Jenny had killed a lot of those people, though, so there was probably room for parking.
She drove to school, listening to Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard sing “Pancho and Lefty” on the country-gold radio station. Her dad had been distant for days now, ever since her confession. Jenny knew he didn’t see her the same. It was hard to adjust to your only child being a mass murderer, she thought. And it looked like she was going to get away with it, which, in a weird way, only made things worse.
Not that Jenny really believed she would get away with murder. People were investigating. They’d taken the bodies, and they’d taken all kinds of medical samples from Jenny. Someone was going to put it together.
She now understood the meaning of the phrase “living on borrowed time.”
School was strange and quiet. Several teachers were dead, and the state had brought in some befuddled substitutes. People trudged through the hallways, saying very little to each other.
They did whisper, though, when Jenny walked in the front door of the school. They whispered a lot, about how she was supposed to be dead, everyone had seen her drown.
As usual, nobody talked to her directly. She sensed something different, though. Where there had once been cold dismissal, if not outright loathing, the feeling she got from people now was one of fear. Ashleigh, and even Dr. Goodling, had accused her of witchcraft, and now a bunch of people were dead with no explanation. Including all of Jenny’s enemies.
Notes and photographs were taped all over Ashleigh Goodling’s locker, and there was a heap of flowers and a couple of little teddy bears in front of it. People had even left packs of Twix and unopened cans of Cherry Coke—Ashleigh’s favorite morning vending-machine treats—at the foot of her locker, like an offering to a pagan god.
In Jenny’s homeroom, there were a lot of empty desks. Several of the girls were pregnant, and they gave Jenny the strongest looks of fear or revulsion. Alison Newton, Brenda Purcell, and Ronella Jones, all former cheerleaders now quite visibly pregnant, whispered to each other in the front row, looking back over their shoulders at Jenny.
Jenny sat in the back corner of the back row.
Darcy Metcalf arrived, and her pregnancy was really starting to show. She sat in the back row, too, at the opposite end from Jenny, away from everybody. Abject misery radiated from Darcy’s face and slumped posture. Jenny knew the feeling.
Assistant Principal Varney—now acting principal, since Ashleigh had gotten Principal Harris suspended—gave the morning announcements over the intercom.
“First,” her deep bass voice crackled over the boxy intercom, “Let us have a moment of silence for the teachers and students lost in the tragic accident.”
Jenny’s substitute homeroom teacher, an elderly man with a bulky hearing aid, closed his wrinkled eyes solemnly.
The pregnant girls, and a few other kids, stared at Jenny. Jenny lowered her head, and her eyes, but she didn’t close her eyes all the way. She had a feeling that people might pounce on her if she gave them a chance.
“All students are invited to visit with our guidance counselor, Mrs. Gerbler, for grief counseling.” Assistant Principal Varney said over the intercom. “She will be available in the main office all week, along with Mr. Ellerton, a grief specialist sent by the State Department of Education. Now, despite the tragedy, we must finish out the school year. Contrary to rumor, final exams will be held.” This brought groans from all over the school. “Other announcements will follow as plans become finalized.”
Jenny wondered what that meant.
“Please be respectful of the new substitute teachers around the school,” Mrs. Varney continued. “They’re here to help us through these difficult times. Major extracurricular activities are suspended until further notice. Lunch today will be Salisbury steak, tater tots and okra medley. Now rise for the Pledge of Allegiance.”
Jenny rose with everyone else and quietly pledged allegiance to the rectangle of cloth hanging over the chalkboard, and to the republic for which it stood.
The school remained quiet as a funeral parlor all morning. At lunch, Jenny sat with Seth in their usual lunch place on dry days, under the shade of one of the big, gnarled old oak trees that were everywhere in town. This was one of three big oaks on the narrow lawn between the school and the student parking lot. The roots were wide enough to use as benches and tables, if you didn’t mind sitting close to the ground.
Jenny had brought a peanut butter and jelly, plus an empty butter container full of carrots. She eyeballed Seth’s lunch with a little disgust. He’d not only bought the mystery brown rectangle of Salisbury steak, he’d actually paid extra for a double order.