The Boy in the Tunnel

Fall 1997, Chapter 37: Kenya

"Do you know who gave him the gunpowder?"

Sarah didn't acknowledge the question. She was in motion again, following Alex toward Thorn. Her right foot dragged on the concrete with each step. The ankle was visibly swollen, a sock-encased softball bulging out of Sarah's Chuck Taylor.

Kenya caught up to her and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, just wait a second. Your ankle..." Sarah turned and her eyes met Kenya's. Whoever was looking out of them wasn't the Sarah that Kenya knew. Her right hand went to the scab on her forearm again. "We need to call Lark or something. You need to see a doctor."

"No." Sarah dug her finger into the dark spot on her arm until it bloomed bright red. A bead of blood ran in a thin line across her arm, hung wavering from her skin for a second, and dropped to the concrete. "Do you want to find out what happened to Joanie or not?"

Kenya saw Joanie floating on a sea of stars, but instead of getting smaller and farther away she got closer and closer, bigger and bigger, until she was the field of stars. She was a constellation. She was all the constellations, all the galaxies, all the stars still burning and those burned out, a billion suns with their planets.

"Fine."

Ahead of them Alex climbed the stairs to the front door of Thorn. He stopped there, leaning on the balustrade next to the wheelchair ramp, watching the throng of students streaming in and out of the door. Kenya figured this was probably the closest he'd ever been to an actual classroom.

"What are you expecting to—"

"Quiet," Sara hissed. Another drop of blood fell from her arm and landed with a tiny splat on Kenya's purple Reebok.

A familiar face exited Thorn. Alex leaned forward and grabbed his arm. He stopped, jumping like a frightened cat.

Sarah wiped her bloody forearm on her shirt. "Is that..."

"The Boy in the Tunnel." It was that kid, Tim, popping up in her life again, like a commercial she never wanted to see, for a product she didn't want.

Sarah moved up the path, pushing against the flow of students hurrying toward the bus stop. Kenya followed. On Thorn Hall's porch, Alex pulled Tim close to talk.

"Why is he talking to Tim?" They had shown up together that night, Alex and Tim, with Sarah and Audrey, carrying Joanie's poisoned body. Somehow this was about her, like everything was. She saw Joanie's face again, the face of an ancient cosmic god, a million miles tall, her eyes filled with stars. You can't escape something if it's your entire world. Joanie was somewhere in the building, or at least she was supposed to be. If she was okay.

"I don't know."

"Did they meet while you were following him all weekend?"

"No."

Tim pulled away, the fabric of his polo sleeve stretching tight until it snapped free of Alex's fingers. He sped down the steps and turned left, away from them, headed for Salley Hall.

Alex slouched back against the balustrade, deflated. He watched Tim go until he disappeared around the corner of the building. Alex remained at his spot, drumming his fingers on the whitewashed wood. He seemed hesitant to leave.

Kenya had half a mind to march right up the steps and grab Alex by those skinny shoulders and demand that he tell them where he got the fake gunpowder and how and why he gave it to Joanie. She wanted to grab him and shake him until all the answers fell out. Just like the name of his stupid band. She wanted to shake him until his brain rattled in his skull like a can of spray paint, until his pale skin turned blue and his eyes bled.