to you about last night! You were right. The boy you found in the graveyard--he was murdered!"

I explained to Bessie that a friend needed to see me about school. Then I hurried out to the barn where my ten-year-old car was parked.
I backed out and headed towards the park. I arrived there about twenty minutes later and pulled into the parking lot. Andie, Abby, and Jen were already there, pacing around a bench. I got out of the car, and walked over towards them. They glanced at each other, as if they were unsure who should tell me first.
"Did you see this morning's paper?" Jen asked. She had a folded newspaper under her arm.
"No."
"You were right." Jen said. "There was a murder last night. Jack McPhee, Andie's brother."
"I told you!" Wait Andie had a brother, I actually felt sorry for her. She didn't seem to shaken up, must still be in shock.
"I know," Jen said. "We--we're really sorry that we didn't do anything. We--" She trailed off and turned away.
"What?"
"We did something awful to you," Jen said.
"It was just sort of an initiation," Abby whined.
"We didn't know it would really happen," Andie said stiffly.
"What are you talking about?"
Jen stepped forward. "I've never been so ashamed of anything in my life. Joey, you know the boy you found in the ditch in the graveyard?"
"Yeah?"
"It was a terrible hoax"
"We talked Jack into posing as a dead person," Jen said.
"To scare you," Abby said.
"We told him to splatter himself with ketchup and lie in the ditch until you found him," Jen said. "That's why Andie--why we pushed all that beer at you last night. So you'd have to go to the bathroom and then you'd find him by the tree. I was sorry we dreamed this up as soon as we got to the graveyard--"
"So Jack isn't really dead?" I asked starting to feel relieved
"No," Jen said. "I mean, I don't know. He was supposed to get away after you ran to get us."
"Why?"
"Because--so we could accuse you of making it up," Jen paused to turn and glare at Andie. "Pretty rotten trick, wasn't it?"
I didn't respond, what did they expect me to say, 'Oh, ok. I am glad you made a fool of me, while someone died, and Andie I am sorry for the loss that you don't seem to be mourning.
"But somebody did kill Jack!" Abby cried. "That wasn't part of the plan!"
"His body was found clear across town in an empty parking lot at about two o'clock this moring," Jen said. "His throat was slashed."
She handed me the paper. It was the headline story on the front page. I scanned the article, looked at the picture and handed the paper back to Jen.
"We're responsible for his death," Jen said grimly.
"We are not," Andie snapped. "Jack was alive at the graveyard."
"How can you be sure?" said Jen. "Maybe somebody killed him before Joey got there.
I shook my head. " His throat wasn't slahed. The blood--ketchup was on his shirt. He was staring at me, open-eyed, but his neck wasn't bloody."
"So he was faking it," Andie said. "He was killed afterwards. After he left the graveyard. So we're not responsible!"
"But there was someone hiding behind that tall monument," I said. "Maybe--"
"Maybe it was the murderer!" Jen said. "Maybe he followed Jack after he left the graveyard and killed him."
"Oh, this is so sick!" cried Abby.
"We'd better all go together to the police," I said.
"The police!" Abby cried.
"No police," said Andie.
"What do you mean, no police?" I asked. "Your brother's just been murdered!"
"The cops will blame us for the murder!" said Abby. "We made Jack play a corpse just a few hours before he was murdered for real! We could be charged with accessory to murder."
"But you weren't involved in his death," I said.
"Th cops won't believe that," Abby said.
"Jack wasn't dead when he was at the graveyard," Andie said smoothly. "So there's no reason to got to the police."
I frowned. "But if his murderer followed him from the graveyard--"
"We don't know that!" Andie screamed.
"Who else would be hiding behind the monument?" I asked.
"What about this man you saw?" Jen asked. " What did he look like?"
"I couldn't see his face," I said. "He was completely hidden in the shadows."
"But he spoke to you?"
"Yes. He said 'He's dead, isn't he?'"
"Why would a murderer tell you that Jack was dead before he killed him?" Andie asked.
"I don't know, why was the man there in the first place?" I asked.
"None of this makes sense," said Abby.
"Anyway, we're not going to the police," Abby said. "Let's wait and see what happens. Maybe the cops'll find out who did it, and we won't have to get involved."
I looked at Andie like she was crazy, this was her brother after all. "You don't want to get involved?"
"I don't want my life ruined, ok? I'm applying for scholarships all over the country. I can't afford to blow it!"
I looked at Andie and then everyone else.
"I won't go to the police yet," I said softly. "But if the murderer isn't caught in a week, I'm going to the police with what I know."
"Which is nothing!" Andie exclaimed.
"Maybe. But the little bit of information that I do have might be a missing piece of the puzzle. It might help them solve--"
"Let's get out of here," Andie interrupted. "I'm sick of talking about murder and dead bodies. Come on, Abby."
"Yeah," she headed towards Andie's car. "You coming, Jen?"
"I drove my own car," Jen reminded her. "But I am going to stay a minute with Joey.
"Suit yourself," Andie shrugged. They climbed into the car and left the parking lot.
"Joey, I'm sorry about this whole mess," Jen said. "And about what we did to you."
"I don't care about the trick you pulled on me," I said. "After all, I'm alive, I survived. I just keep thinking about that poor guy. I just keep wondering that if eing at the graveyard last night put him in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was killed because of my initiation."
"I know I keep thinking the same thing. Poor Jack. He was such a nice guy! He was in my history class at school. And he worked at the Corner Market with me." Her voice broke. "I should ahve stood up to them. I didn't want to play that stupid trick on you. I hated seeing you so upset--I felt guilty."
I walked over towards Jen. "It isn't your fault. Nobody knew someone was stalking Jack." I put my arm around her shoulder. "Can I ask you something? What's with Andie anyway? Why is she popular. She bosses everyone around and they do whatever she wants."
"Yeah I know," Jen said. "I don't know, she's got power around school."
"Do you like her."
"Let's say I don't exactly respect her," said Jen. I got to be friends with her at the Market. She works there, too. I just hate to cross her. She really knows how to make your life miserable if she wants to."
A movement, something in blue, caught my eye. I turned and focused my attention on a stand of trees at the edge of the park. A guy stood there dressed in jeans and a white shirt. He looked a little older than me, with brown hair. He was leaning against a tree watching me. A chill ran up my back. His gaze was so penetrating.
I turned to Jen. "who's that?"
"Who?"
Without looking back, I nodded slightly to the boy. He's standing over to your left, in the trees."
Jen said, "I don't see anyone."
I turned back, and he was gone. "He was there a second ago leaning against the tree.
Jen shrugged. "Beats me."
I watched a moment longer, waiting to see if he'd reappear. I saw nothing. "I'm so tired. I'm going home to bed.
"Ok."
Jen climbed into her Ford, and I climbed into my station wagon. Jen pulled out and left, waving at me. I waved back and followed. As I neared the trees, I slowed down a bit and scanned the area for the boy. But the park was empty. I was really tired. Too tired to think of Alice or graveyards or a mysterious guy in the park. Or even poor Jack. I pulled out onto the street and headed home for some much needed sleep.

Everyone at school on Monday was talking about Jack’s murder. I felt guilty that I knew of three—no four people who knew where he’d gone that night. The only thing that made me feel better was the fact that I was going to tell the police at the end of the week, what I knew. At lunch, I sat with Jen, Abby, Andie, and some other girls.
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Jack,” Jen said. “He was such a quiet guy. He’s not the type to get into fights.”
“I know,” said Abby. “Remember that time he was on his way to Cliff Eliot’s party and he found that dog that had been hit by a car? He couldn’t find the owner, so he went to the vet and paid to have the dog’s leg set in a cast.”
“I remember that,” said Jen. “Everybody he was supposed to take to the party was mad because he never showed up.”
“Then he explained to everyone, and we were still mad!” Andie said. “He should have called to explain.”
“He was so upset about the dog, he forgot about the party,” said Jen. “He kept the dog didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Andie replied curtly.
“Jack must’ve had a soft heart,” I said.
I looked over at Andie, who just glared at me. Everybody continued talking about the murder, but I only listened half-heartedly while I stabbed my tuna casserole. I really wished that I had gotten to know Jack. He seemed like a great guy. I glanced across the cafeteria when my gaze fell on a brown-haired guy who was staring right at me. I immediately recognized him as the guy from the park. He was holding his lunch tray and moving towards the edge of the room. He nodded towards me and sat down at a table all by himself. I leaned over to Jen.
“See that guy in the blue jeans and white shirt?” I whispered. “He’s sitting by himself at the table next to the wall.” Jen smiled and nodded.
“Yeah that’s Pacey Witter.”
“Pacey? He was the guy in the park on Saturday. What’s he like?”
Jen didn’t answer right away. “Well, he’s—he’s kind of spooky. He keeps to himself. He’s a senior. He’s really good-looking, as you can see for yourself—“
“Yeah.”
“He’s been in a lot of trouble, I know that. His dad is the sheriff.”
“So, he’s probably just rebellious.”
“He’s bad news.”
“He was staring at me.”
“Ignore him.”
“Ok,” I said. “I wonder why he was watching me.”
Jen grinned. “Probably because of that long brown hair, and those big brown eyes.”
“Riiiight.”
“Just watch,” Jen said. “After the guys get to know you a little bit around here, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
“I wish I could’ve met Jack.”
“I know,” Jen said. “You would’ve liked him. He made work at the Corner Market kind of fun. I’m really going to miss him.”
“This sounds like a heartless change of subject, but I’ve been meaning to ask you about your job,” I said. “I need to earn gas money for driving back and forth to school. Do you think the Corner Market is hiring?”
“Well, now that Jack’s dead—“
I winced. “Geez, what a horrible way to get a job.”
“I know what you mean. But somebody has to be hired to take his place. It might as well be you. I’ll talk to Ron tonight.”
“Thanks Jen.”
I kept my ears open the whole day, listening for a reason as to why someone would kill Jack. All I learned was that he was a really nice guy, not at all like Andie had made him out to be. I picked up my Calculus book from my locker and headed towards my car. I arrived later than usual, so I got stuck with parking in the far corner. I waved to Abby who was talking to some guy in my English class. I passed all the rows of cars, spotted my car in the corner and stopped short.
Pacey Witter was leaning against my car, with his right foot bent up behind, resting on the front wheel. He was waiting for me. I started walking, trying to look nonchalant as I approached him. He made me nervous. Why, because he turned up at the park on Saturday and stared at me, or because he caught my eye in the cafeteria? Or was it because he had that ‘Devil Without A Cause’ look to him. Pick one. I walked up to the car unlocked the passenger door next to him, and tossed my Calculus book in.
“Hi,” I said and slammed the door shut.
“Hi,” he said. He didn’t move from his position against the car.
“I have to get going.” I moved past him and around to the driver’s side. I could feel his eyes on me, and felt better with the car standing between us.
“You aren’t afraid of me, are you, Joey?”
I was startled by his directness. I stared at him. My heart was pounding so hard. I swear he could hear it. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
Pacey refused to look away and returned the stare. “Some people are.”
“Why?”
Pacey surprised me by laughing. “I don’t know the answer to that question. I really don’t.”
I opened the car door. “I really have to go.”
Pacey raised his hands in surrender. “Sure.”
I got in the car, started it, pulled out and didn’t glance at Pacey again. I was at least a mile away before I began to calm down. I was frightened, and not for all the reasons you think I should be. I was frightened because when Pacey Witter spoke, I recognized his voice. He was the man in the shadows on Friday night, the one that had spoken to me, the last person to see Jack McPhee alive.

‘He’s dead isn’t he?’
That one sentence kept going through my head, over and over again. All kinds of questions were going through my mind. Why did he say that? Did he think Jack was already dead? Was he planning to kill him later? I’m positive that it was Pacey’s voice I heard. Was Pacey a murderer?
Pacey didn’t fit into the killer stereotype at all. He looked rough, but a sexy kin of rough. He had tousled hair, like he just ran a hand through it when he woke up, and that’s all he did. His eyes were a soft blue color. They were troubled eyes, not the eyes of a serial killer. I knew I should go to the police, now that I knew who had spoken to me. But the repercussions for doing that are severe. I would make Pacey a major suspect, Andie and Abby would be angry that I had dragged them into this. It was their fault anyway, if they hadn’t played that trick on me, none of this would ever have happened. But I promised I’d wait a week, so a week I’d wait. I didn’t want to point a finger at Pacey, what if I was wrong? I’d feel incredibly guilty for that.

“Ron said to come in for an interview tonight,” said Jen at lunch the next day. “I gave you a big buildup, and he’s definitely interested in talking to you.”
I grinned. “You didn’t tell him any lies about me, did you?”
“No! I just told him what a great person you are.”
“Thanks, Jen. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.” Jen looked up at me and lowered her voice. “Don’t look now, but Pacey Witter is staring at you again.”
I nodded. I had noticed him watching me from his table against the wall.
“Say, what’s going on, anyway?” Jen asked. “I saw him talking to you after school in the parking lot yesterday. Is he bothering you or something?”
“Not really, he just showed up.” I wasn’t sure how much I should tell Jen. I didn’t know her long, and I didn’t know where her loyalties were. She was a friend of Andie’s, and I know that I can’t trust Andie. I decided I’d wait until later, before I said anything.
“So what did Pacey want?”
“I’m not sure, I didn’t give him the chance to talk very long.”
“Good. Stay away from him. Come on, let’s go. I have to get to my history class early. Will you walk with me?”
“Sure. I’ll stop by my locker before the crowd rushes in.”
We got up and put our trays away, and headed out the door. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone following us.
“Joey.”
I turned to see Pacey right behind me. My heart began to beat harder.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I was about to open my mouth to say something when Jen jumped in.
“We have to go see our history teacher.” Jen looked vary scared.
“No, that’s ok,” I said softly to Jen. “I’ll see Mr. Williams later.”
Jen gave me a hard, disapproving glare.
“I’ll talk to Pacey and catch up to you in a minute,” I whispered.
“Ok,” Jen reluctantly said.
I turned towards Pacey. I was extremely nervous.
“She’s one of those people I told you about,” Pacey said.
“Jen? What do you mean?”
“She’s afraid of me.”
“Should she be?”
“No.”
“What do you want, Pacey?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to talk. Do you mind?” He leaned against the locker behind him.
“No,” I said carefully. “What do you want to talk about?”
Pacey looked in the direction Jen had gone.
“You like those girls?”
“Jen?”
“Yeah. And the rest. The ones you eat with.”
“Well, I don’t know them very well yet. But they were the first friends I met here. Why did you ask about them?” He didn’t answer my question.
“You hear about the murder last weekend?” He asked.
I took a calming breath. Yes, it was terrible. Did you know Jack?”
“Not very well.”
I saw something in Pacey’s eyes. I didn’t know if it was fear or anger, but he was upset and trying very hard to stay cool.
“Joey, I have to talk to you.” He clenched and unclenched his fists.
“We are talking, Pacey.”
“I men, alone,” Pacey said. He took a step towards me. “After school, I’ll meet you at your car. We can go somewhere.”
I stiffened and took a step backwards. “No. If you want to talk, we can stay here at school. Maybe the media center. Nobody’s there at the end of the day.”
Pacey’s blue eyes met mine and hung on. “You’re afraid of me aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” I said a little too quickly.
“I won’t hurt you, Joey.”
He continued to stare at me. Then he held up his hands. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the media center after school.”
“Okay.”
“In the back, near the far wall.”
“Okay.”
Pacey seemed to relax a little. “I’ll see you then.”
“See you.”
Pacey nodded, backed away a little, then turned and strode off down the hall.

On shaky legs, I approached the media center after school. I couldn't concentrate at all on any of my classes. I wondered what he needed to say that was so important. Did he know that I recognized his voice, and if so, what would he do? I entered the media center and made a beeline to the back, where I agreed to meet Pacey. I ignored the few people who were still there.
Pacey was waiting for me at the back among the bookshelves. He was leaning against the wall. He nodded to me and then turned his head slightly to gaze at something over my shoulder.
"Come here," he said, pushing off the wall.
He led me to the bottom of a metal circular staircase and stopped. He jerked his chin at it. "Let's go up there."
"Why can't we talk here?"
Pacey glanced over at the media specialist. "Upstairs is more private. This talk is between you and me."
I hesitated a moment, decided upstairs was safe enough, nodded and climbed up after Pacey. The second floor was deserted. It mainly consisted of glass discussion rooms. Pacey led me to the farthest discussion room. He opened the door and walked in, but he didn't turn on the light. He turned to face me, while I hung back in the doorway.
"Anyone can see us inside," Pacey said. "You're safe, Joey."
"So turn on the light."
"I don't want to draw attention to us. I don't want to be interrupted."
I walked inside and Pacey closed the door. Now anyone who walked by could dimly see us, but not hear us. Pacey folded his arms across his chest and sat on the edge of the table. He looked extremely agitated. Pacey looked up at me.
"You were at the graveyard Friday night, weren't you?" I was shocked at his directness.
"Yes I was." Why lie? He already knew. "So were you."
"Yeah. Why were you there?"
"I could ask you the same question."
"Yeah, you could ask me the same question," Pacey said. "I'll tell you why I was there. But you tell me first."
"I went to the graveyard with Andie, Jen, and Abby." His eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.
"It was kind of an initiation. I didn't know it, but they'd gotten Jack to agree to play dead in the ditch."
"Why?"
"To scare me."
"Sounds like something they'd do."
"They're nice," I protested. "At least Jen--"
"They're all the same," Pacey said, his voice getting hostile. "They scared you all right. I could tell that. Did you tell them what you saw in the ditch?"
"Pacey, I don't see any reason to talk about this--" I was now worried about the safety of my friends.
"Answer me, Joey. Did you tell them about seeing the body in the ditch?"
"I don't want to talk anymore." Pacey stood up so violently that he shoved the table back against the wall.
"The hell we won't!"
I rushed for the door, but he reached out and grabbed me by the waist and pulled me towards him.
"Let go of me!" I gasped.
He immediately released me and sat down in a chair. I could tell he was trying to calm himself down. After a moment he looked up at me. "Sit down." His voice was soft. "I'm sorry." I didn't move. "Please sit down, it won't happen again."
I didn't want to stay, but something about the way he looked made me sit down. He looked so miserable.
"Your turn."
Pacey nodded and stared at the table a moment. "You ever have a good friend? I mean, somebody who's more like family than the people you're related to?
"Yes." What the hell did this have to do with the fact that he was at the graveyard?
"I had a friend like that," he said. "Chris Wolfe. He was killed last year in a hit-and-run accident."
"I heard about that, I'm sorry."
"Chris was--" his voice broke off. He was silent a moment.
"You must've really cared about him."
Pacey cleared his throat. "I got a call Friday night from Jack McPhee. He said he knew something about the accident that killed Chris. He said there was something he had to do first, but that I should meet him at the edge of the graveyard on Brown Street at midnight. I got there early and heard voices--girl's voices--so I decided to see what was going on--"
"You watched us from behind the lilac bush."
"I watched you and those friends of yours for a while," he said emphasizing the word. "I didn't want to hang around, so I wandered further into the graveyard. And I found Jack in the ditch. I guess he was playing dead, but I didn't know it at the time. I thought he was really dead. And then you came along."
"I thought he was dead too."
"Maybe he was."
"No," I said. "The paper said his throat was slashed. The 'blood' I saw was on his shirt. There wasn't any on his neck or face."
"So you went screaming back to your friends."
"What did you expect me to do? I saw what I thought was a dead body and then I heard a mysterious voice from behind the monument--"
"Did you think that I was the murderer?"
"Of course." I was going to say something else, but thought better of it. I looked him directly in the eye and asked "Were you?"
"No! I told you what happened. Don't you believe me?"
"It--I guess it sounds reasonable. What happened? Did Jack get up and walk away?"
Pacey sighed. "I don't know."
"What do you mean, weren't you there?"
"No, I ran too." He looked kind of embarrassed .
"You ran away?"
"You think this is easy for me to say? I ran when you screamed."
"Why?"
"Because I knew you'd bring those girls back with you. Then the cops would come."
"So?"
"So, if I'd stayed there, they'd think that I killed Jack."
"You?"
"You thought it and you don't know anything about me!"
"But if you were innocent--"
"My dad is waiting for the opportunity to bust me. No matter what the truth was."
"You didn't see him leave the graveyard?"
"I told you I didn't."
"So you have no idea who killed Jack."
"No I don't," Pacey drummed his finger on the table. "So what do we do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you going to the police?"
"I think that's a good idea."
"No," Pacey said standing. I realized he was blocking the only way out of the room. "You can't go to the cops."
"I have to," I said softly. "You'll come with me. We'll tell them the story together."
"No, Joey." I could hear the anger in his voice.
He leaned over the table towards me.
"Don't go to the police," he warned. "You'll be sorry."
I stared at him. " are you threatening me, Pacey?"
"Don't go to the police," he repeated. "Promise me you won't go."
"Tell me, Joey. Tell me you won't talk to the cops."
I didn't answer.
"I know your word is good. That is the kind of person you are. Say you won't go."
"Don't you want Jack's murderer to be caught?"
"Of course I do! But we can work on this thing together. Jack must have been killed because he was going to tell me something about the hit-and-run. Don't you see? It has to be connected! We can find out who killed him. Then when we have evidence, we can go to the cops with it."
"You think we ca solve a case of murder?" I asked incredulous. "Just the two of us?"
"Yeah, together. You're really smart Joey. I knew the first time I talked to you."
I wanted out of that room. He threatened me. To get out, all I had to do was promise, I could do that. I'll worry about the rest later.
"I promise. I won't talk to the police. Yet."
"Never," he said. "Not until we prove who killed Jack."
I took a deep breath. "Okay." I'll reason with him later.
"You promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
Pacey sank with relief into his chair. "Good. Thank you, Joey. Thank you."

“Ready for your first night?” Jen asked. She handed me a red smock that said ‘Corner Market.’
“I think so.” I said putting it on. I interviewed for the job last evening, and got hired. Due to Jack’s recent death, I was needed to start right away. It’s relatively small, with all the employees sacking groceries or working the register.
“Now don’t get upset if Barbara throws too many things at you all at once,” Jen said. “She trained me, and I was absolutely overwhelmed at all the stuff I had to learn!”
“How long until you caught on to everything?”
“Oh, I still have to ask Barbara questions occasionally.”
“And you’ve been working here for a year?”
Jen grinned. “Yeah. But things you do everyday you’ll feel comfortable with by—oh, maybe by the end of the week. Or next.”
“You like the people who work here?”
“Mostly. You already know Andie McPhee. She’s over at register four.”
I turned to see her ringing up items for an elderly couple. I was disappointed that she was there tonight. Andie isn’t someone I want to spend anymore time with than necessary.
“Almost everyone here has become a friend.” Jen lowered her voice. “Except for Dawson Leery, who’s a total jerk.”
“Who’s Dawson Leery?”
Jen nodded towards a blonde guy packing groceries. “He’s a senior. Maybe you’ve seen him around school.”
“No I haven’t.” I was going to ask Jen why she disliked him so much, when Ron, the manager, approached.
“Hi Joey. Ready to go?” Ron he looked like a mama’s boy. He had that aura around him. With his starched shirt and tie.
“I think so, I’m a little nervous about all that I have to learn.”
“You’ll be fine. Barbara’ll be training you, and she does a good job. Come on over here, and I’ll introduce you.” Ron led me to the last register. “Barbara, this is Joey Potter. She’s our new cashier.”
“Hi, Joey, glad to meet you.”
“Hi.”
“Let’s get to work, okay?”
“Sure.”
I spent the next hour and a half learning how to sign in, ring up customers, and sack groceries.
“Wow,” I said shaking my head. “I knew there was a lot to learn, but not this much!”
Barbara grinned. “This is just the beginning. We haven’t touched on everything yet.”
“Who’s the new babe?”
The voice surprised me. I turned to see Dawson Leery standing behind me. He was smiling, no; it was more of a sneer. He looked me up and down.
“Good-looking? That your name? Or is it something a long the lines of—“
“No,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “My name’s Joey.”
“This is Joey Potter,” Barbara said. “She’s just starting tonight. She’s taking Jack’s place.”
“Jumping in to grab the spoils, eh? One person’s murder is another person’s gain, I guess.”
“Dawson, don’t you have a break to go on or something?” Barbara said crossly.
Dawson’s sneer faded. “Yeah, I need a cigarette.”
“Good. Get lost then. Do your smoking outside.”
Dawson’s jaw tightened and he smiled at me. “Bye, Joey.” He strode off down the aisle towards the back of the store.
Barbara rolled her eyes. “What an—“ She stopped herself. “I was about to say something really nasty.”
“Go ahead, I’ll probably agree with you.”
“He’s a really horrid person, but Ron won’t fire him because he’s a pretty good worker. The older women customers think he’s wonderful.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, for some reason, he’s nice when they are around. Everyone who works here knows it’s an act, but the customers don’t know that, and they love him.” She shrugged. “Go figure. Sorry for that crack about Jack.”
“That’s ok. Jen told me that Jack worked here.”
“Yeah. A really nice guy. Everybody liked him.”
“It’s hard to believe a murder can happen here in Capeside. It seems like such a peaceful town.”
I wasn’t making idle conversation. I really hoped to learn more about Jack. After my conversation with Pacey, I decided to give myself another deadline. If I didn’t learn anything by the end of the week, I was going to go to the police, with or without Pacey. I knew he would be furious when he found out about my plans, but I’d worry later.
“This is really a peaceful town most of the time,” Barbara said. “But Jack’s the second strange death we’ve had in two years.”
“I heard about the hit-and-run.” I said. “Chris—wasn’t that the guy’s name.
“Yeah, he worked here too. He and Jack were as different as night and day, but they were both good workers.” Could there be a connection”
“How were they different?”
“Oh, Jack was the kid next door. He was the kind of kid you bring home to meet your parents. Chris on the other hand was not exactly that type.”
“It’s strange that two guys who worked here were killed.”
“Yes,” Barbara said. “I’ve thought about that. The police, too. They have been around here asking a lot of questions. I can’t imagine how the two are connected.”
“Did they work here at the same time?”
“Chris was hired two years ago. Jack was hired three months before Chris died.”
“You think that the police think there’s a connection?”
“I don’t know, they’ve asked so many questions. It’s hard to tell.”
“Joey,” Ron called from his manager’s booth near the door. “We’re getting pretty busy here. Could you help sack and carry-out at register four?”
“Sure,” I said. I looked at Barbara. “I hope I remember everything you have told me.”
“Just make sure to square out the bottoms, small boxes on the outside, and heavy ones in the middle.”
“Right.” I hurried over to register four, where Andie was working.
“Hi, Andie.”
“Hi,” Andie answered over her shoulder. “Mrs. Granville needs a carry-out. I already sacked it for you.”
I smiled at Mrs. Granville, but she looked past me.
“Is Dawson here tonight?” she asked.
“He’s on break,” I said.
“Oh,” she said. She looked disappointed. Dawson must put on a real good show.
“My car’s parked on the far side of the lot,” Mrs. Granville said marching towards the door. I wheeled the cart to her car and helped her put her groceries in.
“Thank you, dear,” said Mrs. Granville.
“You’re welcome. Have a nice evening.” I walked back inside and the place was extremely busy. I spent the next hour sacking groceries for Andie. When Dawson got back from his break, he worked at register three, where Jen was cashier.
“Mrs. Granville asked for you,” I said to Dawson between customers.
Dawson laughed. “She’s got a crush on me. What can I say, I’m irresistible.”
“You’re an arrogant jerk, that’s what you are,” I mumbled turning away.
“What? Did you say something to me?” I turned and looked him straight in the eye.
“I said you’re an arrogant jerk.”
Dawson smirked. “Joey, could it be that you’re jealous of Mrs. Granville?”
“Of that old bag? You’ve got to be kidding.” Just then, a woman approached Jen’s register. She was about forty, slim and attractive.
“Hi, Mrs. Jacobs,” Jen said.
“Hello,” she said to Jen. Then she put on a big smile and turned towards Dawson. “Hi, Dawson.”
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.” I could just feel the sleaze oozing out.
“Did you get your car fixed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Turned out I needed a new alternator.”
An elderly woman stopped at my register and struggled to pull a sack of potatoes out of her cart.
“I’ll get that for you,” I said. She didn’t buy much, but I packed her two sacks. She paid for her purchases and headed out the door.
“It’s the brown Chevy,” the woman said, pointing to a car next to where Dawson and Mrs. Jacobs were chatting. I waited for her to open the trunk.
“Then we’re going to London,’ Mrs. Jacobs said. “Richard and I have been there before, but there’s so much we missed the first time.” I loaded the groceries into the trunk.
“Sounds great,” Dawson said enthusiastically. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Mrs. Jacobs said, laughing. “I have so much to do! Before a month long trip, there are so many details to take care of!”
“Just like your daughter’s wedding last summer,” Dawson said.
“No, nothing could be that bad!” She exclaimed laughing.
“Well, have a terrific time.”
“I’ll send you a postcard.”
“You do that.”
Mrs. Jacobs walked over to the driver’s side got in, backed out waved and drove off. Dawson glanced over at me, and I looked away. I closed the woman’s trunk.
“Have a nice evening,” I said.
“Thank you.” I turned and began to wheel the cart towards the store.
“Hey, Babe.” I slowed and turned around towards Dawson. “Were you staring at me?”
“No.”
“Yes, you were,” he said. “What’s so fascinating about me, anyway?”
“Nothing, Dawson.” I continued to wheel the cart to the store. I wished the woman had parked somewhere else. Dawson caught up with me at the store entrance and put an arm around my shoulder.
“Well, you know what?” he said.
“What?” I didn’t like Dawson touching me.
“What I do is none of your business. You got that, babe?”
I sighed and wriggled away. “Sure, Dawson.”
“Yeah, well, you remember that.” He strode ahead on in front of me. Great, two threats in two days, what next?

I was busy the next couple of days, going to school, doing homework, and going to work. I hadn't seen Pacey since our talk. I wondered if he was even coming to school. My job was getting easier as I got accustomed to everything. I was looking forward to going to work. I learned some of the regular customers names. I enjoyed working with Ron, Abby, and Jen. I tried to steer clear of Andie, especially Dawson. Andie and Dawson continued to trade insults, while Dawson worked his 'magic' on the older women customers. After work on Saturday night, I grabbed my jacket, said good-bye to Jen and Abby, and walked out to my car. It was ten o'clock, and the parking lot was dark and nearly deserted, holding only the few cars of the employees still inside the store. It was cold, and I shivered as I fumbled for the keys in my purse.
"Joey."
At first I didn't see him, the voice came from the far edge of the parking lot. I squinted into the darkness, wishing my eyes would adjust. A moment later the dark figure came into view. He sat on a motorcycle. I recognized Pacey, and felt my heart quicken. I wasn't really afraid of him; it's just that he is so unpredictable.
"Come here."
I walked across the parking lot and stopped in front of his motorcycle.
"Hi, Pacey."
His hair was rumpled. He wore a dark leather jacket, gloves, jeans, and boots.
"Hi, yourself. I see that you got a job."
"Yeah."
"Chris worked here, you know," Pacey said.
"I know. So did Jack."
"That right?" Pacey was silent for a moment. "That's quite a coincidence."
"I don't know if there is a connection or not."
"So you're playing detective without me?" Pacey gazed at me curiously.
"I got a job. I needed gas money for my car."
"Learn anything useful?"
I smiled. "Like how to ring up a lottery ticket?"
A small grin played at the corners of Pacey's mouth. "Don't be a wise guy." He scratched his cheek, and then his smile faded. "Like who killed Chris or Jack."
"No."
"So what do you think of these people you work with?"
"You mean, do I like them?"
"Yeah."
I shrugged. "Most of them."
Pacey looked over my shoulder. "Andie McPhee works here?"
I turned to see Andie getting into her car.
"Yes, she does."
"She still your good buddy?"
"She's alright." I didn't feel like agreeing with Pacey about Andie.
"You trust these people?"
"Most of them."
"Don't," Pacey said seriously. "You can't trust anybody."
"Including you?"
Pacey grinned widely. "You really are quite feisty."
I grinned back. "It's in my nature, I guess. I can't help it."
"Yeah? Well, you're very cute."
I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to encourage Pacey.
"Thanks," I said staring at my shoes.
"Want to go for a ride?"
"On your motorcycle?"
"No, on my skateboard." Pacey laughed. "Of course, on my motorcycle."
"No, I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"It looks scary. And I don't have a helmet."
"Neither do I."
"You should. What if you had an accident?"
Pacey laughed again. "You've got to take risks sometimes."
"Not with my life."
"Don't you trust me?"
I smiled. "Not really. Besides, you just told me not to trust anyone."
"What do I have to do to win you over, Joey?" I shrugged. "You name it."
"How come I never see you around school?" I asked.
"You changed the subject."
"Don't you go to class?"
"I'm around."
"That's not an answer."
"I'm at school. Okay?" Pacey was clearly irritated.
"Okay. Well, I'd better be going home." I was too tired to deal with his temper.
"You'll tell me if you find something, won't you?"
"About Jack's murder?"
Pacey nodded. "Or Chris'."
"Yes, I'll tell you."
"Good," Pacey said. "I wouldn't want you to go to the police."
"I thought that was the whole idea," I said. "To learn something about the murders and then go to the police with the information."
"Depends on what the information is."
"Pacey, you aren't thinking of doing something for yourself, are you? I mean, for revenge?"
"We all do what we have to."
I was starting to get angry. "Then don't count on me to help you, Pacey. I'm not going to have blood on my hands! Yours or anybody else's. And I'd appreciate if you left me alone from now on." I turned and strode towards my car.
"Joey, I didn't mean to get you mad." I didn't answer, but got in, and drove out of the parking lot.

I picked up the Sunday newspaper and wandered into the living room. I collapsed on the couch, and began shifting through the sections. A headline caught my eye: "Another Home Burglarized." I scanned the article, and stopped at the name of the homeowners: Mr. and Mrs. Richard Jacobs. The name was familiar. Then I remembered. Mrs. Jacobs was the customer at the store a couple of days ago. I went back to the beginning of the article and read the whole thing. Thieves gained access by breaking a window in the basement on Friday night. Among the missing items were a CD/Stereo system, two television sets, and a computer. A neighbor who was looking after the house reported the break-in. The article went on to report that it was the most recent in a string of robberies. I thought about my first day at work. Dawson had asked her so many questions. I thought he was just buttering her up, but now I'm not so sure. What would Mrs. Jacob's want from a high school kid? I remembered that Mrs. Granville asked for him, too. Why was Dawson becoming friendly with old, rich ladies? Is he responsible for the break-ins?
All I had was a theory, so I decided to keep on eye on Dawson. I smiled a little, Pacey's comment about me being a detective. Maybe I could be one. Then I thought of something. What if Jack and Chris discovered the link between Dawson and the robberies? Could they have been murdered for what they discovered? I was starting to get scared. Had I just discovered something that caused the death of two people? I knew one thing for sure, if I'm not careful, I could be the next victim.

"He's a jerk, Joey."
I looked up startled. I had been watching Dawson out of the corner of my eye while I worked on register five. I didn't know anyone was watching me. I turned to face Andie, who was at the register next to me. It was a slow day and there weren't any customers at my register. She scowled at me.
"You have a crush on him or something?" I became aware at the Jen, who was at the register on the other side of me, had turned around to hear the conversation.
"Are you kidding?"
"No," Andie said. "You keep staring at him all the time."
"He's just--" What would I say. I have no evidence. "I can't figure out why he's so mean to everyone except the women who come in here." I smiled. "Do you think he has a split personality?"
"Probably."
"I think he's hoping to get written into their wills." Jen said.
I laughed, relieved that the conversation had taken a lighter tone.
"I mean it!" Jen said, grinning. "He has an ulterior motive. Dawson would never be nice without having a selfish reason."
"But he's polite to all the women customers," Andie pointed out. "Not just the rich ones."
"That's true." I said.
"I can't figure him out," Jen said. "He's really creepy."
"He's a jerk," Andie said. "He loves himself to death. He thinks he's the best-looking, sexiest, most wonderful guy on the earth."
"Yeah," Jen said. "What an ego, too bad he's so good-looking."
I laughed and turned to the man who had approached my register. I was glad that the conversation about Dawson had come to an end. I was alarmed that it was so obvious that I had been paying attention to him. I was going to have to be more careful.

I made my way down the crowded hall before lunch. I saw Dawson coming towards me, so I turned my head to avoid acknowledging him. Since I came up with my theory, Dawson has just given me the creeps. Even though I was starving, I stopped by my locker to get some books for my next class. I was going to be near my locker for the rest of the day. I turned the combination, and opened my locker. I stopped short and stared at what I saw: on the shelf, above the coat hook, sat a helmet. A piece of masking tape with the name JOEY written in large, block letters was stuck to it just above the visor. I smiled. It was a peace offering from Pacey. I took the helmet down and turned it in my hands. That’s when something inside caught my eye. Inside the helmet was DYLAN THOMAS. Great. Pacey stole me a helmet, just what I needed. I put it back on the shelf and shut my locker and locked it.
That’s when I realized that Pacey had broken into my locker to leave his present. I always locked my locker. I shook my head. Pacey was a strange guy. His idea of a gift was stolen merchandise delivered after breaking and entering. I headed towards the cafeteria.
When I got there, I saw Pacey sitting in his usual seat. I walked over and sat next to him.
“I found the helmet, Pacey.”
Pacey smiled at me. “So you going to ride with me now?”
“Pacey, I think it was nice that you wanted to give me something, but don’t you think you’d better return it?”
“What do you mean?”
“It says ‘DYLAN THOMAS’ on the inside. Don’t you think he’s looking for his helmet?”
The smile on Pacey’s face faded. He turned and stared at the wall, his face was red with anger.
“Pacey? I just feel sorry for the guy. It’s a great helmet—“
Pacey stood abruptly. He reached down, and with a sweep of his arm shoved his lunch tray. All its contents spilling to the floor.
Every head in the cafeteria turned their head as Pacey strode across the room and out the door.
I think I can officially say that I f***ed up.

I didn’t see Pacey for the rest of the day. Jen wanted to know what happened to cause Pacey to dump his tray. I didn’t say anything. I realized that Pacey was doing something nice for me. He didn’t need the whole school talking about the stolen helmet.
I just wanted him to leave me alone. His temper outbursts were reason enough not to see him. I didn’t think he was involved in the murders, but I didn’t doubt that he was a thief. The motorcycle helmet wasn’t the first thing he had stolen, nor was my locker the first place he had broken into.
After school, I headed out to the parking lot. The lot was crowded, so I wove my way through the crowd. I saw Pacey heading to the other side of the parking lot, and I turned away because I didn’t want to speak to him.
I looked over to where I parked the car, and was surprised to see a crowd around it. One of the boys from my study hall looked up and grinned when he saw me.
“This your car?” he asked.
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“You got somebody mad at you?” another guy said. He pointed to my tire. “It’s slashed.”
I rushed to the car and bent down to examine the tire. He was right. It saw slashed, in several places.
“Oh, no,” I said. Tires are expensive. It would cost at least my first paycheck to pay for this one.
“It wasn’t just one,” a girl said. “They’re all cut.”
“What?”
“Boy, somebody is sure p***ed off at you!”
I stood back and looked at my car. It was several inches lower, the tires drooping, and the rims touching the ground. It was going to take a month’s worth of paychecks to pay for this.
“Want me to call a tow? One of the boys asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I was extremely angry that someone could do this.
“If you know who did this, you can bring charges against him,” said another boy.
“I know.”
“You know who did it?”
“No, but I have an idea.” I thought about Pacey’s bad temper. “I just might bring charges at that.” I looked at the damages again. I gripped my keys so tightly that they left a bruise. “I just might bring those charges.”

I sat in Ron’s booth and ran my finger down the listing in the phone book. Tallen, Timothy, Thomas. Dylan Thomas.
I had so much to do after school, getting my car towed, borrowing money from Bessie for new tires, waiting for the new tires to be put on, I didn’t have time to make the call at home. I arrived at work a little early, and Ron’s booth was deserted, so I found him and asked if I could use his phone. I decided to call the owner of the helmet. I had no intention of mentioning Pacey; I only wanted to return the helmet.
I dialed the number and waited.
“Hello?”
“Is this Dylan Thomas?”
“Speaking.”
“Do you have a motorcycle?”
“Sure do.”
“I found a motorcycle helmet yesterday,” I said. “It has your name in it. Did you lose it?”
“Uh, no,” he said slowly. “My name’s in it?”
“Yes. Dylan Thomas.”
“Oh! I remember!” he said. “That must be the helmet I donated to goodwill a couple of weeks ago. My old one.”
I was stunned. “You donated it?”
“Yeah. To Goodwill. You know, they resell stuff secondhand. They probably charged a dollar or two for it.”
“Oh.”
“Someone probably bought it and lost it.” Pacey bought the helmet and I accused him of stealing it.
“Yes.”
“Thanks for calling, though.”
“Sure.”
I hung up and felt sick to my stomach. I did a terrible thing and I felt guilty and very upset.
Pacey didn’t even defend himself. Why? He didn’t hide his anger, but he didn’t explain where the helmet came from either. I flipped forward a few pages in the phone book.
“Pacey Witter, Witter,” I whispered to myself, scanning the list of names.
There was only Witter listed, so I dialed it.
The phone was picked up on the other end.
“Hello.” The man’s voice was loud.
“Hi. Is Pacey there?”
“No he ain’t! Who’s asking?” He sounded angry.
“Joey Potter.” I was scared by his roughness.
“What do you want with Pacey?”
His words were a little slurred, and it was then when I realized he was drunk.
“I’ll just talk to him tomorrow at school.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
The phone was slammed down.
Poor Pacey, he didn’t have an easy life. I wasn’t helping any. If someone else gave me a helmet with someone else’s name in it, I probably wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion.
Pacey did break into my locker, but he didn’t steal the helmet. Did he slash my tires?
I replaced the phone book and leaned back in Ron’s chair. I gazed absentmindedly out the door. Dawson was sacking groceries. He looked up at me, right then. His face didn’t change, but something about the way he stared at me made me stiffen.
Maybe it wasn’t Pacey who slashed my tires. Maybe the tire incident had nothing to do with the helmet.
Maybe it had more to do with burglary.
And murder.

“I saw you talking to Pacey after work one night last week,” Jen said.
Jen and I were taking a short break in the employee lounge in the basement of the Corner Market. Jen’s break had begun ten minutes earlier than mine, so we only had a few minutes to talk.
“Yeah,” I said. “He stopped by.”
“Pacey is interested in you, isn’t he?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s just lonely.”
“Well, don’t play social worker with him. You have a soft heart, and he would spot that in a minute and take advantage of you.”
Jen was so sure that Pacey was a bad guy. “Do you know him very well?”
“Well, no, but I know his type. He’s got a bad rep, I told you that already. So what did he want?”
“Pacey?”
Jen rolled her eyes and grinned. “Of course Pacey! We’re talking about him, aren’t we?”
“He stopped by to say hi, I guess. We didn’t talk very long.”
Jen cocked her head to one side. “Do you attract guys like him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I saw Dawson staring at you the other day. Pacey is spooky, and Dawson is a jerk. I just wondered if this usually happens to you, that weirdoes fall in love with you.”
“Dawson was staring at me? When was that?”
“Yesterday, he was watching you carry out groceries from inside the glass door. He watched you all the way out, but he hurried back to his register as soon as you started back inside.”
I forced a smile. “Well, to answer your question, no, I wouldn’t say I normally have a long line of nut cases trailing along behind me.”
“So you think Pacey is a nut case, too, huh?”
“Well, no, not really. He seems to have a short fuse, but I don’t think he’s crazy.”
Andie walked down the stairs and over to us.
“Your break’s over, Jen. Ron wants your butt upstairs.”
Jen grinned and stood up. “I’ll bet he didn’t put it that way. Ron’s more refined than that.”
“You calling me unrefined, Jen?” Andie scowled.
“Who, me?” Jen laughed and disappeared upstairs.
“Funny girl,” Andie snorted. She sat down next to me. I didn’t know whether to ask her about Jack or Chris, but figured, what have I got to lose.
“Did you wok at the Corner Market when Chris was here?”
“Yeah, we started working here the same time.”
“What was he like?”
“You really are a bleeding heart, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“So understanding. Wanting to help anyway you can.” I ignored her last remark.
“Do you think there’s a connection between Jack’s and Chris’ deaths?”
Andie shrugged. “I don’t know why there would be. Why? Do you think there is a connection?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know either of them.”
“But you think it’s your duty as a good, moral person to try to uncover the reasons for their deaths.
“I’m naturally curious.”
Andie rolled her eyes. “You still aren’t planning on going to the police about our little game in the graveyard, are you?”
“No, not yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I decided that our little ‘game probably had nothing to do with Jack’s death.”
“Smart girl, I told you that from the beginning.”
“Some of us learn slower than others. But it’s possible that if the police knew that Jack was in the graveyard late on Friday night, they’d be able to retrace his steps and find out who killed him.”
“You’d better not get me involved.”
“You were there, Andie.”
“Listen, none of us needs a smear on our reputations. I don’t know about you, but I’m applying to some pretty high-powered schools. I don’t need to get involved in a case of murder I had nothing to do with.”
“Didn’t you like Jack?”
“Sure, but so what? He’s dead! I can’t do anything for him now!” She glanced at her watch. “Hey, listen. I’ve got to run to the bank and get some cash at the ATM. If I’m running a minute or two late, cover for me, will you? Tell Ron I’m in the can or something.”
“Okay.”
“Joey!” Ron called. “Shave a minute off your break, will you? We’re getting busier up here. You can leave a minute earlier tonight.”
“What a guy,” Andie said.
“Be right up!” I called back.
“And bring out the box of meat from the freezer that’s marked for Ms. Rawlings. It’s on the shelf about halfway back on the right.”
“Ok.”
Andie and I stood up. Andie went up the stairs, and I went into the walk-in freezer. I looked for the box and pulled it off the shelf. That’s when I heard the door close.
“Hey, leave it open, okay?” I called out. The door remained closed.
“Hey, I’m in here!” I carried the box to the door, and pushed. Nothing happened, I was stuck in the freezer, only then did I realize what happened. Somebody arranged for this to happen, someone wanted me locked inside. The worst part was, that I didn’t have to wonder who it was.

“Hey! Somebody let me out of here!” I pushed on the door again, but it didn’t open. It didn’t make any sense. The freezer did not have a lock on it. I put the box down and threw all my weight against the door. It didn’t budge. Dawson must have shoved something really heavy in front of the door. I shivered in the cold.
“Hey! Dawson, let me out of here!” I banged on the door.
“Hey! I’m going to freeze to death!” Of course that may be what he had in mind. The cold was beginning to become unbearable. A skirt and shirt aren’t very good in keeping you warm.
“Dawson, everybody will know you locked me in here! Dawson! Dawson!” I looked at my watch. It had been two minutes since Ron had called me upstairs. He would surely come down to see what was taking me so long.
“Hey! Somebody let me out of here!” I heard a faint scrapping noise, and then the freezer door was flung open.
There stood Dawson Leery. He frowned, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“What are you doing in here?” Ron walked up behind him as I rushed out of the freezer.
“Joey, what’s keeping you? Mrs. Rawlings has been waiting for nearly five minutes!”
“Somebody locked me in the freezer,” I said looking straight at Dawson.
“What are you talking about?” Ron asked. “There’s no lock on the freezer.”
“I couldn’t get out,” I said, trembling. “I yelled and yelled and banged on the door.”
“I heard the banging,” Dawson said, “when I came to use the bathroom.”
“Somebody put something really heavy in front of the door. I couldn’t push it open.”
Ron looked around him. There was nothing large and heavy enough to block the freezer.
“Maybe the latch stuck,” he said. “I’ll have someone come and look—“
“The latch didn’t stick! Somebody wanted me locked inside.” Ron shook his head and picked up the box of meat.
“Dawson, take the meat out to Mrs. Rawlings. She’s already paid for it.”
“It was a good thing I came along when I did,” Dawson said. “Joey, you could’ve frozen to death.” Dawson smiled at me, which only succeeded in making n\me feel disgusted. Dawson took the box and headed upstairs.
“Ron, someone wanted me locked in the freezer.”
“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t get out.”
“Someone pushed something heavy—“
“There isn’t anything heavy around here.”
“Well, I couldn’t get the door open.”
“Who do you think would do a thing like that to you?”
I couldn’t exactly explain my theories. I had no evidence. Plus, it was Dawson who ‘rescued’ me. Dawson heard my cries. Ron would just point that out.
“I don’t know for sure. But I was locked in the freezer. Someone slammed the door behind me and kept me in there.”
“Okay.” Ron patted me on the shoulder. He didn’t believe me. I was starting to doubt myself. “Are you alright now? Have you warmed up?”
“Yes. I’ll get back to work now.”
“Okay.” He looked relieved. I sighed and went back to work.

I didn’t see Pacey until the end of school the next day. I looked for him in the cafeteria, and the hallways, without luck. I finally saw him strolling down the corridor near my locker after school. I hurried after him.
“Pacey! Wait up a second.”
Pacey stopped and turned around towards me.
“Pacey, I owe you a huge apology. I’m so sorry that I thought you’d stolen the motorcycle helmet. I don’t know why I jumped to conclusions like that, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Pacey didn’t respond. He gazed off at something in the distance.
“Pacey? I’m really sorry.”
Pacey still didn’t respond.
“Okay, I guess I deserve the silent treatment. Anyway, I’m sorry.” I turned and started down the hall.
“Joey?”
I turned back.
“Come with me.” Pacey lead me down the corridors, which were now empty. Then, he turned down a corridor that held nothing more than a custodian’s room.
“Where are we going?”
Pacey put a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. He stopped in front of a door that was waist high. He took a key out from his pocket and unlocked it.
“Alice in Wonderland?”
Pacey smiled and shook his head. He entered the door, which led to a tunnel, with a ladder leading downward.
“Close the door behind you,” Pacey whispered. I shut the door and descended to the bottom.
“What is this?”
“There’s a series of tunnels under the school. They lead to the other end of the building, out into the playing field, and into the parking lot.”
“Why are they here?”
Pacey shrugged. “I suppose for maintenance crews.”
“How did you find this place?”
Pacey grinned. “When I was in ninth grade, I heard the principle was looking for me. I saw the door and it was unlocked. So I disappeared.”
“Is this where you go during school? Is this why I never see you during the day?”
“Sometimes I go to class.”
“But most of the time you’re down here?”
Pacey didn’t answer. “I want to show you something.” He took my hand and led me deeper into the tunnel.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” We walked for another minute and the tunnel stopped. There in the corner was a rug, some books, soda, and a leather jacket.
Pacey grinned. “Have a seat.”
“What is this?”
“Home away from home,” Pacey said sitting down next to me.”
“No one has found this place of yours?”
“Not yet. I usually take everything with me when I leave. As long as the ventilation or plumbing systems have no problem, there is no reason for even the custodians to be down here.
“I can’t believe this! You spend time down here every day?”
“Sometimes I sleep here.” His smile faded. “It isn’t always so great at home.”
I remembered the man who had answered the phone last night. “I’m sorry.”
Pacey shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“Where did you get that key from?”
“Borrowed it and made a copy.”
“Is that how you got into my locker? With a master key you ‘borrowed’ from the custodians?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Pacey, if you put all that ingenuity—“
“—into something productive…” he said with me.
I laughed. “Heard that before, huh?”
“Yeah.”
I pointed to a ladder and door above me. “Where does that lead?”
“It opens in a big storage room next to the media center.”
“We could’ve come down that way.”
“Maybe. But sometimes the custodians have coffee in there at this time of day.”
My gaze fell on a black vinyl case. “What’s in there? It looks like a musical instrument or something.”
Pacey looked over his shoulder. “It’s a sax.”
“You play the saxophone?”
“Not very well. I got it at Goodwill.”
“Play it for me.”
“No, I’ve never had one lesson.”
“So what?”
”No.”
“Chris and I used to come down these tunnels. We were the only students who knew about the, until you.”
I thought about Dawson and my suspicions. I wanted to tell Pacey, but I was afraid that he would take matters into his own hands. Besides, I don’t believe in revenge.
“Pacey, if we find out what happened—or who killed Chris—we should go to the police and let them investigate and charge him with murder.”
Pacey looked up at me. “Did you find something?”
“No—“ Pacey sat up.
“You suspect someone though. From the market?”
“No, Pacey. I don’t know anything.” Pacey slouched back down. “You and Chris were really close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah we knew each other really well. We knew what the other was thinking.”
“He must’ve been a lot like you.”
“Yeah, he was.”
I smiled. “Then I would have liked him.”
Pacey looked at me for a minute. Then he reached over and gently touched my cheek.
“I’ve never met a girl like you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I certainly never met a guy like you!”
He wrapped his arms around me. He leaned into kiss me. A noise above our heads startled us. The door was opening. Pacey jumped up and gave me a shove. I grabbed the rug while Pacey grabbed his other stuff. We ran as fast as we could, and didn’t stop running until we reached the safety at the other end.

“Hi, Mrs. Trent. How are you this evening?”
Dawson grinned at her. He was working at register four next to me. Jen was at register two and Andie was at register three.
“Just fine, Dawson. You’re busy than usual tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am, we are.” He turned to the boy sacking for me. “Will, I need a sacker here.”
I didn’t have a customer at the moment, so Will went to help Dawson.
“How is your husband doing today?” Dawson asked Mrs. Trent.
“Oh, he’s better. But the doctor says that he’ll have to stay at the hospital for several more days, maybe longer. Bypass surgery takes a lot out of a person.”
“Well, I hope he’s back on his feet again real soon.”
Dawson took Mrs. Trent’s check and tendered the order.
“Thank you, Dawson.”
She and Will walked out together. An elderly man approached my register and placed a carton of milk on the counter. I smiled and rang up the items.
“That’ll be $2.32, please.”
While I waited for the man to pull his wallet out, I glanced over at Dawson. He was leaning over his counter writing on a pad of paper. Then, he straightened up and tossed a check into the cash register.
Had Dawson just copied Mrs. Trent’s address? Was she his next victim? Did Dawson think he could break into the Trent’s house, while Mr. Trent was recuperating? Dawson ripped off the piece of paper and put it in his smock.
The old man at my register handed me his check, and I finished the sale and handed him his receipt. I glanced over at Dawson again. If only I could get a hold of that paper, it would be the proof I needed to go to the police.
Dawson went on his break and left his smock. I took the chance. I went towards it, when I heard Andie’s voice.
“Joey, come sack for me. My sacker’s on break, and I can’t keep up with this.”
“Okay.” I waited for Andie to turn around.
Andie scowled. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” I sighed and hurried over. I didn’t get the chance to get the paper. The store remained busy, and I remained at Andie’s register. Dawson came back from his break and put his smock back on. I lost my chance. I was about to give up hope, when a thought occurred to me. What if Dawson pressed hard enough that his writing left an impression on the page directly underneath, the page that was now on the top of the pad? Wouldn’t that evidence be enough for the police? But how was I going to get it? I looked down at the pad next to me and tossed it in the trash.
“Dawson?” He turned to look at me.
“Could I use your notepad? I just remembered that Mrs. Jenkins wanted some yogurt, and I forgot to write it down.”
Dawson picked up his notepad and tossed it to me. I tore off the top page and pretended to write an order for Mrs. Jenkins.

Ron poked his head out of the booth.
“Jen, you’ve had your break, right?”
“Right.”
Andie, you too?
“Yup.”
“Dawson had his. Joey, it’s your turn.”
“Okay.” I was glad for a rest. I put the torn page in my purse. I’d have to wait until I got home before I could do anything with it. I walked to the back of the store, and headed down the stairs. I was tuning into a pretty good detective. I wouldn’t get Pacey involved. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about any acts of revenge. It made me feel good to do so well in my detective job. I didn’t have long to feel good, though. Halfway down the stairs the step under me gave away. I screamed and grabbed for the railing. I missed it, and tumbled headfirst into the basement.

“Hey! Somebody let me out of here!” I pushed on the door again, but it didn’t open. It didn’t make any sense. The freezer did not have a lock on it. I put the box down and threw all my weight against the door. It didn’t budge. Dawson must have shoved something really heavy in front of the door. I shivered in the cold.
“Hey! Dawson, let me out of here!” I banged on the door.
“Hey! I’m going to freeze to death!” Of course that may be what he had in mind. The cold was beginning to become unbearable. A skirt and shirt aren’t very good in keeping you warm.
“Dawson, everybody will know you locked me in here! Dawson! Dawson!” I looked at my watch. It had been two minutes since Ron had called me upstairs. He would surely come down to see what was taking me so long.
“Hey! Somebody let me out of here!” I heard a faint scrapping noise, and then the freezer door was flung open.
There stood Dawson Leery. He frowned, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“What are you doing in here?” Ron walked up behind him as I rushed out of the freezer.
“Joey, what’s keeping you? Mrs. Rawlings has been waiting for nearly five minutes!”
“Somebody locked me in the freezer,” I said looking straight at Dawson.
“What are you talking about?” Ron asked. “There’s no lock on the freezer.”
“I couldn’t get out,” I said, trembling. “I yelled and yelled and banged on the door.”
“I heard the banging,” Dawson said, “when I came to use the bathroom.”
“Somebody put something really heavy in front of the door. I couldn’t push it open.”
Ron looked around him. There was nothing large and heavy enough to block the freezer.
“Maybe the latch stuck,” he said. “I’ll have someone come and look—“
“The latch didn’t stick! Somebody wanted me locked inside.” Ron shook his head and picked up the box of meat.
“Dawson, take the meat out to Mrs. Rawlings. She’s already paid for it.”
“It was a good thing I came along when I did,” Dawson said. “Joey, you could’ve frozen to death.” Dawson smiled at me, which only succeeded in making n\me feel disgusted. Dawson took the box and headed upstairs.
“Ron, someone wanted me locked in the freezer.”
“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t get out.”
“Someone pushed something heavy—“
“There isn’t anything heavy around here.”
“Well, I couldn’t get the door open.”
“Who do you think would do a thing like that to you?”
I couldn’t exactly explain my theories. I had no evidence. Plus, it was Dawson who ‘rescued’ me. Dawson heard my cries. Ron would just point that out.
“I don’t know for sure. But I was locked in the freezer. Someone slammed the door behind me and kept me in there.”
“Okay.” Ron patted me on the shoulder. He didn’t believe me. I was starting to doubt myself. “Are you alright now? Have you warmed up?”
“Yes. I’ll get back to work now.”
“Okay.” He looked relieved. I sighed and went back to work.

I didn’t see Pacey until the end of school the next day. I looked for him in the cafeteria, and the hallways, without luck. I finally saw him strolling down the corridor near my locker after school. I hurried after him.
“Pacey! Wait up a second.”
Pacey stopped and turned around towards me.
“Pacey, I owe you a huge apology. I’m so sorry that I thought you’d stolen the motorcycle helmet. I don’t know why I jumped to conclusions like that, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Pacey didn’t respond. He gazed off at something in the distance.
“Pacey? I’m really sorry.”
Pacey still didn’t respond.
“Okay, I guess I deserve the silent treatment. Anyway, I’m sorry.” I turned and started down the hall.
“Joey?”
I turned back.
“Come with me.” Pacey lead me down the corridors, which were now empty. Then, he turned down a corridor that held nothing more than a custodian’s room.
“Where are we going?”
Pacey put a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. He stopped in front of a door that was waist high. He took a key out from his pocket and unlocked it.
“Alice in Wonderland?”
Pacey smiled and shook his head. He entered the door, which led to a tunnel, with a ladder leading downward.
“Close the door behind you,” Pacey whispered. I shut the door and descended to the bottom.
“What is this?”
“There’s a series of tunnels under the school. They lead to the other end of the building, out into the playing field, and into the parking lot.”
“Why are they here?”
Pacey shrugged. “I suppose for maintenance crews.”
“How did you find this place?”
Pacey grinned. “When I was in ninth grade, I heard the principle was looking for me. I saw the door and it was unlocked. So I disappeared.”
“Is this where you go during school? Is this why I never see you during the day?”
“Sometimes I go to class.”
“But most of the time you’re down here?”
Pacey didn’t answer. “I want to show you something.” He took my hand and led me deeper into the tunnel.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” We walked for another minute and the tunnel stopped. There in the corner was a rug, some books, soda, and a leather jacket.
Pacey grinned. “Have a seat.”
“What is this?”
“Home away from home,” Pacey said sitting down next to me.”
“No one has found this place of yours?”
“Not yet. I usually take everything with me when I leave. As long as the ventilation or plumbing systems have no problem, there is no reason for even the custodians to be down here.
“I can’t believe this! You spend time down here every day?”
“Sometimes I sleep here.” His smile faded. “It isn’t always so great at home.”
I remembered the man who had answered the phone last night. “I’m sorry.”
Pacey shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“Where did you get that key from?”
“Borrowed it and made a copy.”
“Is that how you got into my locker? With a master key you ‘borrowed’ from the custodians?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Pacey, if you put all that ingenuity—“
“—into something productive…” he said with me.
I laughed. “Heard that before, huh?”
“Yeah.”
I pointed to a ladder and door above me. “Where does that lead?”
“It opens in a big storage room next to the media center.”
“We could’ve come down that way.”
“Maybe. But sometimes the custodians have coffee in there at this time of day.”
My gaze fell on a black vinyl case. “What’s in there? It looks like a musical instrument or something.”
Pacey looked over his shoulder. “It’s a sax.”
“You play the saxophone?”
“Not very well. I got it at Goodwill.”
“Play it for me.”
“No, I’ve never had one lesson.”
“So what?”
”No.”
“Chris and I used to come down these tunnels. We were the only students who knew about the, until you.”
I thought about Dawson and my suspicions. I wanted to tell Pacey, but I was afraid that he would take matters into his own hands. Besides, I don’t believe in revenge.
“Pacey, if we find out what happened—or who killed Chris—we should go to the police and let them investigate and charge him with murder.”
Pacey looked up at me. “Did you find something?”
“No—“ Pacey sat up.
“You suspect someone though. From the market?”
“No, Pacey. I don’t know anything.” Pacey slouched back down. “You and Chris were really close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah we knew each other really well. We knew what the other was thinking.”
“He must’ve been a lot like you.”
“Yeah, he was.”
I smiled. “Then I would have liked him.”
Pacey looked at me for a minute. Then he reached over and gently touched my cheek.
“I’ve never met a girl like you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I certainly never met a guy like you!”
He wrapped his arms around me. He leaned into kiss me. A noise above our heads startled us. The door was opening. Pacey jumped up and gave me a shove. I grabbed the rug while Pacey grabbed his other stuff. We ran as fast as we could, and didn’t stop running until we reached the safety at the other end.

“Hi, Mrs. Trent. How are you this evening?”
Dawson grinned at her. He was working at register four next to me. Jen was at register two and Andie was at register three.
“Just fine, Dawson. You’re busy than usual tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am, we are.” He turned to the boy sacking for me. “Will, I need a sacker here.”
I didn’t have a customer at the moment, so Will went to help Dawson.
“How is your husband doing today?” Dawson asked Mrs. Trent.
“Oh, he’s better. But the doctor says that he’ll have to stay at the hospital for several more days, maybe longer. Bypass surgery takes a lot out of a person.”
“Well, I hope he’s back on his feet again real soon.”
Dawson took Mrs. Trent’s check and tendered the order.
“Thank you, Dawson.”
She and Will walked out together. An elderly man approached my register and placed a carton of milk on the counter. I smiled and rang up the items.
“That’ll be $2.32, please.”
While I waited for the man to pull his wallet out, I glanced over at Dawson. He was leaning over his counter writing on a pad of paper. Then, he straightened up and tossed a check into the cash register.
Had Dawson just copied Mrs. Trent’s address? Was she his next victim? Did Dawson think he could break into the Trent’s house, while Mr. Trent was recuperating? Dawson ripped off the piece of paper and put it in his smock.
The old man at my register handed me his check, and I finished the sale and handed him his receipt. I glanced over at Dawson again. If only I could get a hold of that paper, it would be the proof I needed to go to the police.
Dawson went on his break and left his smock. I took the chance. I went towards it, when I heard Andie’s voice.
“Joey, come sack for me. My sacker’s on break, and I can’t keep up with this.”
“Okay.” I waited for Andie to turn around.
Andie scowled. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” I sighed and hurried over. I didn’t get the chance to get the paper. The store remained busy, and I remained at Andie’s register. Dawson came back from his break and put his smock back on. I lost my chance. I was about to give up hope, when a thought occurred to me. What if Dawson pressed hard enough that his writing left an impression on the page directly underneath, the page that was now on the top of the pad? Wouldn’t that evidence be enough for the police? But how was I going to get it? I looked down at the pad next to me and tossed it in the trash.
“Dawson?” He turned to look at me.
“Could I use your notepad? I just remembered that Mrs. Jenkins wanted some yogurt, and I forgot to write it down.”
Dawson picked up his notepad and tossed it to me. I tore off the top page and pretended to write an order for Mrs. Jenkins.

Ron poked his head out of the booth.
“Jen, you’ve had your break, right?”
“Right.”
Andie, you too?
“Yup.”
“Dawson had his. Joey, it’s your turn.”
“Okay.” I was glad for a rest. I put the torn page in my purse. I’d have to wait until I got home before I could do anything with it. I walked to the back of the store, and headed down the stairs. I was tuning into a pretty good detective. I wouldn’t get Pacey involved. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about any acts of revenge. It made me feel good to do so well in my detective job. I didn’t have long to feel good, though. Halfway down the stairs the step under me gave away. I screamed and grabbed for the railing. I missed it, and tumbled headfirst into the basement.

I didn’t stop somersaulting until I hit the floor. I lay there for a few moments, dazed. My head was throbbing with a monster headache. It felt like someone had been playing basketball. I moved my arm, and felt pain shoot through it. I decided to stop moving and just lie there.
I knew no one would hear me if I yelled. I didn’t feel like yelling anyway. I moved my other arm, and found that it didn’t hurt. My legs were very sore, but other than that they were ok. I struggled to sit up, using my good arm for balance.
I felt very nauseous. I waited for the feeling to pass. After several minutes, and with great difficulty, I managed to stand up. I hobbled over to the stairway and pulled myself up five of the steps. I stopped in front of the step that had given way. It had been broken at the edge, as if years of using it broke it.
I leaned down to examine the step. The wood had been cut—there was a fresh saw mark—vertically in the step so that very little weight on it would tear the step away from the rest of the structure.
I sat down and thought of Dawson. He had to be responsible for this. Who else would have wanted me to fall and break my neck? He had taken his break earlier, but so had everyone else. Had he left at any other time?
Yes. He had gone to use the restroom, not long ago. He’d been gone long enough to saw the wood.
First the freezer, now the step. He’s just toying with me. He’s killed twice, one by running him down with a car, the other by slitting his throat.
But why is he just playing with me? He must know I know. Why is he trying to scare or injure me when he could just kill me? It doesn’t make sense.
“Joey?” Jen’s had appeared at the top of the stairs. “Why are you sitting there?”
“I fell,” I said glad to see her. “The step…gave away.”
Should I tell Jen about the step? Should I tell her about Dawson? I will, but not now.
“Oh, my gosh! Are you okay?” Jen hurried down the steps. She reached out. “Here, let me help you. Give me your arm.” Jen put my arm around her neck and helped me climb up the stairs. She sat me in a chair at the top of the steps.
“I’ll get Ron.” She said. “You should go home.”

Andie brought my car to the curb next to the store, and Jen helped me get in. Ron stood on the sidewalk frowning.
“You sure you can drive, kiddo?” he said leaning in the window.
“I’m fine, really.”
When Jen brought Ron, I whispered for him to look at the step. He nodded, and then helped me to my feet.
I hoped that he saw the fresh cut in the old wood. After all this, I saw in a good mood. I had evidence in my purse.
I drove home and when I got there, I took long steps. I didn’t want Bessie to worry about me.
“Jo, what a surprise!” Bessie said. “Aren’t you home awfully early?”
“Yes, I stumbled down the stairs at work, so Ron said I could come home—“
“Are you alright?” Bessie rushed over and checked me out.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “It was no big deal. I’ll have a scratch or two and a couple of bruises, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Oh, I hope so. Do you need any help upstairs?”
“No. Really, I’m fine.”
“Well, okay, if you say so. Oh, I almost forgot again!” Bessie slapped her forehead. “There was an envelope in the mail. The postmark is from Capeside, so I knew it wasn’t from any of your friends back home. I just forgot to give it to you.”
“That’s ok. Where is it?”
“I put it on the desk in your room.”
“Thanks, Bess. I think I’ll go up and take a bath and then go to bed. I’m really tired.”
“Okay. I hope you’re not to sore in the morning.”
“I hope so, too. ‘Night.”
I climbed the stairs slowly and walked into my room, turning on the light. I opened my purse and looked for the piece of paper.
“I left it right on top,” I mumbled.
It wasn’t there. I emptied the contents on my bed. There was no slip of paper.
“I put it here!” I said aloud. “Just before my break. I’m positive!”
The paper was gone. Someone—Dawson for sure—had stolen it right out of my purse, while I lay in pain on the basement floor.
Jen had brought me my purse. Did she take it? Why would she want to protect Dawson? No. She didn’t like Dawson. No one did. So Dawson had to be the thief. He must have figured out why I wanted the pad, and went into my purse when no one was looking. Now I had no evidence. I was back to square one, a theory with no proof. I looked across the room and noticed the white envelope against my desk lamp. I walked over and picked it up.
JOEY POTTER, it said in small capital letters. The address was written the same way. I opened the envelope and a piece of paper fell to the floor. It was a picture. Groaning with pain, I leaned over and picked it up.
It was a picture of me, cut out, and I had a noose around my neck. It was drawn so tightly, that my head and neck were curled into a tight role. My picture was taped to another piece of paper. On that paper, in the same writing, it said:
MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE.

I found Pacey sitting on the hood of my car after school the next day. I smiled as I approached him.
“Hi, Pacey.”
In spite of everything that had happened to me since Pacey took me into the underground tunnel, I had been thinking about him a lot. I played everything we did together over in my mind. I remembered that Jen had told me to stay away, but I can’t help it. I’m drawn to him.
Pacey didn’t return my smile. “Hi, yourself.”
“You okay?”
Pacey jumped down from the hood and took my chin in his hands. He turned my head to one side.
“Where did you get that bruise on your face?” My hand instinctively went to my cheek.
“I—I fell.”
“Where?”
“At work. On the stairs.”
“How’d it happen?”
“The step broke, I guess. The stairs are really old.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Pacey let me go and took a step back. He folded his arms over his chest, and leaned against my hood.
“What do you mean?”
“The stair was cut, wasn’t it, Joey?”
I stared at him, shocked. “How did you know?”
“I overheard your good friends talking, Jen and Andie. They were in line for lunch before you arrived. They didn’t know I was behind them. Jen said she overheard you tell the store manager that he should check the step. So she looked at it after work. She said that it had been cut clean through with a saw.”
I didn’t know what to say. I saw Andie and Jen, but neither of them mentioned the stairs or the accident. Why not?
“What’s going on, Joey?”
Pacey was starting to get angry.
“I don’t know for sure what’s going on,” I said. “But I have a hunch.”
“Who cut the stair?”
“I’m not sure—but I think one of the guys who work there.”
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Dawson Leery, but Pacey, I don’t have any proof that would stand up in court. I don’t even have enough information to go to the police. Besides, maybe someone else was supposed to fall. Or maybe it was a practical joke.”
“Uh-huh.” Pacey clearly didn’t believe that.
“I can’t be sure about any of this.”
“Why would he want to hurt you?” Pacey pressed.
“Maybe he thinks I know something,” I said, “about the murders.”
“Do you?”
I shook my head. “All I have are guesses.”
“You think Dawson killed Chris and Jack?” Pacey said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just don’t know. I have absolutely nothing to go on.”
“I think you’re in danger,” Pacey said.
“No,” I said. “If he wanted me dead, he would have killed me. I think he’s trying to scare me because I’ve been asking questions.”
“The stop asking questions. Let me do some checking on Dawson Leery.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out what I can about him.”
“You be careful, ok?
“Sure.” Pacey walked me around to the driver’s side, and I got in.
“You work tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Watch yourself.”
“I will.”
“Better than last night. I wish I could be there to protect you.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry.” He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I drove out of the lot and towards home.

“Remember when you told me Dawson was a jerk?” I said.
Jen nodded. She took a sip of her coke. “He is.”
We were taking our break in the basement employee lounge. I decided to start a conversation with Jen about Dawson, to see where it led. I still wasn’t sure if I could trust Jen. Jen was awful friendly with Andie, and I was sure Andie couldn’t be trusted.
“Yeah, I think so, too. What do you think his problem is?”
Jen shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe his parents are axe-murderers.” She grinned; not knowing how close her joke had come to the truth about Dawson.
“What do you think Dawson is capable of?”
“You mean, like sawing through a step to cause an accident?”
I watched her carefully. “That’s right.”
“Do you think Dawson did that?”
“I don’t know who else might have done it. Do you?
“No, but why Dawson? And why would he want to hurt you?
“Maybe he doesn’t like me.”
“Dawson doesn’t like anyone.”
“Except the women who come in here.”
“I still think he’s trying to get written into someone’s will,” Jen said with a smile. “He doesn’t actually like those women.”
“Maybe there’s another reason he’s being nice.”
“What’s that?”
I paused, debating whether or not to tell Jen. I thought, ‘Oh what the hell’.
“Remember the last burglary around here? Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs?”
“Right. She shops here at the store.
“I know. Several days before the robbery, I overheard Mrs. Jacobs talking to Dawson about her trip to Europe.”
“Boy, he really butters up those women!” Jen said, rolling her eyes. “He makes them think he’s really interested in their lives. What a hypocrite.”
“Dawson asked her when she was leaving, and she told him.”
“Yeah?”
“Their conversation was out in the parking lot where no one would overhear them. Except I overheard it.”
“Uh-huh?” Jen was waiting for more.
“Then she left for vacation, and their home was robbed.”
“Yeah.”
I stopped and stared at Jen. “Don’t you think there’s a connection?”
“Between what and what? You mean, Dawson talking to Mrs. Jacobs and the robbery?”
I suddenly felt very foolish. “Well, there could be—“
“You think that Dawson robbed the Jacobs couple?”
“It’s possible.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose, but it’s a pretty big jump, Dawson talking to Mrs. Jacobs about her vacation, and Dawson breaking into her house and robbing her, don’t you think? I mean, sure, he’s an arrogant jerk, but I don’t know about breaking and entering. That’s a felony.” Jen grinned. “I’m not sure he’s smart enough to pull off a robbery, anyway. The police say those break-ins have been planned really well.”
“But when Dawson saw that I was listening to the conversation between him and Mrs. Hawkins, he told me to mind my own business.”
“Dawson says stuff like that all the time, Joey. One time he accused me of having a big head because he heard me tell Andie that I was getting straight A’s.”
“But the stair—“
“Yeah, I don’t know who did that,” Jen said. “It sure could’ve been Dawson. He’s a real creep and all, but I don’t think your robbery theory holds up, I mean, I suppose it’s possible, but than anything’s possible.”
I felt deflated. Jen was right. I had no valid point. If the robbery theory didn’t hold up, my murder theory must really be out there. I wished I hadn’t said anything. I had nothing to go on, nothing that could connect Dawson to anything.
“Joey, will you meet me in my office?” Ron asked from the top of the steps.
“Sure, be right up.” I turned to Jen. “You’re right. I don’t have any good evidence that Dawson is burglarizing those homes, but I still think he is involved.”
Jen shrugged and smiled. “Maybe. See you later.”
I walked to the bottom of the stairs. A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned to my left and saw Dawson standing next to the employees’ coat locker. He had obviously been standing there, listening to my conversation with Jen. His face was dark and fierce and angry.
“Hello, babe.” His voice was menacing, but so soft that Jen couldn’t have heard. I didn’t respond. With my heart thundering against my ribs, I hurried up the stairs.

He heard everything. He warned me in his note to mind my own business, and now he knows I’m talking to other people about him and the robberies. Why hadn’t I been more careful? What would Dawson do to me? Would he kill me? He might have already killed two people who figured out the connection between him and the robberies. Should I believe his note? Would I be the next to die because I hadn’t minded my own business?
I found Ron in his booth, sitting behind his desk. He looked up when I walked in.
“Come in, Joey, and close the door behind you.” I shut the door and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.
“I looked at the stair that broke when you stepped on it. Since you asked me to look at it, I suppose that you know that it was cut nearly all the way across with a saw.”
“Yes.”
I knew what question was coming next. After my conversation with Jen, I wasn’t going to make any accusations.
“I’ve thought some more about what you said about getting stuck in the freezer.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any reason to believe that both of these things were directed at you, personally?”
“Any reason?”
Ron nodded.
“Well—“ I stared at the floor. I couldn’t say anything. Dawson would find out, because Ron would confront him about it. Dawson would just not be near any ‘accidents’. Maybe he would finish next time.
“Joey?” Ron was watching me intently.
“No, I don’t think these things have been against me personally.”
“Well, let me tell you what I’m going to do. I’m calling a special employee meeting after work tomorrow. Everyone is to be here. I’m going to talk about the two incidents and warn everybody that if I discover who was responsible, that person will be fired immediately and the police will be notified.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll ask everyone to keep an eye out for any other ‘pranks’, dangerous or not, against Market employees.”
“Thanks, Ron.”
I was relieved. Dawson would realize I hadn’t accused him, so maybe he’d leave me alone.

“I’ll walk out with you,” Jen said to me.
We got our jackets from the lockers downstairs and were heading out the door.
“What do you think the meeting’s about?” Jen whispered. “Ron’s never called an employee meeting like this in the middle of the month like this. Something must be up.”
“Maybe,” I said vaguely.
“What did Ron talk to you after your break?”
“Oh—he just wondered how I was feeling. I mean, after my fall down the stairs.”
Jen giggled. “Maybe he’s afraid you’re going to sue him.”
“I’d never do that.”
“I know. You don’t do what normal people do. You’re too nice.”
I turned to look at Jen. That sounded like something Andie had said the other day. She called me a bleeding heart.
Andie had said it sarcastically, but I wasn’t so sure about how Jen had said it. Her voice didn’t give many clues.
“Well, good night,” I said.
“See you at school tomorrow.”
We parted ways and walked to our own cars. Jen’s friendship with Andie puzzled me. Jen was the exact opposite of Andie.
I pulled up to the stoplight on the edge of town. At ten o’clock on a weekday evening there usually wasn’t a lot of traffic on the street, and tonight was no different.
I glanced in my rearview and saw one car approaching slowly. The light turned green, so I pulled through the intersection and headed down the street.
In spite of the chill, I rolled my window down. The cold air helped me relax. I was glad that Ron was going to warn everybody about further ‘pranks’.
Suddenly glaring lights reflected in my rearview mirror blinded me. The driver behind me had turned on his bright lights. I assumed he was going to pass, so I slowed down and ducked my head to avoid the glare. He didn’t pass. It came up closer and banged into my bumper. I gripped the wheel tightly to keep control of the car. I looked into the rearview mirror. There was only one person in the car behind me.
I couldn’t make out whom it was. I couldn’t even be sure of the driver’s gender.
The car bumped me again from behind, only harder this time, throwing me backward to hit the headrest. No the car pulled into the left lane as to pass.
I slowed a little. “Just pass me, okay? Just pass me,” I whispered.
I knew that wasn’t going to happen. The car came up even with me. I looked at the driver, but I couldn’t make anything out. They were covered with a jacket. He jerked his car to the right and banged hard into my car. I lost control as the car lounged for the edge of the road. I righted the car, but seconds later; he came back at me and slammed me with even more force. This time, when my car swerved to the right, it slammed into a postbox on the side of the road. The box snapped off its wooden post, and I cried out as it crashed into my windshield.
The glass shattered, raining small pellets of safety glass down on my face, and the wind roared into the front seat.
I managed to edge the car back onto the road.
“Stop it, oh God, just leave me alone!”
The wind blasted my face, making breathing difficult. I gasped and choked and turned my head to catch a breath.
This time, someone wasn’t just playing with me. This was not a warning. This was someone who wanted me dead. It had to be Dawson.
I peered ahead looking for traffic coming towards me. Surely, he would get out of the left hand lane if a car were heading toward him. Up ahead, came a short line of traffic heading my way. The car at my side slowed a bit and pulled back behind me. I sighed heavily, knowing that the driver wasn’t finished yet, and this pause in his attacks would be brief.
And it was. The driver came up behind me and rammed my station wagon from behind for the third time. My head snapped back again.
For a moment, I lost control of my car. When my head bounced upright again, I looked down the road, and was appalled to see that I had crossed the centerline. Huge headlights were speeding towards me. A semi. I had only seconds before it would hit me head on.
I screamed and the sound of the horn blended with the loud shriek of the trucks horn.
I jerked the steering wheel to the right, but saw headlights over my shoulder. The car behind me had pulled up even with me, blocking access to the right lane.
There was only one other way to go. With the semi almost on top of me, I yanked the steering wheel to the left. Something on the side of the road appeared in front of me out of the darkness.
An old truck.
I stood on my brakes and muscled the steering wheel as far left as I could.
Tires screeching, my car whipped into a tailspin as the semi barreled by on the highway, not six feet from me.
My car came to an abrupt stop, with me facing the direction from which I had come. Miraculously, I didn’t hit the truck.
Miraculously, I was alive.
The deadly car that had chased me down the highway was gone. It had disappeared into the night.

I sat on the side of the road with the wind whipping me in the face. I was trying to calm down. I know I couldn’t do anything because I had no proof. It had to be Dawson, who attempted to kill me on the freeway.
If I went to the police, they would conduct an investigation, and while they conducted it, Dawson would be free to do whatever he wanted to do. And what he wanted was kill me. The police could offer me no protection.
Protection. I raised my head. Pacey wanted to protect me. I decided to go to him and tell him everything. I had to call Pacey. I needed a phone. I checked the road for traffic, and headed back to town. Driving without a windshield is very difficult. The cold wind slammed against me, taking my breath away.
I stopped at a gas station on the edge of town, dialed home and told Bessie that I was at Jen’s studying for a math exam. Then I looked up Pacey’s number and dialed it. It rang about twenty times before I gave up. He wasn’t home.
Then I remembered. The tunnel. Pacey was probably in the tunnel under the school. He’d told me he sleeps there when things get rough at home. I checked my watch. It was 10:28.
Before getting back into the car, I quickly walked around it to see the damage. Besides losing the windshield, the car had two large dents in the back fender and the passenger’s side door was pushed in. I decided to worry about fixing the damages later. I got back in my car and headed toward school.
There were lights on inside. Good. The custodians were still working. I parked close to the building in the teachers’ parking lot. I didn’t bother to lock the door. The windshield was missing, which left the car vulnerable.
Now, all I needed to find was an open door to school. I hurried to the closest entrance, which led to the corridor below the media center. It was locked. Then I walked around to the front of the school and tried the door. It was locked too. So was the gym door.
A motorcycle was parked on the sidewalk leading up to the gymnasium. I wasn’t sure if it was Pacey’s or not. It could have been. I knew of one last door to try and hurried toward the fine arts wing. I found it locked, too.
I turned around and gazed out over the student parking lot next to the complex. There were more than twenty cars sitting there quietly, waiting for their drivers. I remembered there was a production of The Music Man in rehearsal. They were obviously practicing late. I could wait for the students to finish and catch the door when they came out.
I positioned myself next to the door, leaning against the brick, and waited. The minutes ticked by.
“Come on, guys,” I whispered. “Come on out.” I continued to wait.
After more than half an hour, the heavy door was pushed open, and two laughing girls stepped out.
I grabbed the door, and the girls looked at me curiously.
”I forgot my history book,” I said, smiling. “Test tomorrow.” The girls laughed and headed down the sidewalk towards the parking lot. I slipped inside.
I knew two entrances to the tunnel: inside the storage room next to the media center and the little door Pacey and I had taken the other day.
I was closest to the second door. I hurried, walking purposefully down the hall so as not to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want anybody asking what I was doing late at school.
Six feet away from the door, I stopped in my tracks. There was a small padlock closed over a new metal hasp. The custodians must have locked Pacey out of the tunnel after they had discovered us.
I hurried down the corridor to the other side of the building. I didn’t see any students now. They must have all gone home after rehearsal. I passed the media center’s locked entrance, and stopped in front of the storage shed. I put my ear to the door and listened. I didn’t hear anything. I turned the knob and opened the door a crack.
Two custodians were shrugging on their coats and heading towards me. Deep in conversation they didn’t notice me. But they would have in a moment if I didn’t run away and hide.
I quickly and quietly closed the door, rushed about ten yards down the hall, and ducked into a doorway. The hallway was dark enough that they might not notice me when they walked past. I held my breath.
They passed by, not even seeing me. I waited until they had disappeared down the hallway before I dared move. Then I tiptoed out of the doorway and ran back to the storage room.
I opened the door, slipped inside, and closed the door before I turned on the lights. I noticed the small door to the tunnel on my left. I hurried over and tried the small doorknob.
It turned. It was unlocked. I opened the door. It was dark inside.
“Pacey?” I called softly. “Pacey? Are you there? It’s me, Joey.”
Pacey’s face appeared out of the gloom. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
Pacey grinned. “Come on down.”
A flashlight popped on in his hand.
I climbed down the stairs and turned to him.
Pacey’s smile disappeared. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking all over.”
“Pacey, I have to talk to you.”
“What’s the matter? What happened?”
“I didn’t want to tell you everything until I had proof, but I haven’t been able to get proof, and tonight somebody tried to kill me.”
“Kill you?” His free hand gripped my arm while he shined the light over my face so he could look at me. “Who? What happened?”
“First, you have to be calm, Pacey, because I need your help.
He nodded. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
I told him everything. I told him my suspicions about Dawson, that maybe he was responsible for the robberies, maybe the murders. Then I told him the rest: my slashed tires, the mysteriously ‘stuck’ freezer, the threatening note, and finally the horrifying ride home.
“Why didn’t you tell me about all this:”
“I didn’t know who was doing it for sure. I still don’t! I think we should go to the police and tell them everything. While they’re investigating, I’ll avoid Dawson. Pacey, I don’t know what else to do. Remember we aren’t positive that Dawson robbed the houses or that he murdered Chris or Jack.
“There’s one way to find out.”
“How?”
“Send him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“An anonymous letter. It’ll say, ‘We know about the murders and the robberies.’ We’ll tell him to meet us someplace. If he shows up, we’ll know he’s scared because he’s been found out.”
“So what do we do when he shows up? Don’t you think he’ll come prepared to kill us?”
“We’ll be hiding nearby. He’ll never see us, but we’ll know for sure he’s guilty.”
“And you promise to stay hidden? No trying to get even? No acts of vengeance?”
“I promise. After that, we’ll go to the police and then I’ll sick close to make sure he doesn’t get near you.”
“Dawson will know who the letter is from. He knows I suspect him of the robberies.”
“But the note will say we know about him. He’ll show up to find out who else, besides you, knows.”
I paused. I took Pacey’s hand in mine.
”Okay. I’m scared, Pacey, but let’s do it.”

“Read it first and make sure it’s all right. I’ll leave it in Dawson’s car this morning after everybody’s gone into the school.”
Pacey met me at 7-11 a couple blocks away from school. We wanted to make sure Dawson didn’t see us together while we planned our meeting tonight with him.
Standing behind the rack of chips and dip, Pacey handed me the folded piece of paper. I opened it and read:
We know what you did, Dawson Leery. We know you’re a thief and a murderer. Meet us at the black angel tonight at eleven. If you’re not there, we’ll go to the police and tell them everything.
“That’s good, Pacey.” I handed the paper back to him. “How are you going to get into Dawson’s car?”
Pacey shrugged and looked away. “I’ll just---do it.”
“You’re going to break-in, aren’t you?”
Pacey looked at me. “There’s no other way to get him the note today, Joey. And if we leave it on the windshield, somebody else might pick it up.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“It’s not like I’m going to steal anything from his car.”
I smiled. “You’re right. We’re giving him something.”
Pacey grinned back. “A note that’ll make him swallow his tongue if we are lucky.”
I laughed.
“What time do you think we should be at the graveyard?” I asked him.
“At least an hour ahead of time. He might decide to com e early, himself.”
”I called Ron this morning and told him relatives were visiting and I can’t come to work tonight.”
“Good.”
“I’m missing his special meeting to warn everybody about dangerous pranks at the store. Dawson will miss it, too.”
“Only if he’s guilty.”
”I’m getting my new windshield after school, so I can drive tonight. I’ll pick you up if you’ll give me your address.”
“No.” His voice was abrupt. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at ten. Where? At the black angel?
“No. Meet me at the caretaker’s house. We an watch from there.”
“Good idea. See you there at ten.”
Pacey looked at me longingly. “This probably sounds crazy, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” He grinned. “But I’ll get to spend an hour with you before Dawson shows up.”
I smiled back. I stood on my toes and kissed him. “See you later.”

I had a hard time sitting still that evening. I had some reading to do for my history class, but I couldn't concentrate on it and gave up after a feew minutes.
Bessie and Bodie were downstairs playing with Alex. I told them that I had another late-night studying session with Jen.
Since I was going to 'study' late, I had to stay in my room all evening pretending to work on my school assignments.
The clock hands were dragging themselves across the face of my desk clock. I wondered if it had stopped working all together. I called on my phone for the correct time at 7:06, 7:33, 8:24, and 9:15. The thought of showing up late and Dawson discovering us made my heart leap into my throat.
Finally, at 9:40, I turned off my desk lamp, stood up, pushed in my chair, and on trembling legs walked downstairs.
Bessie and Bodie were watching television in the living room. I went to the front closet and pulled out my heavy coat. Even in the caretaker's house, Pacey and I would have a chilly wait.
"I'm going to Jen's now," I said trying to keep my voice steady.
"Okay, don't stay up too late," Bessie said.
"Okay, see you." I waved good-bye, hoping that I would be home shortly after eleven to crawl into my warm, safe bed.
I opened the kitchen door at the back of the house, stepped out onto the porch, and locked the door behind me.
The night was cool. It was a night for walking in the park, not meeting a murderer in the graveyard. I pictured myself strolling hand-in-hand with Pacey over leaf-strewn sidewalks.
I crossed the backyard to the old barn where my car was parked and pulled the door wide open. Unlike a modern garage, there was no overhead bulb I could switch on. My station wagon was huddled in the barn's black interior. I never felt comfortable in the barn at night. I was even jumpier than usual. I hurried to my car.
A footstep sounded behind me. I whirled around to see a dark figure step out of the shadows.
"Dawson!" I gasped.
"Hello, babe," he said. His voice held its usual sneer. "Coming to meet me at the graveyard?"

Dawson stood between me and the door, blocking my only way out of the barn. The door was wide, but if I tried to run past him, he could easily take a few steps to either side and grab me.
But even if I made it past him, I couldn't go home. The doors were locked, by the time I unlocked them, Dawson could catch me. That and the fact that I don't want to endanger Bessie, Bodie or Alex.
I realized my only escape was the car. I stood next to the driver door, so I could easily open it and get in.
I took a deep breath, reached for the door handle, and yanked it open. I scambled inside and locked it just as Dawson reached the car.
I turned the ignition key, threw the gear into reverse and backed out, the shriek of my tires was echoing loudly off the interior walls of the barn.
Outside, I whipped the back end of the car to the side so I could turn around on the gravel drive. In the instant that I was stopped, Dawson caught up with me, threw himself against the front passenger door, and tried to get inside.
Fortunately for me the door was locked.
Then, he grabbed for the back passenger door, it was locked, too.
I threw the car into first gear and stood on the accelerator. The tires spun, spraying gravel, and the car began to move.
The old four-cylinder station wagon didn't have a quick pickup, even with the accelerator pushed against the floor, and it groaned loudly as it heaved itself forward.
"Come on, Come on," I shouted.
In the rearview mirror, I saw a movement at the back of the car. Before I knew what was happening, the rear door to the station wagon was thrown open, and Dawson leaped inside.
I cried out and the car finally sprang forward. It was much too late, though. Dawson pulled the rear door closed behind him.
I was now alone in the car with Dawson. He scrambled to the back seat, banging his knee on something that rang out with a metallic thunk.
It was the can of gasoline I'd had sitting in my car since Bodie sent me out to buy it a week ago. I'd forgotten to take it out of the car.
Dawson swore loudly and rubbed his knee. Then he vaulted over the back seat and grabbed a handful of hair with one hand. His other hand came around in front of me.
Snick. I knew what it was before my eyes focused on it. A switchblade. Dawson held it against my throat.
"Okay, babe, let's go meet your friend."
We had reached the end of my drive at the highway.
"Turn right. We'll meet him--or her--at the graveyard."
"There is no friend," I said. My throat was dry and constricted. I coughed.
"Yeah sure," Dawson said sarcastically. "You were going to meet me late at night in the graveyard all alone." He tightened his grasp on my hair. "I said turn right!"
I winced with pain, turned the steering wheel right, snd pulled out onto the highway.
"I was going to watch you from a distance," I said, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. "I just wanted to see if you'd come."
"Keep driving and shut up."
I drove toward town, my mind racing. I wanted to warn Pacey, but couldn't figure out how.
I thought about bashing the car into a tree, but that was too dangerous. Besides, if we survived the crash, Dawson would most likely be so angry that he'd kill me on the spot.
I kept driving, hoping that I would think of something.
I hoped Pacey would be there early. Maybe if I made enough noise as we approached that he would be able to hear us coming and get away for help.
It took twenty minutes to reach the graveyar, and all the while my heart hammered and my body shook. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.
"Over here," Dawson ordered. "Park in the lot so we don't attract any patrolling cops.
I obeyed and pulled into the farthest spot in the empty parking area.
"Turn off the motor, but leave the key in the ignition."
I did as I was told. Dawson got out of the car first and yanked open the driver's door. He grabbed my coat at the collar and hauled me outside.
"Okay, where are you meeting your friend?"
"I told you, there isn't any fr--" My sentence was caught off when Dawson hit the side of my head so hard, I spun away, while lights were flashing in front of my eyes.
Dawson whirled me around to face him. He grabbed my coat just under the chin and thrust his face into mine.
"You're lying!" His voice was fierce. "You didn't plan this yourself! Now where were you going to meet your partner?"
"The black angel," I whispered, my head throbbing with pain. "We were going to meet there early before you got here."
"You'd better be telling me the truth, babe. Get moving."
Dawson shoved me hard in the direction of the angel statue. I stumbled, but managed not to fall down.
Halfway across the graveyard, Dawson grabbed me and wrapped one arm around my neck.
"We're going to stick together now, nice and close. If you want to stay alive, you'll keep your mouth shut. I don't care if I have to kill you."
As if I needed a reminder, he pressed the sharp blade against the flesh on my neck. A small cry escaped from me before I could stop it, and Dawson's grip tightened around my shoulder.
"Shut up!" he whispered fiercly into my ear. "Now get moving!"
We walked slowly, veering around tombstones, to the black angel statue.
"Your friend's not here." Dawson was angry. With his arm still around my shoulders, the knofe at my neck, he shook me hard. "You lied to me, didn't you, babe? Hmmmm? You lied to me!"
I cried out and tried to wrestle away from Dawson, but hi grip only tightened, viselike, until I didn't think I could stand anymore pain.
"That's enough Dawson!" The deep voice boomed out over the graveyard. "Leave her alone."
Dawson's grip on me loosened as he gazed at my friend.
"Pacey Witter." Dawson was surprised, but his voice was mocking. "I never would've guessed that you and Joey here would be--what should I say? Friends? You don't seem her type."
Dawson obviously had the upper hand, and he was using this opportunity to taunt Pacey.
Even in the dim light. I could see Pacey stiffen.
"You're not much better than dear old dad, are you, Witter? He jostled me. "What's the matter with you, Joey? You like trash?"
Watching Pacey's face, I was terrified he would lose his temper and come after Dawson. Pacey was unarmed an would certainly lose in a fight with Dawson and his switch blade.
But Pacey remained cool. "Let Joey go," he said, his voice tight, but under control. "Let's you and me settle this, Dawson."
"Oh, but I have you both right where I want you. Why would I let her go?"
"Well, we found out what we wanted to know, didn't we Joey?" Pacey said. "Just by showing up, Dawson, you've admitted to robbery and murder."
"Sure." Dawson sneered. "I don't mind admitting it. I'm proud of it. I've made good money on the stuff I got at those stuck-up women's houses. They think they're so much better than everyone else: patting you on the head like a little dog but never thinking you're any good."
"You killed Chris, didn't you?" Pacey asked.
"Yeah, he found out about my operation." He shrugged. "I had to kill him."
"And Jack?"
"Him, too. He was going to tell you everything, wasn't he? It was just a coincidence that I overheard him call you on the office phone. I heard him tell you he knew something about Chris' hit-and-run. So, I knew I had to kill him before he told you about me." He shook me. "But then Joey found out, too."
"You were in the car last night, weren't you?" Pacey said. "You tried to kill Joey by running her out in front of that semi."
"I would've had her, too, if that semi had been going a bit faster." Dawson gazed down at me, while I was still tightly held in the crook of his arm. "Oh, well, I'll get the job done tonight."
"You know if you kill Joey," Pacey said, "everyone will know you were the killer."
"How's that?"
"Joey was mysteriously locked in the freezer at work. Joey fell down the stairs after the step was cut. If she dies, the cops will be swarming all over the Corner Market."
Dawson laughed. "You can't pin any of that stuff on me. In fact, nobody can pin anything on me."
I had been listening, waiting for Dawson to relax a little. I wanted to catch him off guard. When I heard him laugh, I decided it was now or never.
With as much stregnth as I could muster, I shoved my elbow backward, like a battering ram, into Dawson's ribs. Even though I was wearing a coat, the force of the blow caught him by surprise. He cried out momentarily losing his balance, and dropped the knife.
I made a dash away from him and away from Pacey. I hoped Dawson would hesitate, not knowing whether to after me or Pacey. His second of hesitation would giveus both a chance to escape.
But Pacey wasn't thinking of escape. He rushed towards Dawson as I stumbled away.
Pacey hit Dawson with a closed fist, and Dawson staggered backward and fell, his arm outstretched.
"Pacey! The knife!" I screamed, for Dawson's hand had fallen only inches away from where the knife lay in the grass.
Dawson's hand found the knife and lounged forward, holding it out in front of him.
Both Pacey and Dawson wore dark jackets, and in the blackness of the night, I lost all track of which boy was which as they rolled on the ground. My heart was a cold stone in my throat as I thought of Dawson's deadly weapon.
I heard a groan and the two stopped moving. There was a deadly silence. Thenone figure stood up over the other and turned to me.
"Now it's just you and me, babe."
I cried out for grief for Pacey and terror for myself. I turned and ran as I'd never run before, wildly, in no particular direction.
I veered off to the right, but realized I would never make it to the carbefore Dawson caught up with me.
The caretaker's house was in the distance, and I headed for it.
I remembered that there were tools inside, hoes and rakes, things that could be used as weapons. I prayed the house would still be unlocked.
I whipped around the side of the house, pushed open the door, scrambled inside, and slammed the door behind me. Groping under the doorknob in the dark, I found a lock and turned it. Hearing the deadbolt slide into place, I collapsed against the door, breathing hard.
I was safe for now. The little house was pretty flimsy, though. It wouldn't take much to get inside if Dawson really tried.
I took a few fumbling steps untilI found a hoe leaning up against the wall. I would use it to protect mysef if I had to.
Remembering the snake we had found on our overnight stay in the graveyard, I decided not to sit on the floor. I remembered a barrel in the middle of the room and, taking small steps in the dark, moved toward it.
The barrel was still there, and I sat down.
I thought about Dawson waiting for me in the barn at home. He must hve been there for hours waiting for me to come out.
The events of the evening rushed through my head, ending with Pacey's stabbing.
"Oh,Pacey."
Tears filled my eyes and ran down my face. Pacey had been killed trying to protect me. I gave into the pain welling up inmy chest and sobbed.
"Oh, Pacey," I whispered. "I'm sorry I got you into this. I should have gone to the police."
I looked around me in the dark. I was relieved but puzzled that had not broken a window or kicked in the door to get me.
I got up, clutching the hoe, and peered out the window. The blackness of the night and the film of dirt over the glass prevented me from seeing anything outside.
A faint, familiar odor wafted through the stale air inside the house. I turned toward the smell and took in a deep breath.
"Oh, my God."
It was gasoline. Dawson must have gotten the can from my car.
Wwfff! A large flame leaped up outside the window.
Dawson had set the house on fire!

The flames grew higher and hotter and licked at the windows. The small house filled quickly with heavy smoke that stung my eyes and burned my throat and lungs with every breath.
I wanted desperately to throw open the door and run outside into the cool, fresh grass, which was exactly what Dawson wanted me to. He was waiting with his deadly knife, the knife that was no doubt freshly covered with Pacey's blood.
I didn't know if it was better to die by flames or by a knife.
I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and covered my nose and mouth. I coughed violently, and my eyes were stinging and watering so badly I could hardly see.
I remembered reading somewhere that the clearest air in a fire is near the floor, so I dropped to my knees. The smoke was less dense there, but still nearly unbearable.
I crawled to the edge of the room next to the window. A tiny puff of cool air brushed my wrist, and scrambling closer, I discovered a small opening in the wall. I pushed my nose to the narrow gap between two of the boards.
I figured that this was the way the snakes got inside. The thought flitted through my head and disappeared. I wasn't worried about snakes. I was worried about staying alive.
It was hard to get enough air through the crack. I moved to one side to reposition myself, and my hand rested on something long and narrow on the floor.
Instinctively, I snatched my hand back as the thought of a dead snake flashed through my consciousness. But then I realized it was only a pice of a small hose.
An idea came to my head and I grabbed the small hose. It was about two feet long. I squeezed the narrow end through the small opening in the wall, then put my mouth to the other end and gulped in great lungfuls of clean air.
But the air didn't stay clean for long. The wood caught fire under the opening, and as it burned, my hose began to melt and the fresh air became fouled with smoke and burning rubber.
My lungs felt as if they were going to explode. There was no possible source of clean air inside the house now.
I realized that now the time had come; I couldn't put it off any longer. I had to choose my death: fire or knife.
My mind grew tired, faint. My head was pounding. I decided not to choose, but to give up and go to sleep.
Something pounded against the door. The whole house rattled. The noise came a second time, rocking the house on it's foundation. Then, on the third time, the flimsy door exploded into splinters of wood that flewthrough the black, churning smoke.
A dark figure towered in the doorway.
I didn't care anymore. Dawsom decided for me, it was going to be the blade.
The figure paused for only a moment, then rushed into the house and picked me up off the floor. He carried me out of the thick, heavy blackness and into the clean night air.
My eyes began to focus.
"Joey."
I looked up into Pacey's face. His face was pinched with pain and worry. He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't come.
Instantly, violently, Pacey was thrown to one side, and Dawson was on top of him.
Dawson had already killed him once. I thought I was hallucinating. Or maybe that I was dead, watching my life pass before my eyes, reliving the worst moments before dying in the fire.
I was aware of the fight going on. I heard the blows, the grunts, and the soft thuds as their bodies fell back on the ground. I didn't know how long it went on. I may have passed out for a moment or two.
My mind began to clear a little as she breathed the fresh air.
I hoped this wasn't an illusion or a death dream. I didn't want to lose Pacey twice. Once was more than enough.
Maybe it wasn''t a dream. Maybe Pacey was still alive. Maybe we had a chance to survive.
Pacey's face appeared once again.
"Joey," he said. "I thought you were dead when I found you in the caretaker's house. But, you're alive. God, you're alive.
He buried his face in my neck, and weakly, I raised my hand to stroke his head.
"Pacey--" My voice was raspy and hoarse. "What happened to Dawson?"
"He's unconscious. Come on. I'll carry you to the car."
"Let me try to walk."
Pacey helped me to my feet, and leaing heavily against him for support, I took a few tentative steps towards the parking lot. I was dizzy and my head felt as if it had been squeezed into a vise, but Pacey held on to me tightly.
A movement at our left startled Pacey. I felt his whole body jerk as he turned to see what--or who--it was.
"Andie." Pacey said her name as she stepped into a soft, silvery pool of moonlight. She held a gun that was leveled straight at us.
"You two don't deserve to live," she said. Her voice was quivering with anger.
"Andie," I said, unable to believe what was happening. "Wh--why are you here?"
Andie took a step closer, aiming at Pacey's heart.
"You killed him. You killed Dawson. He died, and now so will you."
Pacey held up his hand. "He isn't dead, Andie, he's unconscious. If you let us go get help for him--"
"You're not going anywhere!"
Andie's eyes darted towards me.
"You couldn't take your eyes off of nim, could you?" she said.
"Who?" My mind was less fuzzy, but Andie wasn't making any sense.
"Dawson, who else?" she snapped. "Every time I looked at you, you were watching him."
"I thought you hated Dawson," I said.
" I loved him! and he loved me. At least I thought he did. I started to think maybe he was using me to help him with the robberies."
"You were involved in the robberies, Andie?" I said.
"We did them together!" Andie said. "I was smaller and could slip in through the basement windows. But then everything changed. Dawson changed. He started thinking he didn't really need my anymore. Oh, he thought he was really hot. He dumped me. Then he started doing the jobs himself. He knew I wouldn't turn him in because the cops would get me, too."
"Did you help Dawson plan to kill Chris?" Pacey asked.
"I planned that hit-and-run!" Andie said. "But was Dawson grateful for my saving his hide? Know how he repaid me? He didn't call anymore, he didn't have anything to do with me!"
"What about Jack?" I sadi. "Did you know he was going to be killed?"
"I thought if I helped Dawson, he'd see how much I loved him. So I told him Jack had been nosing around, asking everyone questions about the robberies and the hit-and-run. Then he overheard him on the phone with you, Pacey."
"So Dawson killed Jack?"
"I told Dawson about our graveyard game, but I didn't know he'd come and kill Jack. I was furious when I found out Jack was dead! I knew Dawson had done it. Did he care that I was in the graveyard that night? That I could be implicated in Jack's death? Of course not! Dawson's a selfish pig!"
"So Dawson killed Jack after I discovered him playing dead?" I said.
"Yeah, he did it fast and clean, he bragged to me, like that was no big deal. Then he carried away the body before you brought us back to the spot."
"You locked me in the freezer, didn't you?" I asked.
"I stuck a chair under the door handle so it wouldn't open."
"Did you cut the stair and send me the note?"
"Yeah, and I cut your tires, too, but I suppose Dawson took the credit for that," Andie said sarcastically. "He was nothing when I met him. I picked him out and built up his self-esteem, protected him--I saw you watch Dawson take Mrs. Trent's address and I risked getting caught going through your purseto get that paper--I got myself involved in breaking and entering and murder for him, and then he dumped me! I should've killed him myself!"
"If you hate him so much, why are you holding a gun on us?" I said.
"I don't hate him! I don't want him dead! I'm just so--so furious with him. He was so mean to me! I wanted to beat him senseless, but I wanted him to love me."
Andie began to sob and the gun in her hands began to tremble.
I vaguely realized that I was gripping something in my hand, something that had been there since I was in the burning house.
The piece of rubber hose. Unconsciously, I'd continued to clutch it as if it were a lifeline, as it would still provide me with whatever I needed to keep myself alive.
Andie was still crying hard. It was strange, Andie always seemed so imperious, so strong and able to take care of herself. This was only the second time that I had seen a weakness in Andie.
And that's when an idea blossomed in my mind.
Andie was too far away for me to rush her and grab the gun. But the hose...
I threw the two foot hose at Andie's face.
"Snake!" I shrieked. "Look out, Andie, a snake!"
Andie, already trembling, screamed and threw her arms upto protect myself from what she thought was a wiggling reptile hurtling through the air at her.
Pacey rushed at Andie and grabbed her arms, and I took the gun from her hands.
Andie slumped over, defeated. Even the anger seemed to have left her. She looked small and withered, like a balloon that had lost most of it's air. I could hear sirens in the distance getting closer.
"It's over," I said to her. Andie didn't look up or respond.
I gazed at Pacey, took a big breath and let it go. "It's really over."

"What a beautiful Saturday!" I said, kicking through a draft of leaves in the city park.
The chilly autumn air was whispering of the coming winter, but the sky was a warm, sunny blue. Pacey and I, dressed in jeans and heavy jackets, walked hand-in-hand under the tall oaks, crunching leaves and acorns under our feet.
"Bessis and Bodie aren't going to like me, you know," Pacey said, gazing at two children playing on the swings.
"Of course they'll like you!" I grinned. "You saved my life, Pacey. They can't wait to thank you. You're a hero!"
"No, but after they meet me--"
"Then they'll really like you."
"We come from two different worlds, Joey."
"So? Bessie and Bodie will only care that you're a nice person. You wait and see."
"I hope you are right."
"I'm just so glad you weren't badly hurt," I said. "What did the doctor say about your stab wound? Didn't you have an appointment with him yesterday afternoon?"
"Yeah. He said the emergency room doc did a good job of stitching me up and said I was really lucky that the knife didn't hit any important organs."
"We were both lucky. If you hadn't come to get me in the caretaker's house when you did, I wouldn't be here."
Pacey slipped his arm around me. "I don't even want to think about that."
We walked to a green park bench at the edge of the playground and sat down.
"I wonder how Dawson's doing?" I said.
"I don't care how Dawson's doing. I hope he gets what's coming to him."
"Your brother said he'll be charged with arson, kidnapping, and two counts of attempted murder. There may be more charges later, after the investigation is complete."
Pacey nodded. "That ought to put him away for a while. What about Andie?"
"She's being held, too. I think she's going to be sent to a pschiatrist before anything's decided about her." I squeezed Pacey's hand. "You were right about Andie, you know."
"Yeah. I couldn't figure out why you wanted to be with her friends and hang around her."
"She seemed awfully sour and I didn't like her very much, but I didn't think she was capable of murder."
"People can surprise you."
"Pacey, Jen is really nice. I want you to get to know her."
"No, thanks. I'm sure she's already made up her mind about me."
"I talked to her yesterday, and she wants us to doub;e date with her and a date sometime. She says she was dumb to prejudge you without ever getting to know you."
Pacey nodded but didn't say anything.
"You might want to get to know her, too, before you decide whether you like her, or not," I said softly..
Pacey suddenly grinned and shook his head. "Yeah, okay, I guess I'm guilty of the same thing."
"Well, so was I! I thought you'd stolen that helmet without even considering you might have gotten it the honest way."
"Yeah, that reminds me--"
"What?"
"You still got that helmet?"
"Yes."
"You going to ride with me on my bike?"
I grinned. "Sure, but no wheelies, okay?"
Pacey grinned back. "Okay, but you've got to take risks sometimes."
"Are you kidding? I've taken enough risks in the past ten days to last me for the rest of my life!"
Pacey pulled me close. "You're right about that, Joey. You're sure right about that."
He kissed m gently.
I sighed contently and snuggled into Pacey's warm jacket. I pulled him close and kissed him, running my hands through his hair. Maybe Capeside wasn't going to be so bad after all.

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