Episode XI - The Literature Maiden's Deduction Part 1

How can I use S's weakness?

How can I move S's heart and drag out all of its secrets?

I turned the problem over incessantly, but I stumbled upon the key to destroying S when I wasn't even looking.

I spent the last weekend of May in a funk.

Even when I was playing video games in my room, or watching a DVD, or playing with my little sister, or eating with my family, I couldn't forget Janella's desolate look or her declaration that "Someone like you… could never understand!" It blurred into another person's face and voice and sent me into a lingering depression.

I was playing a card game in the living room with Fiona, who had just started elementary school that year when my mother brought in our dinner. She asked me, "Andy looks sad, doesn't he? Did something happen at school?"

"Huh? No, nothing. It's the same as always." "Really?"

"Come on, I swear it's nothing." My mom smiled faintly.

"I suppose. You've been much more cheerful since you started high school, like you, used to be. I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying high school."

"Yeah, I'm having fun."

The last couple of days hadn't been so great, but maybe tomorrow I'd be able to get back to my regular life.

Not arguing, not struggling, not clinging to wild hopes; just peaceful and ordinary. I would go to book club after school and write snacks for Alice until the setting sun filled the room with gold. I would listen to Alice's litanies. I would needle her…

"All right, time for dinner. Go get your father, Fiona."

" 'Kay."

Fiona scampered off. My mother picked up again in a gentle voice. "Andy, as long as you're happy, that's all we want for you."

"Thanks, Mom."

Two years ago, I put my family through a lot.

The trade-off for my unearned glory was losing something that I valued and adored for a very long time.

I didn't want to do that ever again.

After dinner, I collapsed into bed and listened to my favorite music on my headphones. Something fast and upbeat to cheer me up.

While I was listening to it, I suddenly thought of Alice.

I wonder what Alice ate today.

I hadn't been writing snacks for her much lately.

When I told her about Janella's boyfriend, she looked very sad.

I thought that finding out she'd been tricked, when she had gone so far as to strip in front of me to get information, was driving her toward tears, so I jokingly offered, "Come on, don't look so sad. Want me to go squeeze that report out of her? She's all cuddly with that classmate of hers, so I bet she would write something sweet enough to give you a toothache. Just how you like it."

But Alice shook her head and looked even sadder. "It's not that. You look closer to tears than I do."

My faculties failed me, and all I could do was fall silent.

First my mom, now Alice—all I did was make people worry. I felt pathetic and angry at myself.

"I'll write you something sweet tomorrow, Alice.

Like poison falling—drip, drip—I watched with naked awareness on my face as—little by little—S went insane.

I can tell that S's usual ease has disappeared.

And that S's eyes are roving skittishly, and that S's voice is quivering.

Now and then, S has begun to sigh when no one is around and to tear at their hair and to spin around to look over their shoulder in surprise.

Very soon.

My preparations are complete.

All that remains is to turn the key and open the door. I have written a letter to S.

I'm waiting on the roof. Let's discuss the truth.

The next day, too, the weather was beautiful.

From the classroom window, I could see the sky was a bright, translucent blue, and the new leaves glimmered in the sunlight. During one of the breaks between classes, I hung my head out the window and filled my lungs with the air of early summer.

I sat back down and noticed Johnny coming toward me. It was rare for the taciturn Johnny to seek out a conversation with anyone.

"The alumni came again on Friday. They were asking about you." "Huh? What about?"

"What class you're in, what sort of guy you are."

They were probably wondering about me because I looked like Anthony.

Now that I knew Anthony had committed suicide, I also understood why they'd been at such a loss when I questioned them before.

"I'll let them know the main stuff."

"Thanks, Johnny."

He nodded and went back to his seat.

I remembered that I had to return Abegail's ten francs to her, and dug around for my wallet.

Great, I have it today.

I went over to Abegail and held the coin out to her.

"Here's your change."

Abegail bit her lip nervously and looked away from me. "… Thanks." "Thanks for replacing the book for me. Later."

"Uh, hey…"

"Hm?"

She hesitated, then muttered a sullen "Nothing" and fell silent.

Maybe she was still thinking about how she'd told me that Janella had a boyfriend. I thought I probably ought to say something, but I knew that if I said anything wrong it would just rub her the wrong way, so I dropped the ten yen into Abegail's hand and went back to my seat.

When classes ended, I was walking down the hall to get to literature club when I heard someone call my name behind me.

When I turned to look, I was surprised to see who was standing there, panting.

"Is something wrong?"

"There's something important I need to talk to you about. Would you come with me?"

"Huh? But—"

"It won't take long. Please. It's urgent." "… All right."

I followed helplessly where he led.

Why had he come looking for me? Had something happened? He looked tense and forbidding.

He climbed farther and farther up the stairs. Third floor—

Fourth floor—

He pressed on in silence but for the clicking of his footsteps, his eyes fixed intently ahead.

When I realized where he was going, I felt a chill. "Um, where are we going?"

"The roof."

Fear gripped my heart and a wave of numbness assaulted me, tingling through my lips and fingertips.

An image flashed into my mind: a sky like the deep blue ocean above, concrete below, heat rising up in shimmering waves, my shadow and the girl's, the water tank, the rusty guard-rails…

The girl stopping in front of the rails and turning around— "I'm sorry, I can't go on the roof."

The numbness in my fingers grew stronger, and my misgivings rapidly deepened. My legs crumpled with terror to the point where I thought I might fall to my knees, but the man yanked me up harshly by the arm.

Pain shot through my arm. I thought it was funny that the pain jolted my thoughts out of the past and back to the present.

"We can't talk with other people around. It'll be quick, I swear."

He stared down at me, his eyes as glassy as those of a dead fish. There was something odd in his voice, and I realized at that moment just how great and frightening was the threat that had hold of me.

"Not the roof—"

"What are you afraid of? What's wrong with the roof?" He jerked on my arm as he spoke, his voice trembling. "After all, you wanted to talk to me about something, too, didn't you?"

"Please let go of me. I don't want to go on the roof!"

The man gripped my arm with terrifying strength and pulled open the door to the roof with his other hand.

I felt wind pelt my face.

It had been windy that day, too. She turned around when she reached the rails and a gentle summer breeze played through her hair and across her skirt.

No!

No!

Stop—

The man dragged me out to the middle of the roof despite my thrashing and shouted, "You sent me a letter!"

What was this guy talking about? Did I write a letter? Was he talking

about the love letters, I'd written for Janella?

Fear from both past and present mingled, making my fingers ache and my breath comes in short, painful bursts. My head felt like it was being pounded from every direction at once. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and dripped into my eyes, clouding my vision.

Unable to draw a full breath, I gulped down quick gasps of air. It was happening again. I had forgotten about it all this time.

"You sent me a letter! Didn't you, Anthony?"

I felt him grab the collar of my uniform. He pushed his twisted face closer to mine.

"No, Stephen! I'm not Anthony Flavier!"

"Then why did you keep looking at me?" Stephen bellowed. "With those mournful eyes that told me you knew everything?"

When I'd first seen him at the archery team, he struck me as placid and intellectual. This total reversal inspired a depthless terror in me.

Who was this person? Was this really the same man?

"You were always—always!—looking at me! Even after Marianna died! Never saying a word, just looking at me! That's how you punished me for killing her!"

Alternating between hyperventilation and asphyxiation, I croaked out a question.

"I thought—Marianna—died—in an—accident?"

Stephen's eyes were shot through with his pulsing blood. He spat back, "So innocent! And after you told us you were staying late for club business, after you asked me to take her home. After you said, 'I'm trusting you with my girlfriend,' with that unguarded, ever-present smile of yours.

"I was the one who liked her first. You knew how I felt, but you seduced her anyway. You made her fall in love with you and then you started dating. Then you dared to tell me that she had begged to go out with you. What else could you do, right?

"You were always like that! Irresponsible, blowing everything off, always joking around—but you still had to come up behind me and swipe the things I wanted. You would have overtaken me in archery by the end, and the girls I liked always wound up falling for you.

"I hated you for that, more than I can even bear to think about. I struggled to keep it from showing on my face, but you just watched me keep my cool with a little smirk.

"I loathed that caring look you could assume—and how you smiled!

" 'I'm trusting you with my girlfriend now'—how could you say that? If it weren't for you, she would have been going out with me! But you have the nerve to tell me, 'I'm trusting you with my girlfriend now?

"You knew how I felt about her. You were so sure that I could never win her over. You were mocking me!"

Stephen tightened his grip on my collar, and it dug into my neck.

Stephen's face swirled through my mind, clouding my thoughts, as images of Anthony Flavier and Mia, the girl I'd seen for the last time on the roof, rose up beside him.

Hey, how come you never talk to me? Are you ignoring me? Do I look like I'm in that much pain?

When I followed her up to the roof, Mia had smiled at me sadly.

—Andy, I don't think you would ever understand.

"You could never understand what I've been through! I told Marianna how I felt about her that day and begged her to break up with you. She pushed past me and ran away—she ignored the traffic light and tried to cross the road just to get away from me. That was when the truck hit her. When she died. I got scared and I ran; I was a coward.

"If I—if I hadn't said anything… If it weren't for you, that never would have happened! I never would have killed her or acted like a coward.

"You never talked to me about her after that. Even though you knew that I should have been with her when it happened. You just looked at me silently and never questioned me about it.

"That was how you got your fun tormenting me!"

Whistling sounds escaped my constricted throat. I couldn't catch my breath. My fingertips were trembling and numb.

No! Anthony wasn't enjoying it! He was always alone, always in pain.

I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn't speak.

Stephen's face twisted in anguish, and his grip tightened around my throat.

"I brought a knife up to this very roof that day, and I stabbed you. I don't remember if you tried to call for help. You walked over to the railing and threw yourself over. So why? Why are you here now? I'm going to have a child next year! I just want to forget about you and live my life. Why do you haunt me? You've lived in my thoughts these ten long years! And now you've reappeared! Why? Why won't you let me be free? I'm going to have a child! I thought I would finally be able to relax. As long as you live, I will kill you! As many times as it takes!"

The collar of my shirt bit into my neck. Stephen's fingers were shaking. A kaleidoscope of images flashed through my mind.

Mia poking her head out in front of me to look up at me teasingly. Her sweet smell of shampoo mixed with sweat.

The serene smile Anthony Flavier wore in his picture.

Mia bent over a pile of paper, focused on a story she was writing during class. And myself, gazing at her slender back adoringly.

Stephen's face, twisted in pain; Anthony's face; Mia's face.

Stephen, stabbing Anthony. Anthony, falling to his death. Mia, turning to look back at me in front of the railing.

Andy, I don't think you would ever understand. You would never understand.

You would never understand.

Still looking straight at me, Mia's body arched slowly backward and over the railing.

A line from Never Been Human came to mind.

The woman died. The woman died. Maybe I'll die, too.

Just then, I felt a body strike mine. "You let go of Andy!"

Janella forced her tiny body between me and Stephen, shoving him away.

My legs crumpled, and I fell into a sitting position, but Janella helped me back up.

"Andy, are you okay? Andy!"

Breathing wildly, I managed a quiet, "Janella…"

Janella's face was pinched, on the verge of tears. She gently helped me lie down on the concrete, then turned to face Stephen with a harsh look.

"I knew you were the one who killed Anthony. You were S, weren't you, Mister Stephen?"

"Who are you…?"

"Janella Pendelton, a first-year student. I wrote you that letter in Anthony's name. And I'm the one who told you to come to the roof today."

"You what?"

Stephen's mouth dropped open.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to know who S was. Because he was with Anthony at the very end."

I heard a rustling noise. Janella had pulled a folded-up letter from her pocket and was showing it to Stephen.

"Anthony left a second suicide note—the real one—besides the one he left at his house. It was inside a book in a basement storage room. It had been withdrawn from the library and gone unnoticed by anyone for ten whole years. I found it.

"Anthony knew that S was involved in the death of his girlfriend. But the reason he never said anything was because he'd sent her with S on purpose, to test her. It led to Marianna's death.

"He confesses in this letter. 'I killed her. I tested her faithfulness out of some dark emotion, and I watched her die.' So he thought he deserved to die, and he wanted S to kill him!"

Janella read from a part of a letter that Alice and I had never seen, her voice as bleak as a storm gusting through dead branches.

" 'S is cornered.

" 'It was S's scheme which led to Marianna's death. S knows the stain of that crime can never be erased and fears being implicated in it.

" 'I treated S as I always have. I look at S and even smile. I'm watching closely as S's mind twists, little by little, as it creaks and screams.

" 'I've seen S's murderous impulse, finding no other outlet, turn toward me—I've prayed that S would kill me.

" 'That will be my atonement.

" 'S is my enemy, my friend, and the person who best understands me. So I'm sure S has realized my intentions. I pray that S will send me from this world.' The letter ends when Anthony calls S up to the roof."

It was the second letter.

There was another installment to the first letter, after all. Janella had only shown us the first part.

"After I read this letter, I talked to some of the teachers and looked some stuff up, and I found out that Anthony Flavier had been a student here and that ten years ago he'd committed suicide up here. I wondered if it had really been suicide, or if maybe S had killed him. That was the day that Anthony was supposed to meet S on the roof. S knew the truth. I needed to know it, too.

"And since you are S, Mister Stephen, I sent letters to you signed as Anthony. Because when you saw Andy, who looks exactly like Anthony, you were the calmest one. I thought your reaction was unnatural. And you never looked at Andy again, did you? Mister Guy was so disturbed that he couldn't stop looking at Andy. But you kept your eyes away because you didn't want to risk seeing him. So I kept sending you letters under Anthony's name, about things only Anthony and S would know. Please tell me—what did you and Anthony say to each other that day on the roof?"

"Say?" Stephen mumbled, his voice now depleted of all its force. "We didn't say anything. I stabbed him, he got stabbed without saying a word, and then it was over."

"No—" Janella's voice was tinged with despair. "He can't answer your question. That's not S."

I craned my neck as far as it would go to look toward the voice.

I saw a thin figure standing perfectly straight. Black bangs swept over a pale forehead. Two long braids danced in the wind like cats' tails. She had a clear, intelligent gaze.

My vision was clouded by sweat, but Alice's shape as she stood in the doorway to the stairwell was starkly, vividly familiar.

My heart swelled instantly. I thought I might cry. Janella—

Stephen—

They stared at Alice in surprise.

"W-who are you?" Stephen asked, his voice trembling. Alice's stalwart answer was, "I'm the literature maiden."

Geez, what was she doing? This was serious.

I felt the last of my strength leave me and pressed my cheek to the warm, sunbathed concrete. Alice never stopped being Alice.

"I am also the kind and charming club president to whom that boy on the ground over there turns for support."

Please don't speak for me… Stephen and Janella didn't seem to know what to make of her, either.

Alice stalked over to us, sending her long braids flying.

"Your wife and friend came looking for you at the literature club, Mister Stephen."

Guy and Reona appeared behind Alice. Stephen paled at the sight of them, taken aback. "Reona… Guy! What are you doing here?"

Reona looked down. "You've been acting strangely. Restless, as if you're afraid of something. And then today I found a stack of letters while I was cleaning your room. I was so surprised to see that they were from Anthony Flavier that I read them. I tried to call you at work, but they told me you'd left early. I started to worry."