Weekend - By Christopher Pike Page 0,55

"The tape is running. I'm getting impatient."

"All right, so I wanted Park! What's wrong with that? Is that such a great sin that you're going to kill me?

Why was it that only Robin was supposed to have him? She's so - " Angie stopped, horrified at her slip.

"I'm so what?" Robin asked meekly, having to take another sharp stab of pain. Angie would not look at her. She spoke to Michael instead.

"She's sosweet . So cutesy. So Miss Saintly. So virginal. She's worse than the worst jerk. If you said anything bad about her, everyone would jump on you. It made me sick."

"And you wanted to change that?" Michael said.

"I didn't put the poison in the beer!"

"Answer me!" He sweated over the trigger. "What did you do?"

"I... I..." Angie bowed her head, rain - maybe tears - rolling down her cheeks. "I planted the paper dance pants in Robin's locker. I wanted to embarrass her. But it all got messed up. I only found out afterwards that Kerry was using Robin's locker because she had lost the key to her own. When I went to sneak in the paper panties, there were two uniforms, but I thought they were both Robin's. Her family's so rich, they always buy two of everything. I swear, once the pep rally actually started, I was praying that Robin had put on her good dance pants. But Kerry had on the other ones. What can I say? I'm sorry, Robin."

"What about me?" Kerry complained.

"Shut up," Michael said. "Lena's next."

With the toilet paper and the handkerchief combined as a bandage, Lena had control of her bleeding.

But her breathing was laboured and sweat poured from her flushed face. Nevertheless, she remained indomitable. "I'll answer none of your questions. I don't give a damn about your antidote pills. I'm sure they're as phoney as you."

"Please cooperate with him," Robin pleaded. Lena shook her head.

"But you've been poisoned! You need the antidote!" Robin turned to Michael. "Please, I beg of you, help her. You were my friend. I liked you. Please help her."

Michael's cruel armour cracked at the edge. Swallowing thickly, he fidgeted in his chair, relaxing the grip on the rifle. But it was a brief lapse, a brief moment of sanity. Then a ruthlessness seemed to stir inside, like the memory of a bitter vow once sworn to for good or ill, and his eyes blazed.

"Phoney!" he spat. "Who could deserve that title more than you, Lena? Look at you sitting there, basking in the sympathy of the others because of the poison in your veins. But why aren't you worried?

We both know, don't we? You would never have released the snakes unless you knew that none of them could poison you!"

"What?" Park asked, for all of them. Michael jumped up, knocking over his chair and pressing the door with his back and the butt of his rifle.

"How much do non-poisonous rattlers cost each?" he shouted. "Probably a lot less than a voice synthesizer to distort your recorded voice." He mimicked the sound: " 'We must have the truth of that night.' What about the truth of tonight?"

"Go to hell," Lena said.

"Is this true?" Shani asked. Michael may have been insane, but he did have an uncanny ability to expose the facts. But Lena refused to answer.

"She had a small metal box behind where she was handcuffed," Michael went on. "It was covered with buttons."

"I saw that this afternoon!" Shani exclaimed.

"As we were running out," Michael continued, "I touched one of the buttons and the lid to the snake container began to lower." He aimed his rifle. The wild light in his eyes said he wasn't bluffing. "Pull off your shorts, Lena, and throw them over here. I want to see if by chance you have a handcuff key in your pocket."

Lena was wise enough to know when she was cornered. Reaching in her back pocket, she pulled out a small silver key and threw it at Michael's feet. No one spoke, until Robin asked, "Why?"

"To get the truth of that night," Lena said, touching her bloody leg, perhaps re-evaluating the cost she had paid.

"Oh, Lena, Lena," Robin moaned. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I did it for you!" Lena cried, her own cold wall cracking at the seams. "And it was a good plan! If Bert hadn't come back when he did, it would have worked. And as far as I'm concerned, it did work."

"What did you do?" Sol asked.

"Everything," Lena said,