The Confession by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t know,” I started. “I don’t think—”
    â€œAnd why was he murdered in such a brutal way?” the policeman continued, staring over my shoulder at the pale yellow wall behind me. “It almost looks as if someone was showing off. Or maybe showing Al something. You know. Paying him back for something. Teaching him a lesson.”
    â€œSome lesson,” my dad muttered. Mom let out a whimpering cry and dabbed at her eyes.
    â€œI’m okay, Mom. Really,” I whispered to her.
    â€œI just can’t believe you had to see something so … horrible,” Mom replied.
    The policeman didn’t seem to hear her. He stared at the wall, deep in his own thoughts.
    A heavy silence fell over the small office as I waited for him to say something. I took another sip of the warm water.
    What is he thinking? I wondered. What does he think happened?
    At least he believed my story, I thought with relief. At least he didn’t believe those stupid twins. He knows I’m not a murderer.
    Someone is .
    The thought forced its way into my mind, making me shudder.
    Someone is a murderer .
    Officer Reed cleared his throat. He leaned over the desk, elbows brushing stacks of paper aside.“So we have to ask ourselves about a motive,” he said. “Why did someone kill a teenage boy so brutally if not for money?”
    He tapped his stubby fingers on the desktop, staring hard at me the whole while. “Julie—any ideas? Do you know anyone who might not like Al? Anyone who might have something against him? Something serious against him?”
    â€œWell … ” I took a deep breath.
    What should I say? How honest should I be?
    Should I tell him how much we all hated Al? Should I tell him how Al bullied us and blackmailed us and threatened us?
    â€œI’ll need a list of his friends,” the police officer interrupted, frowning. “Do you know his friends? I believe you said he used to be part of your group?”
    I nodded. “But not this year,” I told him. “Al got some new friends. Guys we didn’t like. From Waynesbridge. Sort of tough kids. He—”
    â€œTough kids?” Officer Reed’s eyes suddenly flashed with interest. “He started hanging out with a group of tough kids? Do you know them, Julie? Do you think any of them might have a motive for killing Al?”
    â€œI—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t think—”
    He raised a big paw to quiet me. “Think hard. Take a deep breath. Think for a minute. Anything Al ever said to you about his friends? Any comment he made about someone being angry or annoyed at him?”
    â€œWe all were!” I blurted out.
    The words escaped my mouth in a rush. I hadn’tmeant to say them. They just exploded from me. I couldn’t hold them in any longer.
    I heard my mother gasp. The skate bag toppled from her lap.
    Officer Reed stopped drumming his fingers on the desk.
    â€œWe all hated Al!” I cried. Once the dam had burst, the words just kept flowing. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to.
    â€œAll of my friends hated him!” I told the startled policeman. “We all had reasons to hate him. All of us. Me too!”
    I took a deep breath. My heart pounded in my chest. “But we didn’t do it!” I cried. “My friends and I—we didn’t kill Al. We’re just teenagers. We’re not murderers!”
    That’s the truth, I told myself, watching Officer Reed’s surprised expression.
    We’re not murderers. We’re not.
    That’s the truth.
    Isn’t it?
    Isn’t it?

Chapter
    11

    T he weather was all wrong for Al’s funeral. Sunny and beautiful, with a warm spring breeze carrying the scent of cherry blossoms.
    My first funeral, I thought. It should be gloomy out, foggy with a cold drizzle of rain.
    Mom didn’t want me to go to the funeral. She was trying to protect me. I’m