Free Driver's Dead by Peter Lerangis Page B

him?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œNothing.”
    Virgil looked at her oddly. “Is something wrong, Kirsten? You look like you saw a ghost.”
    â€œNo!” Kirsten shot back. Just heard one, that’s all.
    Virgil shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be critical. I, uh, just wanted to apologize to you. You know, for walking away after school like that. When Maria and I had that argument.”
    â€œWhy are you apologizing to me?”
    â€œIt was … you know, rude of me to just storm away without saying good-bye or anything.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I mean, we’re all … tense.”
    Kirsten had no idea Virgil was so polite. The apology seemed a little ridiculous. But boy, was she glad for the company.
    â€œUh, can I come in?” Virgil asked with an awkward smile.
    â€œOh, sorry! Sure … sure.”
    Virgil stepped in and plopped himself on the living room sofa.
    Sniff, sniff. He scrunched his nose. “Do you smell something funny?”‘
    Kirsten winced. “We, uh, we’re not sure what that is.”
    â€œI can’t get over what happened,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “I mean, Rob— I knew him.”
    Kirsten sat opposite him on a chair. “Me, too.”
    â€œYou never think it’ll happen to someone you know, and then—you know?”
    â€œYeah. I know… .” They both shook their heads sadly and looked around. Kirsten felt tongue-tied. Virgil was a nice guy, but she still didn’t know him well. “Um, where’s Maria?”
    â€œHer dad took the day off,” Virgil replied with a sigh, “so the whole family could talk about Rob’s death with a shrink. I didn’t want to stay home alone.”
    â€œOh.” A shrink. What a good idea. Leave it to the Siroccos.
    â€œCan I have something to drink?”
    â€œOf course. Sorry! Orange juice okay?”
    â€œPerfect. I’ll come with you. See your house.”
    â€œOkay.” Kirsten led him out of the living room, saying, “This is the dining room … the kitchen …”
    Kirsten smiled as Virgil pretended to be impressed. Poor Virgil. Too afraid to be alone, without his girlfriend. It was kind of sweet that he came over.
    Kirsten was feeling a little less tense as she got some orange juice from the fridge and poured two glasses. Virgil was a good guy. Intelligent. He seemed trustworthy.
    â€œYum,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to drink all day.”
    Kirsten took a long gulp. “Virgil, you think Gwen really did it?”
    Virgil furrowed his brow. “Well, she kind of admitted it.”
    â€œBut you know her, right? I mean, she is obnoxious, but she doesn’t seem like a murderer.”
    â€œJeffrey Dahmer didn’t seem like a murderer, either. What are you getting at, Kirsten? Do you have any other ideas?”
    Kirsten swallowed. She was dying to tell someone what she’d seen.
    â€œWell, there’s been some really strange stuff going down lately,” Kirsten began.
    â€œLike?”
    Go for it, Kirsten said to herself.
    â€œVirgil, do you happen to have that contest flyer we got in driver’s ed?”
    â€œMaybe.” Virgil began emptying his pockets—candy wrappers, coins, a bankcard, pieces of tissue, rubber bands, paper clips… . “Wait a minute.”
    He ran into the living room and came back with his coat, rummaging through the pockets. “Here it is.”
    Virgil held out a folded piece of paper and Kirsten grabbed it.
    She quickly opened it and laid it out on the table.
    His Escort was angled forward, all right. Even more than hers had been. Almost as far as Rob’s.
    â€œThere!” she exclaimed. “Do you remember what this looked like when you first got it?”
    Virgil looked at it quizzically. “Flatter. Cleaner.”
    â€œCome upstairs—and don’t get any ideas.”
    â€œKir sten