Stolen Secrets (10 page)

Chapter 35

Bryce went to bed
as soon as Mom brought us home, but I couldn’t. I had to tell her what had happened. She hugged me.

“I know I messed up letting Wally get away, but—”

“Sounds like Wally gets away a lot,” Mom said.

“I don’t know why they had to be so mean to me. At least Bryce helped.”

She smiled. “It’s nice having somebody who understands, huh?”

I went to my room and wrote in my journal everything I could remember about Cammy and Tracy’s speech.

I woke up with Bryce standing by my bed, yawning. “You coming to my game?”

I rubbed my eyes and tried to stand. I like going to Bryce’s games because I get to see my friends. And Duncan. But I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.

“Sam’s taking me,” Bryce said. “You can stay here.”

“If you insist,” I said.

Chapter 36

Sam drove me to the game
against Coronado. I had slept until about 10 minutes before we left and felt like a used dishrag. I wish I could wake up as fast as Pippin and Frodo. I guess that’s why adults drink so much coffee. I like the smell of the stuff, but I can’t stand the taste. Unless it’s one of those foofy coffee drinks—you know, the latte, frappé-whatevers. I like those.

As Sam drove, we listened to the radio and the latest about the attack on the girls. The guy’s picture had been on TV and in the paper, but the police still hadn’t found him.

I walked into the Coronado gym and looked for my teammates. Another game was going on, a blowout. The Coronado team sat across from us on the bleachers, and some of them tried to stare us down. Their big guy, #23, was already over six feet tall and had arms like tree limbs. Our tallest guy is 5’9”. Number 23 stretched on the sideline and listened to his coach as he studied us.

Coach Baldwin had told us not to worry about him, that he was going to get his points and rebounds, but if we could contain the rest of the team we had a good chance. Coach kept reminding us, “When he shoots, passes, breathes, whatever, get a hand in his face so he can’t see.”

They turned off the scoreboard toward the end of the game before us, and finally the slaughter was over. We took the floor and started our warm-ups.

“Goin’ down, Red Rock,” #23 said as he brushed past Duncan Swift and me. “Again.”

Chapter 37

I couldn’t get back to sleep.
I slogged downstairs and found Mom organizing the pantry. I could tell she was between book-writing projects, because that’s always when she cleans or organizes.

“Hungry?” Mom said. I shrugged. “Feel like going to the Toot Toot?”

“Ready in five minutes,” I said.

The Toot Toot Café sits next to the train tracks that run through Red Rock. It’s owned by a sweet old couple, Bob and Helen Crumpus, who open early and serve breakfast all day. There’s a counter with round stools at the front. You can get thick milk shakes and malts in metal shakers. Pieces of pie sit in a glass container. Helen squeezes fresh lemonade every day, and they have specials like meat loaf, fish, and all-you-can-eat pancakes. There are pictures on the wall, signed in tribute to the Toot Toot, of local people, mayors, teachers, and even sports stars.

High school kids work as waiters and waitresses, and when Mr. Crumpus heard about our dad dying in a plane crash, he said Bryce and I could work there in a couple of years.

“Guess you heard the attack happened right out back,” the waitress said. “The guy used to sit in front. Mr. Crumpus gave him food.” She leaned close. “I told Bob something like this was going to happen, but he wouldn’t listen. I think he liked the guy.”

“Really?”

She knelt and put her elbows on the table. “I was working the day the police called. Bob went outside and talked to him. By the time the police got here, he was gone.”

Chapter 38

I grabbed the tip-off,
drove to the basket, and went in for the layup. I heard someone behind me, and as I planted my foot, the ball flew out of my hands and someone crashed into me. We both hit the floor. I looked back at the referee. “No foul?”

Duncan Swift was on the floor beside me. My own teammate had fouled me. “You were about to give them two points,” he said, jumping up and holding out a hand.

I had raced for the wrong basket.

“Thanks.”

Parents snickered on both sides of the gym. I tried not to look as we set up our defense.

“Shake it off,” Coach Baldwin said.

The ball came in to #23 and I fouled him. He glared at me.

Coach Baldwin called me over while #23 sank both free throws. “Don’t worry about that. Focus.”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath.

Coach slapped me on the back. “It was a good shot. Good form.” He smiled. “Just wait until the second half to shoot at that end.”

I saw Sam in the stands. He was on the phone, but he gave me a thumbs-up. Why was he always on the phone?

At the half #23 had scored 15 points, but we were only four points down. The sleepover must’ve taken a lot out of me. I had only two points.

Chapter 39

I chose the Belgian waffle
with hot maple syrup. Half of it filled me up, so I packed the rest in a Styrofoam box. While Mom paid, I found Mr. Crumpus sweeping the front porch. His face was round and almost as red as the ketchup splotches on his white apron. He had combed over a wisp of hair from the left side to the right to cover a bald spot. I sat in a rocker and said hello.

“Have a good lunch?” he said.

I patted my full stomach. “As usual. Sounds like it’s been pretty exciting around here.”

He propped his broom against the railing and sat beside me. His face turned grim, as if he’d just eaten a rotten egg. “It’s a sorry business.”

“Does that guy live around here?” I said.

He pointed to a mountain peak. “Up there. The police have been looking for him.”

“You don’t think he’s guilty?”

Mr. Crumpus stared at me. “Never say never. That’s what I always say. That young man has had his share of trouble. The accident was the start.”

“Accident?”

Mr. Crumpus waved a hand. “Long time ago. I never thought he could attack anyone.”

“Running off makes him look guilty.”

Mr. Crumpus shrugged. “Maybe he knew they wouldn’t believe him. All I know is, that boy would never hurt anyone. Would I let someone stay around and feed him from my own grill if he’d hurt children?” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I get worked up about it, but I’m afraid for him. He was so close to turning around.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d talked about him working for me. Maybe going to church with Helen and me. Moving back home.”

Mom came out, tucking her credit card in her purse. “What’s up?”

Mr. Crumpus stood. “I was just telling her about Danny—the one . . .” He looked like he was in another world.

“I’ve been praying for him,” Mom said.