Todd Strasser - Blood on my hands

“His parents have hired a defense attorney. Griffen isn’t talking.”

“Doesn’t it mean he’s hiding something?” I ask.

“Not necessarily. He could be completely innocent, and his parents are just being careful. From what I hear, they can afford it. But it doesn’t matter. The police have got the record of the text messages he received. But we haven’t been able to link the phone they were sent from to Dakota Jenkins.”

“But who else would have sent them? They have to have come from her.”

Gail shrugs. “The law doesn’t work that way. We need real evidence linking Dakota to the phone that sent those texts and we don’t have it.”

“Then what about the knife that should be missing from the set at the Jenkinses’ home?”

Gail looks down at the table and then back at me. “I spoke to Congresswoman Jenkins. She checked the set of knives you talked about. They’re all there. She’s not missing any.”

“That can’t be! She’s lying! She knows what Dakota did and she’s trying to protect her. All they had to do was go out and buy a replacement knife. I’m telling you she-”

Gail raises her hand, gesturing for me to stop. “Callie, what made you think the knife came from Dakota’s house?”

“It was a special brand,” I explain. “I… The only time I’ve ever seen it was in Dakota’s kitchen. I can’t remember the name now, but it had two little stick-figure men against a red square background.”

Gail purses her lips sympathetically. “The brand is called Henckels, and to be honest, Callie, it’s not that special. Lots of people have them.”

Friday 9:47 A.M.

THERE’S A CHANCE I can go free.

All I have to do is pretend I killed Katherine.

I spent another night in juvie, despondent and miserable. Gail says that if I don’t agree to the self-defense idea, it’s possible that I could spend the next ten or fifteen years in prison. But how do you pretend you killed someone?

I’m taken to the visitors’ room again. Only this time my mother is waiting there with Gail. Mom’s hair is brushed and she’s even wearing a little makeup. She’s got a smile on her face, but I know her well enough to suspect it’s forced.

“What’s going on?” I ask suspiciously as soon as I sit down. Mom and Gail share a pensive glance. Now I know for certain they’re up to something.

“Honey, Gail told me about her idea,” Mom says.

A sense of betrayal hurtles through me. It may not be rational, but I’m furious at Gail, who has obviously brought my mother here to try to persuade me to agree to claim self-defense.

“But I didn’t kill her!” I cry. “You can’t-”

Gail raises her hand to quiet me. “Callie, you have to put it in perspective.”

“You want me to put it in perspective?” I shoot back angrily, and turn to Mom. “She’s using you. She wants me to pretend I killed Katherine because it’s way too much work to try to prove I’m innocent. Just like when that jerk who defended Sebastian wanted him to plead to attempted manslaughter. Is that what you want, Mom? Do you want the world to think that your son attempted murder and your daughter killed someone in self-defense?”

“Yes,” Mom replies calmly.

After the article came out in the school newspaper, I found myself in the same position as Dakota, spending lunchtime in the library rather than face Katherine. The first day I went to the library, Dakota was sitting at the computer table. I sat on a couch near the fiction section and we didn’t speak.

But the next day I decided I wanted to talk and started toward her. As soon as Dakota realized what I was doing, she got up and walked toward the back of the library, where the tall stacks of books were.

It didn’t take a nuclear physicist to figure out that she didn’t want to be seen talking to me.

She went down one aisle of bookshelves and I went down the next. We stood facing each other with the shelves between us and pretended to be looking at books.

“Nice article,” Dakota whispered sarcastically, as if she knew that was why I was in the library and not the cafeteria.

“Thanks,” I answered, emphasizing it with a groan.

“I can’t believe the way you singled out Katherine.”

“First of all, I didn’t write it alone,” I said, and explained that I’d written it with Mia and that it was supposed to have both our names on it. “She asked me to help her. I was just trying to be supportive. And second, it wasn’t meant to be about Katherine. We were writing about a trend.”

Through the shelves, Dakota gave me a “get real” look. “The thing about how it used to be that kids had to be good at something, but now all you need is to be born rich? Jodie acts and does ads. Zelda’s the captain of the girls’ volleyball team. Everyone knows I’m going to run for president of the student council. The only one who did nothing except be born rich, who never runs for an office where she has to be elected, and who isn’t involved with sports is Katherine.”

“It still wasn’t supposed to single her out,” I insisted.

“Maybe not, but that’s exactly what it did,” Dakota said, then leaned closer and dropped her voice even more. “Just between you and me? I’m glad you did it.”

The way she said “you” made me think she meant that it was something she’d wanted to do, too. “Why?”

“Because now the rumors she’s spreading are about you, not me.”

“What rumors?”

Dakota smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. “About the night before school started? About you and two guys at once.”

“That’s-” I started to react, but the outrage passed quickly. “That’s lame. Everyone’ll know she’s just trying to get back at me.”

“Maybe.” Dakota shrugged.

Since we were speaking confidentially, I decided to bring up the reason I’d wanted to talk to her. “What happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t stand her being more popular than you?” I asked, pressing her.

Dakota lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, please, that’s so seventh grade.”

“Then what?” I asked. “Why can’t you be honest with me?”

After a moment of silence, she said, “Look, Callie, I’m never going to confide in you. You and I are never going to be friends, okay? It’s just not happening.”

And then she walked away.

Friday 9:57 A.M.

IN THE VISITORS’ room, Mom’s answer nearly knocks me off my chair. I stare at her in utter disbelief.

“If it means,” Mom continues, “that I won’t have to visit two children in jail.”

That’s how she sees it, plain and simple. I slump down, feeling defeated. Talk about getting the wind knocked out of you. This can’t be real. It’s a nightmare, a horror movie.

Gail leans closer. “Callie, think for a moment. What’s our goal here?”

“My goal is to prove I didn’t kill Katherine,” I snap. “Your goal is probably to plea bargain this thing in time for lunch.”

“Callie!” Mom gasps, horrified, and then turns to Gail. “I’m so sorry. She doesn’t mean that.”

I roll my eyes, letting Gail know I most assuredly do mean it.

“That’s not my goal,” Gail replies calmly. “My goal is to keep you from going to jail.” She pauses and waits, as if the words need time to sink into my incredibly thick skull. “Claiming self-defense is considerably better than a plea bargain, because it means no jail time. So I understand that it sounds crazy and backwards and upside down, Callie, but it’s your best shot.”