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𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔡𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶✔️

Andy hurried toward Robert E. Lee, feeling as if He'd been away from it for years. Last night seemed like something from his distant childhood, barely remembered. But He knew that today there would be its consequences to face.

Last night He'd had to face Aunt Judith. his aunt had been terribly upset when neighbors had told his about the murder, and even more upset that no one seemed to know where Andy was. By the time Andy had arrived home at nearly two in the morning, He had been frantic with worry.

Andy hadn't been able to explain. He could only say that He'd been with Rye, and that He knew he had been accused, and that He knew was innocent. All the rest, everything else that had happened, He had had to keep to herself. Even if Aunt Judith had believed it, He would never have understood.

And this morning Andy had slept in, and now He was late. The streets were deserted except for his, as He hurried on toward the school. Overhead,, the sky was gray and a wind was rising. He desperately wanted to see Rye. All night, while He'd been sleeping so heavily, He'd had nightmares about him.

One dream had been especially real. In it He saw Rye's pale face and his angry, accusing eyes. He held up a book to his and said, "How could you, Andy? How could you?" Then he dropped the book at his feet and walked away. He called after him, pleading, but he went on walking until he disappeared in darkness. When He looked down at the book, He saw it was bound in dark blue velvet. his diary.

A quiver of anger went through his as He thought again of how his diary had been stolen. But what did the dream mean? What was in his diary to make Rye look like that?

He didn't know. All He knew was that He needed to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms around his. Being away from him was like being separated from his own flesh.

He ran up the steps of the high school into the nearly empty corridors. He headed toward the foreign-language wing, because He knew that Rye's first class was Latin. If He could just see him for a moment, He would be all right.

But he wasn't in class. Through the little window in the door, He saw his empty seat. Brooklyn was there, and the expression on his face made his feel more frightened than ever. He kept glancing at Rye's desk with a look of sick apprehension.

Andy turned away from the door mechanically. Like an automaton, He climbed the stairs and walked to his trigonometry classroom. As He opened the door, He saw every face turn toward his, and He slipped hastily into the empty desk beside Jack.

Ms. Halpern stopped the lesson for a moment and looked at his, then continued. When the teacher had turned back to the blackboard, Andy looked at Jack.

Jack reached over to take his hand. "Are you all right?" He whispered.

"I don't know," said Andy stupidly. He felt as if the very air around his was smothering his, as if there were a crushing weight all around his. Jack's fingers felt dry and hot. "Jack, do you know what's happened to Rye?"

"You mean you don't know?" Jack's dark eyes widened, and Andy felt the weight grow even more crushing. It was like being deep, deep under water without a pressure suit.

"They haven't... arrested him, have they?" He said, forcing the words out.

"Andy, it's worse than that. He's disappeared. The police went to the boarding house early this morning and he wasn't there. They came to school, too, but he never showed up today. They said they'd found his car abandoned out by Old Creek Road. Andy, they think he's left, skipped town, because he's guilty."

"That's not true," said Andy through his teeth. He saw people turn around and look at his, but He was beyond caring. "He's innocent!"

"I know you think so, Andy, but why else would he leave?"

"He wouldn't. He didn't." Something was burning inside Andy, a fire of anger that pushed back at the crushing fear. He was breathing raggedly. "He would never have left of his own free will."

"You mean someone forced him? But who? Emilio wouldn't dare—"

"Forced him, or worse," Andy interrupted. The entire class was staring at them now, and Ms. Halpern was opening his mouth. Andy stood up suddenly, looking at them without seeing. "God help him if he's hurt Rye," He said. "God help him." Then He whirled and made for the door.

"Andy, come back! Andy!" He could hear shouts behind his, Jack's and Ms. Halpern's. He walked on, faster and faster, seeing only what was straight ahead of his, his mind fixed on one thing.

They thought He was going after Emilio Smallwood. Good. They could waste their time running in the wrong direction. He knew what He had to do.

He left the school, plunging into the cold autumn air. He moved quickly, legs eating up the distance between the school and the Old Creek Road. From there He turned toward Wickery Bridge and the graveyard.

An icy wind whipped his hair back and stung his face. Oak leaves were flying around his, swirling in the air. But the conflagration in his heart was searing hot and burned away the cold. He knew now what a towering rage meant. He strode past the purple beeches and the weeping willows into the center of the old graveyard and looked around his with feverish eyes.

Above, the clouds were flowing along like a lead-gray river. The limbs of the oaks and beeches lashed together wildly. A gust threw handfuls of leaves into his face. It was as if the graveyard were trying to drive his out, as if it were showing his its power, gathering itself to do something awful to his.

Andy ignored all of it. He spun around, his burning gaze searching between the headstones. Then He turned and shouted directly into the fury of the wind. Just one word, but the one He knew would bring him.

"Robbie!"

*****

Draft: September 2021

Final Edit: 09 September 2023