The Battle of Jericho (28 page)

Jericho knew exactly what he meant. His head felt full and his heart felt empty. He said weakly, “I'm so sorry, Uncle Brock.”

“It wasn't your fault, Jericho. Joshua would have been the first to tell you that,” his uncle whispered. Tears streaming down his face, he walked over to his wife and gently took her arm. “C'mon, Marlene. We have to go home now,” he told her softly.

“I can't leave my baby here,” she moaned. She grasped the arms of the chair and refused to get up.

“He's not here, sweetheart. He's in a better place—he's with God.”

Marlene sat trembling for several minutes. Finally she nodded and he took her hand. They walked slowly down the hall together, leaning on each other for support.

Jericho took a deep breath as he watched them leave. He wiped his nose, then said to his father, “Can we go find Kofi, Dad?” They went to the information desk and found his room. Kofi's parents, looking confused and distressed, paced in the hall outside his room.

“How is Kofi?” Jericho asked.

Kofi's mother had been crying. “You're Jericho, right? Kofi talks about you all the time.” She took out a tissue and blew her nose.

“The doctor said he'll be all right,” Kofi's father told Jericho. “He has a broken arm, but they're going to keep him overnight to keep an eye on him.”

Kofi's mother added, “They said he had a heart condition.” She shook her head. “You know, the doctors told me they heard something unusual in his heartbeat when he was just a baby. I figured he'd outgrown it.” Jericho didn't know how to respond. “They also told us he was really lucky not to have had something worse happen because of all the physical activity and the alcohol.” She continued to pace restlessly in the corridor.

“Jericho, how much alcohol?” his father asked.

“A lot, Dad. It got easier with every drink.” He looked up at the bright, fluorescent hospital lights. “I'll tell you everything when we get home. Everything.” Jericho felt overwhelmed. “May I go in and see him?” he asked Kofi's parents.

“Sure,” Kofi's mother replied, “but I think he's sleeping now. And Jericho,” she added, “things are gonna change at our place. When Kofi gets out of the hospital, I want you to stop by sometime. I used to be a pretty good cook—maybe I'll throw together some burgers or something.”

“Yeah, I'd like that,” Jericho answered quietly.

Kofi's mother began to pace again, then she stopped and looked at Jericho. “I coulda lost my boy tonight. I'm gonna do right by him, you hear?”

Jericho wasn't sure what to say, so he asked, “Can I see him now?”

Kofi's father, tall and skinny like his son, put his arm around his wife and nodded. He said. “Go on in. He already has one friend in there with him. We'll be right here if you need us.”

Jericho asked his father to wait for him, then he opened the heavy hospital room door. The lights were dim and Kofi
lay in the bed, an IV running into one arm, plastic tubing running oxygen into his nose, and a heart monitor beeping faintly in the background. His right arm was wrapped in a huge white cast. Sleeping soundly, he looked more pale, more slender, than usual. Dana sat in a chair next to him.

“Hi, Dana,” Jericho said quietly. “How're you handling this?”

“Oh, Jericho, what are we gonna do? How will we make it without Josh?”

“How'd you find out?”

“I saw Josh's parents in the hall a little while ago. Jericho, this is like some kind of nightmare!”

Jericho just shook his head. It felt like the room was closing in on him and swallowing him up. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay much longer. “Does Kofi know?” he asked finally.

“I told him a few minutes ago. He was so upset that they had to give him a sedative.”

Jericho touched Kofi's cool, slim hand, then turned to leave the room. “I gotta get out of here. Take care of him, Dana.”

“Fiercely,” she told him. “Jericho?” she called as he reached the door.

“Yeah?” He turned to face her.

“It wasn't worth it.”

“I know.” He left the room and took several deep breaths, but even the air in the hall was suffocating. He gave Kofi's mother a quick hug and nodded to Kofi's dad. He then turned to his own father. “Can we go, Dad?” he asked.

“Sure, son. Let's go home.” Large heavy flakes of snow began to blanket the city as they drove.

As soon as he got home, even though it was almost five o'clock in the morning, Jericho called Arielle. She answered on the first ring. He could tell she had been crying.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Jericho thought she sounded really concerned.

“I didn't get hurt, if that's what you mean,” he told her, “but I don't think I'm gonna be okay for a long time.” He sighed. “Have you talked to November?”

“She's right here,” Arielle said. “Her mother brought her to my house right after they got the news. She said November could stay the rest of the night.”

“How's she doing?” Jericho asked.

“Not good. Her voice is almost gone from screaming and crying. She was hysterical for a while, but my mother and her mother were pretty cool and helped to calm her down.”

“Can I talk to her?” Jericho asked.

“She finally fell asleep. Let her get some rest. The next few days aren't gonna be easy.”

“For real. My dad said there's going to be a police investigation, and a school board investigation too. Plus there's already talk about lawsuits. Looks like the Warriors of Distinction are in big trouble—probably gone for good.”

“I heard all the Warriors—even the pledges—are going to be brought to the police station and questioned, maybe even arrested,” Arielle told him. “I have a feeling this is going to blow up into a real mess. You've got some serious trouble ahead. Are you going to be able to handle this?”

“I guess I have to. I know I can if I've got you with me,” he told her earnestly. He suddenly felt dizzy with emotion—Josh's death, his own fear, anger, guilt, grief, and lack of sleep swirled together in his mind and he blurted out, “I think I love you, Arielle.” He gulped. What had he said? The words somehow slipped right out. He waited for her response. At this moment he needed to hear her soft, sweet voice tell him he was loved.

Arielle was strangely silent on the other end of the line. 'I don't think this is the right time for talk like that,” she said slowly.

Jericho felt suddenly mortified. He wished he could suck the words back in. “I'm sorry. It's just I, uh, I'm so filled up with all these heavy feelings and stuff, I guess I said too much.” He felt like kicking himself.

“I know this is a hard time for you,” she replied. She paused for a moment, then said, “But I think maybe we better not see so much of each other. You need time to deal with the grief, and my friends need me now.” She offered no other explanation.

What? Jericho couldn't believe what he was hearing. She was dumping him? Now, when he needed her most? “I don't understand, Arielle,” he said helplessly.

“It was fun while it lasted, Jericho, but it's gotten too crazy. I don't think you should call me for a while, okay? I'm sure you understand.” She hung up the phone.

Jericho sat there, stunned. He felt as if he were falling from that window once more, only this time, there was no ground below to catch him.

THE NEXT FEW DAYS SEEMED TO MOVE LIKE
mud. Even Jericho's arms and legs felt heavy and sluggish, unable to work properly. His thoughts, thick and confused, swirled around the void where Josh should be. He knew that Josh was gone forever, but the reality of it kept slipping through his fingers like wet sand. He couldn't sleep. He ate very little.

Nothing was as it should have been. Instead of the party on Saturday night to celebrate their membership in the Warriors of Distinction, a memorial service for Josh was held in the school auditorium. Instead of strutting proudly to school on Monday morning wearing their new Warrior jackets, Jericho and his friends sadly wore their best church clothes to attend Josh's funeral. Classes had been cancelled for the day so that students could attend. And instead of being comforted by Arielle's warmth and smiles, Jericho drifted through all of it alone.

Jericho's mother had flown in from Alaska to be with them for the day of the funeral. He buried himself in her arms. Her smile made him remember when he and Josh were little—picnics, dressing up for Halloween, swimming lessons, Little League baseball games, all with his mom and Aunt Marlene making sure they were safe and happy.
Where was safe and happy now?

The weather turned colder and a freezing rain turned to snow, which fell like a soft blanket over all the raw pain. But Jericho couldn't stop the memories. He remembered building snowmen with Josh when they were seven, snowball fights when they were ten, sledding at French Park just last year. The city looked frosty and full of sparkles, but Jericho's thoughts were dark and muddy.

It was the little things that Jericho would remember about the day of Josh's funeral. He couldn't remember one word of what the minister had said, but he would never forget the tilt of the single yellow lily that had been sent by Mr. Boston, the cool metallic feeling of the handle of the casket as he helped as a pallbearer at the end of the ceremony, or the fluttering of the little purple flag that the funeral directors placed on his father's car as they headed for the cemetery. He would never forget the mask of grief and disbelief that now seemed a permanent part of his uncle's face, or the unending silent tears of his Aunt Marlene. And he'd never forget the expressions of surprise, fear, and humility on the faces of his friends, many of whom looked at death up close for the first time.

November sat between Arielle and Dana, who each grasped one of her hands and held her when she was
wracked with dry, heaving sobs. Her eyes were swollen and red. Jericho caught Arielle's eye once, but she looked at him as if he were a stranger. Kofi was there, but Jericho wondered if he was really up to it—he looked awfully pale and weak as he stood next to the casket as a pallbearer, his arm in a sling. Eric Bell, who also had been asked to be a pallbearer, rolled with dignity as an honor guard behind the casket as it was carried out of the church.

All of the Warriors of Distinction except for Eddie Mahoney attended the funeral, but they did not sit together as a group and they didn't wear their jackets. Most of them looked scared, Jericho thought. No decision had been made yet as to what would happen to the club. None of them had been asked to be pallbearers.

Jericho was surprised at the number of teachers who attended—Mr. Boston, Miss Hathaway, Mr. Zucker, Mr. Tambori, even Mr. Redstone was there. Mr. Culligan was noticeably absent. Many of them hugged Jericho after the service.

When it was all over—the last of the flowers placed at the snowy gravesite, the last of the tears shed for the day—Jericho and his friends gathered at Josh's house, the only place they knew to go. It was as if they needed to be close to his spirit.

Marlene, shaken and weepy, welcomed the young people. Miscellaneous sofa cushions and chairs filled the living room, which was warm and cozy from the roaring fire in the fireplace.

Dana brought November and Kofi. Luis, Rudy, Ram, and Cleveland from the pledge group arrived, but Rick and
Madison were the only old Warriors who showed up. Even Eric Bell rolled into the room—Jericho had made sure that he'd been invited. Jericho came alone. Arielle, though she had been asked, chose not to come. Josh's parents disappeared upstairs.

“So what do we do now?” Jericho asked the subdued group of young people.

“We cry some more,” November said sadly.

“Then what?” Dana wondered.

“We try to see who's to blame,” sighed Kofi. His voice could be barely heard.

“Mr. Culligan's been arrested,” Jericho informed them. “My dad told me.”

“I heard he got fired, too,” Rudy offered.

“Yeah, but Mr. Culligan didn't make Josh fall,” Madison reasoned.

“No, you and the rest of the seniors get to take the blame for that! “ Cleveland declared fiercely.

Madison hung his head. “I know. I'm not tryin' to hide from responsibility. They may be pickin' me up next.”

Rick reported, “We're all gonna be questioned in the next few days—pledge masters and pledges, too.” Jericho closed his eyes.

“Is there still going to
be
a club?” Eric asked. “I heard they were going to shut it down.”

“I guess that's out of our hands—the school board meets with the police tomorrow,” Kofi told him.

“Eddie got arrested too,” Rick announced.

“Eddie's got some serious issues,” Dana replied tersely.

Madison sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“He's been arrested for illegal possession of a firearm, threatening bodily harm, and a couple of other charges as well,” Rick told them.

“Eddie is also going to be charged with several counts of assault,” Dana said quietly. “My parents have talked to the police about what he did to me.”

“Good, 'cause I was gonna have to kick his butt,” Kofi said with more energy than he'd shown all day. “Good thing I only got one good arm!” He smiled slightly and held on to Dana with his good hand.

“What was the deal with the gun?” November asked angrily.

Rick lifted his head from his hands. His face looked ragged and worn. “We'd never included a gun in the pledge stuff before. Eddie found it and thought it would be a good addition,” he admitted. “It was just to scare you. There were never even any bullets.”

“What an idiot!” Dana snapped.

“What happened to it?” Ram asked.

“My dad says the police have it,” Jericho told the group. “It's evidence for a criminal investigation.”