she alone? Was she scared? Did she know she was going to die?
Why didn’t I answer her?
I sink into Dad’s big chair and trace the words again.
Don’t tell anyone what you saw.
She could only have meant the night we went to the old house. I close my eyes and think about the last time I brought it up. We were walking to her house after school. It was raining, and I tried to take the shortcut through the field that would take us in front of the old house. She stopped me, gripping my arm. “Let’s stay on the road.”
I was wet and frustrated with her so I resisted. “This is faster, and I’m soaked. What are you so afraid of, anyway?”
She looked at the house. “Nothing, it’s just … I can’t, okay? He died in that house.”
There was something about the way she said it, different from before, like someone she knew had died there. “Who died in that house? That guy, the one they found after we—”
“Shh.” She looked around, like she was worried someone was listening, but we were alone.
I moved closer to her and spoke quieter, but I wasn’t going to let her avoid the question this time. “You saw him, didn’t you? That’s why you screamed, that’s why you ran down the stairs—”
She stood there, shocked, like I had slapped her. I waited for her to deny it again, but she didn’t. Instead she turned pale and gripped my shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone.”
And then I knew that everything I was afraid of was true: Rachel had seen the body. I remember the guilt and terror that hit me with that revelation. I had been in the same house where someone had been murdered, and I hadn’t done anything about it, I hadn’t gone to the police. I loved Rachel, and I trusted her, maybe too much. “You saw him, I know you did. Why didn’t you tell the police?”
Then she got angry. “They have pictures, they collected evidence, they have everything they need. Us being there or not doesn’t change what happened. If we go to them now, we’ll be in major trouble.”
I knew she was right. We would be in trouble, more trouble than I’d ever been in before. I was suddenly furious with her.“Then why didn’t we go to the police that night? Why didn’t you tell them? Why didn’t you at least tell me?”
She glared back at me, but she was fighting tears. “Because I knew you’d want to tell, and then the people who killed him would come after us.”
I saw the fear in her eyes, and I felt it too. I thought about the person in the curtains. What if he had seen me? “How do you know that? Wouldn’t the police have protected us? We could have at least made an anonymous tip or something.” Even as I said it, I heard doubt in my own voice.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “You didn’t see what I saw. You don’t know what they can do. No one is safe from them. The police didn’t protect him, and they can’t protect us.”
“Who are they ?”
“Don’t ask that question. It’s better if you don’t know.” She started walking away, holding back tears.
“Rachel.”
“I mean it!”
“No. It’s not that, it’s just … did you know him?”
She shook her head but didn’t turn around. “He was just a gangbanger.” Her voice choked. “He got what he deserved. It’s not worth risking our lives to tell the police what they already know.”
I stand up, thinking about what I should have said to her that day. My foot knocks against Dad’s recycling bin. On top is another newspaper with Rachel’s picture splashed across the front. I pick it up and read:
Local Teen Found Shot in her Bedroom
LAKE RIDGE—The town of Lake Ridge is still reeling after the discovery of a local girl who was found shot in her bedroom on June 16. Police are continuing to investigate the death, said Grant County Sheriff Eric Cross. “We suspect that gang violence was involved. There were gang tags found at the scene,” said Cross. “We’re still looking into it.”
Rachel Araceli Sanchez, 16, was found
Why didn’t I answer her?
I sink into Dad’s big chair and trace the words again.
Don’t tell anyone what you saw.
She could only have meant the night we went to the old house. I close my eyes and think about the last time I brought it up. We were walking to her house after school. It was raining, and I tried to take the shortcut through the field that would take us in front of the old house. She stopped me, gripping my arm. “Let’s stay on the road.”
I was wet and frustrated with her so I resisted. “This is faster, and I’m soaked. What are you so afraid of, anyway?”
She looked at the house. “Nothing, it’s just … I can’t, okay? He died in that house.”
There was something about the way she said it, different from before, like someone she knew had died there. “Who died in that house? That guy, the one they found after we—”
“Shh.” She looked around, like she was worried someone was listening, but we were alone.
I moved closer to her and spoke quieter, but I wasn’t going to let her avoid the question this time. “You saw him, didn’t you? That’s why you screamed, that’s why you ran down the stairs—”
She stood there, shocked, like I had slapped her. I waited for her to deny it again, but she didn’t. Instead she turned pale and gripped my shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone.”
And then I knew that everything I was afraid of was true: Rachel had seen the body. I remember the guilt and terror that hit me with that revelation. I had been in the same house where someone had been murdered, and I hadn’t done anything about it, I hadn’t gone to the police. I loved Rachel, and I trusted her, maybe too much. “You saw him, I know you did. Why didn’t you tell the police?”
Then she got angry. “They have pictures, they collected evidence, they have everything they need. Us being there or not doesn’t change what happened. If we go to them now, we’ll be in major trouble.”
I knew she was right. We would be in trouble, more trouble than I’d ever been in before. I was suddenly furious with her.“Then why didn’t we go to the police that night? Why didn’t you tell them? Why didn’t you at least tell me?”
She glared back at me, but she was fighting tears. “Because I knew you’d want to tell, and then the people who killed him would come after us.”
I saw the fear in her eyes, and I felt it too. I thought about the person in the curtains. What if he had seen me? “How do you know that? Wouldn’t the police have protected us? We could have at least made an anonymous tip or something.” Even as I said it, I heard doubt in my own voice.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “You didn’t see what I saw. You don’t know what they can do. No one is safe from them. The police didn’t protect him, and they can’t protect us.”
“Who are they ?”
“Don’t ask that question. It’s better if you don’t know.” She started walking away, holding back tears.
“Rachel.”
“I mean it!”
“No. It’s not that, it’s just … did you know him?”
She shook her head but didn’t turn around. “He was just a gangbanger.” Her voice choked. “He got what he deserved. It’s not worth risking our lives to tell the police what they already know.”
I stand up, thinking about what I should have said to her that day. My foot knocks against Dad’s recycling bin. On top is another newspaper with Rachel’s picture splashed across the front. I pick it up and read:
Local Teen Found Shot in her Bedroom
LAKE RIDGE—The town of Lake Ridge is still reeling after the discovery of a local girl who was found shot in her bedroom on June 16. Police are continuing to investigate the death, said Grant County Sheriff Eric Cross. “We suspect that gang violence was involved. There were gang tags found at the scene,” said Cross. “We’re still looking into it.”
Rachel Araceli Sanchez, 16, was found
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