She Was Their Target, page 5
“And was it one or the other that her marks went down in?”
“It was both. And I did take the opportunity to look at her other marks on the computer. Her grades in other classes were faltering too.”
“So it was across the board, not just one subject.”
He nodded. “Yes, that was definitely the case.”
“Then it wasn’t just one concept she was struggling with.”
“I would agree with that.”
“Was there anything else you noticed? Any changes in her behavior…?”
Bryce scratched his jaw, thinking about it. “As I said, she had missed a few assignments or handed them in late. That was new. I had wondered if she was ill.”
9
You did?” Zachary leaned forward, hyper focused now. “What made you wonder if she was sick? Other than handing in assignments late?”
“Her appearance had changed. Her face… her pallor. And I think she had lost weight. I know there were a couple of times when she had to leave class, claiming a migraine or stomach upset. Since she wasn’t the type to make trouble or take advantage, I assumed she was telling the truth and not just off to meet someone or ditch class. As I said… she was pale, lost some of the healthy color she used to have. Maybe she was on a diet, losing weight and not getting as much water or vitamins. I’m not an expert in nutrition.”
“Dieting could cause any of those symptoms,” Zachary agreed. “Her mom noticed that she was losing weight too. Thought that she had started eating healthier.”
Bryce grimaced. “I don’t think so. Just my opinion, but someone who is eating healthy shouldn’t look like that.”
Zachary wrote a few notes down in his notebook—migraines, stomach, weight loss, and pale. Kenzie might be able to help him sort out whether it was some illness or likely just to be dieting. And whether that could have triggered some problem with the surgery.
Bryce was staring at Zachary’s notepad.
“Sorry,” Zachary said, “you don’t mind if I take notes, do you? I need to keep track of any issues she might have had and any questions I have to follow up on.”
“Is that some kind of shorthand?”
Zachary’s face warmed. He could say yes, that it was shorthand or his own personal code. “No, it’s just my chicken scratch. Although Kenzie says that calling it chicken scratch is an insult to chickens.”
He chuckled. “I would be inclined to agree.”
“I can read it. Usually.” Zachary finished jotting down the words that would later serve as a memory aid.
“Did nobody ever teach you how to write? Your pencil grip looks painful. You must fatigue very fast.”
“I know. It’s a learning disability. It’s the only way that works for me.”
“You should have had occupational therapy.”
Zachary shrugged. “I had a little in school. But they didn’t do as much of that kind of thing then, and I didn’t practice at home like I should have.”
Bryce nodded his understanding. “Kids hate it, I know. It’s torture to get them to practice, but it’s the only way to reprogram their brains so that they learn to do it properly.”
“Too late for me. I’ll just keep doing my chicken scratch. I don’t do a lot of writing, I type when I’m at home, and that’s much easier.”
“How about texting? If you’re good with the onscreen keyboard, you could take notes on your phone. That would be easier to read later and would be backed up to the cloud.”
Zachary nodded slowly. “I don’t like to rely too much on technology, since it sometimes fails, and then I could lose everything. But maybe I should consider it.”
“We encourage our students to use modern technology as an assistive device whenever possible. You’ll see kids with their phones out during class, and I know that most schools won’t allow that but, if that’s the easiest way for them to get their thoughts down, then why not? If they’re texting to each other or posting selfies and miss what’s being said in class, that’s their loss. Our kids are dedicated. They want to succeed. That won’t happen if they use their phones for entertainment during class instead of as a tool. You can use it to make recordings too,” Bryce was warming to the subject; obviously it was something he had strong feelings about. “You could record your interviews and then play it back and make notes when you’re back at your keyboard. Then you could be sure not to miss anything.”
“I could,” Zachary agreed. “They really are amazing little devices. Who would have thought when we were kids—” he corrected himself, realizing that Bryce was younger than he was, “—when I was a kid that something like this would be possible. A phone and computer in the palm of your hand. Take it anywhere with you. Calculator, recorder, phone, notebook, calendar, camera… we would never have believed it. It would have been like something out of Star Trek.”
“Us older people,” Bryce generously included himself as part of Zachary’s generation, “need to learn how to use them to our best benefit. Too many are afraid of technology or not willing to learn new things.”
“Well… I appreciate your suggestions. And thank you for talking to me about Kristin. You’ve been very helpful. I will need as many perspectives as possible to figure out whether her death was foreseeable or preventable.”
Bryce shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything when I thought she was sick… called her mother to discuss it or looped in her guidance counselor. I should have known that there was something wrong. But I didn’t know it was that serious.”
10
None of the adults Zachary talked to at the school seemed to have much more to say than Mr. Bryce. Most had failed to notice any difference in Kristin, unless it was that her marks had fallen, and they expected that to change before the next report cards were issued. Kids’ marks did that, they went up and down and when kids realized there was a problem, they corrected their course. Or parents took a firm hand and enforced homework, study time, and tracked assignments to ensure they were completed and submitted on time.
When classes were a few minutes from dismissal, Kristin’s two closest friends were called out to see if they would talk to Zachary. Ala and Rain were like inverse images of each other. Rain was white with long, straight blond hair and Ala with dark skin and features that suggested Indian descent, her wavy hair cut in a short bob. Ala smiled at Zachary and looked friendly, while Rain looked sullen and standoffish.
“I’m a friend of Kristin’s mom,” Zachary told them when he introduced himself. “She’s asked me to… ask some questions about how Kristin was before she… passed away. She’s afraid that the doctors may have missed something they should have been aware of.”
“I don’t know of anything,” Rain said, and looked away. “You know, we’ve got things to do. We’re on the field hockey team and we’ll get in trouble if we miss practice or show up late.”
“If I could just spend a few minutes with each of you separately,” Zachary said. “It would be a big help to Kristin’s mom. She said that you were Kristin’s best friends.”
The two girls exchanged looks that Zachary couldn’t interpret. They were friends with her? Or they weren’t, but didn’t want Jennifer to know that? Maybe they had been friends in younger grades but had drifted apart. Or maybe there had been a big blow-up that Jennifer didn’t know about.
“We can’t stay,” Ala agreed. “They’ll want us on the field.”
“I’m sure your coaches would understand that you just lost your friend and want to help her mom out in any way you can.”
They looked at each other again.
“You must feel pretty bad about her death,” Zachary tried. “It must have been a huge shock to you too.”
“Yeah,” Ala admitted. “When my mom told me… I couldn’t believe it. I thought there had to be some kind of mistake. People don’t just die like that, having their wisdom teeth out.” Her voice was plaintive and she shook her head. “No one had a chance to say goodbye or anything. We were supposed to do everything together. You know, school, prom, college… we had plans. And now…” She spread her hands in a gesture of hopelessness.
“Let’s see if we can find anything out about why it happened. It will only take a few minutes, and I think it would be helpful for you to come to terms with things. Give you some sense of closure. That you’ve done everything you could to understand it and to help her mom.”
It was all nonsense. A sense of closure? Zachary wasn’t any kind of therapist. And he didn’t imagine that they would feel much better after talking to him than they did before. He couldn’t give them back that future they had planned together. He couldn’t do anything to help them feel better about it. Maybe he could help Jennifer. But even that was doubtful. What did he have to take back to her? So far, nothing except what she had already told Zachary. That Kristin’s grades had been faltering and she had been losing weight.
Finally, Ala nodded. She looked at Rain, who rolled her eyes and gave Zachary the biggest attitude of contempt that she could manage. But she didn’t object or walk away from them.
“I appreciate it,” Zachary told them, as if both had agreed enthusiastically. “This means a lot to her mom.”
Rain looked at her phone with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Talking to us separately is going to take twice as long. You can talk to us both at the same time. We’re both going to tell you the same thing anyway.”
Ala looked like she would object to this, but when Rain gave her a frown, she nodded her agreement.
“Yeah. You’d better take both of us together,” she agreed. “We really do need to get to field hockey. We’re in the semi-finals. It’s really important.”
Zachary sighed and conceded. He’d run into the same thing when interviewing teenagers before. It was all or nothing. They stood together. And he wasn’t the police, he didn’t have any kind of authority.
“Did Kristin play field hockey too?” he asked as he showed them to the room the principal was allowing him to use.
“Kristin?” Rain said in a tone of disbelief. “No way. She couldn’t run.”
“She was working on getting into better shape, wasn’t she?”
Rain folded her arms and shook her head. “She wasn’t interested in field hockey or any sports. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t do anything strenuous because of her… asthma. She had to use her rescue inhaler every phys ed period. You can’t do team sports with a condition like that.”
“That would be pretty hard,” Zachary admitted. “I didn’t realize her asthma was that bad.” He took out his notepad and made a quick note. Maybe it had contributed to her death. If her airways were that narrow…
“She didn’t like sports anyway,” Ala said.
Zachary nodded. He’d been pretty averse to sports in school too. He should have liked a class where he could actually move around and work his energy off instead of being expected to sit still all the time. Still, the bullying from the jocks and his clumsiness and skinny build had ruined any hope of his ever enjoying any team sport at school.
“Did Kristin get bullied? In gym or if she signed up for any teams?”
“She didn’t sign up for any teams,” Rain rolled her eyes dramatically.
“And she didn’t go to gym if she could find a way out of it?” Zachary guessed.
“Well, yeah. Of course.” Rain moved forward in her seat, her gaze on Zachary intense. “We protected her, you know. We didn’t let anyone bully her.”
Jennifer had done the same, standing up for Zachary when she was around. Defending him if she could. But she had still just been a teenager and was vulnerable herself. She wasn’t always successful. It was only fitting that someone had stepped in and defended her daughter, completing the circle.
“I’m glad you did that. Good for you.”
“They tell you the school has zero tolerance for bullying,” Rain said. She looked over at Ala. “But that just means they look the other way. If they don’t see the bullying, it doesn’t exist.”
There was no way that a school could ever end the bullying. Students would take advantage of teachers’ backs being turned, the privacy of restrooms and showers, and activities that happened on the school grounds after classes had let out and the teachers were no longer paying attention. They could do their best to provide a good learning environment, but they could never eliminate all the bullying.
And some of it came from the adults themselves. Teachers and staff who figured that being in a position of authority over the students meant that they could do whatever they wanted to. Sometimes using those same isolated corners, or offices with locking doors, or sometimes verbally abusing students right in the open, in front of thirty other students. What could they do about it?
11
Did Kristin have trouble with anyone in particular?”
Ala shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything? With her dying at the dentist?”
“You never know what might be connected. If she was having problems at school, she might have been stressed out. She might have been depressed. Taking pills. Starving herself. Any of those things could affect her health and her heart.”
The girls were silent, neither one giving anything away.
“Her marks were dropping. Her mother and the teachers both noticed that she was struggling at school. Is that the only thing she was having trouble with, or was there something else going on?”
“She didn’t talk about her marks.” Ala shook her head and shrugged. “She never said anything to me about them being bad.”
Zachary looked at Rain to see what she thought about this, and she didn’t disagree.
“I don’t know if they were bad,” Zachary clarified, “but they were dropping. She was having trouble with something. Mr. Bryce said that she was missing deadlines. Forgetting to hand in assignments or getting them in late.”
“She’d been kind of absentminded,” Ala ventured. “I know she was having headaches. Got to school late sometimes. Maybe it was just stress.”
“It might have been. You don’t know anything specific? If she was having trouble with a teacher or a bully? If she was drinking or trying out a diet that wasn’t giving her enough calories to get her through the day?”
They both shook their heads. Zachary watched their faces and their body language for tells. They might be good at keeping their faces still, but there were other signs. Swallowing, blinking, licking their lips. They were holding back, which didn’t surprise him at all. Why would they tell a stranger Kristin’s secrets? She was gone now. They wanted to keep her name unsullied.
“Was she drinking? Is that why she was having trouble with deadlines and getting to class on time?”
“No.” Rain’s nose wrinkled. “Kristin wouldn’t do that. She was too smart to start drinking.”
“Taking pills? Something that was supposed to help her to relax?”
“No. I never saw her taking any pills,” Rain declared, shaking her head.
“She’d been sick lately.” Zachary watched them for their reactions. “Those migraines. Leaving class sick. Losing weight. She wasn’t looking good. Her skin was pale. So what was going on with her? Did she see a doctor?”
“It wasn’t anything,” Ala declared.
Rain gave her a quelling look. One that clearly meant not to say anything. But Ala was on the verge of explaining it to Zachary, telling him why it wasn’t anything to worry about. Just a new diet she was trying, or something that her doctor would take care of.
“Do you think you’re protecting her mom by not telling me what you know? She wants to know the truth. If Kristin was sick, then her mom deserves to know that.”
“She doesn’t need to know anything,” Rain said firmly. “It was just a weird thing. One of those random things… People collapse. They seem perfectly fine one minute, and then are passed out cold.”
“My mom had to sign all kinds of papers when I got my wisdom teeth out,” Ala contributed. “I remember—this big, long list of risks, medical history, and all of that. Sometimes things happen. That’s why the doctors make you sign all that stuff.”
“Did she have a medical condition that her mother didn’t know about? It sounded like her asthma was worse than her mom told me. Maybe she was keeping it a secret because she didn’t want her mom to worry. Sometimes kids do that.”
“There was nothing wrong with Kristin,” Rain insisted. “Nothing at all.”
He watched them as they hurried down the hallway to the locker room, so they could change and get out to the field where their team was waiting. There were voices coming from around the corner, and Zachary stopped, listening to them.
A girl’s voice: “Did you hear about it? The police said that it was a heart attack. Like, right? We didn’t already know that? Too many Twinkies!”
“Or too many Big Macs,” another voice chimed in. “Like, she was as big as a whale! It’s no wonder she died.”
“Did you ever see her try to run?” the first voice asked with a giggle. “That waddle, waddle, waddle of her fat butt, and crying and looking for her inhaler. She was so pathetic. She couldn’t even do a fast walk!”
“My mom said maybe it was a glandular problem. Like, her thyroid or something that she couldn’t help.”
“So? Then she should get whatever meds it took to fix her. Can you imagine walking around looking like that? They had to make her uniforms special. They didn’t carry any that would fit her.”
“She was nice, though. She never—”
“Nice girls finish last. Haven’t you ever heard that? If you want to get ahead in this world—if you want to get to an Ivy League school—you have to take the bull by the horns. You have to take it. She wasn’t anything. She just sat around like a houseplant, waiting for the teachers to water her or turn her toward the sun. She never did a thing to get ahead. Never volunteered for anything or joined any clubs or teams. You have to do those things, get it on your resume. Schools don’t take you based just on your marks anymore. You need to have the full package. And Kristin Jones did not have that package. It’s probably a good thing she died when she did. She was a waste of skin. A lot of skin. If I was her, I would have killed myself.”
