The Second Trial (25 page)

There they were – two – both behind the counter. One was probably trained on the cash register. The other was on the far side, near the diamond rings. Good news. Anything happening below the level of the counter was out of sight.

He shelved the magazine and began roaming the sale aisles. He looked for store personnel. Two sales clerks were transferring boxes from rolling trolleys onto shelves. Danny veered toward the jewelry.

The watches hung in a free-standing, swiveling glass stand. He remembered last time, for some reason, the stand hadn't been locked. Maybe the lock was still broken. He rubbed his palms across his jeans. What if it was locked now? He'd never get in. He'd have to ask a clerk to open it and then it would be impossible.

He stopped to scoop up some jewelry from a sale rack. He took about six pairs of earrings, all dangling from plastic tags. He rested them on the counter beside the watch stand.

There it was. The Pentathlete model, green with a brown strap. Danny made a show of neatly lining up the earrings. He leaned forward, examining them and shifting them about with his right hand. Carefully, without turning the stand his left hand tugged at the glass door.

It was still unlocked.

He kept inspecting the earrings. At the same time, he watched his progress in the wavy glass reflection. He slid open the glass door, swiftly lifted the watch off its hook, and palmed it up the sleeve of his anorak. Then he gently jostled the display stand with his shoulder as if it were an accident, and stealthily shut the glass door. Below counter level, he put his left hand into his pocket and felt the watch slide in.

He kept his head up as he returned to the earring rack where he re-hung the earrings. But one pair caught his eye: a string of three pea-sized jade beads hung from a gold-colored hook. They looked good, not tawdry like the other ones. He'd buy them for Nixxie. And they'd help him get out of the store.

He headed for the cashier. The clerk rang in the purchase. As he pulled out his wallet, he said, “They're a gift. Do you have a small box?”

The clerk smiled as if the gift were for her. “Sure,” she said. When she bent to check beneath the counter, he put his left hand into his coat pocket and swiftly brushed his entire pocket across the desensitizing pad. When the clerk straightened, he casually stepped back.

“For your mom?” the clerk asked as she inserted the earrings.

“Yeah,” he said, opening his wallet and handing her the ten-dollar bill. The clerk handed him his change and his purchase. He dropped the bag into the same pocket as the watch. Then he flashed a grin at the cashier and strolled past the security sensors.

Success
.

Danny wormed his hands into his armpits as he waited for the bus. But once he was in the back seat, the warmth of the engine relaxed him. The bus reached the mall sooner than he expected. If he went to school now, he could catch the last morning class. Or, he could stay home until noon and practice forging his mother's signature.

It wasn't hard. Her signature wasn't always the same – sometimes she wrote the
S
as a separate letter, and sometimes she joined it to the rest of the word. Usually, it looked more like an
L
and the letters after the
y
trailed off into a scribble.
The biggest advantage
, he thought
, was that the school would never know the difference.

After practicing about five minutes, he was satisfied. He wrote a note:

Please excuse David from class this morning as we had a family emergency and I needed him here.

Sincerely,
Susan Mayer

There. That ought to keep them from asking questions.

He burned the paper with the practice signatures in the kitchen sink. He took Buddy for a quick walk and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He didn't bother to clear the dishes. He often had a snack when he got home, and his mom wouldn't notice today as different from any other.

He tucked the watch under the clothes in his dresser, scratched Buddy under the chin, and went to school. He stopped at the office to hand in the note. The secretary unfolded it, looked at it, looked at him as if he'd stolen something, and looked at the note again. “What kind of family emergency?” she snapped.

Danny had to stop himself from looking startled. But that now-familiar surge of adrenaline boosted his confidence, and the lie came easily. “My sister broke her leg. I had to help.”

The secretary stared. “Right,” she said. “Let me just make a note of that.” She took a red pen and wrote across the bottom of the note: ‘Sister broke leg.' She glanced back at him. “You forgot to put in the date. I'll just write that in too, shall I?” she said sarcastically.

He spun on his heel and walked away.
Screw you.

Danny avoided eye contact with Chad all afternoon. He wanted it to happen in
his
time, under
his
control. At the end of the day, he sauntered into the portable. It didn't take long for Chad to turn around and cross his arms.

“So?” Chad said.

“So what?” he replied, drawing out the words.

Chad's eyes bore into Danny's. They were like two young rams with their heads down, ready to butt horns.

Danny leaned back, flipped up his sleeve, and checked the time on his watch. He was enjoying this. “After school tomorrow, Chad,” he said. Smugly. In control.

It wasn't until he got home from school he realized he'd missed his appointment with Mr. Ishii. The thought pricked his conscience – but only for a moment.

Chapter 18

Two items warmed Danny's pocket when he left for school on Friday – the gift-wrapped earring box, and the watch, still in its plastic case with the eighty-dollar price tag firmly attached.

Today was going to be a good day.

“What's with this?” Nixxie asked when he presented the package.

“Just open it.”

She used her nails to peel back the tape. She pinched the sides, forced the top open, and peered in. Still not knowing what to make of it, she shook the box. The earrings landed in her palm.

“They're cool,” she said.

He pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Let's get something for lunch at the mall.”

She hesitated. “Sorry,” she said. “Mom expects me home for lunch every day except when I have volleyball or something. But I could go after school.”

He remembered his appointment with Chad. Should he ask her along? Or go it alone? He didn't know how she'd react. He'd never seen her talk to Chad or any of the people Chad hung out with. She didn't seem to like that group. He decided he'd better do one thing at a time.

“Nah, I have to do some things with my mom right after school,” he said. “So what about next week?”

“Yeah, okay,” she replied. “Thanks for the earrings.” In a heartbeat, the moment grew uncomfortable and she stammered, “I've gotta go.”

He stroked the watch in his pocket. “See you next week,” he said.

He walked to the mall with deliberate slowness. Although he felt confident, he still had that flicker of anxiety. He kept his hands in his pockets, running his fingers up and down the watch case, which now felt like a key that would open doors. He kept his face expressionless as he swaggered up to Chad. Cigarette smoke wreathed Chad's head. Danny stopped and draped his arm over a railing.

Without looking at Danny, Chad said, “Todd. Get David a cigarette.”

Danny blinked. His dad's voice sprang into his head.
You
wanna be an athlete, Danny? Don't smoke. They're coffin nails. Only
idiots smoke.

Todd pulled out a pack and casually flipped up the top. The crumpled silver foil showed the tips of three cigarettes. He stepped toward Danny, offering the pack. Danny reached with two fingers and pulled one out.

He'd never smoked. And until now, he'd never wanted to.

Todd thumbed aside the foil, revealing the end of a lighter. He flicked it once, twice, three times, and the translucent blue and yellow flame sputtered upward. He held it out.

Danny had seen it done so many times that the movement didn't feel strange.
Cigarette between lips, fingers angling the shaft
down into the flame, breathe in, watch the flame lick the end of the
cigarette like a smoldering kiss, inhale, exhale, breathe life into a coffin
nail.
He expected the bite of bitterness, but after the first puff, all he could taste was success.

Danny leaned back and savored the rush. His eyes narrowed as he met their stares. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and let it dangle from the corner of his lips as if glued there, as if he'd done it a thousand times. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch.

“Catch,” he said, tossing it to Chad. Danny smirked when Chad had to scramble to catch it before it fell into the snow. Chad pocketed the watch without looking at it.

“Congratulations. You're in.” Chad cracked his knuckles and pushed himself away from the railing. “Party Saturday night at Todd's. BYOB.” He turned his back and strolled away.

“Second house down from the gas station,” Todd said. The boys turned to follow Chad, but not before Danny noticed some admiring glances shot his way.

He was alone. He puffed on his cigarette, breathing deeply, the smoke burning in his lungs, the nicotine coursing through his veins like defiance, straight to his heart.

“Hey boy,” Danny said. Buddy approached warily, muzzle to the ground, and backed up before Danny could touch him. The dog's nose twitched as he smelled the cigarette smoke that clung to Danny. “What's up, Bud?” he said, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. Buddy thrust his muzzle repeatedly into the palm of Danny's hand – the one that had held the cigarette. Danny realized he had a problem. No, two problems. He'd been away too long. He saw a puddle on the kitchen floor. And if Buddy could smell the smoke, so could his mom.

Being late was the easier problem. He'd tell his mom he had to stay to finish a science lab. She'd be happy he was doing his work and wouldn't complain about the mess. But he needed some way to cover up the smoking. Who did he know who smoked?

Papa Joe! He remembered the ash tray on the kitchen table, the lingering scent in the apartment. And he still had Papa Joe's tools. “Let's go visit Papa Joe,” he said to Buddy. The dog's tail started beating back and forth.

Papa Joe raised his brows and smiled when they appeared.

“Well, come in,” he said, holding the door wide. The smoky air greeted Danny like a gift. He stomped the snow off his boots as Buddy brushed past him into the condo.

He returned the tools and Papa Joe poured orange juice into small knobby glasses. “So,” said Papa Joe as they both settled down at the table, Buddy curled at their feet, “your momma decided 'bout me walkin' Buddy?”

“She said she thought it was a great idea,” he lied.

“Well, that's wonderful,” Papa Joe said. “That's real nice of her.”

“She was glad you asked,” Danny said. “She was worried about Buddy being home alone all day.”

“She's a sweet woman, your momma.”

Danny checked his watch and smiled to himself. The school bus should be here by now. Maybe she'd already found the puddle on the floor. Then, if Mom saw him and Papa Joe walking Buddy, how could she say no?

“Wanna go for a walk right now?” Danny asked.

Papa Joe smiled and nodded. “That'd be real nice, David.”

Sure enough, he could see Mom through the living room window. Danny gave her a full-faced smile and an effortless wave.

The next day, his mom agreed and said Papa Joe could start walking the dog every noon hour.

Chapter 19

Saturday morning. Danny lay in bed with his hands sandwiched between his head and the pillow, gazing at the blank ceiling. He was thinking about the party at Todd's. BYOB. Bring Your Own Beer. This was a problem. He didn't know where to get it, his four-dollar weekly allowance didn't go very far, and his mom had completely stopped drinking, so there was nothing to steal in the house. He needed cash.

At lunch, he steered the conversation toward money, and asked his mother what he could do to earn some. His mom smiled and suggested a newspaper route or maybe babysitting. He might be able to make some money shoveling snow.

Danny clammed up. There was no way he was going to do any babysitting. Newspapers or snow shoveling? Fat chance.

“David,” she said, not noticing his reaction, “can you come to the store and help carry groceries?”

Scor
e.

“Sure,” he said agreeably. “Why don't you just give me the list and some money? You don't have to come. I can do it myself.”

She smiled at her son. “That'd be great,” she said, handing over the list and forty dollars.

He wore his anorak. He scanned the list and planned out the best things to steal – small enough to hide, but worth the most. Maybe the cheese and the canned tuna?

The coat's lining gradually filled. The bottle of vanilla. Paprika. A wedge of cheddar cheese. Sliced ham for his sister's lunch. And a package of gum for himself.

“Well, hello again,” said the cashier. “Doing the shopping all on your own now?”

“Yeah.”

The cashier rang up the bill. Twenty-nine sixty. Danny nodded to himself. Perfect.

He slipped around the corner of the mall and emptied his coat into the bags. He crumpled the receipt, threw it into the air, and batted it into a trash can. He strode home through the snow, the bag feeling lighter than usual, his mind on the party.

He helped his mom unpack the groceries.

“How much were they?” she asked.

“Thirty-eight sixty,” he lied.

“Why don't you just keep the change,” she said.

“Sure.” He tried not to sound smug.

Mom seemed pleased when Danny told her he was going out with some friends again that night.