Johnny Angel Part 1

Johnny Angel.

by Danielle Steel.

To Nicky Angel, I will always love you, and you will always be with me, in my heart.

Mom.And to Julie, who was Nicky's angel, and mine.I know that they are together now, happy, laughing, full of love and mischief. How very, very much we will miss you both until we meet again.

with all my love, d.s.

Chapter 1.

The sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly on a hot June day in San Dimas, a somewhat distant suburb of L.A. The sophistication of Los Angeles and Hollywood seemed light-years from here. The city was just far enough so as to seem not to exist at all, and kids could still be kids on a warm summer day. School was drawing to a close before summer vacation, graduation was about to fall like a ripe plum into the seniors' hands, and the prom was only days away. brightly on a hot June day in San Dimas, a somewhat distant suburb of L.A. The sophistication of Los Angeles and Hollywood seemed light-years from here. The city was just far enough so as to seem not to exist at all, and kids could still be kids on a warm summer day. School was drawing to a close before summer vacation, graduation was about to fall like a ripe plum into the seniors' hands, and the prom was only days away.

Johnny Peterson was the valedictorian of the senior cla.s.s, and the star of both the track and the football teams for the past four years. He and Becky Adams had been going out for four years. They were standing on the school steps, talking to a group of friends, his tall lanky body swaying ever so slightly in her direction, as their eyes met from time to time. They shared the same barely guarded secret that many of the kids their age did. They were in love with each other, had been sleeping with each other for the past year, and had been seeing each other exclusively before that for all of their high school years. High school sweethearts, with vague but unspoken plans to wind up together one day. Johnny was about to turn eighteen in July, before starting college. Becky had turned eighteen in May.

His dark brown hair shone in the summer suns.h.i.+ne, with copper lights that seemed to be reflected in his dark brown eyes. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and athletic, had great teeth and a perfect smile. He looked the way every young man wished he could as a high school senior, but few do. But more than that, he was a terrific kid, and a nice guy. He had always been a good student, had lots of friends, and had two jobs when he wasn't playing sports and on weekends. His parents had very little money with three kids to support, and often just managed to get by. But they always did. He would have liked to play pro football and could have, but he had very sensibly decided to go to state college on a scholars.h.i.+p, and study accounting, so he could help his dad. His dad ran a small accounting firm, and had never much liked what he did. But Johnny didn't seem to mind it, and was a whiz in math. And his excellent computer skills were a huge help too. His mom had been a nurse and had retired years before, to take care of his younger brother and sister, which had turned out to be a full-time job, especially in the past five years. Charlotte, his little sister, had just turned fourteen and was starting high school in the fall. And Bobby, who was nine, was a special child.

Becky's family was not as orderly as Johnny's. She had four brothers and sisters, and their life had pretty much fallen apart two years before, when her dad died. He was a construction worker, and was killed in a freak accident. It left the family financially desperate and stunned. Becky had two jobs after school, and worked hard. They needed every penny she and her oldest brother could earn. And unlike Johnny, her scholars.h.i.+p hadn't come through. She was going to work full time at the drugstore all year, and try again for a scholars.h.i.+p next year. And she didn't really mind. She wasn't the student Johnny was, and she was relieved to have a break from school. She liked working, loved her two sisters and two brothers, and was happy to help her mom in whatever way she could. They had gotten pitifully little money from her dad's insurance, and things had been tough for a long time. Johnny was the sweet spot in her life.

Her hair was as fair as his was dark, her eyes as blue as the summer sky. She was a pretty girl, and she loved him.

She worried a little about his going to college and meeting other girls, but she knew he loved her. Everyone in their cla.s.s said they were the perfect couple, they were always together, always laughing, talking, joking, happy, and they never seemed to fight. As much as they were boyfriend and girlfriend, they were also best friends. And because of that, Becky had fewer friends than she might have otherwise. She and Johnny spent every minute together they could. They went to cla.s.s together, and saw each other at night, whenever possible, after sports, homework, and jobs. And they were both so conscientious, their parents no longer complained about how much they saw each other. They were rarely apart.

And as they stood at the center of a cl.u.s.ter of high school seniors, everyone was talking about graduation and prom. They had kept it a secret between them, but Johnny had paid for her dress. Without his help, she couldn't have gone. And she smiled up at him now, four years of love and confidences and secrets between them, and her eyes seemed to light up like fireworks when she looked at him.

"I've got to get going, you guys. I have to get to work," Johnny said, smiling at his friends. He worked at a nearby lumber company, taking inventory, sorting stock, and sawing wood. And he made good money for hard work. Becky was already working at the drugstore job that was about to become full time for her, and had just given up her second job waitressing in a coffee shop near school. It was going to be a lot easier for her now working in just one place. Johnny worked for his father on weekends, and the lumber supply company after practice and games. He was going to work for them full time all summer, to make as much money as he could before school. "Come on, Becky," he tugged at her arm, to pull her away from the girls who were still talking about what they were wearing to the prom that was two days away. For most of them, it was the end of an era, the culmination of a dream. And it was for Becky and Johnny too. But they had had none of the stress and panic of some of the others, wondering who to take as their dates. Their relations.h.i.+p gave them both confidence, and an Becky finally managed to tear herself away from their friends, and tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder as she followed Johnny to his car. He was carrying both their backpacks, and threw them easily into the backseat as he glanced at his watch. "Do you want to pick up the kids?" He tried to do that with her as often as he could. He was one of those people who enjoyed helping people out, and often did.

"Do you have time?" she asked comfortably. In some ways, they already seemed married, and in their heart of hearts they knew that they would be one day. It was another of the unspoken secrets they shared. They were so close, had grown up together, and sometimes it seemed like they didn't even need words.

"Sure, I've got time," he smiled at her, as she slid into her seat, and turned on the radio. They liked the same music, the same people, the same food. She loved watching him play football, he loved dancing with her, and talking to her for hours on the phone, after work. Most nights, he dropped by her house on his way home. And then he'd call her when he finished his homework. His mother said they were like Siamese twins.

The school where her younger siblings went was only four blocks away, and all four of them were hanging out in the schoolyard when they got there and Becky waved. The four Adams kids came thundering toward them, and as Becky leaned forward to let them in, they piled unceremoniously into the back of the car.

"Hi, Johnny," both boys said in unison, and Peter, the oldest one, at twelve, thanked him for the ride. They were nice, wholesome kids. Mark was eleven, Rachel was ten, and Sandi was seven. Theirs was a noisy, loving, lively house, and two years after he had died, they all still missed their dad. All their mom had done in the past two years was chase after them, and work too hard. She looked ten years older than she had when Mike had died. And although her friends kept telling her she should start dating, she just looked at them as though they were crazy, and told them she had no time. But it was more than that, and Becky knew it. Her mom had never loved anyone except her dad, and couldn't bear the thought of going out with another man. They had been high school sweethearts too.

Johnny dropped off Becky and the kids, she kissed him lightly before she got out, and he waved at all of them as he drove away. And as he disappeared down the street at full speed, she shepherded the others into the house, and helped them to get snacks and drinks, before leaving for work. She knew her mom would be home from her job in two hours. She ran the local beauty school. She was a pretty woman, life just hadn't turned out the way she'd dreamed. She had never expected to wind up alone at forty, with five kids.

Johnny was back at Becky's front door again four hours later, looking tired and happy. He stayed long enough to eat a sandwich with her at the kitchen table, chat with her mom, tease the kids, and head home by nine-thirty. His days were long and full.

"I can't believe it's almost graduation, seems like just last year you two were about five years old and going trick-or-treating together." Pam Adams shook her head and smiled as she watched Johnny unwind his long frame from the kitchen chair. He had played basketball in his freshman year, and been good at it, but eventually football and track had taken up all his time. Pam looked at Johnny gratefully, he was such a nice kid. She hoped he and Becky would get married one day, and that he would live a longer life than her husband had. But the years she'd shared with Mike had been so very good, she didn't regret an instant of them, just the fact that he was gone. "Thank you for getting Becky's dress for her," she said softly. She was the only one who knew. He hadn't even told his mom and dad.

"It looks great on her," Johnny said easily, slightly embarra.s.sed by the look of grat.i.tude in her mother's eyes. "We'll have a good time." He had ordered a corsage for her too.

"I hope so. Becky's dad and I got engaged at senior prom." She said it nostalgically, but it wasn't a hint to him. It was pretty obvious that they were heading that way too, with or without a ring.

"See you tomorrow," Johnny said as he left, and Becky followed him outside. They stood next to his car for a few minutes, chatting, and he took her in his arms and they kissed. It was a kiss filled with pa.s.sion, emotion, all the feelings they shared, and the energy of youth, and she was breathless when they stopped.

"You'd better go before I drag you into the bushes, Johnny Peterson," she said with a giggle, and the smile that still tore his heart out after all these years.

"That sounds pretty good. Your mom might get a little upset," he teased. None of their parents knew, or so they thought, how far things had gone, although unbeknownst to them, both their mothers were well aware of it. Pam had had a talk with Becky once, and urged her to be careful. But they both were. They were both sensible kids and, so far at least, had had no slip-ups and no scares. Becky had no intention of getting pregnant before they got married, and that was still years away. Johnny had to finish school, and so did she, and she wasn't even starting for another year. They were in no hurry, they had all the time in the world. "I'll call you later," he promised, as he got into his car. He knew his mother would be waiting for him, most likely with something to eat, even though he'd eaten at Becky's house. And with no homework to do, he might spend some time with the kids and his dad. Depending on how things were when he got home.

He lived only two miles from Becky's house, and he was home five minutes later. He parked in the driveway behind his dad's car, and as he walked through the backyard he saw his younger sister Charlotte shooting baskets by herself, the way he used to do. She looked just like their mother, and a little like Becky, with big blue eyes and long blond hair. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, and her legs were nearly as long as his. She was tall for her age, and beautiful, but she didn't really care. The only thing that interested Charlotte was sports. She ate, slept, dreamed, and talked about nothing but baseball in the summer, football and basketball in the winter, and she played on every team she could. She was the most perfect all-around athlete, male or female, Johnny had ever known.

"Hi Charlie, how's it going?" he said, as he caught the ball she tossed at him. It always made him smile because she threw like a guy. She had a remarkable talent for sports.

"Okay," she glanced over her shoulder at him after he threw the ball back to her, and she sank another basket. And he could see, when she looked at him, that her eyes were sad.

"What's up?" He put an arm around her, and she stopped for a minute, and leaned against him. He could feel the sadness emanating through her. In the last few years, she seemed older than she was, in part because she was tall. But she was also wise beyond her years.

"Nothing."

"Is Dad home?" But he knew he was, by the car. Johnny knew what was bothering her. It wasn't new to either of them, but it still hurt, after all these years.

"Yeah." She nodded, and then started to dribble the ball, as Johnny watched her for a minute, and then grabbed the ball from her. They played together for a few minutes, taking turns sinking baskets, and it struck him again how good she was. It was a shame in some ways that she wasn't a boy. And he knew she thought so too. She had gone to almost every game he'd played through all his high school years, and rooted pa.s.sionately for him. Johnny was exactly who she wished she could be. He was her hero, more than anyone on earth.

It was a full ten minutes later when he finally left her, and went inside. His mother was standing in the kitchen, drying dishes, while his little brother Bobby watched her from the kitchen table, and his father was in the living room, watching TV.

"Hi, Mom," he said, planting a kiss somewhere on the top of her head, as she smiled. Alice Peterson was crazy about her kids, and always had been. The happiest day in her life was when Johnny was born. And she still felt that way when she looked at him now.

"Hi, sweetheart, how was your day?" Her eyes lit up when she saw him, as they did every night. She had always had a special bond with him.

"Pretty good. Graduation's on Monday, and the prom is in two days." She laughed at what he said, as Bobby watched.

"No kidding. Did you think I forgot? How's Becky?" Both kids had talked of nothing else for months.

"Good." And then he turned his attention to Bobby, who smiled as his big brother approached. "Hi, kiddo, good day?" Bobby said nothing, but the smile broadened as Johnny tousled his hair.

Johnny had long-running conversations with him, told him everything he did every day, and inquired about his little brother's day. But Bobby never spoke, hadn't in five years, since he was four. He had had an accident with his father, when their father drove his car off a bridge into the river. They had both nearly drowned, and a pa.s.serby had saved Bobby's life. He had been on life support for two weeks, and he had survived it, but he never spoke again. No one had been able to figure out since then if it was brain damage from being submerged for too long, or trauma. But no amount of specialists, therapy, or treatments had changed anything. Bobby was alert, aware, and carefully observed everything around him, but he did not speak. He was in a special school for the handicapped, and he partic.i.p.ated in some things, but he lived in a world that was airtight now, and completely sealed. He could write, but never communicated in writing either. He just copied the words and letters other people wrote. He did not answer questions, verbally or in writing. He did not volunteer anything. It was as though Bobby had nothing left to say. And ever since the accident, what had once been a tendency for their father to drink a little too much at parties had become a nightly anesthesia, so he wouldn't have to think. He never fell down, he never got sloppy, he wasn't aggressive or violent. He just sat down in front of the TV and got quietly drunk every night, and it was no mystery why. It was just the way things were, and had been for five years.

None of them ever spoke about it. Alice had tried talking to him about it at first, and she had thought he'd get over it, just as Bobby would get over his silence. But neither of them had. And in their own way, they were both locked into their own worlds. Bobby into his silent bubble, and Jim into his beer. It was hard on all of them, but they all understood by now, and accepted, that it wasn't going to change. She had suggested AA to him several times, and he just brushed her off. He refused to discuss his drinking with her or anyone else. He didn't even acknowledge that he drank.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" his mom asked him. "I saved dinner for you."

"I'm okay. I had a sandwich at the Adamses'," he said, gently touching Bobby's cheek. Touching him seemed like the best way of communicating with him sometimes, and Johnny felt closer than ever to him. They had a bond that was unbreakable, and Bobby just followed him around sometimes, in his familiar silence, with huge, loving blue eyes.

"I wish you'd wait and eat here once in a while," his mother said. "How about dessert? We had apple pie." It was his favorite, and she made it for him as often as she could.

"That sounds good." He didn't want to hurt her feelings. Sometimes he ate two full dinners, one at Becky's house, and one at home, just to please her. Johnny was crazy about her, and she about him. They were more than just mother and son. They were friends.

She sat down at the kitchen table with him while he ate his pie, and Bobby watched him. Johnny and his mom chatted about what was going on, Charlotte's home runs that afternoon, and the prom. He was going to pick up his rented tux the next day. She could hardly wait to see him in it, and had bought some film that day so she could take his picture, and she offered to buy Becky a corsage.

"I already ordered one," he smiled at his mother, "but thanks anyway." And then he said he had to work on his graduation speech. As valedictorian, he had to make the opening speech. And she was unreservedly proud of him, as she had been all his life.

He stopped in the living room for a minute on his way upstairs. The TV was blaring, and his father was sound asleep. It was a familiar scene. Johnny turned off the television, and went quietly upstairs, sat down at his desk, and looked at what he'd already written. He was still poring over it, when the door to his room opened and closed silently, and he saw Bobby sit down on his bed.

"I'm working on a speech," Johnny explained, "for graduation. It's in four days." Bobby said nothing, and Johnny went back to his work. He was comfortable with Bobby just sitting in his room, and Bobby seemed happy to be there. Eventually, Bobby lay down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. At times like that, it was hard not to wonder what was on his mind, if he still remembered the accident and thought about it. If his not speaking had been a decision, or something he couldn't help. There was no way to know.

The accident had taken a toll on all of them in the past five years. In some ways, they all worked harder, like he and Charlotte, to be even more than they might have been otherwise, to make up for the grief they had all shared. And in other ways, they had given up, like their father, who hated his job, hated his life, drank himself into a stupor every night, and was consumed with guilt. And Johnny knew that in her own way, their mother had given up too. She had given up the hope of Bobby ever speaking again, or Jim forgiving himself for what he'd done. She had never gotten angry at him, never accused him of being careless. He had had a few beers under his belt when he drove off the bridge. But she didn't have to accuse him of anything. Jim Peterson hated himself for what he'd done. It was one of those tragedies that could not be reversed. But they had all lived past it, they had gone on. Things were different than they had been, always would be now. It was just the way things were.

Johnny worked on his speech for another half hour, and seemed satisfied with what he'd done, when he went to lie down next to Bobby on the bed. The child lay peacefully beside him, in silence, as Johnny held his hand. It was as though the words he wanted to share with him, and the feelings, pa.s.sed through their fingers. What they felt for each other transcended words and sounds. They didn't need to say anything.

They lay that way for a long time, until their mother came upstairs to find Bobby, and told him he had to go to bed. He didn't nod, and his eyes said nothing at all, but he got up slowly, and looked at Johnny, and then walked quietly back to his own room, as his mother followed to put him to bed. She hadn't left him for a single day since the accident. She was always there for him. She never left him with sitters, never went anywhere. Her whole life revolved around him. And the others understood. It was her gift to him.

It was eleven o'clock when Johnny finally called Becky, and she answered the phone on the second ring. Her mother and the other kids had already gone to bed, but she always waited up for Johnny's call, and he never failed to call her. They liked talking to each other at day's end. And every morning, he picked her and the other kids up on the way to school. His days began and ended with her.

"Hi, baby. How's it going?" He smiled whenever he spoke to her.

"Okay. Mom's in bed. I was just looking at my dress." He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made him happy for her. It was a beautiful dress, and she looked fantastic in it. She was a spectacular-looking girl, and he felt lucky that she was his.

"You're going to be the prettiest girl there," he said, and meant every word of it.

"Thanks. How are things at your house?" She worried about him, she knew about the problem with his father. Everyone did. He had been drinking for years. And she felt sorry for Bobby too. He was such a cute kid. She liked Charlotte too, she was such a tomboy, but she was a lot like Johnny. She was really smart, and very kind, like their mom. It was a lot harder to get to know their dad.

"Same as always. Dad's pa.s.sed out in front of the TV, and Charlie looks kind of sad. She always wants him to come to her games, and he never does. Mom said she hit two home runs today, but it's like it doesn't matter to her unless Dad knows. He always used to come to my games, but I guess he thinks it's not the same with girls. People can be so dumb sometimes." It made him sad that he couldn't change it for her. He had tried talking to his father about it, but it was as though he didn't hear or care. So Johnny usually went to Charlie's games when he could. "I finished my speech. I hope it goes okay."

"It'll be great, you know that. I'm going to be so proud of you," she said, and meant it. They gave each other the support and comfort they each needed, and that their parents no longer had time for. There had been enough sorrow in both houses to keep both their mothers busy and distracted. It was part of the bond that cemented Becky and Johnny to each other. In some ways, they each were all they had, despite brothers and sisters and parents, and friends. They gave each other something no one else did.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart." There was nothing much to say, they just liked to hear each other's voice before they went to bed.

"I love you, Johnny," she said softly, sitting at the kitchen phone in her nightgown, thinking of him.

"I love you too, baby. Sleep tight." They hung up, and Johnny walked slowly up the stairs to his room in the silent house.

Chapter 2.

"Wow! You look gorgeous!" Alice Peterson beamed at her elder son as he came down the stairs from his bedroom in his rented tux. He looked tall and dark and handsome, in a pleated white s.h.i.+rt, a dinner jacket that fit him exceptionally well, and he had a white rose pinned to his lapel. "You look like a movie star," and although she didn't say it to him, he looked like he was getting married. He was a strikingly handsome young man. Alice Peterson beamed at her elder son as he came down the stairs from his bedroom in his rented tux. He looked tall and dark and handsome, in a pleated white s.h.i.+rt, a dinner jacket that fit him exceptionally well, and he had a white rose pinned to his lapel. "You look like a movie star," and although she didn't say it to him, he looked like he was getting married. He was a strikingly handsome young man.

He went to take his corsage of white roses for Becky out of the refrigerator, and stood in the hall holding the clear plastic box, as Charlotte bounced down the stairs and stopped with a wide grin on her face. As usual, she had a basketball in her hands.

"How do you think your brother looks?" their mother asked with a look of pride, as her daughter guffawed.

"Like a dork," she said unceremoniously, and Johnny laughed.

"Thanks, sis. You'll look just as dorky one of these days when you go to the senior prom. I can't wait! You'll probably take a basketball with you, or wear your baseball mitt. You might even go in cleats if nothing's changed by then."

"Yeah, I might," she grinned broadly at him, and then conceded sheepishly, "I guess you look okay." And like her mother, she looked proud of him.

"He looks a lot better than okay," their mother said, standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss, as Bobby wandered in from the kitchen and stared. Their mother snapped two quick pictures of Johnny before he could object.

"How do I look to you, champ?" Johnny addressed him without waiting for a response, as Bobby watched the scene with interest. Their father hadn't come home yet. "I'd better go pick Becky up, or we'll be late," he said, walking toward the door as his mother and sister watched him admiringly, and he turned to give them a last wave. And a moment later, they heard him drive away.

Becky was waiting for him on her front porch, in the white satin strapless dress he'd bought for her. It molded her figure perfectly, without being too tight, and she looked like a fairy princess, one of her sisters had said. She was wearing her long blond hair in a French twist, and the pair of white satin high-heeled pumps she had bought herself. Johnny pinned the white rose corsage on her, and she smiled up at him adoringly. He bent to kiss her then, and her brothers, standing nearby, hooted and jeered, as her mother came out from the kitchen to smile at them.

"You both look like you belong in a magazine," Pam Adams said with a loving grin. Becky looked prettier than ever that night, and Johnny looked more than his nearly eighteen years. "Have a good time, kids. This is your one and only senior prom. One day it'll be an important memory ... enjoy every minute of it, and make it a night you'll never forget." Every moment seemed precious to her now. She had learned irrevocably that in the end, memories were all you had.

"We will, Mom," Becky said, and kissed her on the cheek as she left.

"Drive carefully," she admonished them, and Johnny promised her that he would, as he always did. He was sensible and responsible, and she had never worried about him, it was just something she said.

They met half a dozen of their friends at a nearby restaurant, everyone was in great spirits, and all the girls admired each other's dresses. They were all wearing corsages like hers, and the boys were all wearing roses on their lapels. They looked young and happy and excited, and when they left for the prom at eight-fifteen, they were all in a good mood. One of the other couples had decided to ride with them, having gotten a ride to the restaurant with someone else. And by nine o'clock they were at the dance.

It was a fun night for all of them. There was a live band, for most of the night, and one of the seniors acted as deejay between sets. The music was good, the food was plentiful, and only a few of their friends sneaked in booze and beer. Most of the students were content to stay sober for the night. It was an exciting night for everyone, the usual romances seemed to thrive, there were a few minor arguments, and only one fight broke out between two troublemakers, but it was quickly squelched. It was a night without mishap or event, and at midnight, when the dance ended, everyone stood outside, deciding where to go next. There was an all-night diner nearby where they all liked to go for hamburgers, and some of the boys decided to go to a local bar and try out their fake IDs.

Johnny and Becky had danced most of the night, talked to friends, said h.e.l.lo to almost everyone, and by the end of the night, they were ready to go to Joe's Diner for hamburgers and shakes, with a large group of their friends. They offered a ride to the same couple that had come with them, and at twelve-thirty they were driving away from the school, when a car full of guys from the football team sped by in a convertible and blew kisses at the girls. They honked their horn frantically, and shouted at Johnny, asking if he wanted to race, and he shook his head with a grin. He didn't like playing games like that, particularly on a night like tonight, and with two girls in the car. And as he honked his horn good-naturedly at them, they flew by in the convertible, and careened off at the next intersection, heading for the only bar in town that turned a blind eye to serving kids.

Becky and the other girl were talking and laughing, and gossiping about their friends, when they reached the next intersection, and Johnny drove sedately into it when the light changed. He was telling the boy in the backseat a story about one of the guys on the football team when he saw something flash out of the corner of his eye, and heard a sudden blaring of horns and screeching of tires, and as he looked toward it, he saw the same convertible heading toward him, coming back the way they had come only a few minutes before. They were going nearly eighty miles an hour, and screaming wildly as they roared past the other cars, and Johnny stepped hard on the brake. But he suddenly realized, as he did, that he couldn't stop in time, and he turned sharply to avoid the speeding car, heading into the traffic coming the other way as Becky screamed.

What happened after that was a blur for all of them. There was a sudden crash, and a huge impact followed by an explosion of gla.s.s and the sound of grinding steel. One of the girls said later that it felt like they'd hit a wall. They were instantly surrounded by honking, spinning, veering cars, as the convertible stopped in the midst of the melee. The boys in it flew high and wide, only the driver was left in the car, as the others landed on top of other cars and on the street, and Johnny's car spun like a top. He had done everything he could to stop it, and it only came to rest finally pinned between the divider and a pa.s.sing truck, and when it stopped, there was silence everywhere. A witness said later that Becky's dress was covered with blood, the winds.h.i.+eld looked like crumpled cellophane, and there was soft moaning from the backseat. Becky was unconscious, and Johnny's head was bent over the steering wheel.

They had all had their seatbelts on, and there was no sound for what seemed like an eternity, until finally a man with a flashlight came and peered into the car, and as he shone the light on them, he could hear crying from the backseat. He could hear the sound of ambulances in the distance by then, and he was afraid to touch anyone. He just backed away, as he watched people slowly climbing out of cars, there were already half a dozen people sitting by the side of the road, looking bloodstained and dazed. Five cars and a truck had been involved in the accident, and someone said the truck driver was dead, but as the paramedics got out of the ambulance, he couldn't tell them much else.

"There are a bunch of kids hurt in the car over there," he said, pointing at Johnny's car, "but I heard someone cry ... I think they're okay," he said, as he got back in his car, and the paramedics hurried toward Johnny's car as two more ambulances arrived on the scene with a fire rescue team. Soon there were flas.h.i.+ng lights and paramedics everywhere, checking cars, applying bandages, helping people out of cars. Within minutes, there were four bodies lying on the side of the road with tarps on them, among them the truck driver, as one of the paramedics helped Becky out of the front seat of the car, looking dazed with a gash on the side of her face that was still dripping blood on her dress, and another paramedic gently moved Johnny away from the steering wheel and felt for a pulse, and the couple in the backseat got out on Becky's side, they were both shaken up but appeared to be unhurt. The paramedic shone a light into Johnny's eyes as the other three were led away, and then he felt for a pulse again. He looked into the face of the handsome boy in the tux, there was a huge b.u.mp on his head, and he knew instantly that he had broken his neck as he laid his head gently back against the seat, and signaled to one of the firemen, who rushed over to help.

"The kid in the driver's seat is dead," he said quietly, so the others wouldn't hear, and then he signaled for a gurney to come and take him away. They slipped him out of the car, and covered him, and Becky turned just as they were taking him away.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing that?" she screamed at them. "Take that thing off his face!" She ran toward them, still dripping blood everywhere in her ruined dress. The whole top of it was now red. And she ran toward Johnny's lifeless form and tried to grab at the tarp covering him, but one of the paramedics pulled her away. She fought him valiantly as he held her in his arms, and she sobbed.

"Come on over here," he said quietly, "you're all right... come and sit down.... We have to take you to the hospital," he said, holding her firmly by the arms, but she was hysterical. She was sobbing and clawing at him, and trying desperately to get away. "I have to go to Johnny ... I have to ... I have to ..." She was gasping for air, and choking on sobs, as one of the firemen comforted her and held her in his arms. "That's Johnny ... he can't be ... he can't... oh G.o.d ... no ..." She sank slowly toward the pavement again, and the fireman picked her up easily and deposited her in an ambulance, and a moment later, they sped away.

It took two hours to clear the scene, get everyone to nearby emergency rooms, or on their way home. Parents were called, kids were given rides by police officers, and all five of the bodies were sent to the morgue. And three police officers and a highway patrolman divided up the list of addresses where they had to go, to break the news. The truck driver was from out of state, and all they had to do was notify the trucking firm, and they would take care of the rest.

The officer who went to Johnny's address knew who he was, and had a daughter in Charlotte's cla.s.s. He had done painful tasks like this before, and he was dreading what he would see on the boy's mother's face. He knew what a great kid Johnny was. He rang the bell at three A.M. A.M., and he had to ring it again. Jim Peterson finally came to the door, in his pajamas, and Alice was standing behind him in an old dressing gown. They looked frightened as soon as they saw a policeman at the door.

"Is something wrong, Officer?" They had never had a problem with Johnny, and it seemed hard to imagine that he had been arrested now. They wondered if he'd been caught speeding, or had been arrested for being drunk. But any of those possibilities seemed impossible to believe.

"I'm afraid so," he said, addressing them both. "May I come in?" he asked cautiously as they stood aside, and he walked into their living room, and stood there looking grim. "There's been an accident," he said as Alice caught her breath, and her hand went instinctively to Jim's arm and grabbed at him. "Your son John has been killed. I'm sorry, ma'am ... Mr. Peterson ... it was a six-vehicle collision, and there were a number of fatalities, I'm just so sorry that one of them was your son."

"Oh my G.o.d ..." Alice said, feeling a rush of panic wash over her like a tidal wave, still trying to sort out the words, "oh my G.o.d ... no ... that can't be ... are you sure there isn't some mistake?" Jim hadn't said a word so far, but there were tears running down his face.

"Another car hit them and forced them between the divider and a truck. I don't think there was anything your son could have done to avoid the accident. It's a terrible thing when we lose young people like that. I know how you must feel." Alice wanted to say that there was no way he could know, but she couldn't speak. Her mind was whirling incoherently, and she felt faint, as the officer helped her to a seat. "Would you like a gla.s.s of water, ma'am?" She shook her head silently as tears streamed down her face.

"Where is he now?" she finally managed to croak out, thinking of him lying by the side of the road somewhere, or in his car. She wanted to hold him in her arms, or die with him. She couldn't even think.