The Competition - [42]

25

Logan didn’t have a big crew, but he was a social butterfly compared to Otis. Interestingly, whereas Logan’s fans had all been male, the only two kids who claimed to know Otis were girls.

Chloe had a head full of curls and a round, rosy face. Given that look, I expected a high-pitched Kewpie doll of a voice, but I was surprised to find it was rich and mellow. I bet she could sing. We made our introductions, and Chloe sat down in the chair and put her fringed purse on the floor. The desk didn’t leave much room, but she somehow managed to cross her jean-covered legs and tuck her hands between her knees.

“I’ve known Otis since our freshman year. He was so sweet.”

“Was?” I asked. “He changed?”

Chloe nodded, making her curls bounce. “When we started at Fairmont, we were all a little scared. You know, big school, we were freshmen, and we’d all heard the stories about what they did to freshmen…” Chloe had a wistful smile. “Otis was in my homeroom, and on our first day, he admitted he was scared. We sort of bonded over that, you know? So we got to be friends. Not, you know, hangout friends or anything, just school friends. But he could make me laugh about almost anything.” The wistful smile grew bigger with the memory. “The teachers, the other kids. He got me through my freshman year.”

“Did he make you laugh about the jocks?” I asked.

“All the time.” Chole’s smile suddenly faded. It made the room seem darker. “I guess they must’ve found out somehow, because one of them, this asshole-” Her eyes grew wide, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

I waved her off. “I believe in calling an asshole an asshole. What’s his other name?”

A glimmer of a smile from Chloe, and then she sobered again. “Bryan…something. He threw Otis’s books in the toilet. And I heard he knocked Otis down a couple of times too.”

“But you never saw it?” I asked. Chloe shook her head. “Did Otis tell you about it?”

“Never. I think he was ashamed to. When I heard what had happened, I tried to get him to report it, but he wouldn’t even talk about it. He’d just change the subject.” Chloe’s sad eyes got to me.

“Did you and Otis stay friends after your freshman year?” I asked.

“Not as much, but somewhat. Yeah.”

“Did he talk to you about the jocks this year?” I asked.

“No. So maybe they weren’t hassling him anymore.”

“Do you know Logan Jarvis?” I asked.

“No.” Chloe frowned. “I mean, I’ve seen him around, but I don’t actually, like, know him.”

“Did you ever see Otis with Logan?”

“No.” She looked from me to Bailey. “But I heard you think Logan might be one of…them.” I nodded. “Are you thinking Otis is the other one?” I didn’t answer right away. “Because I can tell you he isn’t. Otis couldn’t hurt anybody. Ever.”

“Did you see him the day of the shooting?”

Chloe turned her head to the side and stared at the wall for a few moments. “I think I did. I think I saw him coming up the front steps that morning because we said hey.” She paused, then continued. “Yeah, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Was that the last time you saw him?” I asked.

Chloe’s eyes dropped down to her lap. She nodded.

“Chloe, did Otis ever talk about getting revenge against anyone?” I asked.

“No!” Chloe leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Otis was the most nonviolent person I’ve ever met. I know people told you he’s kinda weird, and he is. But if anyone’s telling you he could’ve done something like this, they’re full of it! Believe me, I knew him for real. There’s no way!”

And the next girl-Suzanne Eckman-echoed virtually all the same sentiments about Otis.

We went through our list of shrink questions with both of them. They had no recollection of anyone who fit the profile.

Our last interview was with another of the friends mentioned by Logan’s mother.

Evan Cutter had a military-style buzz cut and the kind of lean frame and ropy muscling you usually see on wrestlers. But he had none of the swagger that usually goes with the type. He shuffled in with slumped shoulders and barely met our eyes. I introduced myself and put out my hand. He held it loosely for the barest of seconds, dipped his head, and plunked down in the chair.

We asked the usual preliminary questions about how long he’d known Logan and how they’d met: one year, in gym class. It was a perfect segue.

“Did the jocks ever give Logan a hard time?” I asked.

“Not that I ever saw.”

“If they had, do you think he would’ve told you?” I asked.

Evan shrugged. “I’d hope so.”

“You wrestle?” I asked.

“I used to. But I got bored after a while. Plus, I needed the time to study. I’m not a brainiac like…Logan.” At the mention of his friend’s name, his face tightened, and I thought he was about to cry. But he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Crisis averted.

“Do you know Otis Barney?”

Evan’s lips twisted. “Yeah, he’s a loser. He tried to buddy up to Logan this year. Kept hanging around, trying to get Logan to do stuff with him.”

“Did it work?” I asked.

“Kinda, yeah. Logan said they hung out a couple of times. Probably my fault. I don’t have as much free time as I used to. I got a job over the summer. Pizza delivery for New York’s Finest.”