We All Fall Down by Robert Cormier Read Free Book Online Page B

the guys—and Danny Davis in particular—looked sad. The Avenger arranged his face in what he considered a mournful expression. Although he hated doing this, he knew that he could not afford to stand out in the crowd, could not draw attention to himself.
    Vaughn’s parents walked down the aisle a moment before the coffin was wheeled in. The Avenger felt a tug of sympathy, picturing has own mother in church if he should die. In a way, The Avenger felt sorry for Vaughn’s parents as they sat down in the pew. Mr. Masterson’s hand trembled as he placed his arm around Mrs. Masterson’s shoulder. Chances were they did not know what a terrible person their son had been. No wonder they were sad. The Avenger realized he had done them a favor by killing him before he grew up to disgrace them. The Avenger was convinced that Vaughn Masterson would have grown up to be a terrible person.
    The minister began to speak like a teacher in school, speaking softly and slowly as if he was going to pass out atest at the end of the sermon. He spoke about eternity and goodness and living one’s life in the glow of the Lord. He spoke of the tragedy of an early death but the glory of going to the Lord without a tarnished soul.
    The Avenger barely listened as he kept his eye on the gleaming wood of Vaughn’s coffin. The minister said we should be thankful for Vaughn’s time with us on earth. The Avenger was also thankful for Vaughn Masterson. He had shown The Avenger how easy it was to get rid of someone who did not deserve to live. Easier than on television, where the murderers always got caught before the final commercial was shown.
Why had it been easy?
The Avenger frowned, seeking an answer as the minister droned on. Why hadn’t the police caught him? Two policemen had visited the school and talked to everyone. Asking questions. Had Vaughn been acting strange recently? Had anyone seen him with the gun?
    When his turn came, The Avenger had looked them straight in the eye and lied. No, he had not seen Vaughn Masterson after school on the day he died. He learned that it was easy to lie, easier than reciting lessons in class. In movies and TV, the guilty party always looked guilty, sweating, not looking anyone in the eye. But The Avenger answered their questions in his best helpful voice, like when he asked his mother if she wanted him to run an errand even when he did not feel like running an errand.
    As he yawned with boredom, trying to tune out the minister, The Avenger made a startling discovery. The discovery came when the minister said: “No one knows why Vaughn had to die that afternoon.” The words banged around in The Avenger’s head.
No one knows why. Why.
In other words, neither the police nor anyone else knew the reason for the killing, the motive. He seized on that word
motive.
He had heard that word a million times in moviesand television—
once we know the motive, we will find the killer—
but never realized its deep meaning until this moment. The motive is what links the killer with the victim. The motive is the arrow that points toward the killer. If the motive can’t be found, then the killer can’t be found. Simple. Terrific. That’s why they couldn’t connect anyone with Vaughn Masterson’s murder and why they did not even know that it
was
a murder.
    Remember that the next time, he told himself as the minister finally shut up and the organ boomed forth, the pews trembling with the vibrations.
    The Avenger found it hard not to smile and had to cover his mouth with his hands as everyone stood up to watch Vaughn Masterson’s coffin roll by.
    Buddy dreaded dinnertimes. That’s because his mother insisted that he and Addy show up at the table at six-fifteen on the dot: “The least we can do is get together once a day.”
    She was sleek and stylish, every hair in place, slim and elegant. When preparing meals in the kitchen or baking a cake, she never appeared disheveled, never a dab of flour on her face. Even her