Condemned Read online

  Conner raised his shoulders with a twitch. "That sounds demonic. And you're the one who suggested schizophrenia or something."

  "Yeah," Adam said. "I mean, mine and Conner's story could have passed for a mental thing. But yours is creepy as hell. Black eyes?"

  "It still kinda scares me." Perhaps absentmindedly, Trevor rubbed his forearm. "Just the look in his eyes. There was like nothing there. Just blackness."

  "I feel bad," Conner said. "We turned our backs on him."

  "I know."

  Adam finally relaxed in the back seat again. "It wasn't our fault."

  Turning toward Adam, Conner said, "It wasn't his fault either. We knew something was going on with him. And instead of trying to help him and talk to him and figure it out, we just stopped being his friend. We wouldn't do that to each other. You guys would make me tell you what was wrong, right?"

  "We're brothers," Trevor said.

  "But we didn't do that for Jared. Maybe if we'd talked to him instead of avoiding him, he'd still be alive."

  In his gut, Conner believed that they had failed Jared. Their friend had experienced something drastic and unhealthy. And the three had simply walked away.

  "What could we do?" Adam asked.

  "I don't know. Maybe we could have told his parents something was going on. If it was all mental, maybe they could have taken him to a therapist. Or maybe just a doctor. Since he died of cardiac arrest, maybe everything was physical."

  "What if he was possessed? Then what? We could have borrowed some holy water from a priest?"

  Trevor slowed the car to a stop in front of Conner's house. "We could talk about this all night long. But tomorrow we're going to have to deal with the kids at school. People are going to be talking."

  Lifting his backpack from the floor, Conner pulled out his cell phone. "I have nine missed text messages."

  "I have seven," Adam said.

  Sighing, Trevor fumbled for his phone in the console. His screen lit up. "I have twelve."

  "I'm not responding," Conner said. "And I'm not telling anyone my story or yours."

  Adam and Trevor agreed to remain silent as well.

  Standing on the curb, Conner and Adam watched Trevor drive away. They glanced about the neighborhood, then to each other. The look in Adam's eyes seemed so innocent—as if he were a young boy unsure of the world around him. For a moment, their silence hovered in the air, merging with the moisture of the chilly November evening.

  Conner pulled Adam into a one-armed hug. "We let Jared down," he said. "But nothing like that's going to happen between you, me, and Trevor. You know that, right?"

  Nodding, Adam muttered, "Uh, huh."

  "I'm serious. This is a wake-up call about our friendship."

  Faintly smiling, Adam squeezed Conner close and then nudged him in the stomach. "Yeah. We're solid steel."

  "That's right. Always will be."

  After watching Adam race up his porch steps and through the door, Conner turned toward his own house. Inside, it was quiet. He headed to the kitchen, where he found a note from his mother on the counter. She'd left her car keys for him and reminded him that Mason's Evening of Arts and Music ended at nine o'clock.

  * * *

  Adam tossed his backpack to his bed and then kicked his shoes across the room. He slumped onto his desk chair and scrolled through his text messages. Seven friends, all asking about the rumor that Jared had been possessed by the devil. He wanted to avoid the inevitable onslaught of questions and comments regarding Jared. Confronted on his own, he'd become easily flustered. But with Trevor and Conner at his side, he could follow their lead without fearing that he'd veer off course and say something without thinking first. He may have been the school's star basketball player, but in their trio, he wasn't the alpha leader.

  The year prior, Adam had been on the receiving end of rumors that had painted him as a party boy with an alcohol problem. A video of him drunkenly wandering around in his underwear at a friend's house until he passed out in his own vomit had made the rounds. Aside from his peers, the clip had been seen by his parents, the basketball coach, and several teachers. The ordeal had a lasting effect that took weeks for Adam to completely shake off.

  Now, he dreaded being associated with strange, creepy stories.

  As much as he wanted to defend Jared's memory, he didn't have a clue how to accomplish that once confronted with talk of demons and exorcisms. The only course of action that came to mind: deny, deny, deny.

  * * *

  Trevor placed a plate with two microwaved burritos onto the counter. As he walked to the refrigerator, his father entered the kitchen.

  "Hey, son. How was practice?"

  "It was good. Coach put us through hell. Really pushed me with defensive rebounding."

  "Think you guys are ready for the game tomorrow?"

  "Yeah. I think we'll kick their asses easy."

  "I'll be there. I think your mom can make it too. Not sure about your sister, though."

  "Eh." He shrugged as he set his plate and a glass of juice onto the small table of the breakfast nook. Sitting on the upholstered bench, he said, "Kinsley's too young to care about basketball."

  "She's twelve, not seven."

  Trevor grinned. "I mean, I don't expect her to be there. She hasn't been to a lot of my games anyway."

  His father sat and looked him in the eye. They shared the same light blue eyes, narrow nose, and muscular physique, standing over six-feet tall. Trevor had inherited his mother's full lips and high cheek bones. His skin tone was a bronzed mix of his Caucasian father and African American mother.

  "Got a call from school," his dad said. "You need to work hard on bringing your Algebra and History grades back up."

  Hoping to avoid a lecture, he replied with confidence. "I know, I know. I'm working on it."

  "Work a little harder. This is your senior year. Don't be lazy about your grades with Princeton on the horizon."

  Chewing, Trevor nodded. "Uh, huh."

  "All right. Well, I'm not going to harp on about it. But if you don't raise those grades soon, I'll be riding your ass about hitting the books."

  "Loud and clear, Dad."

  His father scratched his slightly salt-and-peppered head and then eyed his son. It was the look Trevor recognized as his father's not so sly way of studying him before speaking again.

  "Anything else going on with you?" his dad asked.

  "No. All good. Why?"

  "Well, with Jared's death and—"

  "And what?"

  "I was going to say school and basketball."

  "Adam, Conner, and I are going to the funeral Friday morning."

  His father lowered his gaze. "Late this afternoon, Jared's parents were questioned by the police."

  "What? Why?"

  "The medical examiner filed a report that stated Jared had injuries to his body."

  "He died of cardiac arrest."

  "Yes. But he also showed signs of possible abuse."

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "Well, I don't know all the details. Obviously, since your mother works in the county attorney's office, she told me and—"

  "The police think Jared's parents killed him?"

  "I'm letting you know because Newman is a small suburb, not a big metro city. People talk."

  Trevor couldn't help but chuckle. "That's crazy, Dad. And you know it. You and Mom know his parents. They didn't abuse him."

  "You don't know what goes on behind closed doors."

  "Dad. Seriously! Me and Adam and Conner were friends with him forever. His parents weren't abusive. They didn't kill him."

  "I don't know what the injuries were. I guess it's possible that he abused himself."

  Trevor thought of Jared with blood smeared on his face and then the way Conner described him in the boys' restroom. "I don't know what to think anymore."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just what you said, Dad. People talk. Someone's going to say something about the po
lice talking to his parents. And other stuff."

  "Such as?"

  For a moment, Trevor stared at the crumbs on his plate. He licked a spot of salsa from his finger. Then he calmly said, "Well, apparently, he was possessed by the devil."

  His father anchored his sight on him and then cracked a smile. "Um. Possessed by the devil, huh?"

  Trevor wanted to smile in return at his dad's slightly amused but bewildered expression. However, his mind convinced him to respond with the sense of seriousness his father had presented minutes earlier. "Yeah. Of course, we don't know if—"

  "Who's we?"

  "Me, Conner, and Adam. Plus, now the kids at school are talking about it. It's all starting to get—"

  "Wait a second. You're being serious?"

  Now embarrassed, Trevor said, "I don't know if it's true."

  "I don't think those things really happen to people."

  "Possessed by demons or whatever?"

  "Yeah. That's not real."

  "How do you know?"

  "Well, my rational mind tells me so."

  "But you don't know for sure."

  His father shook his head as if he couldn't believe the conversation taking place. "No, I don't. But you guys don't need to run wild at the mouth about stories like that. His parents are going through a difficult time now. Jared is dead. And they've been questioned by the police."

  "We can't just ignore it."

  "Yes, you can. Don't participate in the bullshit, Trevor." Before walking away, he said "Your friends start telling stories, be the better man and put them in their place."

  Alone, Trevor glanced about the dimly lit kitchen. He focused on a shadowy shape in the far dark corner of the room. He shuddered as he thought of his encounter with the dark-eyed Jared. Then he recalled the words Jared had spoken. The words Trevor hadn't shared with Adam and Conner.

  During the seconds that Jared had gripped Trevor with ice-cold hands, he'd spoken a phrase that Trevor later translated online after several attempts at spelling the words. Me creó Dios Todopoderoso. Spanish for All powerful God created me.

  Since then, the creepy experience had more to do with his altered perception of Jared than their dissolving friendship. Later, to his dismay, learning of Jared's death had provoked more relief than grief.

  Now, he admitted to himself that while he might not be scared, he was definitely spooked.

  FOUR

  The boys purposely arrived at school later than usual. They sat in Trevor's car, talking about anything other than Jared and the devil.

  In the back seat, Adam's phone dinged, and he exhaled a long grunt of frustration.

  Conner reached for the backpack between his feet. "What? Is someone asking about you-know-what?"

  "No. Someone from Lancaster, I guess."

  "You don't know who it is?"

  "Nope."

  Trevor peered over his shoulder at Adam. "What did they say?"

  "Told me I'm a shitty basketball player and Newman's gonna lose the game tonight."

  "The idiot is trying to psych you out."

  "Yeah, but I don't wanna deal with any of the crap from last year."

  During the previous basketball season, Adam's skills on the court garnered a lot of attention from his teammates and rival schools. He'd bulked up his lean frame over the summer, and he'd developed fierce athleticism, pull-up shooting with range, and assertive ball handling that catapulted him to star-player status. As a result, kids from the neighboring schools routinely harassed Adam with taunts, nasty text messages and phone calls, egging his house, and on one occasion, they'd spray-painted LOSER and his jersey number, 8, onto the Wheelers' garage door.

  "We got your back," Conner said. "UConn, Penn State, Ohio, and Syracuse are fighting over you. Don't worry about stupid, jealous people and their crap."

  "I'm gonna stay focused on winning the game."

  "Good call," Trevor said. "It's our opener of the early season. Let's show them how brutal we're going to be this year."

  The first school bell rang out.

  Before getting out of the car, Conner asked, "So, we're just going to get through the day without talking about the Jared rumors, right?"

  Adam and Trevor agreed.

  "All right," he said. "Don't get caught up in the BS on game day."

  "We don't know anything," Trevor said. "So, it's not like we want to tell anyone anything anyway."

  Outside, Adam slung his backpack onto his shoulder and leaned against the car. "It's just gonna be really annoying to be asked, like, two hundred times."

  Conner shivered in the chilly air. "Just stay focused on kicking Lancaster's ass tonight."

  The three strolled toward the building without concern for the possibility of being tardy for class.

  Following English, they headed to the gym as a united trio, expecting the boys in PE to bombard them with questions and absurd remarks. Yet it didn't happen. Then they were on their own during the next two classes until lunch.

  In the cafeteria, they situated themselves at their usual table.

  Adam shoved french fries into his mouth and then talked with his mouth full. "I told Devon that it was a stupid rumor, and I didn't know anything about how Jared died."

  "Me too," Conner said. "I told Bray and all the other guys that I didn't want to discuss any BS stories."

  Trevor simply nodded as he took a big bite of a cheeseburger.

  Conner watched Hailey and Jasmine strut across the cafeteria like two models walking side by side on a New York designer's runway. All smiles, they said hello and waved their fingers at friends they passed along the way. Arriving at the table, Hailey sat gracefully and set her tray of food to the side.

  "I'm surprised you haven't called me," she said to Conner with a faint lilt to her voice. "All these awful, horrible stories going around about Jared. It's terrible."

  "You told me not to call," he replied.

  "This is different. If you need to talk, then of course you can call me. Or send a text."

  He gazed at her light brown eyes and full pink lips as he recalled the night of their carnal indiscretion. You shouldn't call me for a while, she'd said as she jumped out of his mother's car.

  "Well, now I know," he said. "But I'm fine. Don't worry."

  Trevor interjected, "We don't believe the stories anyway."

  "You don't?" she asked.

  "No."

  "He never acted weird? Or, I don't know . . . scary?"

  "You're a church-girl," Trevor said. "So, you believe in that stuff, don't you?"

  "Jesus exorcised the demons from a man and sent them into a herd of swine. Then they all drowned in the sea. Returned to hell by the Son of God."

  Adam scoffed. "Really?"

  "I guess only Jared's family and the church know for sure if he was possessed by a demon. But it's a horrible, scary story. If it's true, then Jared was saved by God, and I'm thankful that his soul was rescued from the devil."

  "Wait," Trevor mumbled as he chewed his burger. "The devil or a demon? Which one?"

  She eyed Trevor and shook her head in disbelief. Piercing her salad with a fork, she said, "Does it matter?"

  Seated between Adam and Trevor, Jasmine folded her arms on the table and leaned forward like she was about to reveal a secret. "You know, his sister has already changed her phone number. Hailey's sister said she and some of her friends tried calling Leah, but the number is out of service." She relaxed in the chair and shrugged. "Something definitely happened. Maybe he really was possessed."

  "Or," Adam blurted out, "maybe he just died of cardiac arrest like we were told from the beginning."

  "The funeral's tomorrow," Conner said. "Hopefully all the rumors will stop by Monday."

  "I doubt it," Hailey muttered. "Think about it. Kids our age say mean things all the time. A lot of people said mean things about Jared before he died."

  Everybody agreed.

  Conner said, "Someone will have to put an end to the rumors."

 
; "Probably us." Trevor rubbed the crown of his buzzed head and sighed. "It was the four of us for years. So, we'll have to be the ones to tell everyone to shut the hell up."

  Adam said, "After the funeral. Just like we talked about."

  Hailey released a subdued gasp. "So you're going?"

  "Yeah," Conner said.

  "But his parents said—"

  "We're going." Conner looked across the table to his buddies.

  They both responded with a nod as they continued to eat.

  * * *

  Lancaster had arrived with the obvious intent of dominating the court and winning the game. Yet, after weeks of intense practice, Newman had proved to be a formidable opponent. Adam had the game high of nineteen points. The winning shot came courtesy of Trevor, who had snatched a loose ball that had bounced from the hands of Lancaster's forward. In the end, Newman won the game 46–43.

  As the Newman fans cheered and the Lancaster fans booed, the opposing teams congregated on the court.

  Adam approached Curtis Mann, Lancaster's point guard. He extended his hand. "Good game, man. You guys put up a good fight."

  Curtis smiled. "Thanks." And then he leaned close to Adam's ear. "You're overrated, dickhead."

  "Wow, that's good sportsmanship." Adam shook hands with the next Lancaster player. Then he tugged on Conner's jersey, leading him to the locker room.

  At his locker, he kicked the metal door, and the bang filled the nearly empty space with a loud metallic boom. "He's such an effing sore loser."

  "Who?"

  "Curtis Mann. He told me I was overrated."

  "Screw him," Conner said, firmly cupping the back of Adam's neck. "We won. And he's a sore loser, just like you said."

  Adam huffed, dropping his jersey to the floor.

  Their teammates rushed into the locker room, hooting and hollering with excitement. Several boys patted Adam on the shoulder, slapped his ass as they passed, or ruffled his hair.

  Trevor appeared at their side, grinning from ear to ear. "Hell yeah. We aimsta win. And we did." He narrowed his eyes at Adam. "What's up with you, bro?"