Need Page 18
I wiggle slowly through the tight opening and then I start to run.
I veer to the left of the Jeffersons’ property, where the snow isn’t as deep, and race toward the street. A car door slams somewhere. In the quiet of the snowy surroundings, the sound makes me jump as if it were a gunshot, and I run to Jeffersons’ house. Is Officer Shepens at my door? Is he ringing the bell? Does he know I’ve run?
I reach the road and wrap my arms around myself as I look in both directions. Which way should I go? A pair of tire tracks makes the choice simple. Running on packed-down snow will be easier than making my own path. And there won’t be as many footprints to follow. It’s as good a plan as any.
As I reach the end of the street, I hear my phone ringing in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the display. Officer Shepens. He has to be outside my house, wondering why I’m not answering the bell. Sweat trickles down my neck as I consider what to do next. I had only thought as far as getting away to keep from being arrested. But I have no idea what to do now that I’m out here. Alone. Where do I go? How do I find Nate? And gnawing at my nerves is the terror of whatever NEED is planning next.
I follow the tire tracks toward downtown Nottawa and push myself to move faster. When I reach a stop sign, I glance behind me. No one is there. Yet. I’m not far from Nate’s house. I can make it, but I’m betting that’s where Officer Shepens will go next—although I’m less scared of that than of Jack telling NEED that I’m there.
A church? They have to give sanctuary, right? Somewhere in the distance I hear a siren and I start running again.
I have to find Nate. Who can help me do that?
Bryan? I could look up his address and wait for him there. But if his parents or anyone else spots me hanging around, they could call my mother or the police.
The cold makes it harder to breathe. My jeans are caked with snow. I have to get out of the cold, but I have no friends to turn to. I used to have friends. Before Dad left. Before DJ got sick. Before I felt so guilty and unhappy and angry. I told myself I needed only Nate. Suddenly I realize how much better this would all be if I had allowed my other friends to help me. If I hadn’t pushed them away because they didn’t fall in line with what I thought I needed. I have no one I can ask to help me. For the last year my life has revolved around our house, Nate’s home, the hospital that’s been treating DJ, and school.
School.
I stop to get my bearings. Nate lives another block away. The school is just a couple blocks from there and the houses nearest to that building are far enough away that I won’t be noticed—especially not in this snowstorm. I can’t go inside, but the high school has all sorts of alcoves and overhangs where kids without cars wait for their rides after classes. And if those are too exposed, I can duck under the bleachers on the football field or see if I can break the lock on the Newt Café that’s used to serve soft drinks and hotdogs during games. The place has looked like it’s going to fall down ever since I can remember, but it would be shelter.
Even if I can’t get in the café, I now have a plan and a direction to run in. I avoid Nate’s street on my way to the school. The tracks I was walking in have disappeared. Here and there I find new ones to use, but mostly I keep to the side of the road. The two cars that pass me go slow. One looks like it might stop to ask if I need help or a lift, but I keep my head down and veer toward a driveway so it looks like I’ve reached my destination.
I rewrap my scarf around my nose, mouth, and chin and pull my hat down so it almost covers my eyes. Finally, in the distance I see the blurry shape of a long brick building and pick up my pace. I doubt I’ve ever been so happy to see Nottawa High School before.
I force myself to run toward the front entrance, which is covered by a large overhang. When I reach the alcove, I stand in the corner next to the wall that is out of the wind to rest a minute. I slide down the brick to the cold, snowy cement and huddle against the wall, wishing I were somewhere warm.
My phone rings. I reach into my pocket and pull it out, expecting that it’s Officer Shepens. Instead, it’s Bryan.
Oh thank God. He must have changed his mind about Nate—otherwise, why else would he be calling?
I fumble to take my gloves off so I can answer the phone and say, “Hello?”
“Kaylee?” Bryan’s voice is strained and he sounds out of breath. “I’m so sorry. It’s Nate. He’s gone.”
Sydney
DRIVING IN THE SNOW SUCKS. Driving in the snow with a guy screaming his head off in the back seat of the truck sucks way worse. Sydney is just glad his dad didn’t need the truck. Otherwise, he’d probably have driven his mom’s Civic into a ditch. Someone in this hick town should think about plowing at some point. It’s not like the snow is just going to remove itself.
Suddenly, everything gets quiet. Thank all that’s holy. The screaming has been getting on his last nerve. Who can drive in this weather and deal with something like that? Of course, Sydney really can’t blame Nate. After all, who wants to be trussed up like a duck and thrown into a truck to be taken God only knows where? Sydney’s glad he’s the driver instead of the duck. Still, guilt tugs at him and he’s sorry it isn’t Nate’s brother, Jack, that NEED has plans for. Jack is a first-class jerk. Nate never did all the bull the popular kids do. He wasn’t the type to pick on the freshmen or laugh at someone when they tripped in the hall. Hell, he didn’t even care if someone laughed at him. Jack and Sydney, however, don’t get along. In fact, they went a couple of rounds last year when Jack mouthed off about Sydney’s dad not having a real job. But Nate. Nate had been okay.
Had been. Has been, he corrects himself. Nate is still alive, and will be after Sydney drops him off. For how long . . . well, there’s no way for Sydney to tell. Not without asking questions. And Sydney knows that if you ask a question, you have to be willing to hear the answer. For this, Sydney already knows the answer will be bad.
The documents he was told to forge Nate’s signature on gave him an idea of what is coming. Turns out, the two of them have a similar writing style. And even if they didn’t, Sydney doubts anyone will look that closely at the signature. After all, the facts are right there.
Of course that’s only if Sydney decides to follow his instructions. While he’s racked up a bunch of cash from the work so far, there might be a bigger payoff. A bird in the hand is good, but at this point he might risk that for the flock sitting in the bush. His dad likes to say that life is filled with opportunities. For once, his dad might be onto something. And Sydney isn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. One stop will tell him which path to take. If things work out, Nate won’t have to worry about that forged piece of paper. If not . . . well, sacrifices have to be made. And Sydney isn’t about to sacrifice himself.
Kaylee
GONE.
“What do you mean Nate is gone?” I yell. “Where did you take him?”
“I’m sorry. NEED told me to put Nate in the back room of the old post office.” Bryan sounds tired. Lost. Confused. As angry and scared as I am. He takes a deep breath and keeps talking. “I like Nate. I didn’t want anything to happen to him, but I figured I had to do what I was told. If I didn’t, someone else who might not like Nate would have, and they know what I—That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I parked across the street and waited to see who would come for Nate. But the snow made it hard to see, and by the time I checked the post office again, he was gone. Someone took him and I don’t know who or where.”
Gone. I lean my forehead against the icy bricks and shiver.
Nate.
I want to scream, but I have to think. Think.
“Where are you now?” I ask.
“I’m driving home. I promised my parents I’d come home.”
“Come to the school. That’s where I’m at.” Getting Nate back is the only thing that matters. Bryan has to know more than he’s saying even if he doesn’t think he knows it. Just one detail that he doesn’t think is important could make a difference.
“Why are you at the school? Is it open?”
“NEED set me up. The police are looking for me. They think I caused Amanda’s death.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“The cops were told . . .” I remember the way everyone doubts everything I say and change course. “Look, it’s complicated. I’ll explain when you get here.”
“I have to go home or my parents will flip and start looking for me. They might even call the police.”
Having the cops looking for Bryan won’t help me.
“Okay. Go home. Check in with your parents, and when they go to bed, come to the school and find me.” My phone says it’s 10:36 p.m. His parents won’t stay up all that much longer, probably. I guess I can stay warm enough until he gets here. When Bryan doesn’t say anything, I add, “Please, Bryan. Nate’s out there somewhere, scared to death, and you’re the reason why.”
Not entirely fair, since Bryan wouldn’t have taken Nate on his own or without the help of Jack, but I don’t care.
“Fine.” He sounds unhappy. Too bad. “But it might be a while. My mom likes to stay up and watch reruns on the weekends.”
“Just promise you’ll come as soon as you can,” I insist, shivering as the wind whips again. The alcove shields me from the worst of it, but my teeth have started to chatter. “And check NEED before you come. See if anything else has happened. Maybe someone will post a picture that will help locate Nate. Promise?”
“I promise. I’ll call or text as soon as I’m on the way. Try to stay warm.”
“Sure.” Then Bryan is gone and only the cold remains.
The roads are bad, and it will take Bryan a while to get home. Then his parents will have to make sure he’s okay, and probably finish watching a show before they go to bed. That means it will be close to midnight at the earliest before Bryan shows up and I can climb into the warmth of his car. And if his mother decides to watch a rerun marathon, it could be a whole lot longer.
I wrap my arms around me and rock back and forth. After several moments, I realize the snow is easing up. The wind just makes it seem like more. Soon the plows will be out clearing the roads. If someone drives by the school and glances this way they’ll see me sitting here and wonder why. I’m going to have to move.
My phone dings. DJ is texting to say good night. I type my response, then gather up my things and head toward the faculty parking lot that’s on the side of the school nearest the field house. Newt’s Café is not far from there. It has to have an oven or something with a heat source. At this point anything warm would be good.
I wonder if Nate is warm wherever he is. Is he scared and thinking of me the way I am of him? Or is he hurt and bleeding and thinking that no one is looking for him and the worst is coming? It isn’t, though. At least not yet. My mother will text me if she gets contacted about a kidney for DJ. The longest that kidneys can last outside the body before transplant is about thirty hours, and less than a day is better. Mom and DJ would have to be contacted if the transplant were going to happen any time soon. And there would have to be a medical team and a hospital ready to perform the procedure. Nate’s parents would also have to approve, and surely they would contact me if they heard something terrible had happened to Nate.
My phone rings and I shield the screen to look at the display. Officer Shepens. Nope. Not answering. On TV shows, cops trace cell phone signals. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but I’m not about to find out the hard way. If he has something important to say—like he knows I didn’t hurt Amanda and he wants to help me take down NEED—he can leave a message. I need to think.
I trudge through the snow as I consider who at this school could be behind NEED. Most of my teachers are about as good with computers as I am. I guess Mr. York might be good enough to create a website like NEED. I’ve never taken a computer science class with him, but a lot of the gaming guys think he’s a genius when it comes to all things programming. But what reason would he have? And really, unless his faded sports coats and out-of-style shirts are a deliberate fashion statement, I doubt the guy has the cash to pull this whole thing off.
Some of the students might have the skills to create and manage the website. Sydney . . . What the hell is his last name? Doesn’t matter. Sydney designed his father’s real estate website last year. Everyone was talking about it, probably because they were also talking about how bad his father is at selling houses. But unless Sydney’s father got a heck of a lot better at his job or they won the lottery, Sydney and his family don’t have the cash to fund all the NEED requests.
So, who does? Principal Dean? I doubt it. And she’s about to retire anyway. Who else? Everyone says Mrs. Hennessey married a guy with money, but it’s hard to imagine our nutrition and health teacher doing anything more evil than adding butter to a recipe.
As far as I can tell, no one is wealthy enough to give away phones and workout gear and hundreds of other “needs” that have been fulfilled. If this is about a personal grudge, that’s a lot of money to spend. And who carries a grudge against an entire school? So it has to be something else. Who would be involved in something more? And what could that something be?
People suck, but I can’t believe it’s someone who has lived and taught here forever. It has to be an outsider. Or at least someone who is newer to the area. Someone chose this town because they wanted to cause problems. Someone . . .
I stop not far from the side entrance of the school as I notice something different about the ground. Footprints. Covered with fresh snow, but not enough to conceal them. They lead from the faculty parking lot to the side entrance. And they’re not that old. They’re filled with only an inch of snow. So are the car tracks in the parking spot where the footprints originate from. There are also another set of prints near where I’m standing. They, too, lead to the side door.
Part of me wants to run so I don’t get caught. The other part wonders if whoever is behind NEED is associated with the school. Did they go inside? Could Nate be in there? School doesn’t start for several days. It would be the perfect hiding spot.
I should wait for Bryan. I should go hide in the Newt Café, but I know there’s something wrong here. The footprints. The car tracks. Something is off.
I walk to the door. The smell hits me.
Gasoline.
My heart hammers as I pull the flashlight out of my backpack. I expect the door to be locked, but still I pull.
It opens and I stumble back. My eyes water as fumes swirl around me. Waves of an oily, noxious smell that I can taste as I breathe. One step inside and I feel suffocated by the odor. The floor glistens where the light touches it. Not just here at the door, but as far as the beam will reach. The entire hallway is coated with gasoline.
One spark. That’s probably all it would take to engulf this place in flames. I have to get out of here—now.
I’m turning back when I hear it.
The wind. I want to believe it’s the wind. Then the sound comes again.
Scraping. A clank of metal. And a whisper that sounds like a voice calling for help.
Bryan
FINALLY.
His mother looks back at him with a tense smile before going up the stairs. She’s worried that he’s upset about Amanda and Lynn’s mother and has hovered since he got home, telling him how proud she is to have a son who is so concerned about others. Mom and Dad are so pleased that they don’t have one of those kids who cause trouble. They’ll blame themselves if they learn what he has done. They’ll say it was heartless to not understand how much he needed the acne cream and shoulder the responsibility that is his alone. Because it wasn’t really the cream that started this. It was his anger and his desire to hurt someone the way he had been hurt.
Bryan figures it will be at least ten or fifteen minutes before his parents fall asleep and he can slip out of the house. Maybe more. Time enough to check online to see if anything else has happened.
He goes upstairs and logs on to his laptop. What he see
s on the first site makes him let out a sigh of relief. Post after post of New Year’s resolutions and chat about what everyone is wearing to the big party tomorrow night. Post after post of normal stuff. Then he stops scrolling.
Lynn’s mom is dead. Some kind of severe reaction to medication. Because of the snow and the number of other accidents tonight, the ambulance couldn’t get to her in time.
There are a bunch of sympathetic responses. But under that are several more posts about clothes and shoes and dates. Buried in the middle of self-portraits and inane quizzes is another post that kicks him in the gut.
Sameena Jahn is dead. Suicide. There is shock. Outrage. Questions as to whether the announcement is real. Links to statistics on how suicide happens most during the holidays, along with assurances that the family will let everyone know about funeral details when they’re available.
Quiet. Sameena was quiet and tried so hard. He tutored her once until her father found out and assured Bryan that his daughter no longer required assistance.
Bryan fights the urge to hurl and clicks on the link for the NEED network to see if his request has been fulfilled. No.
DUE TO THE STORM, YOUR NEED REQUEST DELIVERY HAS BEEN DELAYED. ONCE THE STORM HAS PASSED, DELIVERIES WILL RESUME. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE AND WELCOME YOU TO SUBMIT A NEW NEED REQUEST WHILE YOU WAIT.
Make another request? No way in hell. But even as he is repelled by the message, he’s also relieved. The gun he has been promised isn’t here. The decision about how or if he should use it has been taken out of his hands. Because he no longer wants to kill himself. He wants to track down and kill whoever is behind NEED.
But there is no gun. For now.
Bryan checks to see if his mother is asleep yet. Nope. A faint light glows under the door at the end of the hall. He’s stuck, which gives him time to check on the NEED message board like Kaylee asked. He doubts he’ll find anything that will help them track down Nate, but it couldn’t hurt. After all . . .