3. The temptation: What if one of us goes out there and digs the phones up? It was backbreaking work with four of us digging, so it’d be really difficult, though not impossible, to do it alone. Holly is a great athlete, so she might have the stamina, but would she have the time? Meeka was the one who wanted Cole buried there, so I don’t see why she’d do it. And Grayson? He’s proud of what we did. I half suspect he might want us all to be caught so he can brag about it. Which leaves me. I’d be a liar if I said I haven’t thought of going out there with a shovel. But the frost has hit harder than usual. It dropped to twenty-two degrees last night, and next week isn’t supposed to get too far above freezing. I’m not sure I’m up to the task. For now.
4. The thing in the road: Something skittered away from my headlights when I was driving Holly home afterward. She didn’t notice it, and when I told her about it, she said it was probably a possum. But at the time, I thought it might be a kid. And as I replay the memory, it’s seeming more and more like a kid. A kid in a white jacket, zipping across the road and into the woods. I know that sounds crazy, but I used to sneak out of the house sometimes when I was young, to go exploring dark roads with friends. Maybe this white-jacketed boy saw the headlights and thought it was his parents searching for him. Maybe he saw my license plate, the make of my car. It doesn’t mean he witnessed the murder, but it’s still not a good thing.
5. The future: Even if it was a boy and he did see something, I’m pretty sure we’ll get away with this. The plan hasn’t been perfect, but in this case, it only needed to be good. It’ll be weeks until anyone realizes Cole is gone. He hardly talked to his brother. In Cole’s words, he and Craig had “a holiday-only relationship,” and Thanksgiving is three weeks away. The sandwich girls at Subway might notice Cole isn’t stopping by anymore, but are they really going to tell anyone? Why would they? When someone does finally check out the trailer, they’ll see that Cole was a kid who spent a lot of time on 4chan and Reddit and who knows where else and they’ll follow his browser history and see all the dark stuff he was into and they’ll figure out that there’s probably about a thousand different fates he could’ve met. But will they actually suspect foul play? Without blood or a body, it seems unlikely. He was eighteen, no longer a minor, in charge of himself. Not to mention, an addict’s son. So who cares? They’ll move on.
Five days Cole’s been in the ground and I’m trying my best to move on too. It’s Thursday, and the weekend is visible on the horizon. Halloween has come and gone and there have been no ghosts haunting us. We’re not in the clear yet, but we’re getting there. At school, I’ve been keeping an eye on the others, and they seem to be making it through okay. Holly is a bit wobbly, but she can always blame that on soccer, on a historic season taking its toll. But, really, what would we have to do to make a person take any of us aside and ask us if we’d murdered our former friend and buried his body in the woods behind one of our houses?
We’d have to tell someone we did it. That’s it and that’s all.
* * *
• • •
“Hey, Es,” I say as I turn the corner on my way to the gym and spot Esther Green closing her locker.
“Logan the Legend,” she says in a deep voice.
“Hardly,” I reply.
“Come on. How much have you raised so far?” she asks.
Not to brag, but she’s talking about the good I’m bringing to the world, a fund-raiser I put together that will provide micro-loans to help disadvantaged people get socially or environmentally conscious businesses off the ground.
“Fifty-eight thousand, last I checked,” I tell her.
“Hell yeah,” she says, and puts a hand up. Even though it’s totally a bro move, I high-five, and I love how small her hand feels against mine.
“It’ll help a few people realize their dreams,” I say. It sounds cheesy, but that’s what it’s all about. When I started it as a project for econ, I thought I’d raise a few hundred dollars from relatives and give it to the local family center. But it’s taken on a life of its own.
It’s even got a name: Logan’s Heroes, which is a reference to an old TV show called Hogan’s Heroes my pop-pop used to watch. Vice Principal Goldstein warned me that some Jewish people might find the name offensive, but I wasn’t sure why. According to Wikipedia, the show was about guys outwitting Nazis, and I’d think Jewish people would be on board with that. I mean, Cole thought the name was “So gay!” and if Cole didn’t like something, then chances were that the thing was fair and noble. He was the opposite of tolerant.
Homophobe and anti-Semite: two more boxes on his résumé of evil you can check off.
“You hit up any of those people in the Hollow for money?” Esther asks. “I heard there’s a guy who’s so rich, he has a private zoo!”
“I’m exploring all options,” I say, though I have to admit I haven’t been soliciting amateur zookeepers. However, I make a mental note.
“We blew all our ‘discretionary’ funds at Osheaga in Quebec a few months ago, but my mom read that article about you in the paper, and she wants to donate as soon as we have some extra cash,” Esther tells me.
I’m used to people talking about that article. It was only in the local paper, but everyone read it. Fantastic exposure, even though I’d like to update some of the information.
“That’s so sweet of your mom. But please tell her that I’m no longer using the Indiegogo site that’s mentioned in the article. She can go directly to LogansHeroes.org to donate.”
“Roger that. My mom says, ‘That Logan kid is doin’ right by the young generation.’ Isn’t that something?” Esther remarks with a dramatic sigh. “Doesn’t mention her daughter as the future of this country. But Logan Bailey, that’s a boy who’s going places.”
“To gym,” I tell her. “I’m going to gym.”
“What about Becca’s? Hitting her party tomorrow?”
“Now that I know she’s having one, I am.”
She smiles. She wants me to be there, but that doesn’t mean she wants me. The rumors about me and Holly are many and confusing. We’re not a thing right now, but I can’t blame people for thinking we are. I know it makes other girls keep their distance.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4
SIX DAYS AFTER
HOLLY
I’M ON MY WAY TO BECCA’S PARTY with Meeka. Our lives will always be connected because of what we did, but she doesn’t care to talk about it. That’s what I need. Meeka drives past the Round Church, which is lit with floodlights. She points to a dog.