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word. He just headed out of the room and back upstairs to get
ready for school.
Becka watched. She wasn t entirely sure what his problem
was, but she expected it had to do with Maxwell. Why? What
about Maxwell Hunter made Scott so angry?
+ =
We got him. Darryl scooted beside Scott at the cafeteria
table.
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Got who? Scott asked.
Z. You guys talked last night, didn t you around nine?
Yeah.
So we got him. Darryl pushed up his glasses and gave a
heartier-than-usual sniff.
Scott looked on with distaste as the kid swallowed. He was
getting pretty used to the sniffs and snorts. But not the real loud
ones . . . and not while he was eating. He glanced at the vanilla
pudding cup in his hands and thought he d wait a minute before
digging in.
Darryl hadn t noticed a thing. My cousin called up with his
address this morning.
You re kidding! That fast?
Darryl reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded
piece of paper. I told you he was good. He handed the paper
to Scott. Now, at last, they could discover who Z was. Maybe
uncover how he knew so much. And most important, maybe
they could find out why he had taken such an interest in Scott s
family.
And yet, with all of those possibilities, Scott hesitated. He
could not unfold the paper.
What s wrong? Darryl asked.
I don t know . . .
Darryl gave his glasses another push.
The guy was pretty spooked last night, Scott said. I mean,
he knew when your cousin tapped into our conversation, and
he logged off right away.
So?
So he obviously wants his privacy.
What s that got to do with anything? He ll never know we
know.
Scott nodded. But, still . . .
Hey, Williams.
He turned to see one of the members of the Society passing
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by the table. It was the big, meaty guy in the tank top the same
tank top he wore nearly every day. Luckily he wasn t looking
for a fight. In fact, he almost sounded friendly. I heard about
your sister, he called as he moved toward the exit. Pretty cool.
Let her know we re rooting for her.
Scott nodded but did not smile. The fact that the Society
thought Rebecca s experiences were cool didn t exactly thrill
him. And what did the guy mean, they were rooting for her ?
Are you going to open it or what? Darryl asked.
Scott was still thinking about his sister.
Scott. Darryl sniffed again, loud enough to bring Scott
back to reality. If you want, we can track him down and pay
him a visit as early as tonight.
Scott looked back to the folded paper in his hand. Tonight?
his voice croaked.
Sure. Darryl shrugged. Why not?
Scott raised a finger to his mouth and began chewing a nail.
Why not, indeed?
+ =
At track practice Becka s mind was barely on her running. In
fact, Coach Simmons had shouted at her more times than she
could count. Come on, Williams. Focus! FOCUS!
Becka tried, but there were just too many things on her mind.
Funny, a week ago running was all she thought about. But now
. . . well, now things were changing.
Everything okay? Julie asked as they toweled off in the
locker room after their showers.
Huh? Becka looked up a little startled.
Are you all right?
Oh, yeah . . . sure. Becka forced a smile and reached for her
sweatshirt.
Julie watched her carefully. Ryan s waiting outside.
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Great! Becka said as she finished dressing, grabbed her
things, and headed off. We ll see you tomorrow.
Yeah . . ., Julie said slowly. Tomorrow. She watched as
Becka disappeared around the lockers. There was no missing
the concern on her face.
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Come on, pretty lady, it s 8:08. Hurry up! Pepe tugged at
Becka s hand as they scrambled up the grade toward the train
trestle. The loose gravel slipped under her feet, slowing her prog-
ress, but at Pepe s insistence, she pressed on.
Ryan was right behind them. You sure this is safe? he
asked.
Sure I m sure, Pepe said. I do it all the time. We won t even
be on the tracks, I promise.
Ryan had made it clear that he wasn t crazy about visiting the
Death Bridge. But ever since they d arrived, it was all Pepe had
talked about. And he assured them again and again it would be
perfectly safe.
The thought of being this close to the spot where so many
kids had been killed should have given Becka the creeps. But,
for some reason, she felt a faint attraction toward the place. It
probably was just morbid curiosity. But Becka sensed there was
more to it than that.
At last they reached the top of the grade. Becka let out a gasp.
She had been here before! Last night . . . this was the ridge she d
stood on in her dream! Only now there was a train trestle just
ahead and tracks that continued another hundred yards before
disappearing around the bend. Other than that, it was identical
to her dream. Becka was certain of it.
For a moment all three stood looking on in silence. And, for
a moment, all three thought of the crazy, half-drunk teenagers
who had been batted off of the trestle like flies or crushed under
the train s merciless wheels.
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Come on. Pepe tugged at Becka s hand, urging them to fol-
low him onto the trestle.
No way, amigo, Ryan said. This is far enough.
I don t mean we stand on the tracks. I mean we stand over
there. Pepe pointed to the outside girder of the trestle, a steel
beam with plenty of room to walk.
Pass, was all Ryan said.
Pepe shrugged and looked to Becka. She also shook her head.
He let go of her hand and started toward the trestle.
Pepe! Ryan warned.
I do it all the time, mi hijo. Don t worry. He reached the
trestle and stepped onto the steel girder.
But
You re sounding like my mother. He grinned. Don t
worry.
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Becka and Ryan watched as Pepe tightrope-walked the steel
beam effortlessly working his way along the outside of the
bridge. From his position it was clear there was no way a train
could hit him. Of course if he slipped and fell, he could bash
his brains out on the road twenty feet below. But with all the
handgrips and footholds, that didn t seem likely.
Be careful, Ryan warned.
Relax, Pepe called. It s no biggie.
Just be careful.
As Rebecca watched she felt a strange detachment creep over
her. The same detachment she felt when she was being hypno-
tized. Suddenly it was as if things weren t completely real. As if
they weren t that important. If Pepe remained safe on the trestle,
fine, he deserved it. If he slipped and fell, that would be okay too,
because he probably deserved that. It was as if everything was
part of a plan . . . the workings of a fair and just universe.
She turned and looked out over the neighborhood. Here,
high atop the grade, she could see everything. The pathetic
houses, the broken-down cars, the ragged children playing in
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the street. But this time she felt no heaviness. This time she felt
very little pity or compassion. Only detachment. All this pov-
erty, did it really matter? If reincarnation was true, then this
was justice people simply paying for how they had lived in
the past. Why should she feel sorry for them if they were getting
what they deserved?
The thought struck her as strange and yet perfectly logi-
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