Read Online Fatality by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online

diary.”
    Rose shrugged. But she remembered that moment in the kitchen, a week or so after the murder, when Alan noticed she wasn’t writing in her diary anymore. Not one other person had ever commented on that.
    Alan seemed at a loss for what to say next. He breathed heavily in and out. Rose felt the same. “They asked how well I knew you,” said Alan. “I said the way any guy knows his friend’s little sister. Not very well.”
    She shrugged again, though it hurt. “I’ve never seen you shrug,” said Alan after a while. “It’s not your style.”
    “I don’t have a style.”
    “Of course you do. You’re dignified and reserved and careful.”
    Rose nearly groaned out loud. She had never heard three more ghastly adjectives. That was how a handsome, wonderful, sexy boy perceived her? Dignified, reserved, and careful? She wanted to rip off her skin and start over.
    Alan said, “I’d help if I could, Rose.”
    “Help the police?” she said, feeling even more exhausted.
    Alan said something extremely rude about the police. “Help you,” he explained.
    She almost smiled. Wouldn’t Augusta and Alan be a nice pair of helpers?
    Alan slouched against the lockers, his height and breadth blocking her from all gazes. He was a foot taller than she was. She knew, because the stats on every player were published. “Tabor called me,” said Alan, and in spite of herself, Rose was deflated. So after all this time, the loving big brother had finally kicked in.
    “He’s worried,” said Alan. “And jealous, I think. His little sister is the one with the guts to steal a police car. Any trouble Tabor ever got into just became minor league. You’re the one playing in the majors.”
    Rose managed a smile, but she did not manage to direct it at Alan. She was facing the metal louvers of somebody else’s locker, as if it were a mirror and she were trying on lipstick.
    “Rose, you can’t even look at me. How are you going to look at police and attorneys putting pressure on you?”
    He could not know that police and attorneys were easier to look at than he was. At least the police had given Alan no idea of her crush. He didn’t know that all through those casual music-rehearsal hours, a little girl’s hopes had soared whenever he said hello. She sighed inwardly and looked up. But Alan Finney’s face held no worried concern like Augusta’s, no hot fascination like Ming’s, no frustrated ignorance like the principals’. There was no resigned obedience to the wishes of his friend Tabor. In Alan’s eyes was an intensity of emotion Rose had not expected and could not interpret. Helplessly they watched each other flush.
    Maybe he’s just embarrassed, thought Rose. All kinds of people are seeing us together and he hates the conclusions they’re drawing and he’s just waiting for this to end. “Did the police show you the diary?” she said, as if it hardly mattered.
    “No. I think they’re talking to everybody whose name you mentioned in the pages they still have. They’re hoping you shared your experiences with one of us after the murder.”
    “I didn’t have any experiences to share,” said Rose. “It’s very thoughtful of you to be concerned, Alan.” Even though Tabor ordered you to be, she thought. “But this will come to an end shortly, when the authorities accept that I cannot contribute to their pile of evidence.”
    Alan drew a breath so deep that his ribs banged into the tops of the lockers on one side and his book bag swung out into the traffic of the hallway on the other. “Listen, how about going for a Coke with me, Rose? We can talk. I feel as if you need a friend, and I know your family so well—and—you know.”
    She had hoped for this for half of her life. But what would she say when he brought up the sole topic of interest? This is private, Alan. It doesn’t involve you. That contained a clue and she could not give clues to anybody. Alan would phone Tabor and quote her. With a shock, she