Jasper Jones Read Online Free PDF Page B

did it herself. We just don’t know.”
    I nod absently, distantly. It’s too much for me to think about. I wonder how Jasper Jones remains so straight and level. How he can make these kinds of considerations, right here and now. I just follow him in a mute daze.
    I glance up and Jasper is looking at me. Patiently. The world is spinning.
    “You ready, Charlie?”
    I stare back blankly.
    Jasper Jones regards me for another moment. Then he tells me to wait where I’m standing, for which I’m relieved. My feet, my pansy sandals, are rooted to the earth.
    I watch Jasper walk toward the eucalypt. He ducks into the cavernous hollow at its base. As soon as he is out of my sight, I’m beset by anxiety. My arse tries to crawl into itself and my head is a white whorl. He emerges, holding a broad knife by the handle.
    I watch him fasten it to his long shorts through his belt loops. He is so close to Laura’s body, so close he could touch her, but he keeps his head bowed from it.
    Jasper begins climbing. In spite of my proximity to this scene, in spite of the cloying press of this little plot and its stifling air, I feel almost completely detached as I spectate. As though I’m watching a spider crawl a wall. Jasper grips and pulls himself up to the sturdy burr, and I’m thinking about Jeffrey Lu. I remember that tomorrow is the Test Match debut of his favorite cricketer, Doug Walters. I’ll wager that Jeffrey can barely sleep tonight with anticipation. I wonderif Doug Walters is as breathless and nervous as I am at the moment. I wonder if he can sleep tonight. I wonder if he’s ever seen a dead person.
    Jasper’s climb has slowed as he nears the branch. He’s shunting up by degrees. It’s true: it looks like a hard climb. You’d need to be strong and nimble.
    Looking at the stress and strain in Jasper’s arms and calves, I wonder how Jack Lionel could have done the same. It seems an unlikely feat. I wouldn’t ever make it anywhere near that branch, or even the burr, so how could an old man? But I don’t ask Jasper. I stand here and I wait.
    Nearing the wrinkled elbow of the branch, Jasper twists his body and hoists himself high, releasing his legs in an act of faith I could never summon. He looks fearless. Like a circus acrobat, practiced and sure. He swings, levering himself up and straddling the limb. He scoots his body toward the rope knot.
    My heart is rattling. And I’m suddenly a little less detached, unbearably anxious now as he reaches for that knife. I’m tired and on edge. I’m afraid and bestilled. I guess I feel everything at once: every bell is ringing. But I’m not thinking about Jeffrey anymore. And I’m not thinking about the Wisharts. My head is just that drumbeat pulse as I watch Jasper carefully saw at the thick tie that suspends Laura. I can hear my breathing. My fingers are in fists, but I can’t let them go.
    And it is sudden when she falls. Fast. Like a white kite spearing the ground, its tail lolling lazily behind. She folds and crumples. Like a doll. Like a bag of wet bones. With a soft, horrible thud when she meets the earth. A sound that reminds me that she’s just loose meat. And I guess I shouldn’t be, but I am shocked by her lifelessness. She looks so heavy. So helpless. My body is fizzing. It feels like there are ants crawling all over me. Jasper tosses the knife; its blade slots easily into the ground. He starts to slip back down the trunk.
    When he alights, he crouches and approaches her very cautiously. I have not moved. I hope he doesn’t wish me to.
    Jasper kneels. And he straightens her limbs tenderly, aligns her body. As though she’s just sleeping deeply and he’s being careful not to wake her. I think I see him brush her cheek with the back of his hand, but I can’t be sure. His movements are slow and deliberate. Respectful. I feel awkward, as though I am witnessing something very private. Like I’ve come creeping to Jasper’s bedroom window and I’m peering at