Shine (27 page)

I also felt a strange, floaty sense of amazement. I knew things someone didn’t want me to know. I’d
figured out
things someone didn’t want me to know. The tongue on my pillow was proof of that. It was also proof that knowledge was power, not being a bully or rich or thinking you were better than everyone.

Knowledge wasn’t all I had. I had Jason, who was an ally and possibly a friend, and who thought I had pretty eyes. I had Christian, my brother, who loved me. Knowledge was more powerful than fear. Love was stronger than hate.

So guess what, Tommy
? I said silently.
Step closer. Feel my lips against your ear. You don’t scare me anymore
.

CHRISTIAN CAME BACK SAFE AND SOUND. WHEN he woke me, it was past midnight. He rapped once on my door, stuck his head in, and said, “Done.”

That’s all, just
done
.

I tried to get my bearings. “Huh?”

“I knocked him around. Now I’m going to bed.”

I nodded, and then I slept some more, and the next thing I knew, it was morning. I tiptoed past Christian’s room and into the kitchen. Aunt Tildy wasn’t there. She’d left a note saying she’d gone to a prayer shawl gathering, which was where ladies got together and made shawls for people who were grieving. Whatever.

Quietly, I got a Coke, took it outside, and popped the top.
I chugged it down despite my queasy stomach, knowing I’d need the buzz of energy when I confronted Tommy. For him to leave that note meant he was running scared. I was an expert in that, so I knew. I also knew that running did no good. It was time I faced my fear square on.

The articles I’d read taught me that the manner in which Patrick was attacked was called ethnic intimidation, and when a case involved ethnic intimidation, the stakes went way up. Just using words like
fag
or
homo
could get a person up to three years in prison. Add in assault, and add to that an attempted break-in at the hospital, and Tommy was in doo-doo so deep that even his daddy’s money wouldn’t be able wash him clean.

Tommy was nineteen, half a year older than my brother. If the case went to court, he’d be tried as an adult. So I’d tell him he had two choices: Either turn himself in to Sheriff Doyle, or I’d do it for him. And yes, it had to be me. Not Christian, not Sheriff Doyle or Deputy Doyle.

When Daddy was no more than Robert’s age, rats used to come sniffing into his cramped bedroom. Daddy told me and Christian how he would wait in the night with a flashlight in his left hand and a gun in his right, a Spanish pistol bought cheap at a military surplus store. When he heard the scribbling of claws, he’d quick turn on the flashlight, blinding the buggers, so he could pick off as many as he could before they scurried back to their hidey-holes.

They didn’t always flee. Not all of them. Sometimes they’d face Daddy and hiss. They’d lash their tales and show their
needle teeth, and once Daddy was so startled, he dropped the flashlight, casting the room into darkness. One rat—big as a man’s arm, Daddy said—came right at him, and Daddy shot it point-blank.

“It was the King Rat, see,” Daddy said. “Crazy and dangerous as heck. And listen up to your daddy, kids. The
only
way to stop a King Rat is to get it before it gets you.”

Daddy’s mama, my dead granny Mae, cooked up that King Rat and served it as stew, because as Daddy said, “Why waste good meat?”

The rat I was after wasn’t worth eating. I’d gag if I tried. Yet I kept Daddy’s advice in mind, and before I biked over to Tommy’s house, I hunted through the garage until I found Daddy’s Spanish pistol. I stuck it in the back of my shorts for easy access.

I hoped I wouldn’t need it, especially knowing that I’d be catching Tommy when he’d already been worked over.
Done
, Christian had said. I reckoned I’d find him sniveling and licking his wounds.

But like Daddy said, a trapped rat was gonna fight. This time, if it came to it, I was going to fight back.

I WAS SWEATY WHEN I ARRIVED AT TOMMY’S HOUSE. I didn’t care. I saw his yellow Beemer parked out front. I didn’t care. I was so hot with fear and fury that I strode right to his fancy front door and lifted my finger to jab the bell.

He answered before I got the chance. He was holding an ice pack to his left eye. Behind him, in the living room, Bailee-Ann sat on the sofa. She had no makeup on, and she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, an outfit as simple as mine. Had Tommy called her after my brother’s late night visit? Had she rushed right over to comfort him, throwing on any old thing?

“I didn’t do it,” Tommy said. He looked exhausted. “Dammit, Cat, I already told your brother. I didn’t leave no note on your bed, all right?”

“It’s true, he didn’t,” Bailee-Ann piped up. She pressed her legs together, each of her hands cupping a knee. “Was there really a
tongue
on top of it?
Eww
, Cat. That’s so nasty.”

“It was a cow tongue,” I said, looking from Bailee-Ann to Tommy and back again. “Like from a dead cow? One that’s been to the butcher and back? You know all about that, right?”

Bailee-Ann shuddered. “I hate dead meat. I just hate it.”

Tommy gestured for me to come on in, so I did. I slipped off my backpack and perched on an overstuffed armchair across from the sofa. Daddy’s pistol, tucked into the back of my cutoffs, pressed against my spine.

Tommy sat down beside Bailee-Ann, who let go of her own knee and patted his. He found her hand and squeezed it. With his other hand, he lowered the ice pack, revealing a puffy eye with a rising bruise.

“Christian do that?” I said.

“No, it was Bailee-Ann,” he said sourly.

“Was not!” Bailee-Ann protested, and he shot her a wry smile, which then made him wince.

“Ow,”
he said.

This was
not
how I’d expected things to play out. I narrowed my eyes, determined not to be disarmed by their helpless, lovey-dovey act.

“Yesterday, when I was at your house, I was there to see your brother,” Tommy told me.

“Oh, is that so? Then why’d you call out for me to come back instead of bike over to see Ridings, huh?” I looked at him hard.
“Seems to me that when I didn’t jump at your command, you decided to leave your message another way.”

“You went to see . . . ?” He broke off. “Cat, I didn’t put that tongue on your pillow. You gotta believe me.”

“I don’t
gotta
do anything,” I said. I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I was amazed. I was talking to Tommy—I was
confronting
him—and I had yet to go up in smoke.

“You were at my house. You knew I was learning stuff you’d rather I didn’t, and then surprise, surprise, I came home to find a nice little present just waiting for me.”

He looked worn down. “It wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

“If I knew, don’t you think I’d tell you?”

“Well, no, I don’t, ’Cause from what I hear, you’re awfully good at keeping secrets.” I eyed Bailee-Ann. “And that goes for you, too, Bailee-Ann.”

She blushed.

But back to Tommy. “Beef told the cops you were home by one thirty the night Patrick was beat up, but you weren’t, were you?”

“Actually, I was.”

“No, and that’s how I know you’re lying, ’cause Robert told me—“

“I
was
home by one thirty,” he interrupted. “But Dupree crashed, so I went back out.”

“To Bailee-Ann’s house,” I said. “Who just happens to be
Beef’s
girlfriend.”

Tommy sighed. He looked at Bailee-Ann, who said, “It’s okay. It’s already out anyway.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it. He focused on the floor. I stared at him, growing more and more impatient, until I had the dizzying realization that
he
was afraid to look at
me
. I myself wasn’t afraid. I’d expected to have to fake it, but I truly wasn’t scared to stand up to him anymore.

“Words,”
I said. “Use
words
, Tommy, ’cause I don’t have all day. How long you think I’m planning on being here?”

He lifted his head. His eyes met mine, and I held his gaze. I could feel the heat of my blood.

“I went to Bailee-Ann’s house,” he said. “I picked her up, and we . . . spent some time together. Then I took her back before her daddy woke up, so she wouldn’t get in trouble.”

I turned to Bailee-Ann. “That true?”

“Yeah,” she confessed. “When you asked, I didn’t tell you, because . . .”

“Because we need to tell Beef ourselves,” Tommy said. “We don’t want him hearing it from someone else.”

“We feel real bad,” Bailee-Ann said.

Listening to the two of them was like eavesdropping on a couple of newlyweds, the way they finished each other’s thoughts and played off each other. Bailee-Ann patted Tommy’s leg, and he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. He was tender about it. It filled me with rage.

“You
should
feel bad,” I told Bailee-Ann. “You’re cheating on your boyfriend.”

To Tommy, I said, “And you’re breaking the bro code or whatever. But that’s what you like, isn’t it? Going after what’s not allowed? Doing whatever you dang please, and who cares how the other person feels about it?”

He glanced toward the entrance hall, which connected to the staircase. “Cat, my mama’s upstairs. Could you maybe be a little quieter?”

I raised my voice. “Why? You don’t want your mama to know what you’re really made of?” I sounded shrill, like Aunt Tildy when she tried to call Christian back last night. Hearing myself made me tremble all the more. “Does Bailee-Ann know? Does she know how you went after me all those years ago, when I was just thirteen?!”

My words hit the air, and hung there, and then slowly faded away, like a church bell that’s been rung way up high in the bell tower. It was silent except for my breathing, which was quick and shallow and made it sound like I was panting, which I guess I was. Tears pricked my eyes. I lifted my chin and blinked them back in.

“Um . . .” Bailee-Ann said. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at Tommy.

Tommy nodded wearily.

“I do know,” Bailee-Ann said. Her words were round with compassion, but I didn’t want her compassion. I stared straight ahead of me. I thought about rats and staying alert.

“Tommy and me talk about everything,” Bailee-Ann went on. “And we
both
are sinners. We know that.” She got up off the
sofa and crossed the room to me, kneeling at my feet. “We pray about it, and we lift our sins up to Jesus. We try to do better.”

“You’re not trying very hard if you’re sneaking out and spending nights together,” I said. “Knitting hats for little babies isn’t going to erase that.”

“Well, you’re right,” she said heavily. “You’re right about that.”

“Get up off the floor, Bailee-Ann,” I said. “For heaven’s sake.”

She did, only to scrunch onto the armchair beside me. Her skin was warm. “Tommy?” she prompted. “Don’t you have something you want to say to Cat?”

Good Lord, the last thing I wanted was an apology from Tommy. At least I didn’t think I did. Did I?

My eyes darted toward his, and I saw that he was just as uncomfortable as I was.
Good
, I thought.