Brutal (20 page)

He looked away. “Listen, Poe. You're upset. I would be upset, too. But you know what? You walk around acting like you're the only one dealing with crap, but you're not.” He stopped, searching my face.

“You have no right to judge.”

He smirked, unforgiving. He simply wouldn't feel sorry for me. “Come on. You know that's the biggest lump of
politically correct horse crap there is. I do judge you. And your mom. And your dad. And everybody. We all do.” He exhaled, frustrated, knowing I was mad at him. “Listen. Your mom was wrong to do what she did and your dad was wrong to roll over and walk out of your life and the school is wrong and so is Colby Morris and so is Velveeta for getting back at him with the car-bashing thing. But you know what that means? It means the world is never going to be perfect for you, and if you expect to force it to be, you're wrong, too.”

“So then I should just not care?”

“If that's what floats your boat, sure.” He laughed. “You know what my dad hates more than meat loaf?”

“What?”

“Politicians.”

“Then why is he one?”

He nodded. “Exactly my point.”

The question played over and over in my mind as I walked
home, and I couldn't come up with anything. What should I do? I wished I could separate all the things going on in my life, but I couldn't. My mom and her way of leaving a path of destruction behind her when the world wasn't right, my dad either running away or just going with the flow of everything.

Then there was Velveeta, his busted-up face, and how far Colby might go. The stinking school and their rules, I thought. How could my dad be a part of something so wrong? How could I try to do something right and have everything go so wrong?

Everything whirled through me like a plague of locusts, eating me alive from a thousand different places. I felt like running. I wanted to just go away, but I didn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't crawl from my skin and be somebody else.

If this was growing up, I didn't want to. They could take this world and stuff it. Then I thought about Theo's dad. The politician. The man who hated what he was. The guy
who played the game to change the game. I wanted to think my dad was that way but he wasn't. Not really. He didn't stand for much of anything. He never had.

The entryway light was on when I got home, but otherwise, all was dark. I padded to Dad's study, saw light coming from underneath the door, and knocked. “Come in.”

He sat behind his computer, the glow from the screen casting his face in opaque light, and he nodded. I stepped inside. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Busy?”

“No. What's on your mind?”

I studied his face for a moment. “She called you, didn't she?”

He nodded.

“Was she pissed?”

“No. We talked.”

The silence in the room was cut by the fan on his computer kicking on. My mom couldn't “talk” about anything. And I knew my dad well enough that he'd just sit there and listen to what the master plan would be. The lamp and the dictator. It made me sick. And I also knew that just like everything else in his life, when my mom got home, he'd just let me go again. See ya, Poe.

They were a pair, all right. I looked at him in the dim light, and Velveeta came to my mind. My dad and his school were doing the same thing to Vel that he'd done to me. Just walk away from it. Ignore it with pretty and soothing words that don't mean a fucking thing. I had nothing to say to him, and as I turned away, he cleared his throat. “You okay, Poe?”

I turned back. “No.”

“I need to see Detective Worthy, please.”

The woman behind the counter looked at me, took in the Mohawk, furrowed her brow, and nodded. “Just one moment. I'll see if he's in.”

I took a breath, looking around the school district offices where the detective worked from, then sat in a waiting chair next to the coffee machine. The woman picked up the phone, pushed a button, spoke a few words, then hung up. She looked at me. “He'll be out shortly.” She didn't look away. “Shouldn't you be in school?”

“Yes,” I said, the irony of sitting in the district office while I skipped school not lost on me. Sort of like a wanted criminal hanging out at the police station.

She stared, waiting for an explanation of why I would be skipping school, and when she didn't get one, she frowned and went back to whatever work a person like her did.

Detective Worthy came out a few minutes later. He was wearing the same tie as the day he'd told me nothing could be done about Colby Morris. He stopped short, looking at me. “Ms. Holly”—he nodded—”follow me.”

I did, and he wound his way back through cubicles, finally coming to an office with his name on the door. He opened it, gesturing me inside. He strode past me, taking a seat behind his desk. I sat in one of the two chairs facing him. The look in his eyes told me there was no love lost. He didn't like me, and I didn't blame him, but I also knew that any apology I gave him wouldn't matter. Detective Worthy was just like Mom. Prove it, don't say it.

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm here about Colby Morris.”

His eyes hardened. “Ms. Holly, I've already told you—”

I shook my head. “I understand, Detective. And I'm not here to argue with you, either.”

“Then what do you want?”

I took the surveillance records of Colby and Velveeta being in the bathroom at the same time, and I set them on his desk. “These records prove that Colby Morris, along with half the football team, was in the bathroom when Velveeta was beaten.”

He didn't even look at them. “I'm aware of those rec ords, Ms. Holly, and have looked at them. But unfortunately, it only proves that his ID card was in there. Not him. And even if he was in there, I can't prove he was the perpetrator.”

“I know. And I also know that if Velveeta had been the one beating the heck out of Colby, somehow people in this town, especially Colby's dad, would see these rec ords differently.”

He sat back, crossing his arms. “The law is the law, Ms. Holly.”

I thought of my dad.
I'm trying, here. I am.
I swallowed my anger, taking a moment, then thought about Theo's dad playing the game. I finally understood. I had to find out where this guy stood. Or who he stood with. Then I had to figure out what turned his crank. “What if you had evidence? Would Colby's dad order you to shut up about that, too?”

His eyes flared, and his jaw set. “Colby's father doesn't pull my strings. Nobody does.”

I had my answer. The flash in his eyes told me volumes. I would have bet my South American-loving mother that it even went beyond my questioning his integrity. This guy
didn't like Colby's dad.
I backed off. “I know. And I'm not blaming you. It's just frustrating.” I paused. “Other than Velveeta telling you who did it, what would work?”

He smiled. “If Colby Morris walked in here and confessed, the district attorney would be hard-pressed to ignore it.”

“But that's not going to happen, right?”

He chuckled. “Don't hold your breath.”

“Colby is after him again.”

“I'm aware of the rumors.”

That surprised me. He was sharp. “You know what people do when they think they're untouchable, Detective?”

He took a moment. “Yes, I do, Poe.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

He pulled out a business card. “Listen, Poe, I know how these things usually work. If you hear anything at all, call me.” He held the card out to me.

I took it, then stood. “Okay.” I tucked the card in my pocket, and as I walked from the building, I knew what I had to do.

“Heard anything?” I said.

Theo nodded. “Not a good situation,” he said, walking through the student parking lot with me after school. I'd skipped the rest of the day, taking care of a few things before meeting up with him, and the town was readying itself for the Night of Stars picnic deal later.

“Why? What's happening?”

He stopped, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It's what
isn't
happening.”

“Enough with the cloak-and-dagger stuff, Theo. Tell me.”

“Nobody's talking, which means trouble. Not even the team is blowing about it, and they usually can't keep their mouths shut about anything. Weird, because yesterday guys were taking bets in the cafeteria on how many bones would be broken after Colby caught up with Velveeta. Five seemed to be a favorite.”

“Was Vel in class today?”

He nodded, walking on. “Yeah. But it was funny, because he seemed… normal. At least for somebody looking down the black chasm of death.”

I shook my head. “Ever the optimist.”

“Yep.” A moment passed. “You are going to the gala event with me this evening, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do I have to?”

He smiled. “Yes. You can't leave me hanging out all by myself.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” He stopped, looking across the parking lot. Colby Morris stood at his car with Ron Jameson, plucking a white square of paper from his newly replaced windshield. He opened it, read something, then handed it to Ron, who laughed, then gave Colby a high five. Theo smirked. “Something is going on.”

I stared. “Looks like.”

Twelve picnic tables lined up in a row spilled over with potluck
food, and Benders High streamers fluttering from tree branches and lampposts celebrated the students who mattered in this place. I couldn't help but want to rip them down. Everybody in this town was ridiculous.

Carnival-like stands dotted the park here and there, with children getting their faces painted, fishing for plastic ducks, bobbing for apples, tossing water balloons to slam-dunk teachers into a pool. Gaggles of women stood around gossiping, and groups of men with championship rings on their fingers and beers in their hands talked about games gone by and what was wrong with the world today.

At the far end of the green expanse, a stage, backlit with the setting sun, took center to the park. Several guys strung cables and set up instruments, and a woman on a microphone incessantly cackled, “Testing, testing, one, two, three.” The whole scene made me want to hang myself from the nearest tree and stretch my neck. All this for less than five percent of the student body.

I walked past the tables and made my way through
the crowd, looking for Theo and keeping an eye out for Colby, and glanced at the digital bank clock across the street. Six-thirty The one good thing about wearing a spiked Mohawk and enough eyeliner to black out New York City was that when people saw you, they generally got out of your way. I was like a cloud of noxious gas wafting through the celebration.

To the right of the stage, cars jammed the parking lot, and a few people, potluck trays in hand, moved toward the park. I spotted Colby's car at the far end of the lot, the windows replaced but dents still checkering the body. No Colby.

“Hey, girl.”

I turned, hitching my backpack higher on my shoulder, and Theo stood at the parking lot curb, holding a tray of food. His father followed, balancing a tray in each hand. Mrs. Dorr was next, wearing a huge floppy summer hat and carrying matching bags full of plates and forks and napkins. I smiled at Mr. Dorr as he gave me a shamed look and passed, Mrs. Dorr hollering after him to put the trays at the right table. Her ever-present smile widened as she swept past me. “Lovely hair, Poe, lovely.”

I blinked, and Theo laughed as we watched her bustle over to Mr. Dorr. “This is her main event of the year. Just don't get in the way.”

I laughed, too, peeking at his Saran Wrap-covered tray. “Looks good.”

He screwed his eyes up. “Salmon pâté with arugula? You're kidding, right?”

“I love salmon.”

“Fish killer,” he said as we walked to the table, where
Mrs. Dorr was carefully placing colored umbrella toothpicks in each of some sort of gourmet mini-meatballs. She took the tray from him and busied herself once again, muttering about the horrendous fly problem in Benders Hollow and how something should be done about it. Mr. Dorr said he'd get somebody right on it. Theo took my hand. “Let's get out of here before she puts us on flyswatter patrol.”

I glanced at the clock again. “We've got to talk.”

He looked at me as I led him under a tree. We sat. He picked a blade of grass. “Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Were the umbrellas too much? The debate raged all morning.”

“No.”

“Oh. Serious, serious, then.”

I nodded. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

I told him, and his eyes widened as I did.

“You're either going to be some kind of black sheep hero or
dead. You know that, right?”

We crouched in the bushes of the vacant lot where I'd seen Colby and Ron make Velveeta eat Anna's note. “That's why you're here. To protect me. And him.”

“This could go WAAAY wrong, Poe. In a seriously bad kind of way.”

“Nobody else will do anything.”

“What if what's his face doesn't show up?”

“He will.”

“And you expect me to be able to do anything if he doesn't? I'd need a gun. Or twenty years of martial arts training.”

I opened the pack, digging inside. “No. You just need this.”

Seven o'clock. That's what the note on Colby's windshield had
said. Be there or be a loser. I knew that's what the note said, because I'd written it and stuck it under his windshield wiper. I'd made it short and vague, trying to copy Velveeta's scribbly writing.