back door, and it opened. “I’m going in.”
The door opened to a narrow, dim hallway off the kitchen. Stephanie heard footsteps behind her as she walked through the kitchen, past a bathroom and living room, then to the left where Sam’s bedroom was. The door was closed.
Stephanie knocked. “Sam? Are you in there? It’s Miss Stephanie.” She turned the knob. “It’s locked?”
She stared at it, thinking. Then, “This is a flimsy door. I know we can kick it in.”
Marcus looked at her. “I’m with you. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
At Marcus’s swift kick, the lock popped and the door flew open.
They walked into an empty room. Stephanie sighed, glancing around at the bedroom furniture and decorations, wondering what to do next.
“Oh, God!”
Stephanie turned. Janelle had fallen to her knees, hands to her face in shock after opening the closet door. Stephanie’s entire body tensed as she walked to where Janelle stood.
“No!” Stephanie wailed. “No! Oh, God, no!”
She was still wailing as Lindell hurried past her to the closet.
“Call 911,” he shouted.
Marcus put his arm around Stephanie, gently pulling her aside.
Seconds later Lindell had carried Sam’s body to the bed and was performing CPR.
Charley was talking to the 911 operator. “An ambulance is on the way,” she told them. She went back to answering questions.
Lindell stopped the CPR and slid to the floor, face buried in his hands.
In silent sobs, Stephanie knelt by the bed. “Sam . . .” She stroked her hair. “I’m here. It’ll be all right. Help’s on the way. Sam, please, I know you hear me. Please hear me.”
Charley and Janelle were holding hands, heads bowed, praying. Marcus was pacing.
Stephanie kept talking to Sam, stroking her hair, until the ambulance came. Marcus went to open the front door and let them in.
As the paramedics rushed in, Stephanie moved out of the way so they could tend to her. Her eyes caught Sam’s phone on the bed. Curious, she picked it up and flipped it open, awakening the screen, surprised to see that her phone with prepaid minutes had Facebook.
Stephanie brought it closer. Sam’s profile page was open, her wall flooded with recent comments.
Ur the real slut, not Kelsey, one girl wrote.
Another, Why do you act all quiet in school? Ur just an undercover whore.
Stephanie’s blood boiled.
Didn’t know Ben liked black girls, one guy said. Gotta ask what dark meat is like. lol
Charley came beside her. “What’s on there?”
“Facebook posts. She knew.” Stephanie threw the phone on the bed. “I can’t read any more of that filth.”
She found a piece of paper and left a note by the front door for Sam’s mother to go to the hospital. Hopefully she’d be home soon.
But Stephanie knew already—it was too late.
Stephanie left the Rocky Mount hospital at 5:14 p.m., the moment she heard Sam had been taken off life support and pronounced dead. She didn’t want to hear a single word or engage with anyone. She knew Lindell understood.
She got in her car and zoomed out of the parking lot, taking the route back to the highway. But she wasn’t headed to Hope Springs. She would keep driving and driving. If she knew the way, she would drive all the way back to St. Louis. Where life made sense. Where people worshiped together. Where you didn’t get a gun stuck in your face for dating a person who looked different.
Where she didn’t have to worry about her heart getting ripped out because she’d gotten so close to a young girl.
Is that what this was about, Lord? It wasn’t enough to stay in St. Louis in my own selfish world. You had to bring me to Hope Springs so I could experience what it felt like to extend myself, to love another, and to witness a tragic end? I had to experience what it was like to pray for someone, then watch her suffer in such a despicable way? Oh, and for added measure, I got to see prejudice up close. Nice.
“I should’ve stayed in St. Louis!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “I hate Hope Springs.”
The image of Sam’s body came to mind, and just that fast, her emotions turned back to overwhelming sadness. Her eyes filled with tears. Sam, I wish you had called me. I wish I could’ve been there for you . . .
Her mind went through what Sam must’ve been thinking and feeling, how much she must’ve been hurting to actually go into that closet . . . Lord, this is so painful .