Chapter 42 Caulder
Caulder
Have I been taught by—and coached by—a murderer for the past three years? Have I laughed with this guy, listened to him, learned from him, all while he’s been a murderer? Or maybe not a murderer yet, but has he been harboring murder-y tendencies this entire time?
It’s all I can think as I walk Mr. McCullough into the seven-minutes room, listening to him assure me that this is a mistake, that he’s never seen that knife in his life, that I need to just hear him.
“Caulder,” Mr. McCullough says, grabbing me by the wrist. “You have to believe me. I wouldn’t hurt any of you. Not Javi. Not Lucas. None of you. You know that.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. People are capable of hiding terrible things. There are guys I’ve played baseball against who will look me in the face and smile and then shout bigoted shit about my dads the second I turn my back.
I don’t have to believe anything Mr. McCullough says. This night’s shown me to reject it all, that no one can be trusted.
“We’re just going to lock you two in here,” I tell him. “You’ll be safe, and we’ll be sure it’s not you. It’s a precaution.”
“But you know the truth,” he says, voice desperate. “Marlene’s story doesn’t make any sense. You know that. She clearly planted that knife. Where would I have gotten it?”
I don’t know where he got it, but all I know is that he did have it. And that, combined with his behavior all night, is plenty of evidence to lock his ass up.
“This is your fault for acting so weird all night,” I tell him. “Innocent people don’t do that. You left us to…”
I can’t even say the words. While people were dying, he was making out—or worse—with Ms. Dorman. I shake the image from my head.
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” he insists. “You know I wouldn’t.”
And it’s true. I do know this. In fact, I haven’t been able to square it. I didn’t find the knife that he was apparently hiding. How did Marlene find that knife and I didn’t?
And it’s not a knife from the kitchen, either.
“I don’t know what I know,” I tell him. “I’m sorry, Coach. But I have to look out for the whole team now.”
His words from before every game, and I hope they hit him the right way.
I nod to the love seat in the room, which he walks over to.
Then Kaitlyn’s walking Ms. Dorman in, directing her to the same place.
She doesn’t put up the kind of fight Coach did and instead just lowers herself onto the love seat.
“You’re making a mistake” is all she says. I avoid looking at her as Kaitlyn and I shut the doors.
I look at the grandfather clock in the corner: 3:23. A few hours to go until morning. I keep thinking of Emerson’s words.
Can’t wait until fucking four.
Why four? I still haven’t figured that one out, but I have to admit, it gives me hope. Hope that we really can make it out of this alive.
Which is maybe pretty dumb considering the guy who said it has fully disappeared. I can’t stop thinking about Emerson’s cocky bullshit. Even as I lock the door, securing McCullough and Dorman inside, I can see his smirk in my mind.
“Fucking asshole,” I mumble.
“Talking to yourself? That can’t be a good sign.”
I look behind me, and Kaitlyn is perched at the edge of the stairs, watching me.
“You really think McCullough killed these people?” I ask Kaitlyn. “Jay was McCullough’s favorite recruit. Javi was his favorite on the baseball team. And Lucas…He wouldn’t have attacked him. He had Lucas film all of our games, which helped us get sponsors we wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
Kaitlyn doesn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she gives me the same look she gave me when we both knew our breakup was inevitable but neither of us wanted to admit it.
“I think that you like to ignore the obvious,” Kaitlyn says. “And you are always so determined to see the best in people that you make excuses for them.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that she turned my question into a dig. I ignore it, forcing myself to take a breath and remember she’s going through her own shit.
“Honestly, I’m shocked you actually did something,” she says. “I guess since Javi’s not here, you had no choice.”
Now I still.
“What’d you say?”
She shrugs. “Letting Javi take the fall after you attacked Warren.”
Shock ripples through me. How the hell does she know I’m the one who went after Warren?
“Javi told me, obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He told me not to tell you I knew, but, well, he’s gone, isn’t he? I honestly couldn’t believe you let them punish him for that. But I guess you’re the golden boy and we couldn’t ruin that.”
“I tried to tell them it was me,” I say, which is the truth, and she has to know that. “I told Javi I’d take the fall. But he said—”
“It was better if he did, right?” she says, a cold laugh bubbling out of her mouth. “Javi always put other people first. Jumped in to pull you off Warren and got cut up anyway. And guess who had to clean those wounds, Caulder? ’Cause you sure as hell didn’t.”
I hate every word she’s saying. I hate them even more because they’re true.
“He’s stubborn,” I say, then catch myself. He was stubborn.
Fuck.
“He knew people saw him the way they wanted to,” she says, every syllable an ice pick. “And he was sick of trying to prove to them that he wasn’t that way. Everyone saw him as the tough asshole dating the evil bitch, didn’t they? But he was never that way. And you let them believe he was.”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I tried—”
“You should’ve tried harder,” she bites out.
“You don’t get it, do you? And I’ll be honest. I didn’t get it, either.
But what Javi deals with day in and day out just because of people’s bullshit stereotypes and not-so-subtle racism is unreal.
Just think about Emerson and all the shit he was throwing at Javi.
Shit he thinks he gets to throw because of this exact same narrative that you let admin and everyone else spin.
“And you, as his supposed best friend, should’ve done something about that,” she says, another bitter laugh falling out.
“You should’ve taken the blame because your ego could handle that.
Golden boy, yes. But golden white boy. You and I have a privilege that Javi doesn’t get.
Only instead of using it, you let them keep assuming the worst of Javi. ”
Kaitlyn’s words hit like a slap in the face. I want to deny the accusations, but seeing them in front of me, I know she’s right. I let Javi down. I should’ve pushed harder. I should’ve made sure they didn’t punish him. I should’ve stood my ground. Javi deserved better. Of course he did.
“Instead, you let yourself feel better because you beat up Warren. You thought you really did something, didn’t you?”
“You’re right about Javi,” I say. “I was wrong for not making sure they knew I did it. But I just wanted…to do something for him, the way he’d stuck up for me.
And I know you don’t believe me, Kait, but I was pissed Warren did that and sent those threats to you.
You might not be my girlfriend, but I wouldn’t ever want someone to hurt you. I thought you understood that.”
She freezes, all of her muscles tightening in one split second. Her face darkens, and her eyes get glassy.
“You’re right that I should’ve stuck up for Javi,” I say. “But we both wanted to make sure Warren would never send threats like that again. I thought—”
“Warren didn’t send me threats,” Kaitlyn says.
My head whips to her. “What?”
“Warren never sent those,” she says. “I did. I made a burner and sent them because this school never does anything to punish you assholes.”
I stare at her, trying to make sense of her words. She sent those messages?
“Javi wouldn’t have gone after Warren if he thought Warren had just made some mistake,” she says. “But if he thought I was still in danger?” She lifts her chin, staring me down. “We both know he would’ve killed for me. Or, I guess, allowed his best friend to kill for me.”
“You manipulated him?” I say, unable to keep the hatred out of my voice. “Are you serious, Kait?”
“Don’t,” she snaps. “You don’t get to call me that again. Not ever. And I’m not sorry that some guy paid the price that he should’ve paid all along. I’m not sorry at all.”
It’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. Cold. Angry. No. Beyond those.
“I bust my ass every single day to be perfect,” she says.
“My parents live in constant fear that what happened to Hadley will happen to me. That one moment will ruin the house of cards they’ve built for me.
Volleyball isn’t enough. I have to be on debate, too.
They’ll never let me or my sisters focus on just one thing.
So I drive myself to the brink every day.
And it doesn’t matter. I still might not get into college. ”
“You’ve been scouted,” I say. “You literally have been noticed.”
She shakes her head, laughing high and cold as tears roll down her cheeks.
“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? All of it’s so fragile that one asshole could’ve ended it all. One asshole could’ve brought it all crashing down. If I don’t protect myself, that’s literally all it takes.”
I meet her eyes then. She’s as still as a statue, arms crossed over her chest. I can feel her steady anger like a fire behind a door, just waiting for you to open it and let it burn free.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to douse that fire as I turn away. “I didn’t know.”
I’m as much of a mess as you are, if not more, I add in my mind. The only difference is I still don’t know what to do.
When she doesn’t answer, I look behind me to see if she’s still standing there. What I find are her cold blue eyes pinned on me.
“Oh, Caulder,” she says. “You need to be careful. For once, you’re right. There’s so much you don’t know.”