Blood on My Hands

it’s not that.… You know it isn’t.”
    “Yeah, yeah.” His words seethe with sarcasm.
    “It’s true!” I insist, stung.
    “Right. Just like the reason you broke up with me had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn’t going to college. Or I didn’t know the right way to hold a fork and that my family didn’t belong to the right clubs. Damn, I’ve heard this all before. Why do I even bother?”
    “Slade, what are you talking about?” I’m truly bewildered. I can’t remember ever talking to him about forks or belonging to clubs.
    “Forget it, Cal.”
    “Forget what?”
    “I said forget it. Oh, and listen, your cover’s been blown. On the news last night they had a security-camera shot of you in some grocery store in your punk getup. You can bet it’ll be on the local news again this morning and all over the Internet.”
    The anger and sarcasm hurt. “Thank you for telling me that, Slade,” I say, even though I already know. “I wish you’d tell me why you’re so upset.”
    Silence. And then, sounding choked up, he says, “Forget it, Cal. It probably doesn’t even matter at this point.”
    “It does matter, Slade. Don’t you want us to get back together?”
    The line goes quiet. Is he still there? “Slade?”
    “I … I gotta go, Cal.”
    “No!”
    But he’s gone.
    Jodie told me why I hadn’t been invited to Zelda’s beach house, and why Katherine had suddenly become silent. And that was when I panicked and gave into impulse and acted rashly.
    I called Slade … and told him it was over.
    As soon as I got off the phone, I sent a text to Katherine: I did it .
    Not ten minutes passed before a text arrived from Zelda: Want 2 go 2 my beach house this wknd?
    I went, trying not to think about what I’d done, and to be honest, I had a great time. Zelda’s house was huge, bright, and breezy, and the crash of the surf was always in my ears, and the fresh scent of salt air in my nose. It was Katherine, Jodie, Zelda, Brianna, and me. Dakota was away on vacation with her parents.
    I felt like a different person. At night we went to a dance club, where college guys hit on us. It made me wonder if I should apply to a four-year school in the fall. Given the alternative—two years at FCC, living at home, hanging around the same old town—why not at least try to get in somewhere else? I was in a new place—with my girlfriends and with my life. By the end of the weekend, I believed Katherine. I might have loved Slade, but he wasn’t right for me.
    And, I thought, I was in the IC.

Chapter 28
    Tuesday 7:18 A.M.
    OUTSIDE, THE DOWNPOUR has eased to a drizzle. After that phone call, I can only assume that something with Slade has changed, even if I don’t know what it is. All I know is that calling him back to argue or plead isn’t going to solve anything. Still, I wish he hadn’t gotten angry. I really wish he’d told me he loved me. Could that be why he wanted to see me in person?
    And some good news came out of our conversation: Jerry really did make my phone untraceable. From the tree house, I can see the streets in front of and behind the Fairman house, and there are no police cruisers racing up with their lights and sirens off.
    But now what? My disguise is no good. I am hungry and dirty and hate the way my hair and scalp feel. Is it time to turn myself in and tell the police what I’ve learned about the anonymous threatening texts? Wouldn’t they have to look into that? Especially since they must have a record of Griffen’s parents’ report. At least then I’d be able to rest and eat and take a shower.
    But there’s that other Callie. The one who made me run even when I got the most painful stitch in my side. The one who said that no matter how many reasons I came up with for stopping, I’d still be quitting. Sometimes I hate that girl. Life would be so much simpler if she weren’t there making me feel bad and guilty every time I thought about taking a shortcut or the easy way out.
    I can’t prove I didn’t kill Katherine by hiding. So I have to think, figure out what the next step should be. There must be information out there that can help me, even if I don’t know what it is or where to look for it. But I’m sure of one thing—I won’t come across it if I turn myself in.
    So the first thing I have to do is listen to the other Callie and not give up. And then what? To prove that someone committed murder, you have to prove that they had the opportunity, the means,