music and going
off to New York to become famous. Instead, she’d graduated from high school two years ago and still hung around Glendale,
bringing people to tears with her singing voice on Sundays and serving them chicken-fried steak at the Split Rail Diner the
rest of the time.
She must’ve come to the school today on kid duty. Her eleven-year-old brother, KeShawn, was also a talented musician, though
you’d never know it the way he sat at the back of the orchestra and made rude noises with his trumpet.
Laurie rolled her window down. “Hey, Vanessa.”
The girl smiled and pulled her puffy pink jacket a little tighter around her. “Hey, Mrs. Hale. You doin’ okay?”
She nodded. “How come you’re standing out there freezing?”
“I couldn’t sit still. Went for a walk around the track.” Her gaze jittered away and Laurie’s antennae went up. She’d known
the Platts since Vanessa was in lacy petticoats and white Mary Janes, singing her very first solo at the age of six. If the
girl couldn’t look her in the eye, something was amiss.
She patted the seat next to her. “Come on. It’s nice and warm in here. If you catch a cold they’ll make me sing, and nobody
wants that.”
Vanessa laughed and went around the front of the car. When she settled into the passenger seat, the cold breathed off her
jacket. “Whew.” She rubbed her hands. “Colder than I thought.”
“Thanksgiving will be here in no time, and then Christmas, and there might be enough snow to go tobogganing. Tim can’t wait.
I, on the other hand, could wait a long time.”
“I know what you mean.” Silence fell, and Laurie turned up the heater. “Mrs. Hale?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course. Anything.” Laurie prepared herself to give some sensible career advice, or maybe a word in season about the undergraduate
music program at the university.
“You found that girl’s body, right?”
Laurie’s train of thought derailed. Her gaze swung from the muddy playing field to the girl sitting next to her. “Randi? Yes.”
Vanessa’s eyebrows knit together in a worried frown. “I don’t want to tell my mom this, but I thought maybe you’d know what
to do.”
“Do about what, sweetie?”
“Mama was workin’ that night, and she asked me to pick her up when she got off shift at eleven.” Dorinda Platt was a nurse
at the county hospital. “So I was, like, drivin’ around, you know? Waiting for it to be time.”
“Sure.”
“So I’m heading for the Stop-N-Go to get a fake latte out of their machine, and I have to drive over the bridge.”
“And?”
“And I see all these kids. Which is no big deal, you know, because I used to hang out there myself back in the day. But then
I see Kelci, and that’s a different thing, ’cause you know Mama is gonna have a fit if she finds out Kelci was out that late
on a school night. So I do a U-turn in the Stop-N-Go parking lot to go get her. I’m thinkin’ I just have time to take her
home before I have to pick Mama up.”
“So this is ten thirty or so?”
“Twenty after. I looked at the clock.”
“Okay.”
“So I’m turning around in the parking lot and I see something goin’ on—like a catfight broke out. You know how that parking
lot butts into the park grass there, and if you’re standing on the lawn you can look up and see what’s on the bridge?”
“Yes.”
“And the next thing I see is your Anna runnin’ up the park path like her tail’s on fire, headin’ for the bridge.”
Laurie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Those girls on the bridge are yellin’ and she’s yellin’ and I can hear it right through the car windows, and the next thing
you know, somebody pushes someone else real hard and over she goes.”
“Who? Who pushes?”
“I don’t know, but this girl does a cartwheel off the bridge and I’m thinkin’, man, that’s gonna be one cold landing, and
Anna runs
off to New York to become famous. Instead, she’d graduated from high school two years ago and still hung around Glendale,
bringing people to tears with her singing voice on Sundays and serving them chicken-fried steak at the Split Rail Diner the
rest of the time.
She must’ve come to the school today on kid duty. Her eleven-year-old brother, KeShawn, was also a talented musician, though
you’d never know it the way he sat at the back of the orchestra and made rude noises with his trumpet.
Laurie rolled her window down. “Hey, Vanessa.”
The girl smiled and pulled her puffy pink jacket a little tighter around her. “Hey, Mrs. Hale. You doin’ okay?”
She nodded. “How come you’re standing out there freezing?”
“I couldn’t sit still. Went for a walk around the track.” Her gaze jittered away and Laurie’s antennae went up. She’d known
the Platts since Vanessa was in lacy petticoats and white Mary Janes, singing her very first solo at the age of six. If the
girl couldn’t look her in the eye, something was amiss.
She patted the seat next to her. “Come on. It’s nice and warm in here. If you catch a cold they’ll make me sing, and nobody
wants that.”
Vanessa laughed and went around the front of the car. When she settled into the passenger seat, the cold breathed off her
jacket. “Whew.” She rubbed her hands. “Colder than I thought.”
“Thanksgiving will be here in no time, and then Christmas, and there might be enough snow to go tobogganing. Tim can’t wait.
I, on the other hand, could wait a long time.”
“I know what you mean.” Silence fell, and Laurie turned up the heater. “Mrs. Hale?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course. Anything.” Laurie prepared herself to give some sensible career advice, or maybe a word in season about the undergraduate
music program at the university.
“You found that girl’s body, right?”
Laurie’s train of thought derailed. Her gaze swung from the muddy playing field to the girl sitting next to her. “Randi? Yes.”
Vanessa’s eyebrows knit together in a worried frown. “I don’t want to tell my mom this, but I thought maybe you’d know what
to do.”
“Do about what, sweetie?”
“Mama was workin’ that night, and she asked me to pick her up when she got off shift at eleven.” Dorinda Platt was a nurse
at the county hospital. “So I was, like, drivin’ around, you know? Waiting for it to be time.”
“Sure.”
“So I’m heading for the Stop-N-Go to get a fake latte out of their machine, and I have to drive over the bridge.”
“And?”
“And I see all these kids. Which is no big deal, you know, because I used to hang out there myself back in the day. But then
I see Kelci, and that’s a different thing, ’cause you know Mama is gonna have a fit if she finds out Kelci was out that late
on a school night. So I do a U-turn in the Stop-N-Go parking lot to go get her. I’m thinkin’ I just have time to take her
home before I have to pick Mama up.”
“So this is ten thirty or so?”
“Twenty after. I looked at the clock.”
“Okay.”
“So I’m turning around in the parking lot and I see something goin’ on—like a catfight broke out. You know how that parking
lot butts into the park grass there, and if you’re standing on the lawn you can look up and see what’s on the bridge?”
“Yes.”
“And the next thing I see is your Anna runnin’ up the park path like her tail’s on fire, headin’ for the bridge.”
Laurie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Those girls on the bridge are yellin’ and she’s yellin’ and I can hear it right through the car windows, and the next thing
you know, somebody pushes someone else real hard and over she goes.”
“Who? Who pushes?”
“I don’t know, but this girl does a cartwheel off the bridge and I’m thinkin’, man, that’s gonna be one cold landing, and
Anna runs
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