Free I Know What You Did Last Summer by Lois Duncan Page A

way.
The sunlight had shifted slightly, and shafts of gold fell across
the rumpled bed and reached over to touch the alarm clock. On the
dresser Barry's picture reigned supreme, surrounded by a jar
of cold cream, a tube of blusher, a pallet of eye-shadow.
    Helen crossed the room and opened the top drawer of the dresser.
For a moment she stood there, as though afraid to reach inside.
Then she did, and with an unsteady hand drew forth the magazine
picture of the little boy on a bicycle.

    chapter 9
    When school let out that afternoon, Julie found Ray waiting for
her. He was parked in the same spot that he used to park the year
before when he was a student himself, over on the far side of the
lot, away from the building.
    She was not surprised to see him. Somehow she had expected to
find him there. When she came through the door, she broke away from
the stream of laughing, shoving students and turned automatically
toward that spot. She crossed to the car and opened the door, just
as she had done so many times in the year that was past, and tossed
her books inside and climbed in beside them.
    "It seems funny," she said by way of greeting, "to have you
driving your dad's car."
    "He's been pretty great about letting me use it," Ray said. "I
drive him down to the store in the morning, and Mom picks him up
at
night. It's odd, too, because he was plenty burned up
about my taking off like I did last fall. He couldn't understand
why I'd throw over school and go off on my own, and of course, I
couldn't do any decent job of explaining."
    "What did you do with your own car?" Julie asked him. "I never
knew."
    "Barry and I hammered the dent out and took it over to Hobbs and
sold it to a farmer. I took a loss, but it was worth it to be rid
of it." He started the engine. "Where do you want to go?"
    "Anywhere. It doesn't matter."
    "Up by the picnic place?"
    "No. Not there." She answered so quickly that the three words
came out as one. "How about going to Henry's? We could get a
coke."
    "You're hungry?"
    "No, but we've got to go someplace. That's as good as anywhere
else."
    It wasn't, as they discovered after they got there. Henry's was
having a special on banana splits, two for the price of one, and
the news had traveled quickly. The lot was almost completely
filled. Car horns honked and tooted, and waitresses raced back and
forth in a frenzy with trays in both hands. Some of the junior high
kids were climbing in and out of car windows and sitting on the
hoods and shouting back and forth, while older high school students
in other cars were yelling at them to shape up and be quiet.
    "The picnic place?" Ray asked again.
    Julie nodded, defeated. "I guess we don't have much choice."
    They drove in silence up the curving road, and when they passed
one particular spot, Julie shut her eyes and bit down hard on her
lower lip. They continued to climb until they reached the
sign that said "Cibola National Forest--Silver Springs." Then Ray
turned the car down a narrow dirt road that led off to the left,
away from the cleared area with the tables and benches. Branches
brushed against both sides of the car, and a squirrel ran across
the road in front of them as they came to the stream and pulled to
a stop near the bank.
    It was a few moments before either of them spoke.
    Finally Ray said, "Well, it's still the same."
    Julie nodded. The thin, silver cord of water wound its way down
from the rocks above them and disappeared below in a clump of
evergreens. A scattering of nameless yellow flowers poked their
heads from the fresh, spring earth, and beyond the trees the sky
arched in a high, rich curve of blue.
    "There was a sliver of moon caught in the branches of that pine
tree," Ray said. "Remember?"
    "I don't want to remember. Not anything about that night."
    "Julie, you have to." He reached over to cover her hand with
his. "We've got to remember-to think- to decide together what to
do."
    "Why?" Julie asked. "It's been over for almost a year now."
    "No, it