Blood on My Hands

overseas. It got to the point where I began to dread speaking to him and wished he wouldn’t tell me everything he was thinking and feeling. I certainly wasn’t doing the same. I didn’t tell him about the fun I was having with Katherine and her crowd, and I definitely didn’t say anything about the pressure from Katherine to break up with him.
    But not being honest made me feel guilty, and it was hard to hide that guilt when we were face-to-face on our computers. By August I was making excuses to speak to him on the phone instead of video chatting. But that just meant more lies and made me feel even worse.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked one night on the phone when I said my computer was acting up.
    “Nothing.”
    “Come on, Cal. You told me two weeks ago your computer was broken. You’re telling me it’s still broken?”
    I didn’t know how to answer. I was sick of hearing myself make up excuses and lies.
    “Cal, be honest. Tell me what’s going on,” he urged.
    What I could be honest about were my feelings. “I miss you. I wish you’d come home. It’s hard when you’re so far away.”
    “What’s hard?” he asked. “Staying faithful? Not going out with other guys?”
    “No!” I gasped, stung by the accusation. “Nothing like that! What makes you say that?”
    “The three P s,” he said.
    I had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”
    “It’s something they teach in the army. To succeed and survive you need patience, perseverance, and paranoia. When I first heard that, I understood the patience and perseverance right away, but paranoia? Who wants you to be paranoid? But they say if you want to survive in war, that’s how you have to be.”
    “This isn’t war.”
    “Right. But you know what? Part of war is survival, and right now I feel like I’m fighting for the survival of Cal and Slade. Because my gut is telling me something is wrong, and paranoia is telling me that it’s more than just a broken computer. It’s already happened twice in my unit.”
    “What’s happened?”
    “The e-mail comes. The one from the girlfriend saying it’s over. That can’t happen to us, Cal. It’ll kill me.”
    “I haven’t seen anyone,” I said.
    “You sure?”
    I don’t know why that question bothered me so much. Maybe because his neediness felt like more pressure on me.
    “I think I’d know if I was seeing someone,” I said. But even as I said it, I felt my insides twist with guilt, because Slade’s instincts were right. It wasn’t another guy I was seeing, but another life, one that promised to be a lot more fun and carefree than the one I was having with him.
    Instead of accepting my reply, Slade pressed again. “I need to know that I don’t have to worry about that, Cal. Not with us. You need to promise me.”
    Something inside me snapped. “Or what? God, Slade, you make it sound like your whole life depends on me. I can’t stand feeling like I’m the only thing responsible for your happiness. I want to have some happiness, too. I’m only seventeen, for God’s sake. Is this what I’ve got to look forward to for the rest of my life? Because if it is, no thanks.”
    I hung up.

Chapter 24
    Monday 6:17 P.M.
    WE STAND IN the muddy, cold shadows of the reeds. The cheers are still coming from the soccer field.
    “What were you doing there?” he asks.
    “I just … I don’t know.… They spotted me in town and I had to run. Then I felt so scared and alone, and so tired of hiding. I just wanted to be near people. And then I saw you.”
    He looks at my face, clearly puzzled. “Are those real?”
    For a second I don’t know what he’s talking about. Then I pull the ring off my lip and he smiles as if he’s relieved, then shakes his head. “Did you have to cut off your hair?”
    “Yes.”
    “What happened last night? You disappeared in the middle of our conversation.” It sounds like he really cares, like he was worried about me. Just knowing that is like breathing in pure oxygen. It makes me feel hopeful and reenergized.
    “I couldn’t stay on,” I tell him. “The police were coming. They must be tracing my phone. But I have to tell you what I’ve learned.” I tell him about Griffen Clemment. “He thinks Dakota sent those text threats. So you see, Slade? She did have a motive for killing Katherine.”
    He draws in a breath and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to argue that girls don’t go around killing their friends just because one stole