Sarah Benadine is Dead

Chapter XVIII, Part III

It had been there, right in front of her nose, the whole time. No one had noticed, no one had even looked. It was obvious. It was too obvious. Norberta Benadine was both upset and unsurprised that she had not noticed it sooner.

There—right there—in the book of poetry Sarah had been reading, on the folded up piece of paper she had been using for a bookmark, was a note. A simple note, but it was plenty revealing.

You look wonderful today.

-J

Strangely, Norberta was only vaguely surprised.

Sarah hadn't had a boyfriend. But perhaps she had. Oh, perhaps she had indeed. She must have had someone.

Norberta wasn't sure what she should do. Officer Clifford Dent had been around again asking questions. She wondered if she should show him the note. She wondered if she should tell her parents. She wondered if the note mattered at all.

But more than anything, she wondered who 'J' was.

She went to her mother first. Andrea had returned home from the hospital with a clean bill of health, even though no one had quite been able to figure out what was wrong with her. Norberta knew it wasn't the end; it was only a reprieve. Andrea had been worse ever since Sarah had died. Norberta could understand that.

Norberta caught her as she was folding laundry on a Saturday afternoon. Norberta had gone back to staying with her mother whenever she came home, but she'd gone to see her father the night before. At his home. That was when she'd found the note. She'd known immediately she hadn't wanted to tell her father about it, at least not at first. She wasn't sure why, but it didn't feel right. She'd wanted to talk to her mother first. The note was folded neatly in her pocket when she walked into her mother's bedroom as the woman folded a black pair of pants.

"Mom," she said uncertainly, "do you know if any of Sarah's friends have a name that starts with a 'j'?"

Andrea paused her folding, looking up at the ceiling, trying to recall.

"Well, let's see," she said slowly. "There was...hmm...I think there was a Julia in her class. Yes, Julia Buchanan. But I don't think they were particularly close."

"Hmm." Norberta nodded. "Is there anyone else?"

Andrea frowned thoughtfully. "Well, there's James Grossman. He was in her class, too. I don't think she liked him very much, though."

She was right. Norberta remembered Sarah talking about him every once in a while; she said he was always making crude remarks about the girls in her class.

"But I can't remember anyone else," Andrea continued, resuming her folding.

Norberta nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. "Right. Thanks, Mom."

"What's this about, anyway?" Andrea asked, reaching for a sweater off the top of the pile.

"Oh, it's nothing," Norberta said, grasping for an excuse. She could feel the note burning a hole in her pocket. "Just...um...trying to remember someone Sarah told me about once. I thought they had a 'j' name, but maybe I was wrong."

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't help you," Andrea said, placing the sweater onto the stack of folded close. Suddenly she froze. "Oh, you know what, there was another one. Jackie Gordon. You remember, the black boy in her class."

Norberta's eyes brightened. That name struck a chord. "Oh, maybe that was it. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome," Andrea said absently, her attention completely devoted to the laundry now. That did not matter to Norberta; she left her mother's room, her mind whirring. She did remember Jackie Gordon. She'd only heard Sarah talk about him a handful of times, but Norberta knew who he was. And suddenly Norberta understood why Sarah would have been keeping this a secret.

***So my comma key is, like, only half-working. It's really annoying. I don't know why any of you would care, but I'm just putting it out there. Anyway, thanks to everyone who voted and commented, particularly Ben_Soele for leaving honest feedback :)***