Todd Strasser - Wish You Were Dead

“I think there are plenty of women who could handle Adam if they wanted to,” Sharon stated and glanced at Laurie, who nodded.

What a strange pair , I thought. Not because they’re a couple, but because one is so belligerent and the other so docile .

“Maybe it’s not one person,” Dave pointed out. “Maybe it’s two.”

Everybody assumed he was referring to Sharon and Laurie. Sharon made a face at Dave, who smiled back smugly as if he thought he’d won that round.

“So let’s talk about profiling,” said Mr. Osmond. “Clearly this FBI profiler is basing his assumptions on data gathered from past situations similar to this one, and on the suspects who were eventually apprehended.”

“But we still don’t know what happened to Lucy, Adam, and Courtney,” I said. “When you talk about past situations, you’re talking about serial killers, aren’t you? We don’t know if they’ve been killed.”

Again, I glanced at Tyler. He was staring straight ahead. Wouldn’t it be natural for him to look at me since I was the one speaking? Especially since I’d brought up serial killers?

“I agree with Madison,” Greg said. “If I was in their shoes, I think I’d be really ticked off by some of your assumptions.”

“Wait a minute,” said Dave. “Isn’t it possible that the cops know a lot more than we do? If they’ve brought in this profiler, isn’t it because they have reason to think that Lucy, Adam, and Courtney have been the victims of foul play? I mean, why else would they do it?”

“I’m sorry, but I think this is really sick,” said Reilly. “We have no idea what’s going on. We’re talking about our friends like they’re topics in some lesson plan, not real people.”

Mr. Osmond pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I understand what you’re saying, Reilly. I thought we might as well talk about this, since it’s what we’re all thinking about anyway. Personally, I believe the subject of profiling has implications that reach far beyond what’s going on here in Soundview. But this is a difficult situation for all of us. We don’t have to talk about it.”

The class was silent. I had a feeling that everyone knew that what Mr. Osmond said was true. No matter what we talked about, the only thing we would really think about was what happened to Lucy, Adam, and Courtney.

“We might as well talk,” said Greg. “At least it’ll make the time go faster.”

Reilly raised her hand. “Can I still have that pass to the library?”

Mr. Osmond went to his desk and wrote her a pass. “Does anyone else want one?” he asked.

No other hands went up, and Mr. Osmond returned to the front of the class. “So what do we make of this? Can human beings really be narrowed down to a predictable profile?”

The class was stony quiet. Mr. Osmond began to look around. I hastily tried to formulate an answer. I felt like I could have argued either way—for or against profiling. But then I thought about Tyler. He would almost certainly be against it.

“Madison?” Mr. Osmond called on me.

“I think it’s wrong,” I said. “It’s just like stereotyping.”

“But we all stereotype, don’t we?” Mr. Osmond asked. “How many of you have been in an airport and saw someone who looked Middle Eastern and felt nervous that this person might be a terrorist? Or walked down a block at night and saw a black man approaching? Or saw some guy come to school wearing a long black trench coat?”

Murmurs riffled through the classroom and eyes shifted toward Tyler, who raised his hand. “It’s my favorite coat.”

“What do you imagine people think when they see you wearing it?” Mr. Osmond asked.

Tyler shrugged. “I don’t care. Only, you know what? I actually do think you can profile people. I’ve done some reading about school shooters. And they’re almost always male and loners.”

“What about a trench coat–wearing male loner who isn’t a school shooter?” our teacher asked. “And all the Middle Easterners who aren’t terrorists? Is it fair to profile them?”

I raised my hand. “Maybe that’s the problem. Profiling is only reactive. You can look at someone after they’ve done something bad and see how they fit the profile. But there are so many others that fit the profile that you can’t really use it to predict.”

Tyler’s and my eyes met. It was difficult to read his expression. I wished he’d smile at me. I wanted to know that kiss had meant something to him. Something lasting.

“But profilers would argue that you can use profiling to narrow down the number of suspects,” Mr. Osmond said.

“To white male loners?” I almost laughed. “You could round up dozens from this school alone.”

“Maybe it’s worth it,” said Greg. “I mean, if it could save another … person from disappearing.”

“You can say that because you’re not a loner, Greg,” I countered. “But suppose you were? How’d you like to be rounded up just because you fit a profile?”

“Hey, if it meant saving a life,” said Greg.

“And suppose it meant you missing lacrosse season?” I asked.

Greg blinked, as if suddenly the real implications of profiling had hit home. Tyler nodded approvingly. That felt good, and I smiled back. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Very good, Madison.” Mr. Osmond turned to the rest of the class. “I know it isn’t easy to focus right now, but I appreciate you for trying. Thank you, those who participated and those who listened.”

Class ended and an ache hit me. I hadn’t thought about Courtney all period. I was so accustomed to her being there to walk out with. But she wasn’t there. It was unbelievable. Once again my eyes met Tyler’s. He gave me the slightest smile. We left the classroom together.

“That was interesting,” he said.

“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I crave those few moments each day when I actually forget what’s going on. Even before Courtney disappeared, it was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. Now it’s even worse.”

Tyler didn’t reply. Maybe he thought I was just making conversation. Maybe he was lost in his own thoughts about the things he’d implied I didn’t know about. I took his sleeve, stepped to the side of the hall, and lowered my voice. “I need to ask you something.”

Tyler stopped. I stood up on my toes and he bent down. “It totally bothers me that you implied that you know what’s going on. If that’s true, you seriously have to go to the police. People’s lives are at stake, Tyler. It’s not some kind of game.”

He stared at the hallway floor. “They already know what I know.”

That caught me by surprise. “How do you know?”

I could see that he was struggling, as if part of him wanted to tell me. “Listen, Madison, seriously, if I could tell you, I would. I know it’s not easy, but you have to believe me when I tell you it’s best if you stay out of it.”

“But I don’t understand,” I said. “What are you saying? That you’re going to handle this by yourself?”

Tyler’s face suddenly hardened. He abruptly started to walk away. I wanted to reach out, but something told me not to.

With lunch coming up, I stopped at my locker to drop off some books. When I closed the locker door, Maura was standing there. “Ah!” I gave a little gasp and felt my heart jump. Maura frowned, and I wondered if she thought there was something about seeing her that made me gasp. “Oh, gosh, you surprised me.” I placed my hand on my chest. “I didn’t know you were there. Everyone’s so jumpy these days.”

Clutching some binders against her chest the way little girls sometimes hugged teddy bears, she nodded. I wished that for just once she would look me in the eye.