Still Waters (15 page)

His hand cut the air, like the look I gave him was beneath his comment. “Monique simply illustrates my point. It would be easy, and it wouldn’t take much.”

Was that all there was? Suspicion littered my thoughts.

I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing it.”

Because if anyone was killing my dad, it was me. And I didn’t need a power-hungry accomplice for my part of The Plan. I couldn’t trust Michael, never could. I sure as hell wasn’t committing murder with him.

Michael’s storm-dark eyes lightened. A slow smile edged across his face. “Oh well. If you change your mind . . . It’s entirely up to you, isn’t it.”

Not a question.

“What about the rest of it? You coming along, or is it your last day?”

“I’m in if you agree to my conditions.”

Michael smiled, that crooked shark’s smile.

“It’ll take eight hundred, not six. And you leave your gun at home. Robbery and vandalism are a hell of a way off from armed robbery. If it goes wrong, we ditch. Leave everything behind. And I say if it’s going wrong. I make that call.”

Michael nodded. “Fine. And of course, no guns. I’m paying the man precisely so we don’t need them. So, yes. All reasonable requests. Half up front, half after, though.”

I nodded.

“I haven’t even told you the best part. Well, the best part for only you, since we’re not doing your dad.” Michael cut me a poisonous smile.

“When we get the drugs, we’ll be helping Cyndra with her stepdad. One of the drugs we’ll get, Depo-Provera. It’s birth control, but it’s also used to chemically castrate sexual offenders. Usually given by injection, but I’ll let her in on my drug-his-beer idea. He’ll never know it’s happening. So we’ll be helping her, too.”

The people in the road yelled and shoved. Hard to tell if it was the start of a fight or just playing.

“Birth control? This guy’s an obstetrician?” I asked.

“I told you. It’s a suite of offices.”

He couldn’t have it both ways. Either Cyndra had her stepdad exactly where she wanted him, or she was a victim.

When I thought she was a victim, he’d told me she was in control. Now he said she was a victim, so I’d believe we were helping her.

“Why do you want me to care about it? I’ve already said I’ll come,” I said.

Michael’s eyes shot between my face and the play-fight in the road. “No reason. I just thought you would.”

“I don’t.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He popped his door open, climbed out of the car without waiting.

We walked back into the crowd.

I told myself not to watch Cyndra as she sat down next to Michael. Curled around his back, chin resting on his shoulder. The perfect girlfriend pose for the perfect boyfriend.

I sat on another hood and slapped hands when they were presented. One thought I couldn’t stop, needle-dragging in my mind.

It would all be over soon. Janie and me, leaving all this crap behind.

I told myself I couldn’t wait.

Cyndra glanced at me. My heart shuddered.

Monique was watching me, hip cocked. Ray-Ray and Mike-Lite were standing just like they did every time they were together in a crowd: Mike-Lite wrapped over and around her shoulders. Her head rested against him. All of them doing what they always do, oblivious.

Maybe they’d miss me. Maybe she would, too.

Cyndra saw me watching her. A little smile hovered on her mouth, telling me she liked the way I looked at her.

She said something to Michael and slid off the car, walking down the road a ways before slipping between two cars and into the dark woods at the edge of the road.

She didn’t have to look back to know that I would follow.

I drained my beer and waited a minute before walking around behind the cars, slipping into the dark after her.

She was waiting for me just a few feet into the trees. Her hand floated toward my face, like the day in the food court, moving slow, like sudden movement might make me attack or take off.

She stroked my cheek, then stepped into me, nuzzling her forehead against my neck. “Let’s go somewhere, Jason.”

Hot needles stung my eyes. I wanted to unwrap my arms from around my sides and hold her, pull her tight and feel her hug me back. I wanted to be out of the dark on the side of the road, standing in front of a headlight, everyone watching, everyone knowing.

That I was worth it.

I took a step back.

Her hand stayed in the air for a moment before it dropped. “My car’s this way.”

We walked to it, passing behind Michael and the rest of them. She drove us through the city and over the river. Winding our way down deserted streets to where the water lapped the shore.

I didn’t mention the plan to break into the doctors’ offices or ask her if she would really want that drug for her stepfather. Because I wanted something from her that was just for me. That didn’t have Michael, or his games, or Cesare, or drugs, or anything else.

Just us.

After, she drove me to the edge of Lincoln Green. Gave me a goodnight kiss. I tried to pretend we weren’t counting down to the last one she’d ever give me.

I walked to Clay’s house and let myself in with the hidden key. Spent the night on the sofa, staring up at the featureless ceiling, telling myself it was good that it was almost over.

O
n the walk to the bus stop the next morning, I told Janie and Clay about the doctors’ offices. Gave all the reasons why I would be going along.

“I don’t know.” Janie scuffed the heels of her shoes as she walked.

“Yeah,” Clay agreed. “It sounds risky.”

“Inside job, though,” I said. “I was at the meeting with Trent. Easy money.”

“No such thing. Besides, haven’t you made a lot already?” Clay shook hair out of his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to start hedging your bets.”

“Jason, we already have enough for—” Janie started.

I cut cold eyes at her, warning her not to say any more. Not to mention how we were going to start The Plan early.

“—for now,” Janie finished.

I’d find a better time to tell Clay. When Janie and I knew more. Like where we were going and how we were going to get there. All the questions he would ask.

“Can always use more. Especially that much more.” I shoved Clay slightly, bumping him sideways into Janie. “It’ll be fine. I can handle it, and if it goes wrong, all goes to hell, or if the zombie apocalypse comes, I’ll ditch them.”

“And come back for us,” Janie said, a slight smile quirking her mouth.

“Even if I have to fight a zombie horde, uphill through the snow—”

“Both ways,” Clay added.

“Who ignores the laws of topography like that?” I asked. “Uphill both ways? Impossible.”

“Don’t care. That’s what it’ll be. It’s the zombie apocalypse. The world as you know it has ceased to exist.” Clay’s voice, like a self-important teacher.

“Can zombies fly in this world? Just wondering what other rules you’re changing.”

Clay clapped a hand to his head. “Why did I never think of that? Flying zombies!” He mimed holding a fat cigar between two fingers, then pretended to put it between his teeth.

“Someone take this down.” He made a frame with his hands. “Flying zombies. Genius! Cupcake, get that hotshot director on the horn.” He waved at Janie like she was his secretary.

“Cupcake?” She laughed and shoved him sideways into me.

“Damn. Flying zombies. It’s like I’m printing money here,” Clay said.

I went to push him against Janie, but he leapt back, and I stumbled into her instead. She shoved me hard, then took off running after Clay.

I chased them, making guttural zombie noises.

At Janie’s stop we settled down, but were still laughing and shoving each other lightly.

“All right, you win,” Janie finally said to me. “Easy money. But remember your promise.”

I put a fist over my heart. “Uphill both ways.”

Janie’s bus ground to a stop. She got on. I watched through the windows as she found a seat next to that kid Hunter. He put an arm around her.

I showed my teeth and waved.

Hunter winced and waved back. Took his arm off her as the bus shuddered forward.

Clay and I walked to school. Stopped at the far edge of the parking lot. Clay squinted at the cluster of showroom-shiny cars where Michael and the others waited.

“In all the movies, in all the books and shows, when the zombie apocalypse comes, the humans turn out to be worse than the zombies,” he said. “Always.”

I followed his eyes, watched Michael’s group churning between the cars like flies over meat. I nodded. Clay left, walking to the building.

I crossed to Michael and leaned against his car. The others stood around, like always, although there was an undercurrent of tension. Nods and intense eye contact, everyone watching each other and pretending they weren’t.

The impending break-in hovered behind smiles and glances.

Dwight glared at me from T-Man’s car. He stayed back, a distant moon circling the planet that held him. Like Michael’s magnetism had reversed and now forced him back.

Cyndra arrived and smiled at me before kissing Michael and standing under his arm.

Something rose in my throat, burning and sour. I mumbled about the bathroom, slapped hands with Michael, and left.

The first bell toned as I hit the bathroom door. I leaned over a sink, gripped the scarred porcelain in both hands. A couple of stupid freshmen eyed me as they edged out.

My eyes closed. I pushed deep lungfuls out my nose, forced the choking mass in my throat back down.

Behind me, the door creaked. I opened my eyes as the lights went out.

The door groaned as it was shoved shut.

I turned, fists clenched, listening to another person breathe. Waiting.

My first thought, stupid as it was, was that it was Cesare, that Michael had played me for a fool, had set me up to take the fall for dealing drugs, because Michael had dealt the man’s drugs but had kept the man’s money.

All while saying it was me. Which anyone in the school would confirm.

But I was at school. And Cesare would never come for me or anyone here. A flashlight beam swung into my eyes.

I lifted my arm. The flashlight winked off, and whoever it was tackled me. We fell against the wall. My head glanced off the cinder blocks. He put a hand on my throat.

I grabbed the arm that held me as a point of reference. Jacked a punch into his unprotected side.

The grip on my throat loosened.

I held his shoulder and punched again, white dot afterimages from the flashlight floating before my eyes.

Our breaths sawed the air. He grunted as I grabbed at his head.

Three things bloomed in my mind with the rapid perfection of a time-lapse flower. The arm was covered in leather, but at the shoulder was scratchy wool. The head was buzz-cut.

A letterman’s jacket. A big guy with buzz-cut hair. A grudge to settle.

I laughed. One hand held the back of his head. With my other, I made a fist and punched the guy in the face. Felt the scrape of his teeth against my knuckles.

Dwight crumpled toward me.

I shot an elbow at his face. Chunked against his cheekbone. He hit the floor with a groan.

I walked, hand out in the dark, to the light switch. Flipped it.

Dwight shifted up, propping his shoulders against the wall nearest him. Swiped a hand across the blood and spit smearing his chin.

“Thanks,” he said.

I reached for the door.

“Don’t go yet. I haven’t even started.” He shifted against the wall again. Touched his cheekbone gingerly. “Is it bruising already?”

I flexed the hand that had punched him.

“You did exactly what I wanted. Busted lip and all,” Dwight said.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I wanted you to hit me. There’s not a mark on you, except your knuckles. From when you jumped me. Do you honestly think I’m that bad a fighter that I couldn’t even hit you once?”

He smiled, gap-wide at the corners of his mouth. “This is what I’ll tell the principal: I went to the bathroom. And you jumped me.”

“So what? I’ll tell them you jumped me first. Worst case, we’re both suspended.”

Dwight squeezed his lip to get more blood up. “Wait. You haven’t heard the whole thing.” He giggled like he was performing how funny it was for me. “See, I’ll tell the principal that I followed you to the bathroom because I was angry and wanted to confront you. About how you make Cyndra deal for you.
Then
you jumped me.”

I forced my fist open.

“Those cameras in the hall?” His voice like a teacher trying to lead you to the answer. “They got both of us walking in here. No one else. So you can’t say it wasn’t you who did it.” He gestured to his face.

“What do you want?”

“Let me enjoy this for a minute.” He got up and checked his face in the mirror. “Yes. This is so much better than hitting you. Although I’ll eventually get to that.”

“We’ll see.”

Dwight flashed a self-satisfied grin. “You’re not worried about the principal? The cops?”

I shrugged. “Again. Say what you want. I’ll deny it. Cyndra won’t back your play.”

“You’re probably right. But that won’t matter when they check your locker.”

Cold stroked up my spine.

Dwight laughed. “Look at your face!”

“What do you want?”

He stepped forward. “I want you to quit. Yeah, I know about Michael thinking he needs you. And I know you’re not really his friend.”

Unlike him. He didn’t have to say it. Wounded pride and resentment at being shoved aside pulsated from his eyes.

“Quit.” He grabbed the edges of his athlete’s jacket, resettling it on his shoulders. “Or I go to the principal, and it ends with the drugs in your locker and your arrest.”

He curled a hand on the door handle. “You have until lunch. I’m going to the nurse now. For my timeline. But don’t worry. I won’t rat. Not yet, anyway. Maybe never. Either way. You’re out. It’s up to you if it’s in handcuffs.”

The door scraped the tile as he left.

My fist rammed the closed door. I turned and slammed my back against it. Scrubbed my hands over my face.

If I quit, I’d be out eight hundred dollars. I could take that, but would Dwight really stop there? What would happen to the drugs he’d planted in my locker? What if there was a random search today or the police received an “anonymous” tip?

And what about Clay? Dwight wasn’t so stupid he wouldn’t remember my pre-Michael friend. If I didn’t cave, Dwight could try the same ploy on Clay’s locker. Or worse.

My shoulders bunched.

I went into the hall. Didn’t go to my locker, although every part of my brain screamed that I should.
Go, pull out the drugs, flush them.
Can’t make the obvious play. It’s what Dwight would expect. Maybe even want. Too many people around, anyway.

I made myself turn away from the hall where my locker stood. Made myself walk to my first class instead.

The bell dismissing homeroom toned. Kids swarmed into the hall. I let the crowd carry me past the nurse’s office.

Glimpsed Dwight in there, a cold pack held to his lip.

In English I sat at an empty desk. The teacher pretended not to notice that I had no book, paper, or pencil. I looked out the window the whole time. My mind like a rat in a maze.

The best move would be to go. Get Janie out of school somehow and take off, like we planned. But it was still too early in the day to go home to get our money. And we could really use the extra eight hundred. I couldn’t just leave without telling Clay. And Cyndra . . .

I could pretend to quit. Tell Dwight to ditch the drugs or I’d rejoin. Watch him do it, but from a distance. Once they’re gone, squirt superglue into the lock, and Clay’s lock, then go tell Michael. Get Dwight exiled permanently. Hang around tonight, long enough to get the money.

Then leave.

Leaving Clay unprotected.

Too much trouble for an assured revenge from Dwight. I should just stop like he wanted. It was all ending anyway.

But I already knew it wasn’t safe. Winning might not be enough for Dwight. He’d liked the handcuff idea.

At break I waited for Cyndra by the courtyard door. Watched out the window as Dwight edged closer to Michael. Dwight’s eyes cut around the space, looking for me.

“Jason,” Cyndra called as she walked up. She gave me a perfect, heart-stopping smile.

I took her elbow, pulled her away from the windows.

“Listen,” I said.

She turned her face to me, and her expression stopped the words in my mouth. It was tight. Frozen and tense, but aiming at relaxed. Fake.

Paranoia slicked into my brain. And a question I wasn’t ready to learn the answer to: Did she already know? Was she in on it somehow?

Was she playing me?

I couldn’t keep it off my face.

She bit her lip, and her eyes glimmered. Was something forcing her? The strain was naked on her face. She didn’t want to do it.

“What is it, Jason?” Her voice mouse-small.

“Has Michael told you about the drug for your stepfather?” For some reason, this question bled to the front of my brain. Instinct, like a razor against my throat.

“No. What drug?” Cyndra’s emerald eyes slid away, like she was worried about us being overheard.

“You’re lying to me.”

She chewed on her chapped lip. “Yes.” The word just air.

“Why?”

“Michael told me already, but he said if you told me, I should pretend I didn’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because it would make you feel good to tell me. That’s all. That’s not bad, right? It’s a good plan. I think that stuff could work. And it’s nice he’s thinking of me, and you—if you wanted to tell me.”

Contortions of thought. All jutting elbows and knotted flesh.

“Don’t lie to me,” I said. “Ever.”

“I can’t.” She shifted, tightening her arms over her books. “I couldn’t. You saw.” She flashed a smile, open this time. “It was stupid to try. Even if it was a white lie.”

“Do you know anything about my locker?”

Her eyebrows creased together. “No. What?”

A pure gaze. Unwavering.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Because what could she do? She’d go to Michael. And his constant lies, his feel-good manipulations, made me want to keep him out.

I sent her into the courtyard and drifted toward the front of the school—and my locker. Still didn’t go to it, though. Some instinct kept me moving, floating right by.

In my next class I thought about it. At lunch I’d have to choose or have the choice made for me. The skin on my back lifted and tightened.

Then it hit me. A choice, something to get me out of the corner. I needed an ally.

I didn’t wait for the bell. Stood and walked out of class. Jogged down the hall, up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Mr. Stewart. He’d offered to help me. Well, here was his chance. I’d tell him drugs had been planted in my locker. I’d get him to go with me to the principal. I’d turn the tables on Dwight.

Save myself and maybe get him to be the one wearing handcuffs. Stay around long enough for the heist tonight, even set up Michael to take a fall after.

Why not?

At Mr. Stewart’s door, I drew up short. A young guy was locking the door, holding a lunch bag in his other hand.

“Where’s Mr. Stewart?”

He frowned at me and pocketed the key. “He’s at an in-service.”