Payback (10 page)

“Who are you?”

“A friend of Brandon’s.”

The tall, skinny guy laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“Are you guys picking on him?”

“What’s it to you?” asks the shorter, blond guy. He has a bad complexion and eyes that dart nervously around. He tries to move past me, but I reposition myself.

“I said I’m his friend.”

“That nerd doesn’t have any friends.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a geek.”

“Is that why you think it’s okay to pick on him?” I persist, trying to stall them long enough for Brandon to get away. By now an employee has come to check on the door, firmly closing it and stopping the alarm.

“We pick on him because he asks for it.”

“I didn’t see him asking you guys for anything.”

“Come on, Reese,” says the taller guy. “He’s probably long gone by now anyway.”

“Why don’t you leave him alone?”

“Why don’t you butt out?” says the tall guy.

I glare at both of them now. “Bullies are just cowards,” I say, “trying to make themselves believe they’re brave. You
should just get over it.” Then with a look of utter disgust, I turn and walk away. My heart is pounding, and for a brief moment I think they might turn on me now. But I doubt they’d be that stupid. What kind of idiots would try to beat up a girl in a busy mall like this? Just the same I open my cell phone and call Olivia.

“What is going on?” she demands.

“I’m on my way back,” I say. “I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Well, your food is cold.”

“That’s okay,” I say as the confidence returns to my steps, “It was way worth it.”

I tell Olivia the whole story as I eat my cold slice of cheese pizza.

“Wow,” she says, impressed. “You just saved him from getting beat up.”

“This time.” I sigh.

“But the way you told those thugs off…maybe they’ll rethink their actions next time.”

“Except that they’re not the only ones who pick on Brandon.” I get my notebook from my bag now and write down his real name and the school he attends. At least I got a little information. “Maybe Ebony can contact Fairmont to let someone in authority know there’s a bullying problem going on.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “That might be the whole purpose behind that vision, Sam. Just getting the right information to the right people.”

I close my notebook and smile. “It does feel good to have possibly solved one case.”

“Hopefully, you’ll solve another one tonight.”

“Or prevent one,” I add.

Next we go to an accessories shop, and Olivia talks me into getting the cheesiest-looking rhinestone jewelry. Fake diamonds and rubies to go with my over-the-top prom outfit.

Then as we’re driving home, after we’ve picked up my flashy red dress, I suddenly remember the pretty pale green dress worn by the girl in my dream—a dress like I might wear to a real prom, if I were ever asked. But that makes me wonder if all the McKinley kids will be dressed like that. What if this strange-looking getup I’ve put together is all wrong? What if, despite the casino theme, all the kids are wearing traditional-looking prom clothing? Won’t I stick out? I mention this to Olivia as she pulls up at my house.

“You could always pretend you’re dressed up like that because you’re an entertainer,” she offers.

“And then what? Go up there and sing? Badly and off key?”

She laughs. “Just go with the flow, Sam. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Well, I’m not so sure. But I thank her for the ride, tell her I’ll see her in a few hours, and go inside to consider my fate.

M
y mom’s still not home when it’s time for me to go to tonight’s prom. She hasn’t called or left a message or even a note, and that worries me a little. I leave a note for her, telling her I’m with Ebony doing police work. However, as I check out my image before leaving, I look more like I’m doing vice work, and I’m somewhat relieved Mom can’t see me.

When I get into the limo, I take some friendly teasing about my blond wig and overdone makeup. Ebony tells me I’d make a good Marilyn Monroe, which I think is sort of flattering but totally ridiculous. To change the subject, I fill her in on my encounter with Brandon today, explaining that he goes to Fairmont High. “And they have a prom coming up too,” I point out.

“Hmm.” She takes out her notebook and jots down something.

“Do you think there’s a connection?” I ask with uncertainty. “I think it’s worth investigating.”

“He seems like a nice kid,” I tell her, suddenly feeling sorry for Brandon and hoping I didn’t get him into more trouble with his tormentors.

“Nice tux,” I say as Eric helps me out of the car. He’s wearing a white satiny jacket with a black shirt underneath. “You look like you should be performing at a nightclub.”

He laughs, then straightens his white tie. “I was going more for a Mafia man look.”

“Do you think this will be the real deal tonight?” I ask Eric as he escorts me up to the Marriott hotel again.

“You’re the one with the special gift,” he reminds me.

“Well, this feels like a déjà vu to me. I just hope it’s not another wasted evening.”

“Me too. I’d like to get this thing wrapped up and locked down.” He turns and looks at me, then laughs. “Not that you’re not a hot date, Sam, but I already have a girl.”

“Funny.”

“I’m just ready to move on.”

“Me too. This is getting pretty nerve-racking.”

“And this whole Saturday night deal is not making Shelby happy. She really wanted to go to a movie tonight.”

“Does she know what you’re doing?”

“Sure. But she can be trusted.”

Once again we’re early. We casually walk around, casing the joint, checking out the band, who seem oblivious to us as they play warmup songs. Olivia is the only one who recognizes me, although she gives me a totally blank look. Her outfit, a hot pink sequined number, is almost as bizarre as mine, although her hair looks more natural.

Eric and I mostly hang close to the entrance, making small talk as we keep an eye on the newcomers. Then we wander out to the lobby anytime it starts to get busy. As more couples
arrive, I’m pleased to see that the McKinley students have taken this whole casino thing to heart. Everyone is flashy and glittery and sort of over the top. Eric and I fit in just fine. And the girl in the pale green dress ought to be easy to spot if she’s here.

Unfortunately, as the night wears on, we don’t see that girl anywhere. But like last week, we don’t want to give up too soon. You just never know.

“I really don’t want to do this again,” I complain to Eric, and he gives me a look that says he’s had enough proms for a lifetime too. We’re sitting out in the lobby, and to my surprise I recognize someone. I nudge Eric, then nod to where Brandon, the kid who’s been bullied, is standing near the registration desk. I briefly explain to Eric who he is and the visions I’ve had about him. I even tell him about the two bullies I stood off at the video arcade earlier today.

“I wonder what he’s doing here,” Eric says.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Obviously he’s not here to go to the prom. Besides, he told me he goes to Fairmont.”

“Do you think he’s getting a room?”

“That would seem kind of weird, not to mention expensive.” Something about the way Brandon is dressed—his less-than-fashionable jeans and unimpressive polo shirt, a beat-up, oversize backpack—suggests he’s not exactly a rich kid.

Now Brandon is speaking with a gray-haired man working at the registration desk, and the man hands him something—it looks like a piece of paper or an envelope. Then Brandon leaves, but not through the front door.

“Interesting,” Eric says. “Maybe we should check him out.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Well, he was in your vision…and he’s here tonight…Maybe there is a connection.”

“Maybe…,” I tell him, but I am doubtful. For one thing, Brandon doesn’t seem like the prom type. Eric is already talking quietly, as if he’s speaking to me, but he’s actually describing Brandon and his whereabouts so the other surveillance cops can be in the loop. Still, I can’t imagine Brandon wanting to have anything to do with a prom—and certainly not one where he doesn’t even attend school. It just doesn’t add up.

Even so, we keep watching for him, although I don’t expect him to come back. I feel sorry for him as I remember those two guys at the mall today. Why do people act like that? “I just don’t get bullies,” I say out loud. “What makes some guys want to bully others?”

“Meanness.” Eric blows out an exasperated sigh and glances around the thinning crowd.

“I guess. But why?”

“Probably that old cycle-of-life thing,” Eric says. “Someone is mean to you, so you’re mean to others, and it just goes on and on.”

“The gift that keeps on giving.”

He laughs and nods.

Yet I think he’s hit the target. Meanness begets meanness. And this reminds me of my mom and her recent need for what she calls “sweet revenge” but what I think is actually bitter stupidity. I just hope she’s not out doing something crazy right now. I overheard her talking to her friend Paula on the phone last night. She was being sarcastic, saying how they ought to go look for “that good-for-nothing Steven,” saying how the two
of them could teach him a lesson he’d never forget. I remind myself that Paula is a trained family counselor—okay, she’s not a great counselor, and she drinks too much—but surely she’d know better than to do something like that. Besides, I’m pretty sure Steven Lowery is long gone by now.

“I think the party’s over,” Eric says in a tired voice.

“Yeah, it sounds like the Stewed Oysters just played their last song.”

“No crazed terrorists that I can see anywhere.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, Sam.”

“I just wish I could get some clearer signals.” I look around the deserted lobby and back toward the ballroom, which is also nearly empty. “What a waste of time.”

Eric doesn’t say anything as we walk back to the limo, but I think he’s questioning my judgment. I’m sure they all are. I know I am.

“Don’t blame yourself, Samantha,” Ebony says as we pile into the limo again.

“How can I not?”

“It’s time for us to get serious about looking into that Brandon fellow,” she continues. “I heard you and Eric talking about him, and Eric’s right. It might not be a coincidence.”

“But he just came and left,” I point out. “How does that mean anything?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that Fairmont is having their prom next weekend, and guess what, people?”

“Same place?” I ask.

That’s right. Prom central.”

“Oh…”

“So we’re on again?” asks Eric in a tired tone.

“Afraid so,” says Ebony. “I don’t see how anyone can rest until we prevent whatever this is from happening.” She sighs. “You all can see now why it wouldn’t have worked to cancel any of these proms. Can you imagine the flak we’d take for that?”

“Or the flak we’d take if the terrorists actually make it through security,” adds Eric.

“And Fairmont fits your profile better,” says Ebony.

“How’s that?” I ask, not sure I even care.

“It’s in an affluent community, full of people who can afford the kind of dress you saw in your dream.”

I nod as if that makes sense when I really just want to groan and complain and say, “No way can I endure another prom.” But I know that would be immature. This job needs to be taken seriously. I just wish we could get to the bottom of it. I close my eyes and lean back against the cushy leather seat.
Please, help us
, I silently pray
God, help us to solve this thing.

When I get home, Mom’s still not there. Staying out late wasn’t unusual when she and Steven were dating, but it seems a little odd now. Still, I figure she’s probably with Paula. Hopefully they’re not out getting wasted. My mom promised me she wouldn’t do that sort of thing anymore. Although with the way she’s reacted to Steven’s crud, I don’t know if that promise is still good. Even so, I decide there’s nothing I can do about my mom’s life, and I go to bed.

The next morning my mom’s still not home, and now I’m seriously worried. I try her cell phone, which is turned off. I try
Paula’s number, and no one answers. So I leave a message, telling her that my mom never came home last night and that I’m worried. I consider calling Ebony but decide to wait. Maybe my mom’s at Paula’s house right now; maybe they’re both sleeping off a night of overindulgence. I can only hope.

I go to church but cannot concentrate on the sermon because I am getting so worried about Mom. I leave my cell phone on vibration mode just in case she calls. But she doesn’t.

“Are you stressed over last night?” asks Olivia when the service finally ends and I’m hurrying out to the parking lot. I quickly tell her about my missing mom, and although she seems concerned, she tells me not to worry. “She’s probably home right now,” she assures me. “You know parents…They expect to know where you are 24/7, but when it comes to their whereabouts, they can be pretty vague.”

“Maybe…but it seems like she might at least call.”

“Let me know how it goes,” she says. “My parents are dragging me to my great-uncle’s eighty-fifth birthday party down in Salem, but I’ll have my phone on.”

“For sure!” I wave, then hurry to my car. I am getting a really bad feeling about this. I pray as I drive. When I get home, Mom and her car are still not there, so I call Ebony.

“Where do you think she is?” Ebony asks after I’ve explained the situation.

“I don’t know…but I have a bad feeling.

“What sort of bad feeling?”

“I think it might involve Steven.”

“You mean Greg.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Have you had any more dreams or visions regarding him?”

“No…”

“Well, I have to agree that this seems unusual. And considering what’s happened with Greg Hampton, I don’t think it could hurt to put out a flash.”

“Flash?”

“You know, like an APB. So the guys on patrol can be on the lookout for her car just in case anything is wrong.”

“Do you think something could be wrong?” I ask weakly. “I mean, is it possible that Steven, I mean Greg, is still around? I kind of assumed he’d have hit the road by now.”