Sweet 16 to Life (6 page)

W
hen MJ arrives at TasteeTreets at seven on the dot, she finds me in the same booth she and Hoodie Dude shared yesterday. Maybe sitting here will unnerve her and trip her up on the lie she told me. After all, I saw her having burgers with him. I'm sitting in her same spot, facing the front exit so I can see her and anyone else who comes through the door—a habit I picked up from Lana.

“Hey, you picked my favorite booth,” MJ says as she drops her heavy math textbook on the table with a thud. So much for unnerving her. “I'll order for us. Super Combo Three, right?”

I nod, thinking MJ is a good study of people, even if she doesn't always use the information wisely. She already knows I'm not very adventurous with the TasteeTreets menu—I almost always order the Super Combo #3: quarter-pound burger with cheese, fries, and a chocolate shake. MJ is almost as good as Lana at reading me when I'm running a game, even better than my BF Tasha and she's known me forever. That makes my job tough so by the time she returns with our food, I've decided on the straightforward approach.

“I know you told me to leave it alone, MJ, but I really think we should tell the police about that guy I saw.”

“You supposed to be helping me with my math homework. If you just gonna question me about some guy you think is an arsonist, I want eight dollars for that Super Combo.”

“I can't help you with your homework until we're done eating or our food will get cold, and we have to talk about something while we eat, right?”

“We don't have to talk about that. Besides, what would you tell the cops? ‘I saw some guy watching the fire along with the rest of the street and I'm thinking he's a criminal because I've never seen him before'? Yeah, I'm sure they'll jump right on that.”

“I can give them more than that. I have a description,” I say, watching MJ's face for a reaction as she squirts an obscene amount of ketchup on her fries. I get nothing, so I continue. “He was approximately five-eight or five-nine, a hundred and sixty pounds, medium complexion, between eighteen and twenty-four years of age.”

“Do you know how much like a cop you sound? It's kind of funny” is the only reaction I get from MJ. “Not to mention that could be just about anyone.”

“He was wearing a brown hoodie with an elaborate white scroll design across the back. . . .”

Now MJ stops scarfing down her fries and looks up at me. I finally got her attention.

“. . . and I think I saw writing on it . . .”

Now she stops mid-chew and looks more than a little worried.

“. . . maybe the numbers oh-four.”

I'm not ready to show my full hand yet so I don't mention what I actually saw. She relaxes enough to start chewing again, but I can tell she's thinking about it, wondering what to say next.

“Oh hell, I know who you talking about now. You should've gave me the 411 on Sunday and we could have avoided all this threatening-to-go-to-the-cops drama.”

“I didn't make any threats. I just thought you'd want to catch the guy that might be responsible for trying to burn down your grandma's house.”

“You mean my boyfriend?” she says.

“Eddie? I know for sure it wasn't Eddie. He's like six-two, way taller than Hoodie Dude.”

“No, I mean Lux.”

“What? I'm confused.”

“The guy you've been calling Hoodie Dude, the arsonist, etcetera. His name is Lux and he's my man.”

“I thought Eddie and you were—”

“I know what you thought and I keep saying you're wrong. Eddie and me are just friends.”

“But what about . . . you know?”

“Okay, so Eddie comes with benefits.”

I don't know what to make of this new development, so I'm inclined to think she's lying. Guilty until proven innocent is the way I see it.

“You've never mentioned Lux before.”

“I don't tell you all my business. You already find out enough without my help.”

“How long have you been going out? I mean, maybe you don't know him as well as you think.”

MJ looks like she wants to tell me to shut the hell up and eat, but I guess she's been my friend long enough to know that if she doesn't give me answers, I'll go find some on my own, and possibly the wrong ones.

“I known him long enough to know he's the last person who wants to see my house burn down, and I mean the
very
last. He called 911.”

“I told you it was me who called.”

“Probably lots of people call 911 when there's a fire.”

That's true, if it's a blazing fire. I suppose people in the houses behind MJ's may have seen the smoke and called, but Lux was out front when I noticed him. Of course, I was kind of busy yelling for MJ and Big Mama, ringing doorbells and banging on
rejas
before I spotted him in Ada's yard. Maybe that's when he was calling 911. I take a long drag of chocolate shake while I consider this.

“Before Lux and I left the house that morning—”

“He was over
that
early?”

“Like I said, he's my man,” MJ says, looking suddenly smug, like she's just discovered the proof that will finally convince me Lux couldn't be the firestarter. “Big Mama was out of town, so Lux stayed over. Anyway, before we left, I put some fireplace embers from the night before on the back porch. I guess they wasn't as cooled off as I thought. That's probably what started the fire.”

“Seriously? You accidentally started the fire with hot embers?”

“You say it like I'm stupid. I'm not the only person that ever started a fire like that. Besides, I'm from southern Cal—what I know about cleaning a fireplace?” MJ says, looking at me like she's trying to will me to believe her, and I do.
I
may not believe hot embers were the cause of the fire, but MJ does. “People always think I'm stupid.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling guilty, “so you put out the embers and headed to work, but Lux says he called 911. I thought he'd left the house with you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So why was he still there to see the fire and make the call?”

“He must have left something at my place and came back to get it.”

“You don't know? Seems like y'all would have discussed the fire by now. It's been a couple days.”

“No, we discussed it,” MJ says, not looking as smug as she did a second ago. “He definitely came back to the house for something and that's when he noticed the smoke.”

“How was he going to get inside? I know Big Mama wouldn't let him have a key to her house. She'd kill you and then kick you out if you gave him one.”

“I don't know. I guess . . . maybe I forgot to lock up and he noticed that.”

I let that one slide because I'm on a roll and MJ is starting to crack.

“All right. He comes back, notices the smoke, calls the fire department. So why did he leave when you got there?”

“Huh?” MJ says, sounding genuinely confused.

“He was standing in Ada's yard before you got home from the bodega. I talked to you a few minutes, then I spotted him walking toward Center Street. If you're his girlfriend, wouldn't he stick around long enough to talk to you, make sure you were okay?”

“I'm getting tired of you interrogating me like I'm in the box, Chanti,” MJ says, and I know she's stalling, thinking up an explanation. “Only reason I'm putting up with you is I need help with my math and I know you'll just snoop until you find out, anyway.”

“True dat.”

“Lux didn't stay around because he knows I'm creeping on Eddie.”

“Eddie, who isn't your boyfriend?”

“Okay, okay—I'm seeing them both. I'm eighteen, too young to be with just one dude.”

I almost feel bad grilling MJ like this because her eyes are starting to have the cornered-animal look, but I can't tell the truth from the lies. Like she said, she recently turned eighteen and if she does time now, it'll be for real, no more juvie. If she's on her way down a path that might take her back to jail, my interrogation will help more than hurt my friend. At the very least, she's hanging out with a Down Home—a fact I still haven't let on I know—and that alone is a violation of her probation. On the other hand, a cornered animal can be dangerous if they think the only way out is to attack, so I tread lightly but don't pull my punch.

“If Lux is a good guy and cares about you, why was he smiling as he watched the fire? And why would he stop smiling when the fire trucks arrived?”

This news was the final assault and I wait for MJ to go on the attack, so I'm surprised when she just deflates like I've let all the air out of her. Half her story may still be a lie, but she truly believed she started the fire. I may have finally convinced her Lux may not be who she thinks he is; this last information was the piece she was missing to put two and two together. But the confused expression on her face as she pours half the bottle of ketchup on her burger makes me think everything just added up to five.

 

When I get home from TasteeTreets, I find Lana there. I'd hoped to beat her home, but after that interrogation, I spent an hour helping MJ with her geometry.

“Where have you been?” Lana asks. “It's almost nine o'clock.”

“I thought you had a late stakeout.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“MJ needed help with her homework so we met up at TasteeTreets. Look—I brought you a fish dinner.”

Lana takes the bag from me and says,“ Ooh, still hot.” Lecture averted.

After she pours herself some iced tea and brings a bottle of malt vinegar to the table, I figure it's a good time to pick her brain. Lana is always happy when there's an order of Tastee's fried catfish and hush puppies in front of her, so I'm hoping all that greasy goodness will camouflage any questions about my new case. MJ really believed she started the fire, and she may even be messing around with Lux since he is a member of her former gang, but there were many lies woven in with the truth.

“Did you find out anything new about the fire at MJ's house?” I ask Lana.

“No, too early for the report to be filed.”

“You think you could check on the 911 calls, too?”

“What are you up to, Chanti?”

“I was just curious about the response time. You know how you said the nearest fire truck should get to our house four minutes after dispatch?”

“Yeah?” Lana says, slowing down on her fish dinner. Yep, I figured this would be the right lie to tell.

“Well, it seemed a lot longer than that to me, more like seven or eight minutes. And you know more than one person usually calls in a house fire. If someone called in before me, that means the response time was even longer.”

“It had better not be eight minutes, unless the city wants a lawsuit. I'll check the call records, too.”

There won't be any lawsuits because the report will show the firefighters arrived when they were supposed to, but that little lie was extra insurance Lana would pull the information for me.

“You never can be too careful,” I say, mostly as a reminder to myself of how to approach my next question for Lana. “So, don't you have something you want to discuss with me?”

“What?” Lana says all innocent, like she actually has no idea.

“You promised. You said you'd tell me everything you know about my father—the reason we don't want him in our lives, why you changed our phone number.”

“Not now, Chanti. I've got some work to do,” she says, getting up from the table and hurriedly putting the rest of her food in the refrigerator. That means she's really trying to avoid me because she always finishes the fish dinner combo. “I'll be in my office the rest of the night.”

“Mom, what are you hiding from me?”

“Don't you have homework to do?” she asks, her back turned to me as she pauses before leaving the kitchen.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“Better watch yourself,” Lana says without giving me the evil eye that usually goes with that threat. Now she can't even look at me when I ask about him.

C
offee. I don't want to see, hear, or think about anything else right now. I didn't fall asleep until three in the morning when my body finally overtook my brain. I couldn't stop worrying about MJ and Lux, my mother's refusal to tell me what's going on, and last but surprisingly least—Marco. Maybe I'm actually getting over him if I'm willing to put him last on my list of things to worry about. And as if I'm somehow putting that vibe out into the universe, a text from Reginald woke me up this morning. He seems like a nice guy, and definitely nice to look at, but for now, I ignore his offer to hang out this weekend. I have enough to deal with. Hey, Universe—if you're listening, I said I'm
getting
over Marco, as in, still working on it.

The coffeemaker is just gasping out its last puff of steam when I get to the kitchen, but there's no Lana. She wasn't in the bathroom, either. I checked her bedroom and found the bed made. We don't have one of those fancy coffeemakers that you can program, just an ancient Mr. Coffee that was a housewarming gift when Lana moved into her first apartment years ago. She must have dashed when she heard me up. I find a note propped against the coffeemaker. It's so freshly written that I smudge the ink when I pick it up.

Translation:
I'm avoiding you, Chanti. And also bribing you with pizza and change.
That's okay. I'll give her a break until the weekend when she'll have nowhere to run. I'm avoiding Reginald's text, so I'm guilty too.

The coffee raised me enough from the dead that I was able to shower, dress, and get out the door in time to catch my bus, but not enough to keep me from being uncoordinated. I stumbled over the threshold as I walked out onto the porch, spilling the contents of my unzipped backpack. As I'm down on hands and knees trying to find a lip gloss that rolled behind a planter full of long-dead mums, I hear voices coming from Mrs. Jenkins's house. No, a little farther away than that, and it's a guy's voice. I don't think Mrs. Jenkins has had a guy at her house since Mr. Jenkins passed away seven years ago, which is probably why she's so mean. I stand up to see MJ on her porch talking to Lux.

I back up to my door so they can't see me. I can't make out the words, but Lux's voice is angry. I step back out onto the porch enough to watch them and hope they're so deep in conversation that they don't catch me spying. Okay, so it isn't exactly a conversation. Lux is doing all the talking, though it sounds more like the kind of yelling you do when you don't want anyone to overhear. When he puts his finger in MJ's face, I'm expecting her to break it along with his arm because MJ has a good four inches and forty pounds on Lux, not to mention she's an all-around badass. So I'm shocked when she not only backs away from him, she starts talking so softly to him that I can't hear her voice at all, making gestures like she's trying to explain herself. MJ Cooper does nothing softly, and apologizes to no one even if she probably should. Lux must be satisfied with MJ's response, because now he's walking to his car.

Before I leave the porch, I wait a few minutes to make sure Lux is long gone and MJ is inside her house. My bus is also long gone, but it's worth missing most of first period to have caught this scene. Now I know for sure that MJ is lying about Lux being her side dude.

 

I'm at my locker between second and third periods reading a note from Reginald. He must have had his mom stick the note through the slots because it wasn't here before second period and unless he's skipping, he should be in class at North Denver Heights right now.

Uh no, I'm just evil and ignored your texts.

Three hours in the cold watching a sport I don't like. Now that I'm not with Marco, I never want to endure that torture again. See what I mean about the things a cute boy will make you do?

“Hey, Chanti. You got a second?”

It's Marco. I'm serious about that whole Universe thing. I really believe it has a LoJack on my love life. I throw the note into my locker guiltily, as though just being near it Marco will know I'm talking to another guy. As though he'd even care.

“That's about all I have,” I say, pointing to my wrist and an imaginary watch. “Third-period bell is about to ring.”

“What I said the other day before you left my house . . . that was out of bounds. I shouldn't have—”

“It's okay, Marco. This whole thing is kind of weird, but we'll get used to it. Seriously—no worries.”

“This isn't just about my parents hating you, or me not wanting you to play detective. It's about the attention you tend to attract—cop attention—that my family doesn't need right now.”

“Is something going on?”

“I told you about my cousin living with us.”

“Your cousin?”

Marco looks at me like I should know exactly why his cousin should have anything to do with whether we're together or not.

“Remember, not long after we first met? I told you my cousin David's parents had recently been deported and how he was supposed to go, too, but my aunt and uncle brought him to us before INS took them away. When we were dealing with the whole school burglary ring and Donnell, I told you then I couldn't have the cops in my business.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about David. You hadn't talked about him since that first time, so I thought everything must have worked out.”

“How could it work out? The INS fairies let his parents back into the country and they lived happily ever after? The immigration laws magically changed? You say I want to be the center of everything, but you should check yourself, Chanti.”

While I may concede his point, how is this conversation going any better than the one he came to apologize for?

“You could have just reminded me that was the real reason you had to break up with me instead of saying your parents think I'm dangerous.”

“It was kind of a big deal, at least to me and my family. I didn't think you'd forget it. You remember every little detail about your investigations, but can't remember a huge one about me.”

Ouch.

Marco continues, “Anyway, I kinda regret I told you in the first place. It was a slip. The fewer people know David's undocumented, going to school when he was supposed to be deported, the better. Besides, if I'd reminded you, would you have dropped the whole Bethanie and Cole investigation? Would you stop trying to track down this guy you think is an arsonist?”

I'm quiet, trying to think of a way to tell him he's right, but not because I don't care about him.

Before I come up with the right words, Marco turns to leave and I hear him say, “Yeah, that's what I thought.”