Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 26

"What?" I shout, standing. Hot chocolate spills over the side of my mug and sinks into the wall-to-wall carpet.

"Look at this," he says. He leans out of the way and clicks the mouse.

The computer loads a webpage which features a larger photo of the girl from the list. She looks to be my age. A second photo, black-and-white, displays her with another girl, probably her best friend, pitching a tent. Stacy is written on the top of the screen in a handwriting-style pink font, and little pink hearts decorate the sides of her name. I skim the page:

Female

Seventeen Years Old

Roche Harbor, Washington

USA

On the other side, the screen says My Birthday, About Me, Who I'd Like to Meet, View My Blog. There are pictures of her with people in each photograph: guys, girls, her parents, Mickey Mouse. I read a caption next to the camping photo:

hey stacy...yah i miss you lots...i actually had a dream about u last nite...it was screwed...u better still be moving down to abbotsford cause that means that u will be closer...so we can see eachother more...well thats about all i miss u lots...love you too...

Kyle clicks on About Me:

my name is Stacy Williams when i was a little girl i used to eat peanut butter on raisin bran its totally the truth ask my dad im 17 years old and im from nelson bc but my family moved to Roche Harbor i love boarding and jazz also i love cream whipped i like alot of things i like powder and salomon bindings and rip curl gear i love to surf in hawaii

Evidently Stacy didn't pay attention in English.

"Read this," he instructs. He clicks View My Blog. Another page appears and he highlights a section of text.

i thought some of you were my friends but I guess your not i don't care what you say i know the truth and so does my family.

Kyle clicks a link that reads View My Pics, then on the first in a new collection of photos. Stacy is wearing a black band uniform with a tenor saxophone in her hands. A guy stands beside her with an arm around her shoulder and a pair of drumsticks in his other hand. I peer at him and my heart stops.

It's Jesse all right. Straight hair hangs to his shoulders like a hippie, his face is missing its goatee and he's wearing geeky brown-rimmed glasses, but the smile is unmistakable. It's like looking at the "before" picture of a makeover. I read the caption.

This is me and Jesse back before everything when we fooled around after a band concert i told Jesse to stop but he didn't. i wanted to press charges but the police told me i didnt have a case

Underneath are two columns. The left has pictures of her friends, and the right has their comments. Kyle scrolls through the list.

I cant believe you hooked up with him hes a geek.

What did you see in him? He's so fake.

You fucking lair dont come back

Message Deleted

"Look at this, Rebecca. You have to tell the police."

I'm so stunned I have no idea what to say.

It doesn't matter who this Stacy girl is. What he did in Nelson doesn't matter. All that matters is what happened at Whistler. If Jesse blew up a school it wouldn't matter...

No wonder no one knows anything about Jesse: he's protected by the Youth Justice Criminal Act.

I take a deep breath. The trial starts in a week.

"I'll tell them tomorrow," I lie. I've told so many at this point that another one hardly matters.

"Are you sure?" he says, sitting down beside me. "You seem a little out of it."

"I just want it all to be over," I say. I don't know much about the law, but I know that a person can't be tried for the same crime twice. If the police don't learn about Stacy until the trial is over, it won't matter.

The expression on Kyle's face worries me. I have to make sure he doesn't tell the police. "No, I'll take care of it," I say. "They know me, after all."

He seems unconvinced. How do I drive my point home?

I lean forward and peck him on the cheek. He blushes fiercely. That kiss better work. Does Alex do things like this?

"Thanks Kyle," I say. "I should go." I need time to think this through.

"I'll walk you to the elevator."

He escorts me from the apartment down the hallway. "Try not to be hard on yourself, Rebecca. I mean, you told him you didn't want to. It's not like you let him."