use the back button.”
She took another moment to show me what she meant.
I really appreciated it. I did. I thanked her again , and when she walked away, informing me she was close, I then looked at the screen.
The first, the very first one, caused one of those nervous, surprise twitches in my gut.
It read, ‘ Body found in p ark indentified as Colville c heerleader missing for twenty years.”
I moved the arrow to the line, saw it transform into a hand , and hesitated to click on it. I felt guilty. I looked around . Double checking to see if anyone was watching me. Why that was, I didn’t know.
Wait. Yes , I did.
I had a feeling before I even clicked on the link that I knew what it was about.
I clicked.
I saw the picture , and I was right. It was a year book picture ; the girl had been cropped from a group , m ore than likely the cheerleading squad. Her hair was light, full , and big. Curled up and back on the sides and high in the front. Her lips were glossy, eye makeup heavy, her head tilted , and she smiled. A bit of her Colville c heerleading sweater had made it into the picture.
The article read :
Connie Lambert was excited and happy when she left for the big h omecoming game on Friday, October 16, 1981. Her mother had just laundered her uniform , and Connie left early so she could get sodas with the other girls.
She was excited because she w as on e of five girls nominated for homecoming queen.
It was a great night for Connie. T hough she didn’t win homecoming queen , her team went on to beat the undefeated Willow Brook Panthers 21 – 3. She called her mother from the stadium pay phone and said she was going out for pizza and would be home before midnight.
That was the last her mother heard or saw of Connie until her body was discovered just two weeks ago.
The article was written in 1999.
It stated her remains were uncovered in the Colville Park that used to be a playground when they were digging to make a new fountain . Her body still sported her Colville cheerleading sweater, but no other clothing items were found on her.
Because of how many years had passed, the cause of death would remain a mystery ; they could only guess.
So could I .
I hadn’t thought about Connie Lambert until that v ery moment , and I guessed I ’d be thinking about her for a long time.
Twenty-three years ago I ’d thought about her a lot. Tried to speak about her , but Sharon … Sharon would stop me .
“It wasn’t our fault, ” Sharon said. “We didn’t do this.”
I flashed back to that night. “Are you sure?”
“ Positive . When I left her she was fine. It happened after.”
I believed Sharon back then. Why wouldn’t I ? But as I stared at the article, I had to wonder.
That night was vivid once more.
“M y father is going to be so mad,” I told Sharon as we pulled into the parking lot of the Colville High School s tadium. “I’m not supposed to drive this far.”
“He isn’t going to know. H e ’s always a sleep by ten on a Friday , anyhow .
I knew that to be true. Plus, my father thought I was at a friend’s house . Never Sharon’s , though, my parents hated her and wished her away at times. I didn’t get it. They’d always tell me not to bring her up.
“Richie is going to be so surprised I’m here,” I told her. “He asked me to come, but I said I couldn’t.”
We had to park in the back of the lot ; it was full. Willow Brook was undefeated. We were late; I was certain they were already in the second half.
We giggled all the way to the stadium. Richie’s motorbike w as parked right out front. It was so cool , and I felt like the coolest girl in school hanging out with Richie.
But we didn’t see him. Then again , the s tadium was full. We looked around, but n o Richie.
The game ended, and I wondered if maybe he was out in the parking lot dri nking beers with friends, or better yet, he more than likely was under the bleachers.
“He’s probably there,” Sharon said.
She took another moment to show me what she meant.
I really appreciated it. I did. I thanked her again , and when she walked away, informing me she was close, I then looked at the screen.
The first, the very first one, caused one of those nervous, surprise twitches in my gut.
It read, ‘ Body found in p ark indentified as Colville c heerleader missing for twenty years.”
I moved the arrow to the line, saw it transform into a hand , and hesitated to click on it. I felt guilty. I looked around . Double checking to see if anyone was watching me. Why that was, I didn’t know.
Wait. Yes , I did.
I had a feeling before I even clicked on the link that I knew what it was about.
I clicked.
I saw the picture , and I was right. It was a year book picture ; the girl had been cropped from a group , m ore than likely the cheerleading squad. Her hair was light, full , and big. Curled up and back on the sides and high in the front. Her lips were glossy, eye makeup heavy, her head tilted , and she smiled. A bit of her Colville c heerleading sweater had made it into the picture.
The article read :
Connie Lambert was excited and happy when she left for the big h omecoming game on Friday, October 16, 1981. Her mother had just laundered her uniform , and Connie left early so she could get sodas with the other girls.
She was excited because she w as on e of five girls nominated for homecoming queen.
It was a great night for Connie. T hough she didn’t win homecoming queen , her team went on to beat the undefeated Willow Brook Panthers 21 – 3. She called her mother from the stadium pay phone and said she was going out for pizza and would be home before midnight.
That was the last her mother heard or saw of Connie until her body was discovered just two weeks ago.
The article was written in 1999.
It stated her remains were uncovered in the Colville Park that used to be a playground when they were digging to make a new fountain . Her body still sported her Colville cheerleading sweater, but no other clothing items were found on her.
Because of how many years had passed, the cause of death would remain a mystery ; they could only guess.
So could I .
I hadn’t thought about Connie Lambert until that v ery moment , and I guessed I ’d be thinking about her for a long time.
Twenty-three years ago I ’d thought about her a lot. Tried to speak about her , but Sharon … Sharon would stop me .
“It wasn’t our fault, ” Sharon said. “We didn’t do this.”
I flashed back to that night. “Are you sure?”
“ Positive . When I left her she was fine. It happened after.”
I believed Sharon back then. Why wouldn’t I ? But as I stared at the article, I had to wonder.
That night was vivid once more.
“M y father is going to be so mad,” I told Sharon as we pulled into the parking lot of the Colville High School s tadium. “I’m not supposed to drive this far.”
“He isn’t going to know. H e ’s always a sleep by ten on a Friday , anyhow .
I knew that to be true. Plus, my father thought I was at a friend’s house . Never Sharon’s , though, my parents hated her and wished her away at times. I didn’t get it. They’d always tell me not to bring her up.
“Richie is going to be so surprised I’m here,” I told her. “He asked me to come, but I said I couldn’t.”
We had to park in the back of the lot ; it was full. Willow Brook was undefeated. We were late; I was certain they were already in the second half.
We giggled all the way to the stadium. Richie’s motorbike w as parked right out front. It was so cool , and I felt like the coolest girl in school hanging out with Richie.
But we didn’t see him. Then again , the s tadium was full. We looked around, but n o Richie.
The game ended, and I wondered if maybe he was out in the parking lot dri nking beers with friends, or better yet, he more than likely was under the bleachers.
“He’s probably there,” Sharon said.
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