Free Mister Death's Blue-Eyed Girls by Mary Downing Hahn Page B

nose, draws a deep breath. "I tried watching TV but then the news came on and it's the big story. Reporters are all over the place, knocking on doors, asking questions. Even now, even when it's dark. They wanted to talk to the Boyds but Mr. Boyd slammed the door in their faces. So did my father. Oh, why did it happen, Nora, why?"
    I clutch the phone tighter. I don't know what to say.
    "How could Buddy have done it?" Ellie's voice rises. "Why didn't God stop him, kill him or something before he could..."
    "I hate him, I hate, I hate him." I'm not sure if I'm talking about Buddy or God.
    "I wish he was dead." Ellie's voice sinks to a whisper. "If I had a gun, I'd shoot him."
    "Me too. He deserves to die like they did." I picture Cheryl and Bobbi Jo walking across the ball field, swinging their purses. What had they been talking about? Probably the party. Maybe Cheryl was telling Bobbi Jo that Ralph wants to fix her up with somebody, they' ll go to Top's Drive-In and have milk shakes so thick, you can't suck them through a straw.
    Then they come to the woods. The path is shady, narrow, winding through the trees. Birds sing. There's no warning, no time to run.
Bang, bang, bang
And they're gone, just like that. Life is over. Done. Finished.
Bang.
    "I'm so scared," Ellie whispers. "I can't stop thinking we could be dead too. That stupid pin saved our lives."
    I press the cold metal receiver against my ear and remember Ellie fumbling with the flower pin. Such a little thing.
    Dead, we could be dead. Dead. Dead. I let the word roll round in my head, hoping it will lose its meaning, become a sound signifying nothing. Dead, dead, dead. I can't make it lose its meaning. It's a dark hole in the world.
    Just then Billy knocks on the bathroom door. "Hey, I need to get in there."
    I tell Ellie I'll see her tomorrow and hang up. When I open the bathroom door, I get a dirty look from Billy.
    "Just because something bad happened doesn't mean you can stay in the bathroom all night," he says in his whiny half-changed stupid boy voice.
    I ignore him and go up to my room. I lie in bed in the dark and think about Cheryl and Bobbi Jo. What's it like to die? Does it hurt? Do you know what's happening? Where are they now? Are they in heaven? Or are they just gone?

Nora's Dream
Friday, June 15 Night
    I T'S dark and Ellie and I are in the woods, down by the stream. Moonlight puddles the shadows with splashes of silver. We look up and just where the moon shines brightest we see Cheryl and Bobbi Jo. They're wearing what they'd had on when they stopped at Ellie's house before ... before they—And they're covered with blood, their skin, their hair, their clothes, and they come closer, so close we can see the bullet holes. And they say together, "It was Buddy, he killed us, he killed us, don't let him say he didn't. He did it, he shot us, and now we're dead."
    They're holding hands and they're crying. Ellie reaches out to Bobbi Jo, but they step back, fading slowly into the shadows.
    "Tell the police, make them believe you" is the last thing they say.

Part Three
Nothing Will Ever Be the Same

The Long Way to Ellie's House
Saturday, June 16
Nora
    I WAKE up shaking. My heart pounds. This isn't the kind of dream where you say
Thank God it's not true.
Not this time. This time the dream is true. Cheryl and Bobbi Jo are dead. And I have to go to Ellie's house and be interviewed by the police.
    The sun shines through the white ruffled curtains. It slants across the flowered wallpaper and lingers on the collection of china dogs I've kept on my bureau since I was little, the blue Eastern High pennant tacked to my wall, posters from school dances nobody asked me to, pictures cut from movie magazines. A picture of Jesus hangs between James Dean and Elvis Presley. He's pointing to his heart, which glows under his robe. His face is long and sad, his hand graceful.
    Why didn't he stop Buddy?
    My closet door is open and I see my clothes, skirts and blouses and dresses